The Garnett Marriage Pact

by Penny Jordan

  But it didn’t, continuing to linger through the delicious ice-cream sweet and the cheese and biscuits which Andrea insisted she had, pointing out that the Roquefort cheese had been chosen especially with her in mind.

  Of course it was impossible to refuse the glass of port David had poured for her, even though it did take a certain amount of owlish concentration for her to be able to lift the glass to her lips without spilling any of it.

  Afterwards while they drank coffee and ate petits fours in the drawing-room, Jessica found that she still had a full glass of port.

  As she blinked and studied it David said smoothly, ‘Oh come on, Jess, we might as well finish it off.’

  He seemed amused about something, almost maliciously so, but Jessica had had far too much to drink to analyse what.

  Having told her once that he thought she had had enough to drink Lyle had almost totally ignored her, allowing himself to be almost completely monopolised by Janet Holmes.

  What was it the other woman had that she did not? Jessica wondered bitterly; and she certainly must have something, because Lyle had barely taken his eyes off her. Even Andrea noticed it because she paused once to bend down and murmur apologetically to her, ‘Sorry about Janet flirting with Lyle, but she’s that sort of woman, I’m afraid.’

  For once Jessica did not repudiate David when he came and sat next to her. He wanted to talk to her about her book but Jessica fobbed him off, conscious that she was going to have to do some major re-writes on it. She could not now in all honesty dismiss the power of ‘love’ as radically as she had done before.

  ‘How’s the experiment working, then?’ David asked her, looking at Lyle. His words penetrated her tipsy fog, reminding Jessica of the claim she had made when she told him she was marrying Lyle. God, how David would laugh if he knew the truth! That she had fallen in love with a man who totally repudiated her.

  Her face felt stiff as she forced a smile, and said lightly, ‘So far, very well. It’s given me a new insight into the whole question of marriage. I’ve certainly managed to get quite a lot of information for my book from it.’

  It was pride and pride alone that motivated her words, and Lyle was too far away to have heard them. She saw David smile and alarm feathered warningly down her spine. She had drunk far too much, and unless she was careful she could easily be very indiscreet.

  ‘I take it he still doesn’t know exactly why you married him?’ David asked her.

  Jessica shook her head, and then wished she hadn’t as it spun uncomfortably.

  She could see Lyle coming towards her, and apprehension cramped her stomach. Andrea was with him, and it gave Jessica a disconcerting sensation in her midriff to have him standing over her looking down at her, as though somehow she was an errant child rather than an adult.

  ‘I think we’d better leave.’

  He was talking to Andrea and not herself, but Jessica felt the words were intended for her.

  ‘Oh, surely not yet. Let me get you both a nightcap.’ That was David, smiling gleefully at some apparently private joke.

  ‘I think not.’ Lyle sounded both curt and remote. ‘I’m driving,’ he pointed out to David, ‘and I’ve seen far too many accidents caused by drivers under the influence of alcohol to want to drive over the limit myself.’

  ‘But what about Jess? She isn’t driving.’

  ‘No, I think Jessica’s already had enough.’

  She wanted to protest that he had no right to treat her like a child, to make such decisions for her, but somehow his hand was under her elbow and forcing her to her feet, and she was walking into the hall with Andrea clucking anxiously at her side.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she heard her sister say through the fog threatening to engulf her, ‘I don’t know what’s come over Jess tonight. She hardly ever drinks.’

  Of the drive back to Sutton Parva Jessica only retained fleeting and very brief memories. She fell asleep almost the moment she got into the car, waking occasionally, and having to be shaken awake by Lyle once they were actually home.

  She tried to get out of the car and suddenly found her legs as awkward and unstable as those of a newborn colt.

  Above her she heard Lyle swear and then suddenly she was in his arms and being carried into the hall and upstairs.

  In her room, he dropped her unceremoniously on the bed and then stood back to look grimly at her.

  ‘I’ll talk to you once Susan’s gone,’ he told her abruptly. ‘Somehow I don’t think her father would retain any good impression of us if he could see you in this state.’

  There had been more irony in his voice than disgust, but even so Jessica was vividly conscious of how unappealing she must appear. There was nothing more off-putting, surely, than a drunken woman, and if she was not drunk then she was certainly very, very tipsy.

  She got off the bed, alarmed by the way the room swung round her, and slowly made her way to the bathroom. Downstairs she could hear voices, and guessed that Susan’s father had arrived to collect his daughter.

  In the bathroom she shed her clothes and stood under the shower, shivering under the cold water, telling herself that she deserved this self-inflicted icy torture.

  It helped to clear her head a little, but her body still felt as boneless as cotton wool, her balance unstable and her legs unresponsive. She managed to get out of the shower and suddenly shocked herself by the way she started to tremble, her teeth chattering together, as she tried feverishly to make her way to the other side of the bathroom and the protective warmth of a towel.

  She heard Lyle come upstairs and then call her name, presumably having discovered that she was not in her room.

  The next moment the bathroom door burst open and he stormed in, coming to an abrupt halt as he surveyed her damp, shivering frame.

  ‘What the…?’

  ‘I thought a cold shower might sober me up,’ Jessica explained, her teeth chattering so much she could barely speak.

  Her whole body seemed to be in the grip of a shivering ague now, so much so that she daren’t let go of the side of the shower.

  Lyle cursed again, reaching for a towel then coming towards her. ‘You crazy fool,’ she heard him storm furiously. ‘Don’t you realise the shock to your system of a cold shower on a hot night like this, especially on top of all that alcohol? Come here.’

  Somehow he managed to envelop her in the towel and detach her tightly curled fingers from the shower, at the same time picking her up in his arms as easily as though she were James’s weight.

  He carried her through into her own room, sitting down on her bed with her on his lap, briskly rubbing her freezing body with the thick towel.

  Slowly the shivers stopped, the icy chill in her body replaced by a languorous, dangerous heat which she instantly recognised.

  Miraculously now her head was completely clear. What on earth had possessed her to go on drinking after Lyle had warned her not to? Heavens, surely she could have realised for herself what she was doing? She had always assiduously avoided alcohol in the past, carefully monitoring what she drank, but tonight for some reason… No, not for some nebulous, half-understood reason at all. She knew exactly why she had drunk so much: initially it had been because she had been so terrified that Lyle might make use of the fact that they were alone to tell her he wanted to end their marriage, and then because she had been totally unable to endure the sight of him with Janet Holmes.

  ‘All right now?’

  He had stopped touching her now, his hands lightly resting on her waist, ready to put her away from him and leave her room, she recognised miserably. If only he would stay with her. If only there were some way; her breath caught in her throat, her body hurting as she recognised his desire to get away from her.

  ‘Lyle…’

  She looked up at him, watching the guarded shadows hide whatever lay in his eyes.

  Her fingers fluttered against his skin, stroking the taut line of his jaw in a gesture both pleading and helpless.

  ‘Ple
ase don’t go. Please stay with me.’

  Part of her was horrified at what she was saying, what she was doing, but she was overwhelmed by a surge of despair as his hands moved from her waist to her arms, ready to thrust her off, and without even thinking properly, she clung to him, pressing her mouth to his, and kissing him with a defiant, desperate hunger, not knowing and certainly not caring that the towel had fallen away from her upper body and that her breasts were pressed damply against the front of Lyle’s shirt.

  She could feel the pressure of his fingers as they locked round her wrists, but strangely he did not push her away, his mouth suddenly relaxing under her own, his hand going from her wrist to the back of her head, where his fingers wove into her hair and pressed against her scalp, his lips moving on hers as he muttered rawly against them, ‘My God, I didn’t want this, but you make it impossible for me to refuse.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE WAS IN HEAVEN, Jessica thought achingly, drowning in the unexpected delight of having Lyle’s mouth against her own, his harsh unrhythmic breathing telling its own story as his hands swept her body with a fierce compulsion, pushing away the towel, cupping her breasts so that his mouth could savour the pulsating fulness of first one and then the other breast.

  Reality slid away from her as easily as she shed the towel, everything else blurring into insignificance as she felt her body become an eager slave of the desire Lyle aroused within her. Beneath his hands her body arched, instituting a delicate dance of delirium, her own fingers eager if somewhat clumsy as she tugged at the buttons of his shirt, shivering in open pleasure as they gave way to allow her access to his body.

  She felt him shudder as she touched his skin, tiny shivers of responsive awareness creating a frisson of arousal within her body as she moved wantonly against him, hearing him gasp and mutter something incomprehensible against her ear as her teeth caught against a hard male nipple. She touched it with her tongue, teasingly, testing his reaction, shuddering herself when his fingers tangled in her hair and tightened in mute recognition of the effect she had on him. His thumb brushed the delicate skin behind her ear, his tongue searching its curves with deliberate eroticism.

  She felt her response to his touch all the way down to her toes which curled in automatic reflex. Her body felt weightless, languorous, her mind completely cast adrift as she shed the inhibitions she had always wrapped so protectively around herself.

  It was her purpose and her pleasure to arouse Lyle to the point where like her nothing mattered more than desire. Already he wanted her; his body hard and urgent against her own, his mouth burning her skin where it touched it.

  She found the zip of his trousers, and slid it down, feeling the tension in his body as her nails accidentally scraped against his flesh. He shuddered violently, trapping her hand against his body, his mouth burning into the tender flesh of her throat, searching for the frantic pulse that beat there.

  Waves of dizziness spread through her, heat engulfing her body as she tipped her head back under the pressure of his mouth, not sure if the heavy hammer-blows she could feel came from his heart or her own.

  She wanted him and she wanted him now, her body moving frenziedly against his, accepting the intimate caress of his fingers with spasmodic delight. She was lying on the bed now, breathing erratically beneath his caress, shocked into an anguished protest when he suddenly withdrew from her, leaving her tense and aching with the desire he had aroused. She sat up, shivering slightly as reality impinged on her erotic dream, but Lyle was simply removing the rest of his clothes.

  When he came back to her, he didn’t speak, simply staring down at her, absorbing every minute detail of her aroused, naked body. And then he was on the bed, his mouth and hands caressing and arousing every millimetre of sensitive skin until she was crying out incoherently for him to finish it.

  As if he knew exactly when she reached the fine line dividing desire from torment he moved over her, her body arching eagerly to receive the weight of his, the first slow thrust of his body within her own wrenching from him a low hoarse cry which penetrated her own aching desire, doubling her pleasure in his possession when she knew how much he too had craved it.

  It was over too quickly, the tense spiralling delight exploding inside her almost before she had time to register its onset. She felt Lyle reach his climax and knew a primitive delight as she felt him deep within her while her body still quivered in the aftermath of its own release.

  He slumped over her, his skin hot and damp with sweat, his breathing harshly irregular. Not wanting to let him go, Jessica wrapped her arms round him, pressing her mouth to the salty heat of his throat, letting her senses absorb the maleness of him. She felt tired, so very tired…

  * * *

  ‘JESSICA, ARE YOU AWAKE yet?’

  James’s faintly accusatory voice penetrated her light sleep. As she opened her eyes Jessica glanced at her watch, horrified to see that it was gone nine. Heavens, she must have slept like a log. Her body ached, her mouth felt dry and faintly sour with the residue of last night’s alcohol, although mercifully she had no headache. Suddenly her body tensed as certain memories began to surface and refused to go away. She closed her eyes, feeling her skin go hot. Dear God, last night she had virtually seduced Lyle. Her body crawled with shame and anguish. Why on earth hadn’t he stopped her? Her mouth twisted slightly. Why should she expect him to be any more impervious to desire than she was herself? It would be only natural for him to be in an aroused state after all Janet’s determined flirting. She shuddered to think of her body being used as a substitute for that of the other woman, her eyes suddenly dry and gritty.

  ‘Jessica?’

  James was beside her bed now, looking down at her with a small frown. ‘Dad said I wasn’t to disturb you, but Stuart and I are hungry, and Dad’s had to go out on an emergency call.’

  ‘I’m getting up now,’ Jessica told him, knowing that it was pointless staying in bed any longer. At least she didn’t have to face Lyle immediately, although what on earth she was going to say to explain her behaviour when she did see him, she had no idea.

  In the end, even though she castigated herself mentally for being a coward, she decided that her best course of action was simply to let Lyle raise the subject if he wished to. She shivered a little. If he raised it? Surely he was bound to do so? After all he had been very definite when he stated the rules of their marriage, and on this occasion she had most definitely been the one to break them.

  He came into the kitchen while she was washing up the breakfast dishes. Both boys were in the garden, and although she had heard his car she had resolutely kept her back to the door, not knowing how much she might betray if she had to face him.

  As he opened the door, her throat suddenly went dry with apprehension and she ran the cold tap, filling a glass and then sipping the cold water.

  ‘Hangover?’

  He was standing right behind her, and Jessica winced at the harsh sound of his voice. He had every reason to sound condemnatory, and it was quite ridiculous for her to wish that he would take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her—ridiculous and impossible.

  Without turning she shook her head, and then mumbled, ‘Not that I don’t deserve one.’ Her face was hot as she remembered how much she had drunk the previous night, and how she had behaved when he tried to stop her.

  Silence greeted her remark. Keeping her back to him Jessica took a deep breath and fibbed, ‘I’m afraid I can’t remember much about last night at all.’

  She could feel the tension gripping her, the sick knowledge that for the first time in her life she had told a deliberate lie, but she could simply not stand there in torment any longer waiting for the blow to fall. Now she had given him the ideal opportunity to tell her in no uncertain terms exactly what had happened, but to her stunned disbelief she felt him move slightly away from her, the legs of one of the kitchen chairs scraping across the floor as he pulled it out from the table and sat down.

  His s
ilence forced her to turn round and look at him. He was frowning slightly, his face drawn and tired; guilt and love twisted painfully inside her. She wanted to go to him and beg him to understand why she had behaved as she had, but fear stopped her. Now she knew exactly why Andrea had preferred to believe that David was having an affair with her rather than someone else; why her sister continued in her marriage even though she knew her husband to be unfaithful. Now at last she understood how crippling this emotion called love could be.

  She waited tensely for Lyle to speak, to tell her that she had broken their agreement, but instead all he said was, ‘Mmm, I gathered you weren’t used to consuming that amount of alcohol, which leads me to wonder why you did.’

  He was looking at her now, and there was no way she could drag her gaze from his. His mouth widened in a parody of a smile, his voice chillingly disdainful as he added, ‘The strain of seeing your lover with your sister, perhaps?’

  After everything that had happened did he still believe she loved David? Jessica clutched at the excuse he had thrown her, unable to believe that he had not guessed the truth. Without answering his taunt she set about making some coffee, and as though he had not really expected any answer to his question, Lyle began to look through the papers.

  The ordeal was over, Lyle was not going to bring up the subject of last night. Perhaps he thought that she genuinely did not remember what had happened. Perhaps he felt that he himself was in some part to blame for giving way to his own physical needs. Perhaps because of the boys he did not want to set aside their marriage. She had after all established a good bond with them, and that had been the main reason he had married her.

  She should have felt happy and relieved that nothing was going to be said, but instead, ridiculously, she found herself wishing that he would say something; that he would at least acknowledge the fact that they had been lovers, and not simply ignore the event as though it had never happened; as though it was so unimportant that it was not even worth remembering or discussing.