Dishonourable Proposal

by Jacqueline Baird

  'I know, chine, but at my age I am allowed to be. I am still a man and on occasions I need a woman. Once I almost tried for you. Until my son told me very firmly that as his wife's friend you were strictly out of bounds.'

  Katy's head shot up, her eyes widening in surprise on Claude's attractive face, and what she saw in his eyes embarrassed her. He meant it...

  'Don't worry, Katy,' he chuckled, reaching out to take her hand in his. 'Alain did not need to warn me off. I knew you were not for me. I stick to the Jens of this world; they know how the game is played, and no one gets hurt. You, on the other hand, are the serious-minded intelligent type who believes in love and marriage, hearth and home. My late wife was very like you.' His slender artistic fingers tightened slightly on hers. 'And for that reason I am going to break the rule of a lifetime and offer some advice.'

  'Come off it, Claude, you're always giving advice.'

  'About fashion, work, yes. But this is more personal.' Katy tensed and tried to ease her hand from his. 'Katy, I have known you for a long time, as an employee but more' importantly as a friend of the family. I have watched you grow from a shy young girl to a beautiful sophisticated young woman, and I hate to see you hurting.'

  'Whatever gave you that idea?' Katy tried to stop him. 'I love my new career... I'm doing well-----'

  'Katy, I read the papers. You and Jake Granton made the Paris Match. You forget how very popular you are in France. The caption read something like, "The lively Lena dragging the staid banker Granton into the limelight."'

  'Oh, hell,' she muttered.

  'I created the Lena image and I know it isn't you. You had to be dragged into going out. The rose garden you planted around the side of the house is still thriving. You were Anna's number-one babysitter. As for Granton, he has the money, but has never been one of the jet set, so I want to know what is going on. Something is not right somewhere.'

  'Your imagination is working overtime, Claude,' Katy informed him coolly, but one look at his arched brow told her she was not going to get away with such a simple denial. 'I met Jake on the charity date, as you well know.' It still rankled that Claude had set her up for the mess she was now in.

  'No, I didn't know. The publicity department of the charity arranged the date. I was under the impression it was the man at the show you were going out with.'

  Katy's green eyes searched his face. He was telling the truth. 'That man was Jake's agent,' she said flatly. 'Anyway, one date led to another, and now I suppose you could say we're an item.'

  'I gathered that much from the Press, and I was happy for you, until you arrived here yesterday. You will grant I have a lot more experience in affairs of the heart than you, and when I see a beautiful woman who has given up modelling, no longer needs to stay slim, has a new career she loves and is supposedly in love for the first time, common sense tells me you should have put on weight, not lost it. You looked like a wraith coming across that airport yesterday.'

  'I still watch my figure,' she defended.

  'Katy, I have rung your apartment every night for the past two weeks; at first it was to check if you were coming over for the party, and then my curiosity was aroused: you were never there. I am not going to pry any further. If you have moved in with the man, that is your business. But, Katy, don't fool yourself. Your sort of woman needs marriage.'

  She pulled her hand free, and drained her now cold coffee. 'I know what I'm doing, Claude. You don't need to worry.'

  'If you say so, Katy.' Claude stood up, and with a hand at her elbow helped her to her feet. 'But remember, Katy, if you need a friend or a home you will always be welcome here.'

  'Thank you, Claude,' she whispered, emotion choking her. He was such a caring man, a true friend..,

  Katy fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, and when two tiny fingers peeled back her eyelids, and she heard a voice shouting, 'Are you awake, Auntie Katy?' she groaned before leaping up and swinging Caterina over and into the bed.

  She bid a tearful farewell to Claude, Alain and Caterina at the airport, and walked briskly to the waiting aircraft. She would be back in London in under an hour, and take a taxi to her father's in time for Sunday tea. There was no way Jake would ever know she had been abroad. In that she was wrong...

  The cab drew to a halt outside her father's door. Katy opened her clutch-bag, found her purse, and with a muttered exclamation asked the taxi driver to wait. Stupidly she had not enough cash for the fare. She dashed up to the door and pressed the brass bell. 'Hurry up,' she murmured under her breath. The door swung open and quickly she stepped into the hall.

  'Dad,' she shouted, 'I need some cab...' The words died in her throat as an all too familiar strong tanned hand gripped her arm and swung her around. She looked up into the furious face of Jake. What the hell was he doing here? She swallowed hard on the knot of fear clogging her throat and with an enormous effort of will she forced a smile to her lips. 'I need some cash for the taxi, Jake,' she demanded coolly.

  His fingers bit into her arm and she winced in pain at the pressure. 'I will attend to the taxi, and then I will attend to you.' The threat was unmistakable. 'Say hello and goodbye to your father. We are leaving in a minute.'

  She stood in the hall and watched his departing back, frozen in shock.

  'Katy, dear. So you finally made it.' Her father's voice broke into her numb brain. 'Jake has been waiting ages for you, poor man.'

  'Hello, Dad,' she mumbled, stunned at the collapse of her plan. Jake was supposed to be in Switzerland until Monday. 'I'm sorry-----'

  'Katy is sorry we can't stop, David,' Jake's sardonic voice interrupted. 'But we have a pressing appointment. I'm sure you understand, old man.'

  Before Katy could gather her scattered wits she was being ushered out of the house.

  'Just a minute!' she remonstrated as Jake, with his arm firmly around her waist, almost carried her along the pavement to where a smart black top of the range BMW was parked.

  'Shut up and get in.'

  A hand at her back shoved her none too gently into the passenger-seat. Her weekend case sailed over her head to land with a dull thud on the back seat. 'My God, that nearly hit me!' she exclaimed.

  Jake slid into the driving seat and turned one hand on the steering-wheel, his other arm along the back of the seat. 'When I'm finished with you being hit by a suitcase will seem paltry in comparison, I promise you.' The sibilant rustle of his voice, the lowness of the tone, sent arrows of fear darting down her spine.

  Katy raised her eyes to his and shrank back in the seat at the force of his rage. His black eyes gleamed like living coals of fire set in the harsh contours of his face. The skin pulled taut across his high cheekbones, a nerve twitched spasmodically in his tightly clenched jaw. Fury, inimical anger—there was no word to describe the hostility she could feel crashing over her like waves in a storm-tossed sea. She had never seen him so enraged.

  'Don't you think you're over-reacting somewhat?' she offered quietly and, to her surprise, quite steadily. The car was moving and she felt emboldened to add, 'After all, Jake, we women are notorious for changing our minds.' Frantically she was searching for an excuse— anything to placate his anger.

  'Shut up.' And she did. The rest of the ride was completed in absolute silence.

  'Get out.'

  Katy took one look at Jake's face and complied. He grabbed her arm and half dragged her into the lift. She tried to shake off his hand but he simply tightened his grip. As the lift rose her stomach sank, and the blood ran cold in her veins. Whatever excuse she came up with she had the horrible conviction Jake was not going to believe her, but then, did it matter? she asked herself. Their relationship had to end some time. Why not now?

  Jake pushed her into the apartment and carefully locked the door after them, pocketing the key.

  'Really, Jake, there's no need to be so melodramatic' She tried to laugh. 'I stayed with some friends instead of Dad.' An instinct of self-preservation stopped her mentioning Paris.
/>
  'You lying little bitch.' Jake caught her shoulders and spun her around to face him. 'Your friend lives in Paris,' he snarled, his face only inches from her own.

  'How-----?'

  'I paid the cab fare from Heathrow, my treacherous little Katy, and now you are going to pay me.' He tore the jacket from her shoulders and the blouse followed suit.

  'No...' She struggled, but her effort was soon dashed as he swung her high and carried her into the bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously down on to the wide bed.

  Jake towered over her, huge and terrifyingly menacing. Never had she seen him so consumed with anger. There was a barely controlled violence in the way he looked at her. She raised a hand to her throat in an involuntary gesture, betraying her fear.

  'Yes, my darling Katy, I could throttle you with my bare hands, but first...' his eyes raked her crumpled form and with a minimum of effort he stripped the clothes from her body '... I am going to expunge the touch of your friend Claude from every pore of your body.'

  'No, you've got it wrong!' she cried. 'Let me explain!' But she was too late.

  Jake lowered his body on to the bed, trapping her slender body with his own. His mouth covered hers, insensitive to the pain he was causing as he savagely kissed her until she felt the taste of her own blood on her tongue. But the ravishment did not stop with a kiss.

  His mouth searched and found the rosy tip of her breast while his hands roamed the length of her body with devastating thoroughness, teasing and tormenting until she whimpered in despair at her own frailty. Mindless, she wrapped her slender arms around him— she had no idea when he had shed his clothes—and her nails raked his broad back. She almost screamed as his mouth travelled lower to achieve her ultimate devastating capitulation. She heard her own voice begging him to take her.

  Jake complied with one single savage thrust; her body arched off the bed and her long legs wrapped around his waist. Her keening cry was trapped in her throat as his mouth closed over hers again.

  Later, how much later she had no idea, Jake rolled off the bed and stood looking down on her nakedness.

  'You're a beautiful woman, Katy, but with the soul of a whore. I thought I could...' He stopped.

  Katy flinched at the unadulterated hatred that shone in his dark eyes. 'Could what?' she whispered.

  'Nothing. Pack your bags and get out. I never want to set eyes on you again.' And with that, totally unconscious of his own magnificent nudity, he casually picked up his clothes. He cast her one contemptuous glance and added, 'I want you out of here in half an hour. Anything you leave I will send on to your apartment,' and he walked out of the room.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. She would not cry. This was the end and perhaps it was for the best. At least she still had some pride. He would never know how much she loved him. Or that she was having his child. A harsh dry laugh rattled in her throat. The decision of whether to tell him about the baby was made for her. She had been frightened he would insist on marriage for the child's sake. When in reality if Jake knew he would probably insist on her getting rid of it. He would never tolerate a woman of her supposedly lax morals having his child...

  CHAPTER NINE

  Katy dragged herself up and swung her long legs over the side of the bed. She paused for a moment, her head bowed, her long golden hair falling like a tangled curtain either side of her face. Jake had told her to leave. It had had to happen some time, but like acid dropping on a stone the reality of her situation was seeping into her tired mind. The injustice of his remarks, his fury because she had gone to Paris and stayed with Claude, suddenly struck her as totally unfair.

  So what if Jake did imagine Claude was her old lover? He never gave her a chance to explain; instead he had... She shuddered. The force of his lovemaking had totally swamped her feeble resistance, and her body had betrayed her yet again. She lifted her head, tossing the hair from eyes that were narrowed in fury. But not any more, she vowed silently.

  She got to her feet and with quick, jerky movements she gathered underwear from the drawer and threw it on the bed. She selected a pair of briefs and a bra, and headed for the shower.

  Five minutes later she returned to the bedroom, and, flinging open all the wardrobe doors, she methodically removed dresses, skirts, all her own clothes, and tossed them to join the rest on the bed. She took particular care not to include any of the garments Jake had tricked her into accepting on their visit to Venice.

  With the hectic pace of their social life in the past few weeks she had been forced to wear some of the evening clothes, as her own wardrobe was of excellent quality but quite meagre.

  She dragged the suitcases from the adjoining dressing-room, cursing Jake under her breath. 'The swine, the flaming hypocrite.' She stopped long enough to pull on a pair of jeans and a soft blue lambswool sweater. Then, picking up a hairbrush, she savagely brushed the tangles from her hair and fastened it back in a pony-tail with a pale blue silk scarf. She didn't care what she looked like. She just wanted to get out.

  Katy swept her arm along the dressing-table, emptying the bottles and jars into the suitcase. She hesitated at the small black lacquered jewellery box, her attention caught by the glitter of diamonds. She picked out the ring Jake had given her. A prop to fool an old lady. Jake's devious idea. Like all his other ideas, the devil!

  Her lips tightened in disgust, with herself as much as him. She had allowed Jake to blackmail her into being his mistress, and had actually nursed the hope that by some miracle he might care for her, even though she knew his motive was revenge.

  She had actually been prepared to forget his original reason for seducing her years ago. A smokescreen to deceive her father while sleeping with his wife Monica. God, but she had been a fool for far too long. A flash of green, and the pendant he had given her for her eighteenth birthday went into the pocket of her jeans along with the ring.

  Well, Jake Granton was in for a big surprise, Katy thought furiously. All the hurt and humiliation he had inflicted on her bubbled to the surface and she physically shook with the force of her rage. She would leave all right. Haphazardly she packed the first suitcase, snapped it shut and dragged it to the door. The next followed very quickly.

  Katy was panting, her face red with her exertions and a fiercely burning anger. She marched down the hall and into the lounge, her green eyes shooting fire; for once in her life she was going to tell the arrogant, devious bastard just what she thought of him.

  'Good, you're ready. I'll call a cab. Your apartment, or the airport and Claude?' Jake enquired silkily.

  Katy looked at him. 'You supercilious swine!' She couldn't control her reaction. He was leaning negligently against the window-sill. Clad in a casual white sweat-shirt and hip-hugging black jeans, he looked wickedly attractive; a swift stab of regret pierced her anger, but she quickly stamped on her wayward feelings.

  His autocratic profile tautened. 'I should have remembered the old adage, "One cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.'' It was a mistake for me to try. Once a whore, always a whore,' he drawled insultingly and stepped away from the window.

  His last insult was too much for Katy's fragile self-control. She dashed across the room and slapped her slender hand over his on the telephone.

  'Not so fast!' she spat.

  Jake glanced down at her hand against his; with his other hand he clasped her wrist between thumb and forefinger and lifted it away. His lips curved in a grimace of disdain and he dropped her hand as though it were a dead rat. 'I told you to get out; don't make me throw you out.'

  The air crackled with barely contained animosity. She must have been mad to ever have imagined she loved him. Katy sizzled. She tilted her head to stare into black eyes as hard and expressionless as jet. He didn't need a mistress or a wife—a blown-up doll would have had enough emotion for him. Throw her out! she seethed. He wouldn't get the chance...

  'Oh, I'm going, never fear, but first I am going to have the satisfaction of telling you exactly what I think of
you. If I am a whore I am exactly what you made me,' she snarled. 'You barged back into my life and thought you could buy me for three thousand pounds. Jake Granton, the staid banker no publicity must touch. You even used an agent, though God knows what for— the stage was very public. As for your bland assumption I would leap into bed with you, you conceited pig-----'

  'That's enough,' he cut in icily.

  'No way—I'm only just starting.' Her small chin jutted belligerently. 'You blackmailer, I wonder what your City friends would think if they knew,' she sneered. 'You set me up simply because of dented male pride. Some tasteless revenge. You bought me, and I was stupid and cared enough about other people to let you. Something, Mr High and Mighty Granton, you deliberately used against me.'

  Katy watched as his face darkened with suppressed anger. That got to him, she thought savagely, but she wasn't finished yet. 'Don't you think I guessed your little game the past few weeks? You made me into your mistress, and I, fool that I was, actually thought you might care for me.' In full flood, she didn't register the narrowing of Jake's eyes, or the flash of some unknown emotion flicker across his handsome face. 'Until you started dragging me around every nightclub and high-profile place in town. The use of my body wasn't enough for you. You had to publicly humiliate me.'

  'No.'

  She ignored his swift denial. 'You're a liar and a cheat without an honest bone in your body. You even lied to your own grandmother.' Katy shook her head. 'And you have the colossal nerve to quote asinine cliches at me.' She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans to try and stop them trembling, her fingers curled on something hard, and without a second thought she withdrew the ring and pendant from her pocket and flung them in Jake's face. 'Here—take back your props; I don't want them. Give them to the next woman you buy.'

  Jake flinched as the jewellery scraped his face and fell to the floor. Slowly he bent down and retrieved the ring and pendant. He straightened and stared at the jewels in his hand for a long moment, then, catching Katy by the arm as she would have stormed off, he swung her around to face him. 'You kept this,' he rasped, the words apparently dragged out of him, the pendant dangling from his hand.