Temporary Bride

by Phyllis Halldorson

  Audrey shot Karen a murderous glance but spoke sweetly to Shane. "Sorry, darling, but I can't get my window open. It's stuck and you know I can't sleep without fresh air."

  Karen wondered how Shane would know that unless—Shut up, she told herself, it was none of her business what he did.

  Shane still had his arm around Karen's waist as he answered, "I'll come look at it as soon as I see Karen to her room."

  Karen pulled abruptly away from him. Who was she to keep him from the beautiful Audrey's side? She smiled thinly at him as she stepped away and said, "Thank you, but I'll be all right," then scurried off toward the stairway before he could stop her.

  She was wakened from a deep sleep by a pounding on her door and an angry male voice calling. "Karen, wake up and open this door or I'll use my key!"

  She opened her eyes and sprang to a sitting position. The faint light of dawn peeked through her drawn drapes as the pounding started again. She jumped out of bed and, forgetting the low-cut, revealing blue nightgown she wore, raced to open the door, switching on the light as she did so.

  It was Shane, in a long wine velour robe, eyes blazing with rage as he swept past her into the room. She glimpsed Mrs. Whitney in a navy blue robe standing in the hall. Karen cowered back and Shane towered over her, his mouth twisted in uncontrolled fury. What had she done now? How could she have made him so angry when she'd been asleep?

  His voice was low as he growled, "How long have you been sleeping down here?"

  She was too surprised to answer with anything but the truth. "I've always slept down here—you know that."

  "Know that!" he almost shouted. "I know no such thing! I thought you had the room across from mine. I wondered why I never heard or saw you upstairs—" He stopped as if something had just occurred to him. "Is that why you wouldn't take your meals with me? Did she"—he motioned to Mrs. Whitney, who was now hurrying down the hall—"tell you to eat down here?"

  Karen nodded, unable or possibly unwilling to lie to protect the housekeeper. Shane groaned and took her small oval face in his hands, tilting it until she was looking straight into his dark brown eyes, eyes that were still clouded with anger.

  "Karen, I can't tell you how upset I am to find that you have been treated so shamefully in my home. You were to be regarded as a guest, and Mrs. Whitney knew that. I'll deal with her later, but I'm telling you now, you are to have complete freedom of the house and grounds and the use of anything you need, including the cars. You are not an employee; you are a guest who is doing me a favor by putting my library in order. In appreciation I am paying you a reasonable stipend for your valuable service. Is that clear?"

  She nodded, her eyes on his expressive face and the sensuous mouth that was saying such wonderful things. He bent his head and brushed her lips lightly with his then took them in a hungry kiss, sending shock waves of emotion through her. His hands left her face and drew her to him, burning through her silky gown wherever they touched. Her arms rose of their own accord and wound around his neck, her fingers caressing the back of his dark head. As his tongue found the sweetness of her parted mouth she shivered, and with a groan he pushed her away. His voice trembled as he said, "You'd better put some clothes on."

  He turned away from her as she reached for her gingham robe and his voice was under control when he spoke again.

  "I almost forgot the reason I was looking for you in the first place. The baby is crying again and Carrie doesn't seem to have the vaguest idea how to calm him. The whole household is probably awake by now. Would you mind—?"

  "Of course not. The poor little guy's probably hungry. I'll warm his bottle and take it with me."

  Mrs. Whitney was not in evidence but Karen wondered uneasily if she had lingered to watch the kiss. Shane had said she'd have no more trouble from the woman, but Karen wasn't so sure—something about Mrs. Whitney frightened her, made her feel like a backward child who wasn't performing up to expectations.

  They climbed the stairs to the small kitchen next to the dining room, where Karen stopped to warm a bottle. Shane told her to take the baby to his room and feed it, then went in search of Mrs. Whitney.

  Ben Tyler was pacing the floor of the room with the screaming child while Carrie huddled on the bed in tears. Karen took the unhappy baby from his relieved father, gathered up a pile of clean clothes, and walked across the hall and down a few doors to Shane's room. She changed the infant's wet clothes and settled down in the big armchair to feed him.

  It was quiet and peaceful in this big, masculine room, and it was plainly evident that no woman shared it on a continuing basis. It was decorated in moss, ocher, and ecru—earth tones that complemented the dark, heavy furniture. Gleaming brass lamps added a lighter touch, and a large oil painting of a sailing ship, by an artist whose name was unfamiliar to Karen, provided the only bright color.

  A glance at the bottle told her the baby had already taken two ounces of his formula and she pulled the nipple from his mouth and put him over her shoulder, gently rubbing her hand upward on his back to relieve the inevitable bubble of gas.

  The door opened and Shane entered. His long wine robe parted at the bottom as he walked, revealing no trace of pajamas underneath. He smiled at Karen and sat down on the side of the bed as he said, "Your things are being moved to the room across the hall and I don't ever want to catch you in the servants' quarters again." She started to protest that it could have waited till later but he hurried on. "Mrs. Whitney insists she misunderstood my orders about how you were to be treated and I confess I'm at a loss to understand why she would do such a thing deliberately. She's been highly efficient in the past so I told her we'd let it go this time, but I want to know immediately if you have any more trouble with her."

  Danny chose that moment to burp and Karen and Shane both laughed as the baby raised his small head and looked around, perplexed by the sudden attention. Karen cradled him again in the crook of her arm and offered him the rest of the bottle, which he grabbed with both waving hands and propelled expertly to his already open mouth. Karen giggled and said, "If he weren't so fat I'd swear they never feed him at home."

  Shane lit a cigarette and watched her as she sat in the shadows of the dimly lit room. For a while he didn't speak and when he did his voice was husky.

  "You're very good with babies, Karen. Do you plan to have a family of your own someday?"

  Karen nodded. "Oh, yes, a whole houseful, and I'm going to stay home and take care of them. I don't want baby-sitters raising my children."

  "And who's going to father those children?"

  There was a tremor in his voice that struck an answering chord in her. It was a perfectly innocent question but the intimacy of the setting, the nightclothes they were both wearing and the memory of that kiss that had made her forget everything but his arms holding her, his lips melting her very bones, made her blush and stammer, "The—the man I love. I'd never give myself to a man I didn't love with all my heart."

  "And have you met this man yet?"

  For a long time she didn't answer, and when she did it was almost a whisper. "I don't know."

  Over Shane's strenuous objections she had the portable crib moved into her room and took charge of the infant for the rest of the weekend. Shane introduced her to his other guests—all business acquaintances—and insisted she join them. When Danny was awake she kept him with her, depositing him on a blanket spread over the thick carpet, where he gurgled happily. His parents seemed content to let her do as she pleased as long as she didn't bother them about him. When he slept she made regular trips upstairs to check on him, and several times she caught both Shane and Mark watching her comings and goings.

  Mark was paired off with the redheaded daughter of one of the older couples, who saw to it that he had no time alone with Karen. Shane and Audrey were a duo, and apparently one of long standing, and Karen's dinner partner was an elderly man who seemed pleased that she was willing to listen to his memories of a long and happy marriage to a wife who had r
ecently died.

  On Sunday the party moved to Carmel with its artists' colony, galleries, and quaint little shops. Karen refused to go, explaining to Shane that she had to stay home and take care of Danny. Shane threatened to make the Tylers take care of their own baby but Karen was adamant and they finally left without her. The group was gone all day and returned only to pick up their luggage, and of course Danny, and head back to San Francisco. Mark had ridden down with Shane, and Audrey and they were the last to leave after seeing the others off. Mark and Audrey had gone to pack her luggage in the car and Shane was ushering Karen into the library for some last-minute instructions when the telephone on the desk rang. Shane answered it and handed it to her.

  "It's for you."

  Karen's eyebrows raised in surprise. Who would be calling her here? The voice was at first unfamiliar.

  "Karen, this is Joe Voss with Valley Realty Company."

  Recognition clicked. "Oh, yes, Mr. Voss—have you sold my house yet? I really do need the money as soon as possible."

  Shane looked interestedly at her as the voice hesitated then answered. "No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have bad news. Karen, there's been a fire."

  "A fire?" Karen felt the quickening of fear. "You mean at my house?"

  Shane moved toward her as the voice continued, "It must have smoldered for hours before it broke out in full force. Honey, I'm sorry—the house, garage, and everything in them is a total loss. You have just enough insurance to cover the mortgages; there won't be a cent left over!"

  Chapter Four

  Karen stood rooted to the floor, her hand clutching the telephone like a lifeline holding her above the quicksand that threatened to pull her down and close over her. She swayed and Shane was beside her, his arm supporting her against him as he gently took the phone and spoke into it. She heard his voice but not the words. Images formed in her mind of the six-room ranch house that had been home to her all her life. The redwood and brick trimmed exterior, the neat modern kitchen, her room with Raggedy Ann and Andy print curtains and matching bedspread. And then her room with ballerinas on the curtains and spread, and, finally, the same room with imitation French Provincial white and gold furniture and curtains and a bedspread of yellow dotted swiss. Her whole life had revolved around that room. She'd studied everything from counting to calculus at the desk, had girl friends over to spend the night with her in the double bed, and curled up in the rocking chair to sob out her anguish when her mother died and again when she lost her father. The house was her only legacy, the bequest that would have kept her solvent until she could learn a skill and earn a living.

  Now it was gone, destroyed! She was left with no past and no future—only a bleak and empty present.

  But now there was Shane, his arms holding her, his fingers gently caressing her, and his voice murmuring words of comfort. His strength was a buffer against the shock and his warm, solid body shielded and protected her. It was then that the tears came. Not gentle and ladylike but great shuddering sobs that threatened to tear her apart. Shane picked her up and carried her to the big leather chair, where he sat down and cradled her on his lap, and she clung to him and cried into his shoulder. Someone came in once and Shane spoke to him, but she was too wrapped up in her own misery to notice.

  Finally the storm subsided, the tears ran out, and she was too exhausted by her raging emotions to do anything but lie against Shane's comforting chest. His cheek rested against the top of her head and he carefully wiped the moisture from her face with his thumb. It was then that the door opened and Mark came in. He eyed Karen cuddled in Shane's lap but spoke to Shane.

  "Is she all right?"

  Shane's eyebrows raised. "I thought I told you to take one of the cars and drive Audrey back to San Francisco."

  It must have been Mark who came in earlier when she was too devastated to pay attention. Mark slumped down on the red velour couch and said, "I put her in a car and told her to drive herself home. I think I know what you're planning and I want to be here to protect Karen's rights."

  Shane stiffened. "You think she needs protection from me?"

  Mark nodded grimly. "I do. I went along with this harebrained scheme of yours because I thought you'd pick a woman as hard and practical as you are. One who's selfish enough to put money and her own creature comforts above everything else, but Karen's a lamb being led to the slaughter and I'm not going to stand for it."

  "What are you two talking about?" Karen asked.

  Neither man paid the slightest attention to her question as Shane, his voice cold and haughty, said to Mark, "You know I don't have to stand for your insults."

  "I know I could lose my job," Mark acknowledged. "I like working for you but there are some things I won't be a party to. Fire me if you must but I intend to represent Karen in this folly."

  Now they definitely had Karen's attention and she sat up, puzzled. "Represent me in what, Mark? Why do I need a lawyer? You mean because my house burned down?"

  Mark snorted. "No, I mean because of the proposition Shane's about to put to you. That so-called job he advertised in the paper."

  Karen turned to look at Shane. "You mean you're going to give me the job after all?"

  Oh, please say yes! she pleaded silently. If he would just let her work for him on a permanent basis her troubles would be over. Why was Mark so against it? He knew how badly she needed the job and still he fought against Shane giving it to her. If Shane thought she could fill it what business was it of Mark's?

  Shane's arms tightened around her waist as if he was afraid she'd slide off his lap, but there was a hard finality in his voice. "No, Karen, I am not going to give you the job and this blundering idiot had no right to assume I would! I've told you over and over again, that position is not for you. If I told you what it is you wouldn't even want it—now forget it!"

  Forget it! How could she forget it, when it seemed to be her only option? What was it Shane wanted of the woman he advertised for? Why was Mark in favor of it for someone else but not for her? What was going on here anyway?

  "But why, Shane?" she cried. "Why are you so sure I couldn't do it? Why do you think I wouldn't do it? Why won't you tell me what it is so I can make up my own mind? I'm not a child and I have to find some way to support myself. When I leave here I won't even have enough money to eat on."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, little one." Shane sighed with exasperation. "I'm not going to let you starve! I'll send you to school. Decide where you want to go and I'll pay for it as well as give you an allowance while you're there."

  Karen was stunned. "But why should you do that? I'm nothing to you and I'm not a charity case. I won't take your money unless I work for it!"

  Shane swore and set her on her feet as he got up from the chair and began pacing the room. "All right, damn it, I'll tell you what the job is, but this is highly confidential and you are never to breathe a word of it to anyone! Understand?"

  She nodded, dumbfounded by his change of mind and his vehemence. He stopped his pacing and looked at her. "I need a woman, a stranger, who for a large sum of money will marry me and give me a child." Karen gasped but he continued. "Once the child is born she must agree to divorce me and give me sole custody of my son."

  Karen stared, shock registered on her open mouth and in her round, unblinking eyes. The man was out of his mind! Stark raving mad! Why would a man like Shane, who could have any woman he wanted, advertise for a wife?

  He was standing there watching her, waiting for her reaction, which wasn't long in coming. "You've got to be kidding!"

  He shook his head. "I've never been more serious. I need an heir to carry on the family business."

  "But there must be dozens of women who would jump at the chance to be your wife."

  He uttered a short bitter laugh. "I don't want a wife—just a woman with good breeding and background who will give me a son."

  "Then why marry her? Why don't you just pay her to have your baby?"

  "My son must be legitimate." His
tone was harsh.

  "Your moral concern is touching." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "And how can you be so sure it will be a son?"

  "Morals have nothing to do with it," he snapped. "I want no legal clouding of the issue once the child is old enough to take over the company. As to the sex of the baby, there hasn't been a girl child in my father's family in over one hundred years, and since I'm the one who 'decides' that issue…" He shrugged. "It's not fool-proof, but it does make it more likely that any child of mine would be a son."

  Karen could see that she was no match for his verbal sparring and turned to look at Mark, still seated on the sofa watching them. "Mark, he's teasing isn't he? I don't think it's a bit funny. I think it's beastly of both of you!"

  Mark looked up and his eyes locked with hers. "No, Karen, he's not teasing. That's exactly what he's advertising for, a woman who can be bought and discarded."

  Shane winced. "Oh, come off it, Mark! All she has to give me is one year—maybe less if she's quick about it—and then she's free and will be financially secure for the rest of her life. It's a hell of a lot better than getting starry-eyed over the local garage mechanic and wasting her youth having a baby every other year and trying to make the paycheck stretch from one month to the next."

  Karen dropped back down in the leather chair, shattered by his callous contempt. She knew she shouldn't ask the question forming in her mind but she had to know. "Why do you hate women, Shane?"

  He looked genuinely surprised. "Hate them? I don't hate them. I'm very fond of them—ask anybody. I use them and they use me and we get along just fine as long as I have the good sense not to marry one and expect the marriage to be happy and long lasting."

  Karen shifted miserably in the chair. Shane was right, she wouldn't accept the position if it were offered.

  Mark was the first to break the shocked silence. He'd been watching Karen and his voice was soft as he spoke. "You look as though you'd lost your last friend, honey. You haven't, you know. You still have me." He stood and walked over to her. "You need to get away from here for a while, try to forget the things that have happened today. Come on. Go wash that pretty little tear-ravaged face and I'll take you out to dinner and a movie."