The Loving Slave

by Margaret Pargeter

  'Well, you've known a lot!'

  'No, I haven't. Not intimately,' he returned coolly. 'Affairs take time, and I've never had a lot of that to spare.'

  'Is it their gain and your loss or the other way round?' she queried smoothly, trying to punish him for his re­marks.

  Instead of rising to the bait, he took a determined hold of her arm. 'Let's get out of here, Gina,' he said, steering her through the door. 'Words can be as challenging and as intoxicating as actions sometimes, and I'm not sure I can take any more.'

  On the way home she couldn't sit still and relax. She felt curiously keyed up, just beginning to be conscious of the strain of unsatisfied feelings. After London the countryside sped by. Quentin drove fast and was as silent as he had been as they had driven in that morning, but this evening his silence wasn't as welcome.

  It caused an uneasiness, making her touch abruptly on a subject she had meant to avoid. 'Grandfather is going to miss me. He says he's had me for so short a time. After we're married I'll have to see him every day.'

  'I expect he'll survive,' Quentin replied idly. 'He still has his house and grounds to keep him occupied.'

  'And he has Liza.'

  'She's a tower of strength.'

  'I still think we should wait longer, Quentin.'

  'No,' she noticed his well kept hands tighten on the steering wheel, 'I won't wait, Gina,' his voice dropped so she had to strain to hear. 'I can't.'

  Frowning, she stared at the green, rolling downs. Why couldn't he? For a moment he seemed quite desperate. If she could believe he ever could be. Yet it was difficult to interpret the note in his voice as anything else. Feeling a warmth of trembling anticipation, she kept her eyes on the road. She wanted him to want her so she could have the triumph of rejecting him, but she wasn't sure she could fight him indefinitely. If his feelings were beginning to be involved she mightn't find it possible to keep him at a distance for ever—but would she want to? Perhaps, after he had suffered a little, she might have to forgive him…?

  It had been a long day and Gina was relieved when Quentin made no arrangements to see her later, as he dropped her off at Bourne Court. After helping her from the car he refused her offer of a drink. 'Thanks,' he said curtly, 'but I have work to catch up on. Tell your grand­father I'll give him a ring after dinner. He'll know what about.'

  'What about?' a smile of curiosity lit her face briefly. 'Can't I know? You sound very mysterious.'

  'No,' but he didn't deny it as he dropped a light, almost indifferent kiss on her mouth. 'Curiosity is some­times better left unsatisfied. Run along, there's a good girl.'

  Sometimes, Gina thought next morning, as she went out riding, Quentin treated her like a schoolgirl, which made it difficult to account for the occasions when, with his arms around her, he seemed to consider her very much a woman.

  She felt the warmth of the sun on her head and raised her face to it, letting it caress her features softly. She had been almost relieved to get away from the house this morning. There had been something in the atmosphere she couldn't understand. Liza had talked of Gina's trous­seau, insisting they ought to have a few days in London to gather it together. Gina had protested, perhaps more sharply than she ought to have done, that she had more than enough clothes left over from her world tour, many never yet worn. All she could possibly need was a wed­ding dress, which she could surely get without going to London.

  Liza's face had immediately registered disapproval and Gina had been surprised when, having expected her grandfather to look the same way, he had unexpectedly declared himself in agreement with Gina. That there was no sense in buying new clothes, just for the sake of buying them.

  Liza had looked ready to burst into tears of disappoint­ment, and, because she had felt sorry for her, Gina had agreed to accompany her, that very afternoon, to what Liza maintained was a wonderful little dress shop. The only decent one outside London! Gina sighed as she en­visaged the struggle which would undoubtedly ensue over the choice of her wedding dress.

  So immersed was she in such troublesome thoughts, she didn't see Blanche Edgar until it was much too late to avoid her.

  Blanche was riding a small black horse and she looked remarkably well on it. Gina would like to have told her so, but the awkwardness of the moment became apparent too quickly. Blanche had only known her as the girl who looked after Quentin's horses, then as his mother's maid—while she had had every expectation of marrying him herself. Gina couldn't help feeling sorry for her. For Blanche it must be dreadful to find Gina suddenly an heiress, and engaged to the man she had hoped to marry. But although Gina felt sorry for Blanche she couldn't help feeling sorry for herself, too, for in truth, Quentin loved neither of them. She couldn't, of course, very well say so.

  As Gina groped uncertainly, and with not a little em­barrassment for words, Blanche flicked her a far from flat­tering glance.

  Without even pausing to say a polite good morning, she said coldly, 'It seems you've done very well for your­self, Gina.'

  Gina controlled her temper with difficulty. Blanche did have some excuse for being insulting, but she didn't have to stay and listen. With a small nod she made to ride on.

  She hadn't supposed Blanche would bother to try and stop her, and was startled by the sharp note in the other girl's voice as she did so. 'Wait a minute! I want to speak to you, to congratulate you on your engagement.'

  Old habits die hard. Gina found herself obeying with­out intending to, for it was quite clear Blanche didn't wish her well in anything. Her silence appeared to annoy Blanche even more.

  'Don't you think I'm being generous?' she snapped. 'Especially when Quentin was going to marry me.'

  Sharply Gina bit her lip, while a curious sense of dread made her heart pound. At last she said, 'If you thought so, then I'm sorry.'

  'I did more than think so!' Blanche's face flushed with hatred, she was obviously finding it an effort to remain calm. 'The breaking off of our relationship was, of course, mutual. I lost everything I'd been led to believe I would inherit and Quentin couldn't afford a poor wife.'

  Gina's frown was faintly incredulous. 'I'm sure he doesn't need a rich one.'

  'Doesn't he?' Blanche's voice was vindictive. 'Didn't you know, you little fool, he's lost a great deal of money? It's common knowledge. It's also well known that your grandfather is helping him. They've been together almost continually this last week. You might not have liked having no money, Gina, but how do you like being married for it?'

  Shock froze Gina so still she couldn't speak as Blanche pulled cruelly on her reins and whirled away from her. Horrified by what she had heard, Gina stared after her, until the little black horse was just a speck in the distance.

  Could what Blanche told her be true? Had Quentin asked her to marry him so that Charles would be forced to help him out of financial difficulties? Dazed, she thought of Quentin's hurried proposal, the abrupt way he had made it. She had been so bemused by his lovemaking she hadn't noticed at the time, although she recalled now that she had wondered. She did remember he hadn't spoken like a man in love.

  It should have occurred to her, but it was the one thing which hadn't. It had to be financial trouble which had driven him to reject Blanche and seek someone else. Nei­ther Blanche or her brother would be able to help him. Bitterly Gina recalled him saying she was the only girl any use to him now. How true! Now that she realised what he was talking about, how very true—and trite— that statement was. And wasn't Blanche right? What a fool she had been to have swallowed it all unsuspectingly!

  The dreadful thing was she couldn't bring herself to go to her grandfather and tell him the truth—that Quentin was simply marrying her to save his own skin. How was it, she wondered, in cold despair, that the old loyalties were still there? Had he guessed she could never betray him? He must have speculated wildly and should be made to pay for his folly, as other men did, instead of sitting quietly laughing!

  It made her blindly angry that she didn't have the c
ou­rage to be the one to expose him, for how could she bear to see Briarly sold—for it might come to that—and never to see Quentin again? Whatever he had done, wasn't he part of her? To lose him would be like losing a part of herself. It was suddenly too intolerable to even contem­plate. Yet she couldn't sit here, wallowing in pity for him. She must refuse to allow such feelings to take over.

  She had been unhappy about their marriage, unsure of how Quentin felt about her, now she knew she had been right to distrust him. She might be trapped by her own feelings, but she would never give in to him, she would make his life hell! She would marry him, but tell him what she had learnt on their wedding night. He had a lot to answer for, both past and present! Her heart hardening with bitterness, Gina rode slowly home.

  Charles Hearn came walking around the corner of the house as she drew up before it and immediately noticed her distraught face. Ts anything wrong?' he asked with a frown as he opened the car door for her.

  'Of course not.' She forced a brief smile, annoyed that she hadn't seen her grandfather approaching. 'Perhaps I've ridden too far.'

  'Gina,' his frown hadn't disappeared, 'you are happy about marrying Quentin? You do love him?'

  'Don't worry,' she smiled weakly, but let the moment when she might have confided in him pass, 'I've always loved Quentin.'

  'It's worth any sacrifice to hear you say that,' Charles replied, his relief very evident.

  As they went inside Gina realised this must be because Quentin had borrowed a large sum of money from him, but that he didn't mind if it was for her happiness.

  It made her sense of bitterness increase when between then and their wedding, Quentin was kinder to her than he had ever been. They weren't alone much, and she suspected he deliberately avoided seeing a lot of her. Kindness was one thing, having to pretend a deeper affection quite another. He was busy, and she noted with scorn that he had several private sessions with her grand­father.

  Neither man made any comment about the time they spent together and she didn't ask, but one evening, just before the wedding, Charles said something that enraged her. He told her he was selling the lease on his London house.

  'It seems foolish to have two houses, now I'm getting older and you're getting married,' he explained.

  'But what about Liza? She loves London.'

  'Oh, she agrees with me,' Charles said uncomfortably.

  Unconvinced, Gina stared at him doubtfully. 'I sup­pose she can always stay with Quentin and me, whenever she wants to?'

  'I believe that's what she's hoping you might say, but she won't be visiting you very often. Since you came she seems to like being here.'

  'I'm leaving…' Gina said helplessly.

  'But you'll still be near.'

  'Yes, of course I will be.' She gave him a brilliant smile while her heart was breaking. She knew how much he loved his London home. He had so many friends there and was still young enough to enjoy a few weeks in London, as a change. He must have let his house go to help Quentin.

  The day of the wedding arrived and the ceremony and reception were soon over.

  'Everything's gone off remarkably well,' Quentin's mother observed, with a kind of surprised satisfaction as they left on their honeymoon, and she said goodbye.

  Dutifully, Gina kissed her. Mrs Hurst had been so pleasant to her lately that she wondered if she knew about the money Quentin had received from Charles. Ruefully, Gina was aware how it was beginning to poison her relationship with both Quentin and his mother. But perhaps she was being unfair. Perhaps Mrs Hurst knew nothing about it.

  They flew to Vienna. Quentin, she realised, had been disappointed over her choice, but he had left it to her. He hadn't quarrelled with her decision, even though he didn't pretend to understand it. He would have preferred the West Indies or America—he had even suggested Aus­tralia. He had named places, remote and beautiful, places for lovers. Watching her closely, he had been obviously puzzled by her fleeting expression of disgust as she had wondered angrily how he dared be so extravagant with someone else's money. Bleakly she had shaken her head and settled for Vienna.

  Had he been relieved? She thought so. Possibly he was thinking of Blanche and her older sophistication. Gina knew she had a long way to go before she reached Blan­che's standard, but Quentin should have thought of that before he married another girl. Vienna would do as well as anywhere else for a couple of days, which was all their honeymoon would probably amount to after she told him what she knew. She had planned this as the grand finale to an evening spent dining and dancing and letting him expect she was ready to be a loving and obedient wife. She might be one day, but not for a long time. Not until Quentin paid back every penny he had taken from her grandfather. Only then might she reconsider.

  Almost aching with disillusionment, she asked Quentin if he would get her a drink of fruit squash. Every time she thought of the coming evening her mouth went dry. They were travelling first class and there was a free serve-your-self bar, and she watched with dull eyes as he walked obligingly towards it.

  In Austria, at the Schwechat Airport, some twenty minutes from Vienna, he quickly dispensed with for­malities. Gina had got used to flying with Charles and Liza, and certainly they were experienced travellers, but Quentin seemed to achieve twice as much in half the time. It did occur to her this might be partly due to the fact that the eyes of the female staff, both on and off the plane, were frequently trained on his dark good looks. He never had to endure long waits before attracting atten­tion. It wasn't merely his looks, she conceded, it was his remarkable virility. She wondered how these same girls would feel if they knew he was capable of fraud and deceit.

  When Quentin had agreed eventually to Vienna, he had taken over all the arrangements. The hotel they were taken to was the last word in luxury, but rather than impress it only added to Gina's sense of grievance. After they were shown into a beautiful suite she found it very hard to hide her resentment.

  As Quentin, with another thoughtful glance at her, idly unlocked her suitcase and opened it for her, she snatched up a silky dress, without glancing to see if it was anything special, and locked herself in the bathroom. After shower­ing quickly, she dried and slipped it over her head. It was after nine and in spite of the turmoil inside her Gina felt hungry. Neither Quentin nor she had eaten much on the plane as they hadn't been hungry, and Quentin had suggested it might be better to wait until they got here.

  He had changed, too, when she came out, and was so superbly handsome her heart skipped a beat. He came towards her, his eyes amused yet guarded, dropping a light kiss on her full mouth. 'You don't have to lock the bathroom door now,' he grinned. 'I'm your husband, in case you've forgotten that impressive ceremony we went through.'

  She lowered her lashes so he wouldn't see the sudden longing in her eyes. If only things had been different, she wouldn't have wanted to go down for dinner. The only hunger she felt would have been for him.

  'Gina?' His voice deepened as his hands went to her shoulders, as if he felt the same way.

  Quickly she pulled from his tightening grip, yet not so quickly as to give the impression she was rejecting him. 'I'm ravenous!' She curved her pink, inviting lips in a deliberate smile.

  'Let's go down then, by all means,' he replied pati­ently, his strong features immediately controlled as he took her arm possessively and steered her from the room.

  'You're looking beautiful tonight.' Staring at her over the table in the restaurant, he took in the silky fall of her glowing hair, her young silky skin and bare shoulders. 'Exactly as a girl should look on her honeymoon.'

  Again she smiled at him, remembering it was part of her plan to encourage him. Inside she echoed with the hollowness of derision. Whoever heard of a bride having to force herself to smile at her new husband?

  'Shall we dance?' he suggested, with an eagerness which made her quiver as she rose to her feet. The food they were eating was delicious, but she left it without a second thought.

  In Quentin's arms t
he attraction he had for her in­creased. Her heart pounded as he made little attempt to disguise his desire. Dear Quentin—who had bullied and dominated her for most of her short life, whom she had hated and loved ever since she could remember. How easy it would be to give in, to let him take over com­pletely, to forget what he was. He pulled her close to him and she could feel the deliberately arousing movements of his strong thighs locked with hers. But only for a short time dared she allow him to think she had surrendered. Because they were on the dance floor she let him mould her ever closer, his lips to rest on her cheek as she lay helplessly against his shoulder. Inexorably his arms tigh­tened until they might almost have been as one.

  After several such dances they went back upstairs. Gina could feel the tension in Quentin, and see from the deep­ening lines on his face that his emotions' were running dangerously high. Her own pulse was racing, but as much with fear as passion, for she didn't look forward to the part she must play. Yet what other alternative did she have, with a partner so wholly without integrity?

  Even so, she smiled at him in the lift, a teasing, slightly seductive smile that brought a dull flush to his hard cheeks and his mouth swiftly ravaging on hers. 'Gina,' he groaned, as the lift stopped.

  In their suite he dragged her to him, one of his arms never having left her narrow waist. Now his hands and mouth combined in an assault that played havoc with her senses. As she clung to him feverishly, he lifted her, carry­ing her swiftly through to the bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he ruthlessly disposed of their clothes.

  'I want you,' he groaned. 'I've waited so long, Gina.' His hands were still on her and he slid them completely around her, his gentle kiss turning to fire.

  Helplessly she gave in, assuring her dazed mind that it would only be for a moment. One brief moment before she rejected him. His mouth devoured hers with urgent kisses, his hands even more urgent on her throbbing breast, and she couldn't control her own vibrant re­sponse.

  Lifting her a little away from him, his mouth moved over her, exploring with devastating thoroughness before he again moulded her to him, groaning thick words of protest as she just managed to evade his determination to possess her completely.