The Other Brother

by Jessica Steele

  And from her own point of view she just couldn't be natural with him. He had used her, she thought bitterly, and wanted to shrivel up and hide when she recalled the way she had so naively told him she loved him.

  Determined that by the time she left he would be in no

  doubt whatsoever that not only did she no longer love him, but that hatred had grown in love's place, Kathryn hardened her heart, so that even though there were still moments when she would look up and find him watching her, moments when no longer any insincere smile came her way, she would remember her resolve that he should know she hated him, and if she had the chance before he looked away, she would look straight through him.

  But as the week dawdled to a close, her resolve to show him nothing but hate began to weaken. Only that morning she had caught herself ready to smile at him when, his own aloofness dropping, he had said something pleasant to her. She had managed to check her smile, but had become so fed up with herself that when lunchtime came she was glad to get out.

  Why couldn't she hate him? she wondered as she window-shopped without interest, not interested in lunch either. He didn't deserve any less. Oh, how she wished she could get him out of her mind, out of her head! With an effort she concentrated on the display in the window of a dress shop her feet had halted at. That's a nice dress, she thought without enthusiasm. Then she looked again and saw it was a really lovely dress. It was made of some sort of crepey material, of pastel colours, pale shades of blue all merging. Why not? she thought, ignoring the fact that she didn't need anything new. She needed cheering up, didn't she?

  She went in and tried it on, and couldn't resist it when she saw how beautifully it suited her. Sophistication and simplicity were combined in the short-sleeved dress with its tie belt and flaring hemline. The weather was getting warmer now. At a pinch she could get away with wearing it to the office, for all it was a shade too dressy for that, she thought, visions of Nate's eyes popping when he saw her decked out in it. The vision faded as, annoyed with herself, she despaired that her thoughts went back to

  him time and time again.

  'I'll take it,' she told the waiting salesgirl, who hadn't had to stress that the dress must have been made for her.

  Kathryn was late getting back to the office by some twenty minutes, and saw when she went in that Nate was in her room, the frown on his brow clearing when he saw her.

  'I thought something had happened to you,' he said, checking his watch, sounding anxious to her ears and causing her to think ridiculously that he had been nursing the same fears she had that day he had come in late, that day she had fretted in case he had had an accident.

  Idiot! she calmed the way her heart had acted at the mere thought he might be concerned in case some reckless driver had knocked her over in her lunch hour. But the wild thought, ridiculous though it was, that he did care about her in some small way had taken from her the coolness that had been with her all week.

  'Sorry I'm late,' she delivered the courtesy that was due to him as her employer, and held her paper carrier aloft.

  'You've been having a spend,' said Nate, and slowly that smile, that genuine smile that was separate from that insincere half smile that had frequently come her way in the past, warmed his face.

  'I don't really deserve another new dress,' she said, her smile coming involuntarily. Her wardrobe was packed with her trousseau.

  'You deserve everything you want,' said Nate, his tone serious, his smile disappearing.

  Kathryn's own smile faded, and hurt started to show in her eyes as abruptly she turned away. Cool again, she stooped to put down her purchase.

  'I got more than I deserved from both the Kingersby brothers, didn't I?' she said bitterly.

  She didn't expect him to answer, but stayed fiddling with her parcel so she needn't have to meet his eyes in the

  seconds of silence that stretched—and only straightened when, without saying another word, Nate went to his own office.

  She would have to stop this bitterness from welling up every time he was nice to her, she thought, as over the weekend she kept herself as busy as she could in an ineffectual effort to stop herself from thinking about him. It was her self-defence mechanism at work, she knew that. But, recalling the way she had spoken to him on Friday, she felt there had been a hint to it of self-pity.

  By Monday she had come to terms with herself. Men for her were out. So too was self-pity. She had been hurt, and would hurt for a long time, she faced that. But she wasn't going to let that hurt spoil her life, feed the bitterness s,he felt, until she ended up some dried-up old spinster.

  'Good morning,' she greeted Nate when she went into work. Although there was no smile in her voice, she had come a long way from last week when not once had she offered him a greeting.

  And so the week began. And as it progressed she saw that if she had been too full of the thoughts of Nate's treachery to be barely civil to him last week, then he too had been too shaken by what had been revealed to be his true self last week too. And by the time Friday came again, she knew that she hadn't fallen mistakenly in love with a man who because of the part he had been playing didn't exist. She had seen a new side to Nate that week, a side that showed him courteous, pleasant and considerate, a man who treated her with respect. And she had to be glad she had handed in her resignation, because she had fallen more in love with him than ever.

  He had been out for some part of that afternoon, and having nothing very much on hand to keep her attention from wandering, by the time he returned Kathryn had realised that if she didn't do something about her heart

  t

  that didn't seem to know it was wasting its time in loving Nate, she had better start being cool to him again. For every warm remark he made had been replied to with a thawing of her coldness towards him, so that if she was to leave in a fortnight's time without crying all over him, then she had better do something about that thaw right now.

  'Been busy?' he enquired, coming in and stopping at her desk, his eyes taking in that she had no smile for him.

  'Not particularly,' she answered coolly, and watched as his eyes narrowed at her change of attitude and added, not knowing what she was going to say if he questioned the change, 'I've put the telephone messages I've taken on your desk.' And she could have jumped for joy when the phone on her desk rang and required her attention.

  Not once did she look through the doorway of the two offices in the hour that was to follow until five, though it had taken an enormous effort of will many many times not to do so. And it was on the stroke of five, not sure her nerves would take much more, that she threw the cover over her typewriter, flung Nate a hasty though still cool, 'Goodnight,' and raced to the car park.

  She was still sitting in her car five minutes later wishing she had done something about having it seen to when it had acted up this morning. Again she tried to start the wretched thing, then to her chagrin she felt a coolness on her legs as the car door was opened, and heard Nate say smoothly:

  'You'll have to get that thing seen to, Kathryn, won't you?'

  'I will, won't I?' she answered woodenly.

  'Meantime,' he drawled, 'my services as a chauffeur are at your disposal.'

  'I. . .' she began, ready to refuse, then read something in his eyes that told her he had had enough of her freezing him out this past hour, and that if she couldn't rise above being small-minded and accept his offer of a lift in the spirit it was

  given, then he didn't think- much of her. 'Thank you,' she said with cool politeness.

  She was bowling along in his car before it came to her to wonder why she should want his good opinion anyway. What was it to her that Nate should think well of her after what he had done? Oh, how could she love such a ruthless, coldhearted man? she mourned, and tried to keep up her cool pose when memory came of how wonderful he had been all week.

  As if he knew that any attempt he made at conversation would be replied to with only monosyllabic answers, Nate, to her annoyance, spok
e not a word, but drove at a steady rate, stern-faced, until they turned into the avenue where she lived.

  About to leave the car with the briefest of farewells, Kathryn was stopped by Nate speaking for the first time in what seemed an age.

  'I know any apology from me in no way makes up for the hurt I've caused you, Kathryn,' he said, never more serious. 'But are you anywhere near ready yet to believe how bitterly I regret what happened?'

  'Why should I be?' she fired back, pride out in front in not wanting him to know that hurt was still a raw wound of heart bleeding hurt.

  'Because,' he said slowly, very deliberately, his hand coming to capture one of hers as if suspecting she might shoot away from him, just his touch telling her she had a fight on her hands if she didn't want to give in, whatever it was, 'Because,' he repeated, 'I should very much like to start off afresh.' And when she would have jerked her hand out of his, he kept his hold firm, insisting she hear him out. 'I should like to take you out—to dinner or anywhere else you'd like to go.' Again she struggled to free her hand, but found he had no intention of releasing her.

  'Your guilty conscience is showing!' she erupted, coolness

  deserting her the longer she could feel his touch on her skin.

  He took her scorn with equanimity. 'It has nothing to do with my conscience, guilty or otherwise,' he told her evenly. Then he paused and said, hiding nothing, 'I feel I know you a little, Kathryn, but I should like you to get to know me better.'

  Anger soared in her, reached a peak, and she was glad of it as she blazed, 'In my view we know each other far too well as it is!' Her face went scarlet, but she was too furious to back down. 'You led me falsely once before, Nate Kingersby—never again, thanks very much!'

  'It wouldn't be false this time,' he told her, a world of sincerity in his voice. And oddly, she thought, Nate, whom she had never seen have difficulty in finding just the right words, seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words just then. 'Come out with me, Kathryn,' he urged at last. 'Never again will I deceive you, believe me,' and, his hand gripping hers, 'There's—something I want to tell you, but I'll never be able to unless you're prepared to meet me part of the way.'

  He was getting to her so that she so nearly gave in, so nearly let her heart rule her head and tell him she would go out with him. Then remembering the way she had met him more than part of the way once, she felt anger again at the weak-kneed creature he made her.

  'Anything you want to tell me can be said right here,' she said shortly, and witnessed the glint in his eyes that told her he was growing angry that she was too muleheaded to go along that path to meet him.

  'This isn't the appropriate time or place,' he rapped back, his anger starting to burn.

  'No?' she queried loftily. 'When would be the appropriate time, Nate?' Her anger fed on memories that were now far from beautiful. 'What place do you suggest? Your place in Surrey? In one of the bedrooms? What is it you

  want to tell me? Something you forgot to tell me when I gave myself freely, innocently, not knowing the only truth about a Kingersby is that you can't believe a thing they say?' Her sudden fury was in no way finished even though she could see she had fired a similar fury in him. 'Anything you want to tell, me, Nate Kingersby, can be said here and now. I'd die before I'd go anywhere with you again!'

  She had stung him, as she had meant tO. But as the hold on his temper broke and furious words left him, she was so stunned by what those words were that for several seconds she just couldn't say a thing.

  'Dammit, woman,' he roared, 'I want to tell you I'll marry you!'

  All colour left her face as those words rocketed round the car, the words chasing around in her brain until she found her voice.

  'You'll marry me?' she repeated, stunned.

  Then as slowly her world righted itself she saw in a flash the only reason he could have for making such a statement, and her fury boiled over. It gave her the sheer brute force needed to snatch her hand away from him, had her opening the car door before he could know what she was about.

  'You'll marry me,' she repeated again, and had one last thing to say before she raced indoors. 'Like hell you will! A rattlesnake has got more chance!'

  CHAPTER NINE

  Charging up the stairs, fingers all thumbs as she found her door key and fumbled it into the lock, haste of the utmost importance lest Nate had charged after her, Kathryn entered her sitting room and slammed the door shut—and didn't breathe freely again until her ears told her in the sound of his car drawing away, that Nate wasn't coming after her.

  He would have got short shrift if he had anyway, she thought, still furious with him. How dared he say, just like that, 'I'll marry you'? Just as though he thought it the only honourable thing he thought he could do! Let him stew with his conscience.

  Who did he think he was, anyway, that in this day and age he could treat her like some compromised Victorian maid? To so magnanimously let her know he intended to pay for what he had done. It infuriated her that to right the wrong inflicted by leading her to believe he had marriage in mind when she had given herself to him, he was now condescending to offer to marry her. She'd see him hang first!

  Tears came as her anger cooled. Tears he wasn't worth, she sniffed, as determined not to cry any more she pottered about her flat—and had cause to dab at her eyes again at the thought that there hadn't been any conditions attached to the love she gave him; her love to him had been given unconditionally.

  She was dry-eyed the next morning when she phoned the garage about her car, only to find her confidence that they would do what they had to to her dynamo and have it ready to be collected within a few hours showed how little

  she knew of the motor repair business.

  'We're chock-a-block,' the service man told her. 'Can't do it this weekend.' He then went into detail about a five-day week, told her his men would be working overtime next week as it was, and when she finally pinned him down to say when he could have her car in he said, making sucking noises, 'Bring it in—um—a week on Monday. If you bring it in early it'll be ready for you some time in the afternoon.'

  'Can you get it going today?' Kathryn enquired, crossing her fingers that he could help her out as he had the last time, and a minute later was able to uncross her fingers as after a little humming, and hawing he said that he could.

  When later she went to pick up the Mini, she was in no hurry to get home. In no hurry to do anything any more, she mused, as she stopped at a bookshop and spent an age choosing a couple of paperbacks. Perhaps if she was lucky she might be able to lose herself in their pages tonight, she thought hopefully, and then went home.

  It was late afternoon when she was in the middle of getting her ironing board out to do some small bits of ironing that the phone rang. She hoped it was Fay. She had thought of ringing her, but after cancelling their arrangements to go to the cinema that time she didn't feel up to any of her remarks if Fay ribbed her about it.

  It wasn't Fay. And she would know those deep, well accented tones anywhere! He didn't have to say the, 'Nate', that followed his, 'Hello, Kathryn,' for her to know who it was, the weakness in her limbs confirming what her ears were telling her.

  'This is an unexpected pleasure,' she said, trying for acid, but her anger was absent; his call was so unforeseen she was not ready to deal with it.

  His voice was level as he replied, pretending to believe her, 'Thought I might cheer your day.'

  Her-lips firmed. 'What do you want, Nate?' she asked

  abruptly, and would not have been at all surprised in the silence that followed to have the phone slammed down on her for her rudeness.

  But Nate did not slam down the phone. And his voice was still level when eventually he said, 'I want you to have dinner with me tonight.'

  'No, thanks.' It didn't need thinking about.

  'Why won't you?' he had the limitless nerve to ask, then had her fighting not to slam the phone down on him and thereby let him know the accuracy of his shot
when he asked slowly, 'Are you afraid to?'

  Afraid? Oh yes, she was afraid. Afraid he would discover she still loved him. Afraid because she just knew that despite her pride, if she were to spend several hours with him, their talk unconnected with work, that charm of his in action, then he would soon learn that she didn't feel anywhere near as cool about him as she was trying to make out.

  'Why should I be afraid?' she asked, and not wanting to hear what had made him suggest she might be, from somewhere dredged up an uncaring laugh. 'Good grief, Nate! It's getting on for five in the afternoon. Do you seriously imagine yours is the first phone call I've had today?'

  She had to give him full marks for not being slow cm the uptake, as quickly he came back, 'You already have a date for this evening?'

  'It would appear that I'm in everyone's little black book,' she replied airily. 'You really will have to get yours started, Nate, if it's me you have to call every time you're at a loose end.' Not that she believed any longer that she had been the only girl he could think of to take to the Atkins' dinner party. It had all been part of his plan to . . .

  'Who is he?' The question came sharply, ignoring her jibe, and throwing her for a moment that he should have such massive cheek to think he had any right to know.

  'That's my business,' she snapped in return, and couldn't resist saying before she put the phone down, 'Though I can tell you this much, Nate, he's a man I know I can trust absolutely not to feed me a load of lies!'

  She should have felt better than she did for having said that, she thought, wishing he had never called to unsettle her. But she didn't feel better. She felt mean for having turned the knife when he had told her, that Monday following, that what he had done made him sick to his gut.

  On Monday, unsure whether she was going to throw Nate a greeting or not, she found herself having to reply when he got in first with, 'Good morning, Kathryn, pleasant weekend?'

  'Good morning,' she said, and let him think the smile that tugged from her was not from the pure pleasure of seeing him, but was on account of the weekend she had just spent. 'Super,' she added, seeing his eyes were on her mouth, and that he couldn't help noticing the way it curved happily.