Wedding Fever

by Lee Wilkinson

  As though Nick knew her feelings exactly, he said quite gently, ‘Don’t be foolish, Raine. Just because your own sensuality scares you, you can’t cut yourself off from human emotions, look at life through a mirror, like the Lady of Shalott...’

  Oh, but she could—and she would have if Nick hadn’t forced his way back into her life. To her it spelt peace, freedom from the kind of torment she was suffering now.

  But, though lying next to his heart was torture, somehow she had lost all power to pull away. Hopelessly, she whispered, ‘I wish I was dead.’

  ‘Look at me.’ He put an imperative hand beneath her chin and turned her face to his. ‘Are you really so desperate? ’

  Already regretting her words, she said, ‘I’ve never wished such a thing before.’

  ‘Answer me.’ He spoke so harshly it shook her.

  A kind of stubborn pride came to her aid. ‘Don’t worry,’ she assured him almost jauntily, ‘by tomorrow I’ll have recovered the strength to fight on.’

  She could have sworn he was both relieved and angry.

  ‘Well, in that case I’d better make the most of tonight’s weakness.’ He found her soft mouth unerringly and ravaged it until every thought had flown and only sensation remained.

  When he finally lifted his head, she was dazed and feverish and breathless.

  Sounding abominably cool and self-satisfied, he said, ‘As I promised, only a few kisses.’ With a strong arm behind her shoulders, he helped her sit up and slide back into her own seat.

  Deprived of the warmth of his body, she began to shiver, and, lifting a hand, rubbed her throbbing lips as though to erase the memory of his.

  ‘That bad, was it?’

  ‘I’d sooner kiss a toad,’ she muttered.

  Incredibly, he laughed, reaching out to stroke her cheek with a proprietorial hand. ‘I’ve always understood you have to kiss a lot of toads before you find a prince.’

  She sat stiffly, bitterly resentful, head up and slightly averted. How could he sound amused, entertained, when she felt so sick and churning? Jerkily she said, ‘I’d like to go home.’

  ‘Then home it is.’

  He adjusted the seat, switched on the ignition, and, with headlight beams swinging in a wide arc, lighting up the foliage, turned to go back the way they’d come.

  As soon as the car was moving, Raine’s tension snapped like an over-stretched rubber band. Drained and bone-weary, eyes closed, she slumped in her seat, unable either to think or feel, wanting only the blessed oblivion of sleep.

  She was dozing as they drew to a halt outside the moonlit stable block and she sat up with a start. Nick helped her out, and, leaving the car on the drive, began to escort her up to the house.

  Dazed, still only half awake, she tripped, and he threw a strong arm around her. Though most times his strength scared her, just at that moment it was oddly comforting.

  It was after twelve, and when he opened the iron-studded oak door, apart from the solemn ticking of the grandfather clock which stood on the lower landing of the stairs, the house was silent. Though darker inside than out, enough moonlight filtered in to make putting on a light unnecessary.

  A hand at her waist, Nick followed her up the stairs, the carpet deadening the sound of their footsteps.

  When they reached her room she would have gone straight in, but he stopped her, and, tilting her face up to his, kissed her lightly but firmly on the lips. ‘Goodnight, Raine. Sleep well. I’ll expect your answer in the morning.’

  His last words should have precluded her from following that mocking order to “sleep well”, but oddly enough they didn’t. After cleaning her teeth like a zombie, she fell into bed and slept as though poleaxed.

  Raine awakened slowly, reluctantly—unwilling, without knowing why, to face the newly laundered light of a sparkling Sunday morning.

  She was lying blinking up at the black-beamed ceiling when memory opened the floodgates and she knew only too well.

  How could she have been such a weak fool? After promising herself that it would never, never happen again, that she was mistress of her emotions, it was a cruel blow to find that she still couldn’t resist him—that in spite of everything she had responded to his potent male magnetism with a helpless, self-annihilating passion.

  But she seemed to have no defences against him. Though it shamed her to admit it, if he hadn’t called a halt when he had, if he’d led her from the car and laid her down on the moonlit carpet of leaves beneath the beech trees, her traitorous body would have welcomed his rapturously.

  And of course he knew that quite well.

  She shuddered. No wonder he’d been so confident.

  Oh, why, just when she’d got her life on an even keel, had Nick come back to destroy all her hard-won security, to put her on the rack again and demand the impossible?

  But perhaps it was better to break her engagement. It really wouldn’t be fair to Kevin to marry him, caring so little.

  Though wasn’t that the reason she’d agreed to marry him in the first place? Because she didn’t care—because he had no power to hurt her as Nick had hurt her?

  Poor Kevin! She felt profoundly ashamed.

  His feelings might not run very deep, but he probably loved her as much as he was capable of loving any woman. So how, with less than a month to the wedding, and most of the arrangements made, could she bring herself to tell him she’d made a mistake?

  Yet the alternative wouldn’t bear thinking about. Nick was a fiend, a devil, and she didn’t doubt for a second that, if he thought it necessary, he would be heartless enough to tell Kevin they’d been lovers.

  But would he really ruin her father? The two men got on well together, each seeming to like and respect the other.

  So what if it was just a bluff?

  Once again she was unsure, uncertain.

  When she’d suggested to Nick that he might be bluffing, he’d said, “I might—if you think you can afford to take that chance.”

  Only if she did take the chance and he wasn’t bluffing, she could cause irreparable harm. It would be too late then to change her mind.

  If Ralph were to suspect any hint of coercion she knew him well enough to be sure that he’d have nothing to do with it. He wouldn’t want her to marry a man she hated for his sake.

  So what was she to do?

  After repeatedly weighing the odds, and thinking until her head ached, she was no nearer a decision. Getting out of bed, driven and restless, she headed for the bathroom.

  When she’d showered and dressed in a fine skirt and top patterned in autumn colours, she twisted her glossy black hair into a knot on top of her small well-shaped head, put on a dab of make-up, then stood irresolute.

  But she’d have to make up her mind. Nick would be waiting for an answer, and he wasn’t a man to fool with. As he’d said, he held the whip hand. He owned the business and the house—everything that had once been hers and her father’s. Probably even the clothes on her back...

  Or did he? She only had his word for it!

  What if the whole thing was a con—a lie from beginning to end? Suppose, after carefully setting the scene, he was relying on her not to question her father, knowing that if she did she would find out the truth...

  Before the thought was fully formed she was out of her room and stumbling down the stairs. Throwing open the door to the sunny breakfast room, she was relieved to find her father there alone, reading the Sunday paper while he dawdled over a half-empty cup of coffee.

  Looking mildly startled by the abruptness of her entrance, he peered at her over his horn-rimmed glasses. ‘Something wrong?’

  Hoping that her voice betrayed nothing of the anxiety churning inside her, she said, ‘No... no, of course not.’ Then lamely, ‘I just wondered if you were up.’

  ‘Up? Certainly I’m up. It’s after ten.’ Tossing the paper aside and taking off his glasses, he reached for the cafetière and poured coffee for them both. ‘You must have been late last night?’
<
br />   ‘Yes... Yes, we were.’ She went and sat beside him at the table.

  ‘Did you have a pleasant evening?’ The question was asked cautiously.

  Biting her tongue, she managed, ‘Very pleasant.’

  ‘I’m glad you and Nick finally got together. To be honest, your unwillingness to listen to him has always worried me—and when Nick told me he’d like to talk to you in private...’ He trailed off and then asked, even more cautiously, ‘Did you reach any kind of... understanding?’

  ‘About what?’

  Disappointment showed briefly in Ralph’s hazel eyes. After an appreciable hesitation, he said vaguely, ‘Well, Nick had some plans he wanted to discuss with you...’

  He’d had plans, all right! And when her father knew what they were he would see Nick in his true colours. But no, even then the devil was safeguarded. All he needed to say was that it had been a huge joke.

  ‘That was why—’

  ‘Dad,’ Raine broke in, unable to contain her nervous excitement any longer, ‘I’d like to ask you something—and please, please tell me the truth.’

  ‘Ask away.’ But though the tone was hearty, he looked anxious, ill at ease.

  ‘How well has the business done in the past year?’

  His eyes slid away from hers, and he busied himself putting his glasses in their case. ‘Not too well, I’m afraid. But don’t go worrying your head about that. Everything’s fine now. Nick was willing to put money into the firm...’

  Iron bands tightening around her chest, constricting her breathing, Raine asked as casually as possible, ‘How much money?’

  Looking even more uncomfortable, Ralph admitted, ‘Quite a lot, actually...’

  So it hadn’t been a bluff.

  ‘That was one of the reasons I asked him to come over and take the reins while I’m at home.’ He went on more jocularly, ‘He has a vested interest, you see, and it’s nice to keep things in the family.’

  ‘Yes, you could say that.’ Bowing to the inevitable, she lifted her chin and smiled brilliantly. ‘Last night Nick asked me to marry him, and I’ve decided to accept.’

  ‘Well, I’m delighted!’ Ralph beamed his pleasure.

  ‘I know it’s all very sudden, and somehow...’ She faltered and the smile faded. ‘Somehow, at this late stage, I’ve got to tell Kevin our engagement was a mistake.’

  Perhaps reading something of her very real distress in her face, Ralph patted her hand. ‘It’s better to realise it now than go ahead and find you’re both unhappy.’

  ‘You’ve never liked Kevin, have you?’

  ‘It’s nothing personal—just that I’ve never believed he was the man for you.’

  ‘And you think Nick is?’

  ‘Aren’t I right? Though it’s taken long enough for you to admit it. He’s a fine man...’

  Oh, Dad, if you only knew! she cried silently.

  ‘And I’ll be proud to have him for a son-in-law...’ She was surprised by the calm way he’d accepted what must surely have come as a bombshell—until she recalled the previous night’s conversation and everything fell into place. Knowing, from Nick, that they’d been lovers a year ago, Ralph must have assumed that she’d carried a torch for her cousin all along.

  ‘If only you’d been willing to listen to Nick before,’ her father was going on, with an aggravating air of “I told you so”, ‘you could have saved yourself an awful lot of grief—’

  ‘Dad,’ she broke in urgently, ‘did you know he’s been married?’ Just to say it was like twisting a knife in a wound.

  ‘Of course I knew...’

  Happening to glance through one of the diamond-leaded windows, Raine’s attention was distracted by the sight of Nick—shadowed by Calib—and Kevin heading towards each other on a collision course.

  Leaping to her feet, she headed across the hall and out of the front door.

  In light trousers that hugged his lean hips and a white cotton-knit shirt, Nick looked lithe and fit, and very masculine.

  Despite his casual clothes, there was an unmistakable air of command about him—a touch of cool arrogance in his manner that seemed to rile the younger man, who was very correctly attired in smart cavalry twill trousers, a woollen tie and a tweed sports jacket.

  Raine arrived on the scene just in time to hear the two men exchange civil, but—on Kevin’s side at least—hardly cordial greetings.

  He turned at her approach. On his handsome, smoothly shaven face he wore a ruffled, distinctly belligerent look.

  Knowing him, Raine guessed that, on thinking it over, he’d regretted his previous night’s meekness, and had taken exception to being dispatched with such scant ceremony.

  He came towards her and, apparently with the intention of re-establishing his rightful position as her fiancé, grasped her in his arms and kissed her firmly.

  This totally unexpected and out-of-character behaviour took Raine by surprise, and it was a moment or two before she made any move to disengage herself.

  Seeing that Nick’s dark blue eyes held a dangerous glint, she said hastily, ‘Kevin, I—I have to talk to you.’ With a pleading glance at Nick, she added, ‘Alone.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SEIZING Kevin’s arm, she hurried him towards the house. To her great relief the living room was empty. Drawing him inside, she closed the door behind them, and, waving him to a chair in front of the flower-filled fireplace, took a seat opposite.

  Frowning a little, alerted by her feverish manner, Kevin asked, ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No... Yes...’ Then she said baldly, ‘I’ve got to tell you I can’t marry you.’

  He looked at her, his expression registering no more shock or alarm than if she’d said, I don’t like your tie.

  ‘I can’t marry you,’ she repeated a shade wildly.

  ‘Don’t be silly, old thing,’ he said in mild rebuke. ‘Whatever’s happened to upset you, we can soon sort it out.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I...’

  Kevin’s good-looking face grew tense. ‘It’s something to do with your cousin, isn’t it? I thought from the start that he spelled trouble.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with Nick,’ she lied. ‘It’s simply that I’ve realised our marriage would be a mistake.’

  A look of relief replaced the tautness. ‘Pre-wedding nerves,‘’ Kevin pronounced judiciously. ‘That’s all it is. Mother warned me it might happen. A lot of brides have second thoughts just before the wedding . . . even my own sister had some doubts. In a day or so you’ll be yourself again and—’

  ‘These aren’t pre-wedding nerves,’ Raine broke in jerkily. ‘I’m sorry, truly I am, but I can’t marry you.’

  ‘Is it...?’ He took off his glasses, wiped the bridge of his nose with a spotless handkerchief and replaced them. ‘I mean, are you worried about the...er...the physical side of things?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Raine answered, and, recalling her abandoned response to Nick’s lovemaking, went scarlet.

  Looking embarrassed, Kevin persisted, ‘You know you don’t need to be, old thing.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that.’ Seeing that he was about to interrupt, she hurried on, ‘It’s just that I know now our engagement was a mistake. We’re not really suited and I wouldn’t make you a good wife.’

  Something of her seriousness began to penetrate. Disturbed now, but still unwilling to believe it, he shook his head. ‘You don’t really mean that. By tomorrow you’ll—’

  ‘I do mean it. I can’t marry you.’

  Looking as though he’d been kicked in the stomach, Kevin stared at her.

  Miserably, she said, ‘I’m only sorry it’s taken me so long to realise it.’

  ‘But all the invitations have been sent out...’ His ears growing red and his pale grey eyes agitated, he pleaded, ‘You can’t change your mind now!’

  Damning Nick to hell, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry...’

  Jumping to his feet, Kevin cried, ‘But what will Mother say? Lorrain
e, please...’

  ‘I’m sorry, truly I am,’ she repeated helplessly.

  His face flushing, he cried angrily, ‘You can’t do this to me! Being jilted now will make me a laughing stock in front of all my friends.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ she said wretchedly.

  ‘If you mean that, you’ll forget all this nonsense and go ahead with the wedding. Mother need never know.’

  Though she’d dreaded the thought of telling him, knowing his usual phlegmatic approach, she’d never dreamt it would be this difficult.

  ‘It’s not nonsense,’ she insisted wearily. ‘I can’t marry you.’

  ‘Why can’t you marry me?’ he persisted, his eyes beginning to protrude. ‘What have I ever done to be treated like this?’

  ‘You haven’t done anything. It’s all my fault.’

  ‘Then change your mind. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can sort it out...’

  For what seemed an age they went over and over the same ground—Kevin pacing backwards and forwards, growing angrier and more desperate as he failed to move her, and, with a tenacity she hadn’t realised he possessed, refusing to take no for an answer.

  She was close to tears of misery and frustration when there was a peremptory rap and Nick stood in the doorway, the cat winding sinuously around his ankles.

  His grim gaze skimmed over Raine assessingly, taking in every detail of her unhappiness, confusion, and just plain exhaustion. ‘Having trouble, honey?’

  Furious at the interruption, Kevin demanded, ‘Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a private conversation?’

  Calib darted into the room and sprang lightly onto the arm of Raine’s chair, where he sat like a statue.

  At the end of her tether, afraid of trouble flaring between the two men, she begged, ‘Please, Nick, leave us alone.’

  Ignoring her appeal, Nick strolled over and, legs a little apart, one hand thrust into his trouser pocket, faced the other man squarely.

  Though Kevin was tall, Nick was taller, and by far the better built, well-muscled and broad-shouldered, with a pantherish grace of movement that matched Calib’s.

  Unable to stay sitting down, Raine got to her feet and hovered anxiously.