‘I suppose you still feel reluctant to make that sort of decision,’ Mrs Masters said gently. ‘It’s perfectly understandable in the circumstances.’
Helen frowned. ‘How much did Leon tell you about my marriage?’
‘He didn’t tell us anything, dear, only that it had been a miserable experience for you.’
‘It was,’ she confirmed.
’And Charles and I aren’t that old-fashioned that we can’t see the logic of the two of you sharing Leon’s apartment for a few weeks.’ Mrs Masters’ cheeks coloured delicately. ‘And if your relationship is deeper than that then that’s none of our business. Leon’s a grown man, and having been married once you perhaps don’t feel so strongly about the wedding night being your first time together. I can see the sense in that.’
‘You can?’ Helen gulped.
‘Oh yes. The physical side of marriage can be very important. Not that it’s everything,’ Mrs Masters added hastily. ‘But if that side of the marriage doesn’t work out then you invariably find that the rest of it fails too.’
How right she was! ‘Leon and I haven’t slept together,’ Helen told his mother quietly. ‘And we don’t intend to. Our living together is exactly that, just a way for me to see whether what I feel for Leon is enough for—’
‘Leon did explain, dear. And as you haven’t yet discussed a wedding date I don’t suppose you’ve discussed having a family either.’ Mrs Masters gave a rueful smile. ‘Forgive me, Helen, I’m just a doting mother who can’t wait to hold her first grandson in her arms.’
Helen felt her heart give a sickening jolt. ‘Surely one of your daughters…’
‘Neither is in a hurry to have any more children for a while. Carly and Natalie are lovely children, but they don’t exactly make either of my daughters feel like taking the plunge into motherhood for a second time. Leon will make a wonderful father.’
The statement conjured tortuous images into Helen’s mind, pictures of Leon bouncing a chubby red-faced baby on his knee, a baby with his golden hair and tawny eyes. She couldn’t bring the other features into focus, the baby was sure to have some of its mother’s characteristics. But she wouldn’t be the mother! She couldn’t be Leon’s wife, so she couldn’t possibly be the mother of his children.
‘You’ve gone quite pale, Helen.’ Mrs Masters looked concerned. ‘I hope my talk of babies hasn’t upset you.’
‘No. I—It—I was going to have a baby once,’ Helen said haltingly.
‘Oh, my dear, I am sorry!’ She put her hand over Helen’s. ‘I didn’t know.’
Helen forced a bright smile. ‘It was a long time ago. I don’t suppose Leon thought it important enough to tell you. And I’m sure you’re right about him making a wonderful father.’ But not to her children!
‘If you’ve finished your lunch we may as well get on with our shopping,’ Mrs Masters said briskly. ‘I hope you’re ready for the siege.’
‘That sounds ominous!’ Helen made her tone sound light.
‘Oh, it is,’ Mrs Masters laughed.
If Helen thought she was joking she was mistaken. By the end of the afternoon they seemed to have visited every shop in London, or at least, her feet felt as if they had. Mrs Masters bought a few things, but certainly not enough to merit the exhaustion they both felt.
Max provided them with a much-needed tea when they returned to the flat. Helen sat back in one of the armchairs, easing her shoes off her tired feet. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she murmured. ‘I’m exhausted and you still look as if you’re going strong.’
‘Practice, Helen,’ Mrs Masters smiled. ‘Practice.’
Helen giggled. ‘I see now why your husband cried off. I may need to rest for a week or so before I could attempt another marathon like that.’
‘She’s worn you down too, has she?’ Leon remarked teasingly as he came into the room. He bent to kiss his mother on the cheek, refusing the tea and pouring himself a glass of whisky.
‘Don’t worry about me, Leon,’ his mother smiled. ‘I promise not to blush if you kiss Helen,’ she teased.
’No,’ he agreed lightly, ‘I’m sure you won’t blush, but Helen might.’ For the first time his tawny gaze levelled on her. ‘Wouldn’t you, darling?’
Helen shivered at the cool detachment she could see in his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she defied him. It seemed their argument of the evening before wasn’t to be forgotten, despite his casual use of the endearment.
‘In that case…’ He bent smoothly and kissed her slowly on the lips.
Helen’s cheeks flamed when he finally released her. To his mother it may have looked like a light caress, and maybe it had been, but there had been nothing light about the emotion behind the kiss; there was nothing light about contempt.
‘You see?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘I told you she’d blush.’
His mother smiled. ‘Stop embarrassing the poor girl! What sort of day have you had?’
‘Nowhere near as hectic as yours, by the look of you two.’ He continued to talk with ease about his day’s filming.
The easy chatter between Leon and his mother reminded Helen of the way the two of them had talked together in the evenings when she had first moved in here. She turned away, hoping neither of them would see the tears in her eyes. Leon left for America in the morning and so tonight would be their last time together. And it didn’t seem to bother him that he would be leaving her for a few weeks, for ever if he did but know it.
His mother stayed for dinner, something it appeared she normally did on these occasions. Leon had been polite to Helen, but spent most of his time talking to his mother. He stood up after they had finished their coffee in the lounge, prepared to take his mother home.
‘Aren’t you coming with us, Helen?’ Mrs Masters asked gently.
Helen looked questioningly at Leon, but his expression told her nothing. ‘Well, I—’
‘Oh, you must come with us,’ Mrs Masters insisted. ‘Charles would love to see you again. Try and persuade her, Leon,’ she prompted.
He took his time about speaking. ‘Come along for the ride, Helen,’ he drawled finally. ‘Then you can keep me company on the way back.’
The invitation was meant to be insulting, even if his mother didn’t realise it, and Helen’s mouth tightened as she felt her lower lip begin to tremble. But if she didn’t go with him their time left together would be very limited. It would be very late when he returned and he was leaving at lunch-time tomorrow. She had to go, no matter whether he really wanted her with him or not.
‘I’ll just get my jacket,’ she agreed finally, avoiding Leon’s searching gaze. He had obviously meant her to refuse.
Although his mother protested Leon insisted she join him in the front of the car. ‘You know sitting in the back always makes you feel ill,’ he replied to all her objections.
‘I’m afraid it does,’ she acknowledged almost guiltily. ‘Would you mind just this once, Helen? Only I—’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ Helen cut in stiffly. The mood Leon was in she would be better off in the back. As long as she could be close to him, see him, hear him speak, then she didn’t mind where she sat. ‘Besides,’ she added with a challenging look at Leon, ‘I’ll have him to myself all the way home.’
‘So you will,’ Mrs Masters smiled. ‘Well, that’s settled then, Leon.’
‘So it would appear.’ He gave Helen a narrow-eyed look.
Helen evaded that look, as she evaded meeting his eyes as he watched her in the driving mirror. She wished she had sat behind his mother now, but if she moved over now Leon would know the reason for it. And so she sat rigidly in the back of the car, staring fixedly out of the window.
‘Stay for coffee,’ Mr Masters insisted on their arrival.
Leon shook his head regretfully. ‘Not tonight, Dad. I have a long drive back and an early start for the States in the morning.’
‘If you say so, son,’ he shrugged resignedly. ‘Nice to have seen you again, Helen,’
he smiled at her. ‘Perhaps Leon will bring you down for a visit when he gets back.’
‘Perhaps,’ she agreed noncommittally. She and Leon wouldn’t even be seeing each other when he got back!
‘We’ll see.’ Leon was just as vague.
Far from being the company she had suggested Helen was very quiet on the drive back, Leon’s attitude this evening making her feel chill inside, and she couldn’t bring herself to utter a word.
‘Do you want to talk?’ he asked suddenly.
She gave him a sharp look. ‘Do you have something you want to talk about?’
‘No,’ he said stonily.
‘Neither do I.’
He shrugged. ‘In that case I’ll put some music on, if you have no objections?’
Helen bit her lip to stop it trembling, something she seemed to have been doing all evening. ‘No, I have no objections.’
Within seconds the haunting sound of Barry Manilow filled the air, the words of the songs curiously appropriate to them, full of sadness and final goodbyes. Helen spent most of the journey blinking back tears—and hoping Leon wouldn’t notice them. Not that she could be sure it would bother him even if he did.
It was after midnight when they got back to the flat and Helen made straight for her bedroom.
‘Where are you going?’ Leon asked softly.
She gave him a startled look. ‘It’s late, and you said you didn’t want to be tired for tomorrow.’
He shrugged, pouring a whisky for himself and a Martini for her. ‘Come and talk to me.’ He held out the glass to her.
‘But—you—you said—in the car you said you didn’t want to talk.’
Leon grimaced. ‘In the car I didn’t. What I want to talk about can’t be discussed in a car.’
‘Well…’
‘Come on, Helen,’ he encouraged. ‘It’s important to me.’
She moved hesitantly to sit in one of the chairs, taking the drink he offered her and holding on to the glass as if it were a lifeline. ‘What do you have to say?’ She couldn’t look at him. ‘Last night—’
He sat opposite her, the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. ‘Last night you were telling me things I didn’t want to hear.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I was?’
‘Mm.’ He took a huge swallow of the whisky and lit up a cheroot. ‘And so I went out and got drunk—again.’
‘I heard you come back.’
‘Mm,’ he sighed. ‘Since meeting you I’ve taken to smoking and drinking too much.’
‘I know,’ Helen acknowledged guiltily.
‘So what do you intend doing about it?’
‘There’s nothing I can do. I’ve tried, I’ve really tried, but I can’t—’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ he cut in harshly.
Helen gave him a puzzled frown. ‘What else is there?’
‘The ultimate commitment.’
‘Wh-what’s that?’
‘Marriage.’
‘Marriage?’ She swallowed hard. ‘But you don’t—’
‘Will you stop telling me what I do and don’t want!’ Leon stood up angrily. ‘What makes you so sure I don’t want to marry you?’
‘Well—because you don’t! It’s ridiculous—’
‘I don’t find anything ridiculous about it!’ he snapped grimly. ‘I don’t find anything ridiculous about knowing that as soon as I leave here tomorrow you’re going to leave too, for good.’
Helen looked at him with wide surprised eyes. ‘You know about that?’
‘Yes, I know. You haven’t been holding back tears all evening for nothing.’
‘You haven’t been very nice to me tonight, that’s the reason I—’
‘No, Helen,’ Leon cut in firmly, ‘that isn’t the reason. But you aren’t leaving me tomorrow or any other time.’
‘I—I’m not?’
‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘You’re going to marry me in the morning and come to the States with me—as my wife.’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘You may be an important man, Leon, even an influential one, but even you couldn’t arrange a wedding at such short notice!’
‘It isn’t at short notice.’ He took out his wallet and removed a slip of paper. ‘I arranged for the registrar at the beginning of the week, and I bought this,’ he handed the paper to her, ‘two days after I met you.’
Helen looked down dazedly at the special licence in her hand. ‘You can’t mean this,’ she denied shakily.
Leon took the licence out of her trembling fingers and put it safely back in his wallet. ‘Oh, but I do, Helen,’ he contradicted softly. ‘Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock you’re going to become Mrs Leon Masters.’
CHAPTER NINE
HELEN turned away, pain ripping through her like a physical thing. ‘You know that isn’t possible.’
‘What sort of answer is that?’ Leon rasped.
She swallowed hard. ‘I think you know.’
She heard him draw in a ragged breath. ‘Why?’ he demanded.
Helen gave a choked laugh. ‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ she derided.
Leon swung her round. ‘Look at me, damn you! Look at me and tell me why you won’t marry me.’
‘You know why,’ she said dully.
He wrenched her chin up, forcing her to look at him. ‘I’m not asking for the physical side of marriage, only that you marry me, become my wife.’
‘You can’t mean that,’ she gasped. ‘You don’t want—’
‘If you dare to tell me what I want again,’ he ground out, ‘I swear I’ll hit you! I want to marry you, Helen.’
‘But—’
‘I love you, Helen.’
She gasped at the rawness of the emotion behind his declaration. ‘You—you don’t—’
‘I do, God help me! I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you. I took one look at you and knew exactly what I wanted from you—marriage. In my arrogance I didn’t see how you could feel any differently towards me. When you gave me the brush-off I lost my temper. I thought you were lying about being married, using it as a means of getting rid of me, and when you told me you were widowed I couldn’t believe my luck. But when I kissed you! My God, your coldness frightened me.’ His face was grim with remembered pain.
‘I was the one who was frightened, Leon,’ she told him huskily. Leon loved her! It seemed impossible. And yet she couldn’t marry him, she couldn’t marry anyone.
‘But I didn’t know that.’ His hands cupped each side of her face. ‘I’m not asking for more than you can give, Helen, I just want you to be my wife. I’ll be satisfied with that for as long as that’s all you want, for as long as it takes,’ he added desperately. ‘I’ve always known I was going to marry you, always. Why do you think I bought that licence after only knowing you for two days?’
‘But these last few weeks—’
‘We’ve been trying too hard. I thought living together was the answer, but it’s just made things worse.’
‘And you now think marriage is the answer?’ she asked disbelievingly.
‘I think security is the answer,’ Leon corrected, his thumbs moving caressingly over her lips. ‘I would never have made love to you before marrying you anyway, I just wanted you to want it as much as I do. But it hasn’t worked out that way. I think the security of marriage is what you need, and it’s what I want.’
Helen’s eyes were wide. ‘You wouldn’t have made love to me?’
He gave a firm shake of his head. ‘No. But I thought you needed to get over your fear before I asked you to marry me. I was wrong. But I need you for my wife, Helen. I need to know you’re mine.’
‘I still can’t believe you love me,’ she said dazedly, forgetting for the moment that she couldn’t marry him, just wanting to revel in his love for her.
‘Would you like me to prove it?’ he asked throatily.
‘I—I think so,’ she admitted shyly.
‘Oh, Helen,’ he groaned, ‘you utterly def
eat me.’
His thumbs gently parted her lips as his mouth descended hungrily to hers. It was a gentle exploratory kiss, a kiss that pleaded for a response, a response she was only too eager to give. As Leon sensed her capitulation he deepened the kiss into searing passion, his mouth moving on hers with a demand she willingly met.
It was if they kissed for the first time, and Helen offered no resistance as Leon’s hands roamed freely over her roused pointed breasts, their bodies moulded together. She could feel his desire for her and her own desire matched his.
But now her fear was of a different kind, a fear that he would realise she loved him in return. And she couldn’t let him know that, daren’t let him know.
But for the moment she wanted his kisses and caresses, trembling with pleasure as his hands moved beneath her jumper, deftly disposing of the front fastening of her bra to caress her bare breasts. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs running tantalisingly over her hardened nipples, sending tingling sensations through her entire body.
His lips left hers to travel down her throat, probing the sensitive hollows to be found there. Helen could sense the danger now, could sense how close Leon was to losing complete control, and although she didn’t want to she knew she had to stop him.
It took great effort of will to move out of his arms, because whatever had gone before she was no longer afraid of what Leon could make her feel physically. She longed to give herself to him, to become one with him, but if she did that he would think she had agreed to marry him.
‘No, Leon!’ She pulled away, straightening her clothing.
‘No? His breathing was ragged.
She shook her head. ‘And I mean no, I won’t marry you.’
’Why?’ he groaned. ‘You don’t love anyone else, do you?’
’You know I don’t,’ she dismissed impatiently.
‘But you don’t love me either, is that it?’ he demanded.
‘That’s it,’ she lied, hating the pain she could see in his eyes.
‘Is that the truth?’
‘Why should you doubt it?’ she challenged, not answering his question. ‘Have I ever given you the impression that I do?’ Oh God, she hoped not! If he should ever suspect her real feelings for him he would never let her quietly fade out of his life.
Living Together Page 15
