He couldn't take it, and why should he, if I can prevent it? He's always been good to me and he showed me more affection—more understanding, I should say—than you or your mother ever did.'
She reached for her black alligator-skin handbag, fitting the fine shoestring strap over her arm. 'I'm paying up because I owe it to your father, because he was the only person who cared a rap for me after my parents died. And for no other reason.'
'And you married Jude to get your hands on the wherewithal? I thought the whole thing was a bit sudden.'
Luke got to his feet as she made for the door and she told him icily, barely turning her smooth, silvery head, 'I married Jude because 1 love him.' And it was the truth. She had been falling in love with Jude for a long time, but love was an emotion she had learned to live without. When it had happened it had taken her a long time to recognise it. But that was no business of Luke's.
'So you'll get in touch with Fenton?' Luke was just behind her as she reached the door, and he sneered, 'If it weren't for the trouble that kind of publicity could give Slade Securities I'd happily pay Fenton to spread the dirt.'
'You'd what?' Cleo went cold. 'I don't believe I'm hearing this!'
'You heard,' he drawled, his mouth curling. Cleo knew he'd always resented her, but she hadn't realised that over the years the resentment had deepened to hate.
'Why?'
There was enough pious fuss from my father when he'd had his attention drawn to that relatively harmless piece about me,' he said bitterly. 'It was even said that it caused his latest heart-attack. So I'd like him to know ' that Wonder Girl isn't as perfect as he thought she was. It might just put your nose out of joint. He's always holding you up as an example.'
Cleo's mouth went dry as she stared at the cousin she had thought she knew, realising that she didn't know him at all. His cloak of pompous indifference had hidden his hatred. She half turned, her disgust and anger burning her up, and grated, 'You'd want that, even though you know what it would do to your father? He damn near died when he read about the brawl you got yourself involved in. You can't think anything of him at all—you selfish bastard!'
The feeling of rage and disgust kept her going, but even that evaporated completely as she stood in a call box after contacting her bank, phoning Robert Fenton. She felt slightly sick and trembly as she slid into her seat at the table Jude had reserved for them at Glades.
'You're looking tired,' he said after he'd handed back the menus and given their order. Concern clouded the vivid blue of his eyes. 'Bad morning shopping? Or did your visit with Luke upset you for some reason?'
It had been a bad morning, and how, but she couldn't tell him why so she shrugged, putting on a smile, 'So- so,' then, wondering, 'How did you know I'd gone to see Luke?'
'I telephoned home. Meg told me Thornwood had driven you to Eastcheap.
A simple deduction.' He looked amused and he leant his elbows on the small linen- covered table-top, trailing the fingers of one hand softly down the curve of her cheek. 'Pretty—pretty and soft,' he murmured, and her heart lurched over with love for him. And as the feathering caress moved over her mouth she parted her lips, closing them over his fingertip, nipping gently, then drew back, her face hot. Never in a million years would she have imagined herself and the chief executive of Mescal Slade making such a public display of themselves!
'Why did you try to reach me?' she asked then, creditably cool, trying to get things back on a more manageable level because if she didn't, and he kept eating her with his eyes, then she would certainly end up making an even more public display of her love for him! She needed him, needed his tenderness, after the battering she'd taken this morning.
And Jude removed his elbows from the table, leaning back as their first course arrived.
'No particular reason. I just needed to hear your voice.' And that made her feel good, so very good, and it melted away some of the distaste which had been produced by this morning's conversation with Luke.
Then, without knowing why, because she and Jude never talked about the circumstances of their marriage, she asked lightly, toying with a forkful of chicken in a light wine sauce, 'Why did you agree to marry me, Jude?'
'Because, as you pointed out, I would always be in the happy position of knowing you hadn't married me for my money. Call me a cynic if you like, but I've never been able to distinguish between people who liked me for what I am and those who just like the smell of wealth.'
It was a flippant reply but it told her he was probably as far away from loving her as he had been when she'd proposed. And that was daunting, but she wasn't going to let it worry her too much. And at least he'd had the sensitivity not to mention the shares, because although they had probably been his first consideration when agreeing to marry her, she didn't want to hear him say as much. It would put what they did have together down on the level of a purely commercial agreement.
She didn't know why she had asked that question, and she didn't know what she'd expected him to say. She hadn't really hoped he would tell her he'd suddenly realised, over that weekend he'd taken to think it over, that he was madly in love with her, had she?
Of course she hadn't. She didn't believe in miracles, and she knew that if he were ever to grow to love her then the process would take time. So why was she now feeling so empty inside?
And he smiled at her lazily, as if they'd been discussing nothing more important than the state of the weather, and lifted the bottle the waiter had left in the cooler at the side of the table. 'Let me give you some wine. I think you'll like it.'
And she smiled, just slightly, because suddenly smiling was difficult. 'Thank you.' She knew that, for him, although their marriage of convenience was working out well so far, it would remain just that, a marriage of convenience, for some long time to come.
Lifting her eyes to him over the rim of her glass, she smiled again, put more into it this time, making herself sparkle. After all, she was a fighter, a stayer, and one day she'd damn well make him fall in love with her!
Because, if he didn't, her life might well become unbearable.
CHAPTER SIX
'So I suppose you'll be buying up Harrods this afternoon, as you spent the morning with Luke?' Jude queried as he escorted her from the restaurant, his hand under her elbow, making her feel safe and protected.
'Just a dress.' Cleo smiled quickly. She'd forgotten she'd said she'd be going shopping this morning, Luke's phone call had driven it out of her mind, and she still went cold when she remembered the hatred she'd later seen in his eyes, his bitter resentment.
'Give Thornwood a ring when you've finished, he can collect you. That's what he's paid for.' His eyes warmed, holding hers briefly before he hailed a cruising taxi. 41 don't want a worn-out wife in my bed tonight.'
Cleo wasn't in the mood for shopping, and as she turned into Bond Street her thoughts were miserably chewing over the interview with her cousin that morning. Perhaps she'd always subconsciously known that his dislike of her went deeper than mere resentment, and perhaps that was why she hadn't even thought about approaching him for advice when Fenton had made his first blackmailing demands.
She stared unseeingly into shop windows until she realised she had to snap herself out of this mood of introspection. She had always known that her aunt and cousin had little time for her, were unwilling and unable to absorb her into the family. But Uncle John cared about her, and she had Jude, and Jude had become everything to her.
Things were looking good, she assured herself, and there was real hope for their marriage. It would succeed, and one day he would love her as she loved him. On that she was quite determined! And tomorrow, after she'd paid Fenton off, she would be able to put the past - behind her and concentrate all her energies on the most important thing in her life—her marriage to Jude.
An hour later she walked out of a boutique, mingling with the crowds on the pavement. The dress she had bought was more daring than her usual choice.
It was calf-len
gth, with a full, soft skirt, in ice-blue—which made the most of her recently acquired tan. So far, so good, but the front of the bodice dipped lower than anything she had ever worn before and the back was nonexistent—except for the band of the halter strap around the neck. The quiver of inner excitement she experienced as she imagined Jude's reaction when he saw her in the dress brought a dreamy smile to her lips. And someone said, just behind her, 'Been buying something super?'
Cleo turned, smiling down into the eyes of Polly Masters. Polly worked in the Equity and Research department at Mescal Slade and Cleo asked, 'Day off?'
'Umm. A couple of days, actually.' Her brown eyes slid to the classy carrier Cleo was holding. 'I want to buy a summer suit, but I couldn't afford the prices they charge in that place. You look great, by the way, a tan suits you—and the whole building's still buzzing over the way you upped and married the Frozen Asset. Ooops!' Polly clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified. 'Me and my big mouth!'
'I think I may have thawed him a little,' Cleo grinned, and felt proud, and deliriously happy because it was the truth. And everything was almost perfect, and one day, in the not-too-distant future, she hoped it would be completely, utterly perfect.
'Well, bully for you! No one knew there was a big romance going on under our noses. Ouch!' she winced as a passer by knocked into her, nearly sending her flying. 'Tell you what, why don't we grab a coffee, have a natter? We've been having a collection for a wedding present for you and Jude—I mean, Mr Mescal—and he said you'd drop in one day next week—he'd arrange which day with you—and we could do the presentation bit then. Have you retired, or something?' Her head tilted to one side, '1 wish I could. I fancy myself as a Kept Woman!'
'No such thing!' Cleo was quick to scotch that rumour. Polly was a small fish in Equity and Research but she had a large mouth, and Cleo was going to be behind her desk first thing on Monday morning, if not sooner, because idling around was nice and relaxing—or would be when the vile business with Fenton was over—but she couldn't wait to start working with Jude again.
'OK, we'll have that coffee.' She didn't want one, not after her delicious lunch with Jude, but it would give her the opportunity to make it clear to Polly that retirement was the last thing on the cards. She was still Jude's PA and she had no intention of giving up that coveted position.
At the cramped table in the tiny restaurant. Polly picked up the menu. 'I haven't had lunch yet and my stomach thinks my throat's been cut—do you mind?'
'No, of course not, go ahead,' said Cleo. 'I'll just have tea.'
'Well, I'm glad you're not aiming to be a lady of leisure,' Polly confided when she'd given her order. 'Word had it you were resigning, and when Sheila Bates from Takeovers and Mergers heard she nearly flipped. She fancies her chances as your successor! Oh, she's qualified,' Polly twisted a springy black curl around her index finger, her head on one side. 'But she's a pain in the neck. As your husband's PA she'd be insufferable.'
'There's no question of my resigning,' Cleo denied firmly. But something cold wriggled around inside her * all the same. Jude had been adamant about her staying away from the office for the rest of this week, and that could have been consideration on his part, because she did have a lot to attend to—clearing up at the house in Bow, deciding what to do about the furniture.
But why had he said she'd be dropping in one day next week when he'd been approached about the presentation of the wedding gift? He had obviously made it sound as though she wouldn't be around on a permanent day-to-day basis.
'And talking about Takeovers and Mergers--' Polly's brown eyes were avid as she looked up from her tuna salad. 'A client phoned me yesterday morning, and this guy said he'd heard a rumour that we're making a takeover bid for your uncle's company, Slade Securities. He wanted to know if he should buy in.' A morsel of tuna disappeared between her glossy red lips and Cleo's heart did a small somersault. Her uncle's firm—the largely family-owned company—to be swallowed up by Mescal Slade? It would break his heart, make all the years he and her father had spent building the business up from scratch seem like a waste of time. And Polly said, 'I thought you'd like to know what was in the wind. Why don't you get on to someone in Takeovers and Mergers, find out what's going on. Know what I mean? You could come up with something interesting.'
It was no secret that Cleo's father and Jude's uncle, direct descendants of Harry Slade and Reuben Mescal who had founded the merchant bank way back in the eighteen hundreds had quarrelled. It had happened a long time ago, almost fifty years ago to be exact, and Cleo'sfather had sold out his shares to Jude's uncle and had gone into secondary banking, founding Slade Securities with his younger brother, Cleo's Uncle John.
When her father had died ten years ago Uncle John had carried on the by then successful company until the second of his heart-attacks had forced him into retirement. Now Luke was at the helm, and if Mescal Slade were considering a takeover bid.
And why hadn't Jude told her? Surely she had a right to know? He would have the final say in any such decision; the board was like putty in his hands.
They respected his judgement too much, and with good reason, to do more than superficially question his decisions— and then only for the look of it...
'Hey!' Polly snapped her fingers under Cleo's nose. 'Come on back here—you looked miles away!'
Cleo glanced at the other girl with a start, her eyes unfocused, then smiled automatically, picking up her cup to finish her tea and Polly, eyeing the slenderly cut suit in fine olive green crepe Cleo was wearing over a white silk V-necked blouse, asked wistfully, 'I don't suppose you'd help me look for a suit. You've got such fantastic taste.'
'I'm sorry,' Cleo said quickly, perhaps too quickly, she conceded as Polly's face set in a huffy mask. This latest bombshell made her unfit company for anyone, and the last thing she could settle to do was trail round the shops looking for clothes. She had to contact Jude. 'I really don't have time,' she offered, her grey eyes serious.
Polly shrugged. 'That's OK.'
But she looked brighter when Cleo told her sincerely, 'You don't need me to help you choose what to wear. You always look great.'
* * *
'I'm sorry, Cleo, your husband is tied up in a meeting all afternoon.' Dawn Goodall sounded perky. 'Your husband! You could have knocked me down with the proverbial when I heard you and Mr Mescal were married! I suppose congratulations are in order!'
'Thanks.' Cleo injected warmth into her voice although she felt like howling with frustration. 'How are you coping?'
'Fine,' Dawn laughed lightly. 'I couldn't believe it at first, but he's actually smiled at me a time or two. Marriage has turned him into a human being.'
'I told you you only needed time to get used to him,' Cleo reminded, hating to have to waste time on chit-chat when all she wanted to do was find out from Jude if there was any truth in the takeover rumour.
But the smile slipped from her face as Dawn told her, 'As a matter of fact I was about to phone you. Mr Mescal asked me to let you know he'd be late home this evening. Something suddenly cropped up and he's got a working dinner with some of the consortium who are handling the bid for a chain of American hotels. Just preliminary discussion, you know the sort of thing.'
Cleo did, and if she'd been in the office, functioning in her normal capacity, it would have been she who had arranged the dinner, sat near him, taking it all in, every word, ready to chew over with him later. She would have been the recipient of his innermost cogitations... Instead, she was to dine alone, biting her nails and waiting for him to come home. She didn't know how she managed to end the phone conversation with any civility at all, but she must have done because Dawn sounded unruffled as she said her goodbyes and hung up.
She couldn't believe that Jude would have told her nothing had Mescal Slade been seriously considering a takeover bid for Slade Securities. And why he had to pick this night, of all nights, to be late coming home, she didn't know!
It was enough to drive
her distracted.
She had kicked her shoes off the moment she'd walked through the front door this afternoon, and now her silk- clad toes curled into the soft pile of the Persian carpet that partially covered the polished oak boards of the study floor as she stared at the phone. She resisted the temptation to call Takeovers and Mergers to fish for the information she needed; she had to speak to Jude about it first.
And there was no question of warning Uncle John. The rumour might be completely unfounded and there was no point in worrying him unnecessarily. Equally, there was no point in speaking to Luke, not until she had the facts. She didn't particularly want to speak to Luke about anything, not after the way he had been this morning, but he was in charge of the company. Her hand hovered over the phone and she bit her lips in indecision before getting up and leaving the room. She would wait for Jude, see what he had to say before alerting any of the family...
She had fallen asleep in front of the drawing-room fire but she snapped to immediate wakefulness when she heard the snick of the door as Jude walked in. He didn't notice her at first, and watching him loosen his tie and run his fingers through his crisp dark hair she thought he looked tired, but when she said, 'Hi—had a good evening?' and uncurled her long legs, standing up, his face lightened, a slow, warm smile curving his long, masculine mouth.
'You shouldn't have waited up.' He came over to her, reaching for her, pulling her close so that their bodies were touching, breast to thigh, the sharp burn of wanting sparking to quick life between them. He bent his dark head, dark hair mingling with soft silver gilt, and he murmured, his mouth finding the taut, slender column of her throat, 'God, you smell good, taste good.'
In a moment, Cleo knew, there would be no question of her mentioning the rumour of the takeover bid. ' Already the deep need his nearness invoked was claiming her, turning her blood to flame, her mind to mush. So, her hands against the strong wall of his chest, she pushed him away. 'Can I fix you a drink? You look tired.' Her breath was sucked in through her nostrils, making them flare with the sheer effort of clearing her mind, of holding him at bay when all her instincts dictated that she become mindless, melting, a creature created for his pleasure, for the pleasure only he could give her.
A Secure Marriage Page 8
