A Secure Marriage

by Diana Hamilton

  Ignoring the thunderous bar of threatening brows, denoting a rapid loss of patience, she said, 'You've told me you have no interest in the Slade shares—except on my account. And we both know you married because you want children. And yet--' she took a deep breath, trying to find the right words '—and yet, even though you know I never deceived you with Fenton, that our child will be born in about seven months' time, you are insisting on a divorce. Have I become so repugnant to you? Help me to understand.'

  'Can't you leave it alone, woman?' His voice was harsh, the words flying at her bitterly. 'Must you twist the knife in the wound?' His height and breadth, the savage line of his mouth, made him menacing and she moved away from him instinctively, wanting to ease his pain but not knowing how because she didn't know the reason for it. 'Do you want my blood, as well as my peace of mind? I married you because I loved you—I'd been falling in love with you since the moment I first saw you.' The words were torn from him, wrenched out with anguish, and Cleo's heart stopped, then slammed on again and she wanted to go to him, to hold him and love him, but knew that if she touched him he would explode into a savage repudiation of all the hurt and anger he was feeling. She had to allow him to spill out the poison, the pain, she had to stand and watch, and listen, and it wasn't easy.

  'And so I hatched my plots, my cunning plans. Emotional involvements between boss and employee don't work, and I wanted our involvement to become very emotional indeed. So I started a rumour. The Mescal Slade takeover of Slade Securities. Very neat!' His mouth curved down with self-condemnation. 'As I saw it, you would hear the rumour and come to me about it. And I would suggest your doing precisely what you are doing—move to your family's company and pull them clear. So far, so good.

  Their decline was real, as you know, and you were the obvious person to do the job— the best, too. But there was a lot more to it than that, because when you no longer worked for me I could date you, try to make you love me, ask you to marry me. I had it all worked out,' he smiled mirthlessly, 'but before the rumour got to your ears, you beat me to it—didn't you just?'

  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his wide shoulders held straight and proud as he turned away from her, and she held her breath, knowing that she had to stand there, and listen, when one word from her would put things straight. But she couldn't say that word, not yet. He was revealing a side of his character she hadn't known existed, giving her glimpses of vulnerability and self-doubt that made him doubly dear to her.

  'Your proposal knocked me senseless,' he said quietly. 'I was being offered, just like that, exactly what I'd hoped and dreamed of having. You—as my wife. And I took the chance, not daring to ask myself exactly why you needed that money because I wanted to hold on to the dream of hope. Hope,'

  he grated bitterly, 'that I would be able to teach you to love me. It didn't matter why you wanted to marry me, only that you did. Can you understand that, Cleo?'

  'Of course I can.' Her voice was ragged, her clear eyes bright with tears of happiness. And he was calmer now, the hurt and anger partly expunged by his bitter, tormented words. 'Jude--' She moved towards him but he shrugged away.

  'I don't want your pity. The blame's all mine. I took what I wanted most in the world, and then I spoiled it. I loved you so much that the very thought of you made music in my soul and then, when I was beginning to believe you were growing to love me, I killed all hope of that ever happening. I found you with Fenton and the truth, to me, was what I'd seen. I knew you hadn't married me because you loved me, and there you were, with Fenton, with the money, or some of it, that you'd been forced to marry in order to control, lying around. A sweetener for the lover you couldn't marry because your guardians wouldn't have approved.' His voice deepened. 'If only you'd told me, Cleo, as soon as we were married, exactly why you had to have that money, I would have made damn sure he never came within a mile of you.

  And if you had,' he gave her a tired, hopeless ghost of a smile, 'I wouldn't have treated you the way I did, killed any hope I ever had of teaching you to love me.'

  'I should have done.' She swayed towards him, her face pale, regrets eating her. She could have saved them both so much misery. But he did love her, had loved her all the time, and that was the most wonderful, unbelievable thing in the world.

  Unhesitatingly, he cradled her in his arms, concern darkening his eyes, and she murmured, 'I wish I'd told you everything, but I was so afraid of what he threatened to do—not for myself, but because of Uncle John. And I was ashamed of myself for getting into such a situation in the first place. I didn't want anyone to know, least of all you. It was something I had to sort out for myself.'

  'I know. Please don't upset yourself, Cleo.' His voice was infinitely kind, heartbreakingly sad. 'How did he get hold of that hotel receipt? Don't tell me if you don't want to—it's certainly none of my business, and if you were lovers—well, that's not my affair, either.'

  'We were never lovers,' she denied, happy, at peace at last, within the circle of his arms. 'He'd asked me to marry him secretly, but I'd turned him down.

  I'd already recognised my feelings for him for what they were—infatuation.

  And once that was out of the way I knew I didn't even like him. Anyway--'

  She dredged her memory. It all seemed so long ago, so unimportant.

  Everything seemed unimportant when set beside the knowledge that the man she loved so desperately had loved her all the time. She pressed her face closer to the wall of his chest, feeling his warmth, the masculine strength of him, the gentleness...

  'Anyway,' she continued quickly, anxious to get this out of the way, lay the ghost of her supposed affair with Fenton finally and for ever. 'He seemed to take my rejection fairly well, said he'd like to keep in touch, that sort of thing, suggested we went for a day in the country—we'd done that whenever I could spare time from my studies—I'd always found it relaxing. So, we went. He was driving my car. We had a picnic lunch, explored a ruined castle we came across, began to make our leisurely way home. But he appeared to lose the way and the upshot was, we were approaching some village— Goldingstan—in the early evening. And there was a bridge, and I never knew how it happened, but he seemed to lose control of the car. It wasn't a bad accident—the left wing was crumpled and I ended up with bruised ribs.'

  She shivered slightly at the memory, knowing, now, that it had all been set up, carefully planned. 'By the time he'd walked into the village and found a garage willing to tow the car in for a check, it was too late to do anything but stay where we were. I was feeling a bit groggy by then, and sat in the lounge of the Red Lion while he booked us in, explained what had happened, and ordered supper. It was only when he'd taken me up to the room that I discovered he'd booked us in as man and wife. He said there weren't any other rooms available, and I don't know whether I believed him but I did know I wasn't up to making a fuss, finding the landlady and so on. But I didn't sleep with him". I spent the night in an armchair, and for some reason—the aftermath of the shock of the accident, I suppose—I slept right through until eleven next morning when he woke me and told me that the landlady had been knocking on the door because it was time we vacated it.

  And that's all there was to it.'

  She felt his arms tighten around her, heard him swear, low in his throat, then he murmured, 'It's done with now. You need never worry about him again, I'll see to that.' He released her gently, pushing her upright. 'Are you all right?'

  He looked concerned, and she nodded, her heart full, almost hurting with happiness, with her love for him, as she prompted, 'When you read that Fenton was engaged you decided, with him beyond my reach, as you thought, that you'd try to make our marriage work again—but I told you about the baby and you immediately thought--'

  'Don't!' he pleaded hoarsely. 'I think 1 was insane with jealousy by then. And now you know why I'm willing to give you the divorce you asked for. I treated you despicably, and divorce is the only thing I can do for you now.'

&nbs
p; He shrugged minimally. 'I think we should go now. I've said more then I ever intended to, bared my soul until it's raw. Soul-searching never suited me!'

  His wry attempt at humour, to lighten the anguish he was obviously feeling, made her heart contract with love for him, and there was a shaky smile on her lips as she said, very clearly, so that there could be no mistake, 'I don't want a divorce. I never did. I love you, and I need you, and if you won't believe me,' her voice rose to the kind of wailing quiver that would have appalled her in any other circumstances, 'and if you turn your back on me one more time, I'll--'

  Words failed her, no threat too dire to utter, but her throat choked up with tears and laughter and utter, utter relief as she saw incredulity replace blankness, and open joy replace that.

  'Do you mean that?' He seemed frozen to the ground, making no move towards her, but she did it for him, going to his arms, clinging, holding him, tears not far away, laughter just below the surface, making coherent speech impossible. But his arms enfolded her and the gentle caress of his hands said more than words. And then, with his broken words of love murmured against her lips, her throat, she told him, with the need of all lovers, exactly how and where and when her love for him had begun, and grown, exactly how it was for her, now, and always. And the sun passed its zenith, the lazy heat of the slow afternoon enfolding them as they clung together, as if neither could bear to release the other. Ever.

  It was the Thornwoods' evening off, Cleo remembered as she and Jude entered the empty house later that evening, hand in hand. He turned her, catching her in his arms, and she murmured, 'You know, I think I'm hungry.

  Just let me shower, then I'll fix us something to eat.'

  'You shower.' She felt him smile against her lips. 'I'll bring something up to the bedroom to appease your appetite.'

  And so he did; himself, champagne and two glasses, which was perfect, and Cleo, already reclining against the satin-covered pillows, fresh from her shower and languid with love for him, told him, 'Lovely, I'm ravenous!' and saw his eyes darken with desire, soften with something that came near to adoration.

  His eyes wandered over the drift of amber silk that was her neglige, and he turned away with every appearance of regret, telling her as he stripped off his T-shirt, 'I'll be two minutes under that shower, no more. By the time you've poured the champagne I'll be back.'

  And he said, over the noise of the water, 'We'll buy Dene Place, shall we?

  I've taken a fancy to it. You could say it's where I found you.'

  She didn't answer, he wouldn't have heard her if she had. In any case, she didn't need to. They wanted the same things, always would, and they both knew it, now.

  And when he came back, the bronze of his skin glistening with a thousand tiny droplets of water, she felt the familiar yet devastating kick of desire in her loins and closed her eyes. Suddenly, stupidly, she felt shy, like a new bride, as if their loving would be for the first time.

  'Fiona said,' she uttered thickly, sensing him close, standing over her as she lay back amongst the pillows, 'that you and I didn't have enough gumption between us to figure our way from A to B in the world of the emotions. I think she could have been right.'

  'So do I.' His voice was very near now, his clean breath fanning her cheek, and as the mattress depressed beneath his weight and his knowing hands began to remove the silken barrier, working their indescribable magic, he murmured throatily, 'It's a problem we're both going to apply our minds to, aren't we, my darling love? Not to mention our bodies, of course. We'll learn our way from ' A to B together—and far, far beyond. You and I, my love,' his voice deepened, 'are going to be an unbeatable combination.'