Bitter Enchantment

by Yvonne Whittal

  Melanie shivered uncontrollably and, back at her own desk some minutes later, she had to force herself to concentrate on her work, thankful for the first time that she was alone in an office and spared the necessity of pretending a happiness she was far from experiencing. Her telephone rang incessantly that morning and, although they were mostly business calls, her nerves reacted violently on each occasion before settling down to normality when the voice at the other end was not Jason's. When he did eventually telephone her, her heart seemed to leap into her throat when she heard his deep, businesslike voice at the other end of the line, and for several seconds she was speechless with nervous tension.

  'Are you still there, Melanie?' he demanded abruptly, and the note of authority in his voice seemed to have the desired effect on her vocal cords.

  'Yes, I'm… still here.'

  'Good,' he said, and she could visualise him leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look on his hard face. 'I hope you encountered no problems this morning when you handed in your resignation?'

  'You saw to it that I wouldn't,' she snapped at him, twisting the cord between her fingers and wishing it was his neck.

  'Do I detect a note of anger in your voice?'

  'Yes, you do,' she admitted, her hand clenching the receiver so tightly that her fingers ached. 'I'm quite capable of handling my own affairs without your interference, thank you.'

  'Your affairs are now mine, Melanie, and that's something you'll have to accept once we're married.'

  'We're not married yet!' she exclaimed, his immovable manner adding fuel to the fire that raged through her.

  'Melanie!' He said her name sharply, almost like a rebuke, then there was a brief hesitation and his voice was once again matter-of-fact. 'I have to attend a meeting in a few minutes, so let's not waste time. I've made arrangements for us to be married quietly at ten o'clock on Saturday morning in that little church close to your home. My secretary has also made an appointment for you at Loriette's between one and two today, and Madame Loriette knows exactly the kind of wedding dress I have in mind for you.'

  'Wedding dress?' she echoed stupidly.

  'Did you think I would be satisfied with my bride wearing anything else but the traditional white?' his voice mocked her relentlessly.

  'But our marriage isn't… I mean…' In her confusion she faltered, unable to continue, and grateful that he could not see her flushed cheeks.

  'The reason for our marriage may differ slightly from the conventional, but it will be a marriage like every other marriage. I made that quite clear before, didn't I?'

  The reminder was unnecessary, and somehow brutal, making it painfully clear that she could expect no mercy from him once he had made her his wife. He would take what he considered just compensation for his leniency, and quite without regard for her feelings.

  'Didn't I, Melanie?' Jason demanded harshly, breaking the strained silence between them.

  'Yes, you did,' she admitted, determined now never to let him guess how much she feared him.

  'Anything else?'

  'Yes,' Melanie replied with a flash of spirit. 'If I must wear white, then I would prefer to purchase the dress somewhere less expensive than Loriette's.'

  'You'll do as I say, and don't let the cost concern you.'

  'I can't afford—'

  'I can afford it.'

  Melanie sucked her breath in sharply. 'You mean you're going to pay for it?'

  'Yes.'

  Incredulity and anger washed over her. 'And if I don't want to accept your generosity?'

  'For your grandmother's sake, you will,' he assured her with infuriating confidence.

  She was speechless for a few seconds as she digested his statement, her heart thudding anxiously at the ruthless determination in his voice, and feeling a little sick as she realised, not for the first time, that he had the whip hand.

  'I think I'm beginning to hate you,' she told him, her voice shaking with suppressed anger and helplessness.

  'Good,' he replied in his usual abrupt manner. 'I'll call for you at seven this evening and while we're dining together somewhere I'll tell you of the rest of my plans.'

  The line went dead before she could reply and she found that she was shaking so much that she could hardly replace the receiver. It was a near impossible task trying to work after that, but she somehow managed to get through the rest of the morning and, despite her reluctance to carry out Jason's instructions, she found herself taking a bus to Madame Loriette's fashion house during her lunch hour.

  Madame Loriette, dark-haired, slender, and elegant, surveyed Melanie critically when she arrived, but her tight-lipped expression finally relaxed into a smile that melted some of the coldness about Melanie's heart.

  'Mr Kerr should have been in the fashion business,' she announced caustically, 'but I must admit that I find myself agreeing with his choice of style to suit your fairness. I won't be a moment.'

  Madame Loriette seemed to float across the carpeted floor of her showroom to disappear behind the heavily draped curtains in the corner, and Melanie was left with the infuriating feeling that she was being treated like a child who had been sent out to select a party dress, only to find that the choice had already been made by a domineering parent prior to her arrival.

  'I think you'll like this,' Madame Loriette stated when she returned a few minutes later with the silken folds of a dress draped across her arms. 'If you'll come this way then you could try it on.'

  Fighting back her desire to tell Madame Loriette she was wasting her time, Melanie followed her into the cubicle, but as she felt the smoothness of the material against her skin she experienced a feeling of pleasure she could not deny. The style was beautiful in its simplicity, the expensive silk and fine imported lace a perfect foil for her slender, youthful figure. The wide yet modest neckline displayed the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders, while carefully stitched darts accentuated the fullness of her breasts, and Melanie, staring at herself in the mirror, felt as though she were looking at a stranger; a stranger with wide blue eyes darkened by the turbulence of her thoughts. There should have been joy in the selection of her wedding gown, but instead there was a coldness sharpening on a growing fear which she found difficult to ignore.

  She met Madame Loriette's questioning glance in the mirror, and managed a smile. 'It's beautiful!'

  Madame Loriette nodded with satisfaction, her dark eyes appraising Melanie a little critically. 'It's as if the dress had been made especially for you, my dear, and it isn't difficult to see what it is about you that finally made a man like Jason Kerr lose his heart.'

  Melanie did not attempt a reply but, while she was dressing for her dinner appointment with Jason that evening, she recalled Madame Loriette's remark, and could not prevent the bitter laughter that spilled over her lips. Jason Kerr had no heart to lose. His masculine virility demanded the fulfilment of his desires, and circumstances had cruelly made her the object of his desire because of her love for her grandmother and Greystone Manor.

  A car came up the drive, its lights making a sweeping arc across the night sky, and Melanie, her amber-coloured chiffon gown swaying about her legs, hurried down the stairs and across the hall to admit Jason. Her heart thudded uncomfortably at his tallness and the breadth of his shoulders in the jacket of his dark evening suit,' and she was strangely relieved when he suggested that they left at once. In the darkness of his car she would at least have some protection from the. disturbing quality of his glances.

  Jason drove a little way out of the city to a small, quiet restaurant where he knew they could have a little privacy, so he explained to her when she questioned him nervously about the direction he was taking. The owner of the restaurant welcomed Jason like an old friend, and they were shown to a corner table which was set a little apart from the others with a potted palm as added protection from the rest of the diners.

  They were served wine which Jason had obviously ordered prior to their arrival, and Melanie sipped at it nervous
ly while he scrutinised the menu and made a selection, but, facing Jason across the small, candlelit table, Melanie promptly lost her appetite, and found herself unable to do justice to the superbly cooked meal. She did little more than rearrange her food on her plate, and although Jason frowned at her once or twice, he finished his meal in silence.

  'More wine?' he asked as their plates were cleared away.

  'No, thank you.'

  He took a slim gold cigarette case from his jacket pocket and opened it. 'Do you mind if I smoke?'

  'Please yourself,' she said stiffly.

  'It would please me more if you relaxed a little instead of sitting there looking as if you're afraid I might have plans to seduce you in the car on the way home,' he remarked, calmly selecting a cigarette and lighting it.

  Melanie wished the floor would give way beneath her, but she was determined not to let him see how much he had embarrassed her as she met his glance squarely and said:

  'You don't strike me as the kind of man who would select the interior of a car as a venue for your seduction scenes.'

  'You're quite right,' he replied smoothly, his eyes glittering dangerously in the candlelight. 'At my age I prefer a little comfort when seeking that kind of excitement, so you can relax.'

  'You surely don't expect me to relax when I'm faced with the prospect of having to marry a complete stranger like yourself, do you?'

  'You're a stranger to me too, don't forget,' he reminded her mockingly, 'and although the idea of marriage has never appealed to me, I can't say that I find the idea entirely appalling.'

  'For a man it's different,' she argued, unable to hold his glance much longer.

  'Is it?'

  Melanie's hands clenched and unclenched nervously in her lap. 'You're demanding an awful lot of me, and I—I don't think I can go through with it.'

  'Then I take it I must contact my lawyer in the morning and start proceedings for the sale of Greystone Manor?'

  'No!' Her lashes flew up swiftly, the look of fear in her eyes giving way to puzzlement. 'You know very well that I want to avoid that at all costs, but if only I could understand your reasoning! Why are you insisting that I should marry you?'

  'Would you really like to know?' Jason demanded, his eyes narrowed against the film of smoke rising up from his cigarette.

  'Yes… yes, I would!'

  'Your prim little soul isn't going to like what I have to say,' he warned her, but Melanie believed she was past the stage of being shocked by anything he had to say.

  'There's nothing in this entire business that appeals to me,' she said stiffly, 'but tell me the reason nevertheless.'

  Jason flicked the ash off his cigarette and leaned towards her across the table, the candlelight giving him a devilish expression that held her fascinated glance without effort as he spoke.

  'From the moment I saw you standing beside your father's grave, I wanted you, and when I saw you again later that day I was determined to have you, one way or the other.'

  His bald statement had been made quite matter-of-factly, very much as one would remark upon an item in a shop window which one intended to purchase, but it still had the power to shake Melanie considerably, and it was several seconds before she regained her composure enough to speak.

  'I don't suppose it's occurred to you that your selfish desire could ruin my entire life?'

  'What a typically feminine thought!' he mocked her with a cruel twist of his lips. 'Haven't you realised yet that when our marriage is over and done with, you'll have paid your father's debt in full, and you'll have safeguarded your grandmother's peace of mind?'

  'I realise that,' she retorted bitterly, 'but in the process I shall have lost my self-respect.'

  'But you'll have gained so much more,' he added softly, and the raw sensuality emanating from his manner and his voice had an almost hypnotic effect on her before she was able to shake herself free.

  Jason discussed with her the arrangements he had made, telling her, too, that they would spend a week alone in his chalet in the Drakensberg after their wedding. It sounded desolate and frightening to Melanie, but what frightened her most at that moment was the way her pulses were reacting to his glances.

  In a frantic hurry now to get away from this man and the effect he was beginning to have on her, she waited for the opportune moment and said shakily, 'I think I would like to go home now, if you don't mind.'

  'As you wish,' he said calmly, getting to his feet and placing her wrap lightly about her, shoulders, but as he escorted her from the restaurant she could still feel her skin tingling where his fingers had touched her accidentally.

  Neither of them made any attempt at conversation on the way back to Greystone Manor, and Melanie heaved a shuddering sigh of relief when he wished her 'goodnight' at the door, and left without so much as touching her hand.'

  His action surprised her all the same. For a man who, not an hour ago, had announced cold-bloodedly that he wanted her, he was behaving in an extraordinary manner. Apart from that hateful kiss he had given her in his office a few days ago, and his display of affection in Granny Bridget's company later that same afternoon, he had not touched her unnecessarily. She could not think of anything she wanted less than to be kissed and held by Jason Kerr, but that did not prevent her from being curious about this man she had agreed to marry.

  At Granny Bridget's invitation Jason had dinner at their home almost every evening that week, and Melanie saw her grandmother succumb to the charm Jason exuded in her presence. His deception was so faultless that Granny Bridget and Sister Wilson were both too starry-eyed with adoration to notice that Melanie was steadily becoming a shadow of her former happy self.

  The arrangements for the wedding were inevitably often discussed, but Melanie seldom participated, brushing off her grandmother's queries by saying she was happy to leave everything in their capable hands. It was Jason, however, who made most of the arrangements, and Melanie shrank inwardly as the day of their wedding approached inexorably.

  The chill of autumn was in the air when Melanie stepped out of the office building for the last time that Friday afternoon, and she hastily fastened the buttons of her knitted jacket.

  'Melanie!'

  Her nerves reacted to the sound of that deep voice and she swung round sharply to see Jason holding open the rear door of a large white chauffeur-driven Mercedes. She hesitated only briefly before she climbed in beside him, and the car pulled away smoothly to become a part of the late afternoon exodus from the city.

  'I usually prefer driving myself, but my car is in for a service, and I shan't get it before tomorrow morning,' Jason told her a little impatiently as he intercepted her curious glance at the chauffeur.

  'I understood that I wouldn't be seeing you this evening,' she said, lowering her voice automatically because of the uniformed black man in the front seat.

  'You understood correctly, but I have something I would like you to wear tomorrow.'

  A small, flat leather case was dropped carelessly into her lap and, for some unaccountable reason, she was afraid to touch it.

  'Open it,' Jason ordered quietly, and she found herself obeying his command reluctantly.

  She managed to undo the old-fashioned catch with trembling fingers, but caught her breath sharply when the lid flew open to reveal its priceless contents. Against the blue velvet backing nestled an exquisitely beautiful pearl necklace and even in the shadowy interior of the car the stones glowed richly.

  'It was my mother's,' Jason explained stiffly, and Melanie's throat tightened.

  For the first time since joining him in the back of the Mercedes, she turned in her seat towards him, but her searching, puzzled glance had to be content with his harsh, uncommunicative profile. What was he thinking? she wondered curiously. And what really lay beneath that hard, unbending exterior of his? She studied him intently for a few moments, her glance lingering on the strands of grey hair at his temples, and the way his hair showed a tendency to curl against the back of hi
s strong neck.

  He turned his head unexpectedly and, embarrassed at being caught staring, she flushed and looked away, closing the lid of the small leather case with a decisive snap.

  'I couldn't possibly wear this necklace,' she said jerkily, placing the case on the seat between them and staring miserably out of the window without noticing that the traffic had thinned out as they turned off on to the road that led to Greystone Manor.

  'Why not?' he demanded icily.

  'I don't feel that I have the right to wear it,' she explained quietly, clasping her hands tightly in an effort to control their shaking. 'Besides, it's… it's far too valuable,' she added, filled with anxiety at the thought of something happening to the necklace while it was in her possession, but Jason had no intention of having his wish thwarted, and his hard fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his compelling glance.

  'I want you to wear that necklace tomorrow, and that's an order, Melanie.' His fingers tightened their grip painfully. 'If you don't…'

  He left his sentence unfinished, but it had an ominous ring to it that sent a shiver of fear through her, and she found herself agreeing before she could prevent herself.

  Jason released her instantly but, to her dismay, he trailed his fingers lightly across her pale cheek and down the column of her throat until she could actually feel her own pulse throbbing against his exploring fingertips. Then his hand clasped her throat, almost as if he wished to choke her, and she raised wide, frightened eyes to his.

  'You're being wise to obey me,' he said calmly and, for the second time since knowing him, she felt his hard mouth pressed against her own for a brief moment before he released her and turned away to stare out of the window as if he had abruptly forgotten her existence.

  How dared he treat her in this hateful manner? she asked herself fiercely, clenching her fists until her nails bit into her palms, but her jerky pulses told her that she had not been left entirely unaffected by his kiss and her anger mounted against him for some inexplicable reason.