Jason raised his head suddenly and leaned across her to switch on the light.
'My God!' he exclaimed, a look of disgust on his face as he stared down at her. 'If there's one thing that doesn't appeal to me, it's making love to a woman who's weeping at the thought of losing her virginity.' He rolled away from her and pulled on the shirt he had discarded, tucking it into his pants as he stood observing her with narrowed eyes while she dragged the bedspread over her naked, shivering body. 'Or is it perhaps that you're just plain scared I might find out you've lost your virginity already?'
If he had struck her he could not have inflicted more pain, and she flinched as she stared up at him speechlessly through a blur of tears while a hot wave of shame and humiliation swept through her, making her wish at that moment that she were dead.
'That's not true!' she cried chokingly, then she rolled over, burying her hot face in the pillow, and a few seconds later Jason slammed the bedroom door behind him with such a force that the windows rattled.
She remained where she was for some time, almost as if she were afraid to move, but, as the outer door slammed shut, a sure indication that Jason had gone out, her shoulders began to shake, and she wept silently into her pillow.
Her eyes were still red-rimmed and swollen in her pale face when she emerged from the bathroom an hour later, and she felt decidedly shaky as she went through to the kitchen to make herself a strong cup of tea. She stared at her distorted reflection in the stainless steel kettle, and decided grimly that her life had become just as distorted since she had married Jason. Nothing seemed to make sense, and she could understand herself least of all. In his anger he had wanted to take possession of her and, loving him as she did, she could not accept the brutal way in which he had attempted it. If the circumstances had been different; if there had been gentleness in his approach, she would not have been able to resist him, she realised weakly, and her treacherous body tingled at the thought.
'Oh, God,' she moaned softly, burying her face in her trembling hands. 'I should hate him, but I can't. I want only to love him, but I daren't, and I don't know what to do about it.'
When she finally stopped shaking she drank her tea and went to bed, but she slept fitfully all night, and awoke the next morning after eight to find that Jason had already left for the office.
Relief mingled with regret as she changed into a warm pair of slacks and a sweater, and knee-high boots. She brushed her hair vigorously until it shone like pure gold, and applied a little make-up before going through to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of orange juice. A cold slice of toast was all that remained of the breakfast Jason had prepared for himself and, helping herself to it, she walked through the living-room and out on to the roof garden.
The sun was shining weakly through the smog, but the breeze had a sting to it, and it whipped a little colour back into her cheeks. She did not sit down, but leaned against the wall of the penthouse as she ate her toast and drank her orange juice. Her eyes turned involuntarily in the direction of Greystone Manor, and she longed suddenly for the stability and safety of the home she had offered up so much for.
Swallowing down the remainder of her breakfast, she went through to the study and telephoned Barnaby to come and fetch her. When the doorbell chimed a few minutes later, she glanced at her watch in surprise. It could not possibly be Barnaby, unless he had suddenly sprouted wings, and it was also too early for the people who serviced the penthouse daily, she decided, frowning as she lifted the latch of the front door.
Delia's elegant presence on the doorstep came as something of a shock to Melanie, and she stared at her stupidly for a moment.
'Melanie, my dear, may I come in?' she asked sweetly and, without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside, her expensive perfume filling Melanie's nostrils.
'I was actually on the point of going out,' Melanie told her defensively, wondering distractedly as to the purpose of this unexpected visit.
'I haven't much time at my disposal either, but I'm sure you could spare me a few minutes,' Delia smiled with deceptive warmth, and Melanie felt a shiver of apprehension crawl up her spine.
'If it's something important…'
'It's important to me, yes,' Delia insisted, walking through to the living-room as if she owned the place and subsiding elegantly into one of the chairs. She crossed her shapely legs and waited for Melanie to seat herself before she explained. 'I thought we might get to know each other better. After all…' she smiled complacently, '… we do have something in common, don't we?'
'You mean Jason, of course.'
'Quite right,' Delia admitted, studying her perfectly manicured nails. 'He'll never be a faithful husband, you must know that.'
Melanie was instantly on her guard. 'I never imagined he would be.'
'It doesn't concern you?'
'No,' Melanie lied, controlling her features. 'Should it?'
Delia's beautifully arched eyebrows rose a fraction higher. 'I must say that's an extraordinary attitude to adopt, but perhaps it's just as well. That way you won't get hurt.' With one graceful movement she was on her feet. 'Oh, well, I would have loved to stay a while longer, but I must be on my way, darling… and do return this to Jason.' She dropped a gold cigarette lighter on to the table, and Melanie, who had risen in the process, felt her legs begin to shake beneath her as Delia explained. 'He left it at my flat last night. 'Bye for now.'
There was a look of triumph on Delia's face as she let herself out. She had scored a hit, and she knew it. Melanie picked up the lighter and clutched it in her hand. Jason's initials were engraved on it, leaving her in no doubt that it was his. She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to assimilate the shattering knowledge that Jason had sought solace in Delia's arms. It was to be expected, she supposed, but it hurt none the less. It hurt so much that it was like a physical pain lodging in her chest, and she sat down quickly on the chair she had vacated as her limbs gave way beneath her. Delia had every reason to be triumphant. She had predicted that Jason would return to her, and it had happened almost sooner than she herself might have expected. What hurt Melanie most was the despairing knowledge that she had driven him into Delia's arms.
She fought back the hot tears that stung her eyelids, and just in time too, for Barnaby arrived a few minutes later to take her out to Greystone Manor. She pulled herself forcibly together, put the lighter away in the drawer of her bedside table, and chatted to Barnaby as if nothing had happened, but the pain of her discovery lingered with a determination she could not shake off.
Sister Wilson's shrewd glance took in Melanie's pale and drawn features, but she remained silent, and Granny Bridget had sunk too deep into her own world to notice any change in her granddaughter's appearance.
It was the unhappiest day Melanie had ever had to live through, and her grandmother's drastically declining health added to the load she had to bear. She spent the day up in her grandmother's bedroom, seated beside her chair in order to massage some warmth into her cold hands, and listening with growing concern to her meanderings into the past. There was no longer any sign of the proud, sometimes defiant old woman she had known, and she cried silently in the garden when Sister Wilson finally insisted that her grandmother should rest.
'She's had a long and happy life, Melanie,' Sister Wilson comforted her when they had a moment together before Barnaby arrived to collect her. 'Your life is only just beginning,' she added wisely.
'How can I seek my own happiness while Granny Bridget—' Melanie's voice broke, and she swallowed with difficulty, determined not to cry in front of this efficient-looking woman.
Sister Wilson pushed Melanie into a chair and frowned down at her. 'This may sound callous to you, my dear, but don't allow your own happiness to slip through your fingers because of your concern for your grandmother.'
'It would be inhuman and quite impossible for me not to be concerned,' Melanie protested indignantly.
'It would be even more inhuman if your marriage suffered a
severe blow as a result of it.'
Melanie stiffened. 'What do you mean?'
'I'm not a fool, Melanie,' Sister Wilson said sharply. 'You've been married only a few weeks, and instead of blossoming into a radiantly happy woman, you've become pale and drawn. Come to think of it,' she added thoughtfully, 'the last time I actually saw you looking really happy was before your father's death.'
'You're exaggerating,' Melanie remarked defensively, but as Sister Wilson shrugged and left her alone in the living-room, she admitted to herself silently that it was the truth.
She tried to recall when last she had laughed, and found she could not remember. She was seldom amused by anything these days, and summoning a smile was fast becoming an effort she could do without. There was nothing really to laugh about. Everything had become so dreadfully serious that tears were becoming more natural than laughter.
'Oh, what's the use of wallowing in self-pity?' she asked herself fiercely, and went in search of Sister Wilson to tell her that she would wait in the garden for Barnaby.
He arrived a few minutes later and they drove back to the city in silence, almost as if he sensed her need to be alone with her thoughts.
'Having to cart me around like this is a nuisance, isn't it?' she said sympathetically when he dropped her off.
'Not at all,' he assured her hastily. 'It's nice to get away from the office at times, especially on a day like today.' He snapped his fingers so loudly that he succeeded in making her jump. 'I almost forgot—the boss said to tell you he'll be working late this evening. The final contract with Steel Incorporated must be ready for signing tomorrow.'
Melanie nodded thoughtfully, but her mind was on something else. 'You said something about getting away from the office on a day like today. What did you mean?'
'The boss is in a rare mood today,' Barnaby informed her with a rueful grin. 'We all try to keep out of his way when he's on the warpath, but some weren't so lucky and a few heads have rolled as a result.'
So Jason was in one of his rare moods, was he? she thought wryly as she took the lift up to the penthouse. Did the hours he had spent with Delia the previous evening not come up to scratch, or was he still fuming because of the innocent kiss she and Adrian had exchanged? It was something worth thinking about, and she would certainly have plenty of time to think during the lonely hours ahead of her that evening.
Melanie made a light supper for herself and watched the television for a while, but she lost interest half way through the programme and switched it off. She stood about restlessly, played records for a time, and finally decided to go to bed with a book. In theory, the latter was a good idea, but in practice she found herself unable to concentrate on the printed page before her.
She put the book aside after another attempt to concentrate had failed, and switched off the bedside light. She intended to be asleep when Jason returned, but she was still awake when she heard his key in the door shortly alter ten. Her heart thumped wildly as she heard his footsteps approaching her door, but he walked on past her room to his own without stopping.
She shrank lower beneath the covers, her body tense and alert to every movement he made. Cupboard doors opened and closed, and a few minutes later she could hear him taking a shower in the bathroom across the passage. Then everything was quiet; so quiet, in fact, that the thudding of her heart sounded like a bass drum in her ears. She was nervous and edgy, and she could not think why, but a light tap at her door a few minutes later told her why.
Ignoring his knock, she almost held her breath as she lay hoping frantically that he would go away, but the door opened and the passage light shone into the room, silhouetting his tall, broad-shouldered frame. She closed her eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep, but the hammering of her heart seemed loud enough to give her away. She remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, then she heard the door being closed softly.
Relieved that her ruse had worked, she sighed audibly, and the next instant the bedside light was switched on.
'I had a feeling you were awake.'
Her nerves vibrated with shock as she stared up at Jason, her wild glance taking in his lean, clean-shaven cheeks, the dampness of the dark hair flecked with grey, at the temples, and the blue towelling robe which left a section of his tanned, muscular chest bare. The aura of sensual masculinity that hovered about him was overpowering, stirring her senses in a way she was beginning to know so well and, clutching at the covers for protection, she raised herself up against the pillows and demanded unsteadily, 'What—What do you want?'
His glance was faintly amused as it followed the distinct outline of her body beneath the covers, almost as if he were recalling to memory every part of her as he had seen it the night before, and a hot wave of shame and embarrassment swept through her.
'Don't look so stricken, Melanie,' he said at last, and the springs of the bed gave way beneath his weight as he sat down beside her. 'I only want to talk to you.'
'What about?'
'Anything and everything,' he shrugged nonchalantly, taking a cigarette from his cigarette case and frowning down at the packet of matches in his hand.
'Use this,' she said, unable to suppress the flicker of triumph as she removed his cigarette lighter from the drawer and handed it to him.
'Where did you find it?' he asked, staring at it in surprise as he turned it over in his hand.
'Delia returned it this morning.'
'I see.' His expression was unfathomable as he lit his cigarette and pocketed the lighter. 'Aren't you going to demand an explanation?'
'No.'
'It didn't upset you to find out that I'd gone to her straight from you?' he demanded with mocking incredulity, and she looked away.
'No.'
'You're lying!' he accused sharply, putting out his newly lit cigarette and imprisoning her with his arms on either side of her.
'All right!' she snapped, her body tense as she fought against the effect his nearness had on her pulse rate. The clean, musky smell of his body invaded her nostrils and stirred her senses, making her intensely aware of him as a man, and of her own vulnerability. 'All right,' she said again, swallowing with difficulty. 'It was humiliating to discover that—that when you had no success with me you rushed at once to her waiting arms, and Delia found great satisfaction in letting me know where you'd been.'
'Did she imply that I'd made love to her?'
'No,' her hands clutched agitatedly at the sheets, 'but why else would you have gone there if it wasn't to—to—'
'I didn't,' he said quietly, capturing her wary glance.
'Didn't what?' she asked blankly.
'I didn't make love to her.'
'You surely don't expect me to believe that?'
'If I can believe that there was nothing but friendship in that kiss I witnessed last night, then why can't you believe that I didn't make love to Delia?'
Melanie looked away. 'You didn't believe last night that Adrian's kiss was innocent.'
'I was angry at the time.' His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. 'Did I frighten you last night?'
His compelling glance wrung the truth from her, and she whispered, 'Yes.'
'Is that why you cried?'
'You came to your own conclusions about that, remember?' she reminded him, still wincing as she recalled his remarks centred on her virginity.
'Melanie…' His fingers slid across her cheek and beneath her hair at the nape of her neck. 'Have you never said anything terrible in a moment of anger?'
'Of course I have,' she admitted breathlessly, a weakness invading her body at his touch.
'Then you must understand what had prompted me to say what I did?'
She nodded, unable to speak as his hand slid across her shoulder and down the length of her arm. He raised her hand and pressed his warm lips against her palm, then against her delicate wrist where her pulse throbbed wildly, and finally against the hollow of her elbow.
'You're trembling,' he accused softly
, and then his lips found hers.
Melanie raised her hands instinctively to ward him off, but her palms encountered the warmth of his hair-roughened chest, and lingered where she could feel the heavy beat of his heart quite distinctly. She tried not to respond, forcing herself to think of Delia, but his mouth moved backwards and forwards against hers with a sensuality that made her body tingle deliciously. Her lips finally parted beneath his and, to her dismay, she was kissing him back with a hungry yearning that seemed to rise from an over-full heart to fill her entire being.
As he sensed her response, his kisses became urgent with rising passion, and Melanie found herself without the strength to fight against the weakness which invaded her limbs.
'I want you, Melanie,' he groaned, his hand moving urgently against her back as his lips sought the hollow beneath her ear with devastating effects.
Her breath came jerkily over parted lips, and she whispered his name, hovering on the brink of confessing her feelings.
'You're not going to send me away, are you?' he demanded persuasively, sliding the strap of her nightdress off her shoulder to leave the way clear for his conquering lips.
'I… oh, Jason…' she moaned softly, suspended between fear and ecstasy as his mouth gently explored the curve of her breast. 'Jason, I—I've never slept with a—a man before,' she confessed haltingly, completely unaware that she was caressing his chest and smooth shoulders in the most encouraging way.
'I know,' Jason grunted, stretching out a hand and plunging the room into darkness.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she felt him shrug himself out of his robe and get into bed beside her. His arms reached for her, gathering her against him with surprising gentleness, but, to her dismay, she discovered that the only thing between them was her flimsy nightdress, and this, too, he was removing with a dexterity which she knew was born of experience.
Resentment surged through her, and she tried to resist him, but as she felt the heat of his muscular body against her own, her resistance melted away beneath the onslaught of her own emotions. His lips and hands explored her body with an intimacy she had never known, arousing her to an instant and passionate response that sent a flame of desire pulsing through her veins. There was no longer any room for coherent thought, and she was beyond caring that Jason's actions were motivated by desire only. She loved him, and that was all that mattered; that, and the driving need to surrender herself to him completely. She clung to him blindly, allowing him to guide her with urgently whispered commands until she experienced the shatteringly ecstatic sweetness of fulfilment, and later, as she lay drowsy and contented in his arms, she knew that she would remember this night with a tenderness and awe for the rest of her life.
Bitter Enchantment Page 12
