It was no use, she told herself as she dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. She could not go on like this! She must make him see that it was futile to continue with this meaningless marriage.
'Love has no place in my life,' he had said once, and she could believe that now. He was incapable of loving anyone. Desire? Yes! But love? Never!
Picking up her coat and handbag, she walked out of the penthouse and roamed the streets until tiredness washed away her agonising thoughts. The increase in the late afternoon traffic told her that Jason would soon return home, but she could not face him yet. She had to have time to think about what she was going to say to him and, whatever it was, it had to sound convincing, she decided distractedly as she found a taxi and gave the driver Greystone Manor's address.
The smell of stale cigarette smoke hovered un-pleasantly about her as she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Heavens, she was tired! she thought as the taxi made its arduous way through the traffic and headed out towards her old home. It was the only place she could think of where she would find the peace and tranquillity she needed at that moment and, until Jason sold it, it still belonged to her.
She paid off the taxi and walked slowly up the drive. The sun was setting swiftly, and the chill in the air made her shiver. The garden always looked drab during the winter months when the trees had shed their leaves, and the lawns had been yellowed by the frost. In September everything came alive again as if by magic, and the seedlings would grow and flower in a glorious array of colours.
Melanie's eyes filled with sudden tears. Spring would come to Greystone Manor this year with strangers in residence, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Choking back the sob that rose in her throat, she turned and ran lightly up the steps to the heavy oak door. Alarmed, she stared at it. She had not brought her key with her!
Despondently, she leaned against the door and then, pursing her lips, went down the steps again and round to the back of the house. Her only hope now was to find one of the servants about to obtain the key to the back door, but the padlocks on the doors of the servants' quarters told her that they had gone to their respective homes.
She could willingly have burst into tears at that moment, but that would not have solved her problem. Her eyes searched for a possible way to enter, and then she saw it. The pantry window was small and high, but if she could lift the old-fashioned catch as she had done once before as a child, she could climb through it and get into the house that way.
Shifting an old drum to beneath the window, she tested its steadiness and climbed on to it. She searched her handbag for something sharp and flat, and decided ruefully that it would have to be her nail file. She struggled for several minutes before she finally managed to release the catch and, lifting the window, swung her legs over the sill and dropped to the floor as lightly as she could.
It was a most undignified entrance, she thought grimacingly, but she was inside the house at least, and not outside in the cold. She closed the window and walked through the kitchen. Everything was clean and in its proper place, she noticed, but she hurried on down the long passage and into the living-room. She found matches on the mantelshelf, and lit the fire, kneeling in front of it to seek a little warmth.
When the room had warmed up, Melanie went back to the kitchen to make herself something to drink. The house was silent, but it was not an unfriendly silence. It soothed, rather than disturbed, and when she returned to the living-room with her mug of coffee, she was considerably calmer than when she had arrived, she realised as she shed her coat and made herself comfortable in front of the fire.
She had allowed her imagination to run away with her, but facts and fantasies had mingled to create a painfully disturbing picture. She had to decide what to do about her future, and the future of the child she was expecting. One thing she was very sure of—she would not allow Jason to take the child from her, and she would not remain his wife because of it!
Coldly, and almost clinically, Melanie set aside her emotions as she began to analyse the situation. She loved Jason, but there was no future for her with him. He had told her quite categorically on several occasions that he would give her her freedom as soon as he tired of her and, according to Delia, that day was approaching swiftly. During the three months they had been together he had never once given her any indication that he cared for her in the slightest way. He was gentle, yes—even tender at times, but the barrier of aloofness was there each time to prevent her from getting too close to him. 'Keep away', was the unspoken command his attitude conveyed, and she had not dared to trespass for fear of being humiliated.
As darkness descended on Greystone Manor, Melanie switched on a small reading lamp and returned to her chair by the fire. What was Jason doing? she wondered. Would he be unduly concerned to arrive home and find her not there, or would he shrug off her absence as unimportant?
Her thoughts did not hurt her at that moment, and it seemed to her as if she had gone beyond the point where anything would ever succeed in hurting her again.
She must have fallen asleep there in the comforting warmth of the fire, but an hour later she stirred and opened her eyes to find Jason looking down at her from his great height. Her heart leapt to her throat as she observed his grim expression in the subdued light, but her fascinated attention was caught and held by something else. Jason was wearing a light grey suit, and her befuddled mind now recalled him sitting down to breakfast in it that morning. The man in the back of the car with Delia had been wearing a dark suit, so it couldn't have been Jason after all.
Relief swept through her like a tidal wave, but she controlled herself hastily. There was too much that still had to be said between them, but, to her dismay, she found that she had no idea where to begin, or how to make him understand that she could no longer continue living a life of uncertainty with him.
CHAPTER TEN
'I thought I'd find you here, but when I discovered you'd left your key behind, I telephoned all over the place without success before taking a chance on finding you here after all,' Jason told her grimly, warming his hands by the fire. 'How did you get in?'
'I climbed in through the pantry window.'
Jason's eyebrows rose sharply as he turned to face Melanie. 'That was rather dangerous, wasn't it?'
There was something strange about Jason; something that kept her seated in her chair in the curled up position he had found her in as she replied haltingly, 'I… came here on the spur of the moment. The servants had already gone, so I… climbed in through the window.'
'I see.' He paced the floor restlessly, looking about him as if he were seeing Greystone Manor's rather drab living-room for the first time. 'You love this place, don't you.'
It was a statement, not a question, and Melanie's curious glance followed him as she said; 'Yes, I do.'
'It could do with extensive renovations.'
'I know,' she admitted, staring wistfully into the fire. 'I had plans to do something about it myself… once.'
What's the matter with me? she asked herself angrily. Why don't I say what I have to say to him and get it over with?
'Would you like to live here again?'
His question jolted her back to life and sparks of anger flashed in her eyes as she stared at him across the room. 'You know that's out of the question.'
'It's not impossible, you know,' he said, coming towards her into the circle of subdued light, and she was suddenly aware of that dangerous magnetism that reached out to enfold her.
'You're talking in riddles,' she accused sharply, intent upon fighting this fatal attraction which could only lead to more bitterness.
'Perhaps this will make sense.'
A bulky envelope was dropped into her lap, and she stared at it as if hypnotised without touching it. She had a vague idea as to the contents of the legal-looking envelope, but was too afraid to open it.
'What is it?' she heard herself ask hoarsely.
'It's the title deeds of Grey
stone Manor.'
She raised her lashes to reveal incredulous blue eyes. 'I don't think I understand.'
'Your father's debt no longer exists as far as I'm concerned, so I'm giving your family home back to you.' Jason smiled briefly in that arrogant, self-assured manner she so often hated. 'There's one condition, though.'
Melanie stiffened. 'And that is?'
'That we stay together… for better or worse.' Her pulse drummed against her temples at his arrogant supposition that she would fall for his suggestion. To agree to it was an incredible temptation, but his cold-blooded proposal was not enough for her hungry heart, and she rose to her feet, clutching the envelope in her hands as she walked away from him into the shadows.
'Do you always have to resort to emotional blackmail to get what you want?' she asked quietly, but her insides were shaking uncontrollably.
'It's one way of making sure that I do get what I want, and it's never failed me in the past.'
She steeled herself against the stab of pain as she swung round to face him. His attitude, where he stood with his back towards the fire, was that of a man who was used to having his own way, and who was prepared to go to any lengths to ensure it. She had known this from the moment they had met, and she had accepted it in the past, but at that moment she could not tolerate it. She had never felt more like doing him a physical injury, but she drew a ragged breath to steady herself and walked slowly towards him.
'You astonish me, Jason,' she said coldly, stopping directly in front of him and raising her angry eyes to his. 'I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before, and I hope I never shall again.'
His eyes narrowed perceptibly. 'What do you mean by that?'
'Much as I love this old house, I'm giving it back to you to do with as you wish,' she said quite clearly, thrusting the envelope back at him as if it were something distasteful.
'Do you realise what you're doing?' he asked incredulously, looking unusually pale beneath his healthy tan.
'Yes, I know what I'm doing,' she said stiffly, clenching her hands so tightly at her sides that her nails bit into her soft palms as she sustained his glance. 'I'm refusing to be pressurised into continuing our marriage. You held the whip hand when Granny Bridget was still alive.' Her voice broke unexpectedly, but she controlled it with an effort, and continued, 'I now claim the right to choose what I shall do with my future, and you can't deny me that any longer.'
As they faced each other in silence, Melanie thought she had never seen Jason look so unsure of himself before, and all at once she knew she could not bear to see him like that. His arrogance and abominable self-assurance had angered her many times, but it was preferable to seeing him stripped of his confidence. Her heart softened as she saw him lower his eyes to the envelope in his hands, but something held her back and, in that fraction of a second, he looked up again, and there was a frightening determination in the set of his jaw.
'All right!' he said abruptly, and she stepped back involuntarily as he flung the offending envelope across the room. It landed with a dull thud on the floor, but Melanie paid no attention to it as she stared up at Jason with renewed interest. 'Without making use of emotional blackmail,' he continued in a voice that sounded quite unlike him, 'would you consider continuing with our marriage?'
'I might,' she admitted, her receptive heart quickening.
'Melanie…?'
His strong, beautifully shaped hands gestured in an unconsciously pleading way, but she knew she had to ignore their silent appeal if they were to reach a complete understanding.
'My answer would depend on several things.'
'What, for instance?' he demanded abruptly, thrusting his hands into his pockets almost as if they had offended him.
'Where does Delia fit into this arrangement?'
There was a brief, agonising silence before he said: 'Nowhere, as far as I'm concerned.'
She glanced at him through lowered lashes, hating herself for what she was going to ask, but determined to get at the truth. 'Are you asking me to remain your wife because you've heard that Delia might be going away?'
'Don't be ridiculous!' he accused sharply. 'I made it quite clear to her the other evening at the McAlisters' home that I wanted to have nothing more to do with her in future, and that was before I heard of her plans to leave for Paris.'
'I see…' she whispered softly, finding balm in his statement for her aching heart.
Jason took a step towards her, his wide shoulders blotting out the firelight as he stood looking down at her. He raised his hands as if to touch her, then let them fall to his sides again.
'You mentioned that your answer would depend on several things. What are the others?'
Her heart was racing at a suffocating pace as she asked, 'Can you give me any reason why I should agree to stay with you?'
He stared at her searchingly for a moment before he turned away and stood contemplating the log fire with that brooding expression she had observed so often lately. The line of his jaw looked taut, and his shoulders moved slightly beneath the superb cut of his jacket, giving Melanie the curious impression that he was fighting a private battle with himself. An eternity seemed to pass before he turned to look at her, and she knew suddenly, from the wariness of his expression, how much it had cost him to say simply:
'I need you.'
Speechless with happiness, she could only stare at him, but Jason had reached the end of his endurance as he bridged the gap between them with two quick strides and gripped her shoulders.
'For God's sake, Melanie, don't just stand there! Say something!'
She could feel his hands shaking, but she was afraid to accept what he was saying. She had to be sure, she decided as she asked jerkily, 'For how long will you need me? Just until someone else takes your fancy?'
'I suppose I deserve that,' he groaned, releasing her.
'You told me yourself that I would have to be something—something exceptional to last longer than a year,' she persisted, close to tears as the bitterness of the past months flowed from her lips.
'My God! 'he exclaimed, passing a shaking hand over his smooth dark head.
'Nothing lasts for ever, remember?' she added, wincing inwardly at the well-remembered pain of his callous remarks.
'All right,' he said hoarsely, gesturing her to silence. 'I don't deny that my past is a little unsavoury, but if the truth is the only thing that will convince you, then you're going to get it.'
Her trembling legs would no longer carry her weight and she lowered herself on to the arm of a chair as Jason removed his jacket and tie, and lit a cigarette.
'I wanted you from the moment I saw you standing beside your father's grave,' he said roughly, pacing the floor like a caged animal while he spoke. 'I wanted you, but I knew it wouldn't just be a case of whisking you off to my bed. With you it would have to be something more. When we met, after the funeral, I realised fully how different you were from the women I'd been used to, and I was more determined than ever to have you. I hadn't quite planned what I was going to do when you yourself gave me the solution.' His steely glance encompassed, the room before it settled on her once more. 'You loved this old house but, more than that, you wanted to shield your grandmother from yet another shock. You really had no choice but to agree to marry me, and although marriage had never entered into my plans before, I consoled myself with the idea that divorce was easy. When you eventually began to bore me, we could go our separate ways.'
It hurt to hear him speak like that, and she gestured pleadingly, but he ignored her with ruthless determination.
'Things worked out a little differently,' he went on, his lips twisting cynically. 'I found myself thinking of you at odd times during the day and night, which is something that had never happened to me before. I wanted you very much, but instead of taking what was rightfully mine, I found myself agreeing to give you time to adjust because, for some reason I couldn't explain even to myself at the time, I didn't want to frighten you.' He drew hard on hi
s cigarette and flung the remainder into the fire with an angry gesture that disturbed her. 'The crunch came that night when I stormed out and, like an idiot, went to Delia's flat.'
'Jason—'
'I couldn't touch her,' his confession stopped her, and she almost cried out with pain at his tortured expression. 'I knew then that, even if I could never have you, I could never touch another woman again as long as I lived, and I knew for sure how I felt about you that day you walked into my office to tell me about your grandmother and found Delia there.'
'You were going to have lunch with her,' she reminded him gently.
'Yes,' he admitted, stopping beside her chair and staring down at her broodingly with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. 'It had become imperative that I should make her understand it was all over between us, and I finally got that opportunity at the McAlisters' home.'
Melanie realised now that her suspicions had been unfounded when she had seen them disappearing into the shadows of the garden that night, but she remained silent.
'After the party that night, I tried to talk to you,' Jason interrupted her thoughts, 'but you'd turned into a little spitfire, demanding your freedom. I realise now, of course, that you must have seen Delia and myself doing a disappearing act, but your behaviour wasn't very encouraging at the time, so I decided to shelve the discussion until the tension between us had eased a little. When I arrived home this evening and found you weren't there, I knew something had to be done, and quickly, if I didn't want to lose you.'
'So you came armed with the title deeds as your guarantee of success,' she could not prevent herself from adding.
Jason flinched as if she had struck him, but he sustained her glance, questioning what he saw in the depths of her eyes for the first time.
'Melanie?'
'Did it never occur to you that just the slightest sign that you cared would have been enough persuasion?' she asked shakily.
'What are you saying?' he demanded softly, his wariness incredibly touching for a man who was always so sure of himself.
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