Bachelor's Family

by Jessica Steele

  In substitution for Rachel she had, by inviting Kitty to sleep in her bed, comforted the child. Comfort. Substitute for Rachel! Her bed. Vere kissed her. Tenderly he parted her thighs, tenderly his sensitive fingers caressed her thighs. But-it wasn't right. Suddenly--comfort, substitute-no way was it right! And, 'No!' she cried in sudden horror-and, as though electrified, she in one movement pushed, pulled, jerked and rolled, until she was clear of him. 'No?' His tone was incredulous. A second ago she had been his for the taking! 'No!' she repeated while she still had the strength.

  'But-my dear-'

  'No!' she gasped. 'Don't be afraid-'

  'No!' she cried in panic, fear that he would not take no for an answer adding to that panic.

  'But-'

  She had her back to him and was glad for, treacherous body, she still wanted him with a need that was crucifying. 'For God's sake-you're not a man to beg, are you?' she cried, terrified that her body, her heart, might yet ignore the truth that her head was insisting on telling her.

  But it seemed that she was not the only one with an outsized pride for, after what seemed an agony of silence, his voice came again, curt and clipped this time, as he proved that he begged from no one by telling her cuttingly, 'I assure you, my dear, that if there's any begging to be done around here for-' He paused, and then added deliberately, insultingly '-sexual favours, you'll be the one down on your knees.'

  With that he rose from the bed and left-and Fabienne again knew how interminably long a night could be when one's heart was aching. By dawn she had been over everything that had led up to Vere taking her in his arms, and what had followed, countless times. Once she was weak enough to wonder if perhaps it had been merely nerves attacking, after all, that had seen her call a halt to Vere's lovemaking. While she admitted to feeling a snatch shy here and there, she had not thought she had been nervous. But had she been?

  That weakening thought passed and, almost immediately and with renewed vigour, she was back to knowing that the reason why Vere had not been able to sleep, why he had been still awake when she had carried Kitty back to her bed, was that he had Rachel too much on his mind.

  Thoughts of Rachel had kept him awake.

  Had he been thinking of Rachel when he had called out, 'Oh, my darling, my brave darling'? Had Rachel been in his mind with that 'Oh, sweet love'?

  When previously she had been oblivious to embarrassment, Fabienne was suddenly cringing with it as such thoughts racked her.

  By dawn she had been through everything yet again and again and felt utterly and completely drained, pride her only salvation. It was that pride, which said she would be a substitute for no one where Vere was concerned, that decided matters for her. A mammoth pride decreed that, as soon as Rachel returned tomorrow, she must leave. Rachel was so much better than she had been-the mere fact that she was again driving and had decided to make things up with her parents was proof enough of that.

  Fabienne was heartily glad when the time came around for her to attend to Kitty and John. She had been showered and dressed for ages-and was relieved to have something to do.

  For herself she would have missed breakfast-and every other meal-rather than have to sit facing Vere. But, for the moment, the children and their mental and physical welfare was still all-important.

  'Are we ready?' she smiled to them as they were about to go down the stairs. A few minutes later, with the children in front, Fabienne entered the breakfast-room. Vere was there-and her ridiculous heart still turned somersaults!

  She was saved having to speak to him when the twins at once engaged him in conversation. Not that he noticed the lack of her usual 'Good morning' for he did not so much as glance her way.

  She wished that she could get angry about that-ye gods, they'd been naked with each other last night!-but she could not get angry. She felt beaten, whipped, and all she wanted was that he would hurry up with his breakfast and go.

  But, when the time came when he usually made a move to go to his office, that morning, strangely, he did not. In fact, he was still sitting there talking to Kitty and John when the time came for them to go and see Mrs Hobos about their lunchboxes.

  Since she had absolutely no intention of being left alone with him, Fabienne left it to the very last moment to interrupt and tell the twins, 'We'd better go and see Mrs Hobos or we're going to be late.'

  Oh, how she wished that she had been able to keep her eyes off Vere. But she could not, and she glanced his way-and found he was looking directly at her. There was no smile on his face for her, nor even a hint of one. His look was steady, but stern. Solemn and somehow-waiting? She dismissed that notion as nonsense. What would he be waiting for, for goodness'

  sake? Fabienne wrenched her gaze from him, glad that no one could hear the thunder in her heart and, still without a word to him, she shepherded the children kitchen-wards.

  Vere was on her mind the whole time she chatted and drove the children to school. He obviously had a late appointment that morning and had no need to go to work at his usual time.

  She kept an eye open for his car passing-which it would have to-the whole while she was at the school gates, but saw not a sign of it.

  With the happenings of the night so much to the forefront of her mind, Fabienne felt disinclined to hurry back to Brackendale where she stood the risk-if he had not left yet-of meeting Vere in the hall.

  'There's another jazz concert next month.' Lyndon Davies came over to see her when he had seen his niece safely into the school playground. And Fabienne put off her return to Brackendale by staying to chat to him for a good half-hour-and in all that time not one car of the make of Vere's passed that way.

  By the time she was in her own car and driving back to the house, Fabienne's intelligence had been working overtime. She had by then relegated the idea that Vere, had a late appointment to the bin. He was just not the type of man who, because of a late appointment, would delay going to his office by more than an hour. He was the type of man who would have other work to keep him busy the whole while.

  Which left there having to be another reason for his delayed departure-or, for that matter, a reason why he was not going in to work at all. And she knew exactly what that reason was.

  Fabienne left her car at the front of the house-it would be easier for when she carried her belongings out. For, by then, she knew that by no stretch of the imagination would she be waiting until tomorrow for Rachel's return before she left. By then she had well and truly got the message. By then it had become exceptionally clear to her that Vere was bitterly regretting what had taken place between them in the small hours-and now wanted her to leave.

  It was manifestly obvious. Oh, how foolish she had been to believe that to leave had been her prerogative!

  By not going to work that morning Vere was clearly stating that he would stay home to be on call should the children need him. And just as clearly, he was stating that her services were no longer required.

  Fabienne entered by the front door of the proud opinion then that nobody told her 'on your way'. She would go straight up and pack. In a half-hour she could be out of here. She would have to stop off at the school to give some light and plausible explanation for why she would not be there after school, that was important, but in a half-hour...

  There was no sign of Vere, though, as she went towards the stairs, and then she hesitated, her heart lifting. Had she got it wrong? Did Vere, who knew the area far better than her, know of a different route to London that did not involve passing by the school gates?

  Her nerves started to bite when she found she could no more go on up those stairs than fly-not until she knew for sure.

  She did an about-turn and, with her heart tripping an agitated rhythm, she went to where she felt certain he would be if he was at home. Outside the study door she hesitated, then found she had to swallow hard before she knocked.

  And, having knocked, she swallowed again and hoped with all she had that her knock would not be answered and that Vere had g
one to his office. But a sound from within told her that she had been right the first time, that Vere was home-and that she was redundant.

  Her spirits were at basement level when the door opened and a cool, steady-eyed Vere stood there. He waited for her to speak-and she had nothing to say. Worse, as treacherous thoughts of their nakedness with each other last night came and tripped her up, she went scarlet. But, much worse than that, as his eyes stayed on her face and he witnessed her crimson colour, she wanted to die.

  Which was why she was never more glad to find that she still had some backbone, for suddenly she knew that before he gave her notice to leave his employ she was going to get in first to give him notice, to tell him she did not want the job anyway.

  With all that stewing away inside her, not to mention the fact that Vere's eyes

  were still scrutinising her face and taking in every detail, it amazed her that her voice, when she spoke, came out sounding very cool and controlled as she enquired, 'May I see you?'

  Her coolness was not lost on him, she could tell that from the way his eyes narrowed. But he nodded his agreement, and his voice was not only cool but arrogant too, as he replied, 'It will save me coming to see you.' And from that Fabienne at once knew that there was no doubt that he was about to terminate her employment. All she could hope, as she battled with nerves and butterflies, was that she managed to get out of Brackendale with at least some dignity.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  ODDLY, however, Vere did not invite her into his study but, to confuse her more than somewhat, he came out without a word and led the way to the drawing-room.

  But she did not like at all the feeling that, like some puppy, she was having to follow at his heels. So that by the time they were in the drawing room she had banished confusion and become determined to get her words in first. He turned to close the drawing room door as she followed him in but, as she opened her mouth, to her astonishment he rapped, 'You took your time getting back here!'

  Her jaw dropped-my heavens, he couldn't wait to be rid of her! 'I didn't know I had to clock in!' she flew. She might feel floored but, by thunder, he was never going to know it. She saw the glint of steel in his eyes at her spirited response and lost no more time in tacking on angrily, 'I want to leave!' There, she fumed, pick the bones out of that! And wanted to hit him when that was precisely what he did.

  'Why?', The question was blunt. 'Why?' she echoed. Good grief, it had been a toss-up which one of them got the notice to leave in first! 'You're upset because of what took place between us last night?' he questioned forthrightly-and again Fabienne wanted to hit him. That had nothing to do with it! Well, perhaps it did. It was all part and parcel of it anyhow. But trust him not to flinch from bringing that up. 'There's no need to go into that!' she replied tartly.

  'Just-'

  'There's every need to go into it!' he cut her off grimly. 'Last night you-' Oh, God, she couldn't take this. 'Last night I came on to you in a big way-is that what you're going to accuse me of?' she flared hostilely. 'Are you going to tell me that it was all my fault-that you, that you...?' Her voice faltered-and broke.

  Swiftly she turned her back on him. No way was he going to see her in tears. She half turned, wishing she had made for the door, but Vere seemed to be guarding the door. She moved further away and went to stand by one of the long windows in the room.

  She looked out, but saw nothing. However, she thought she had regained her self-control and would not break down in floods of pent-up tears.

  Then she heard a sound close by, and suddenly a thrill of electricity was shooting through her because Vere had come over to the window, too, and

  had placed an arm about her shoulders! Then he turned her to face him!

  She kept her head bent, certain she would not look at him. Yet the compulsion to do so proved so strong and she just had to look up. And her heart turned over because, as Vere looked down at her, she could see no sign of harshness in him. All sign of sternness had gone and, while his expression was still serious, his voice was kinder than it had been when he answered, 'Last night you were warm and wonderful in my arms, and if anyone came on to anyone, it was me to you.'

  She wanted to swallow, but would not. His voice, his kindness, was making a nonsense of her-which made her chances of getting out of there with her dignity intact about nil. 'Yes, well, that's beside the point!' she retaliated with as much frost as she could muster.

  'Is it?' Direct grey eyes were boring into hers, refusing to let her look away-oh, help her, somebody!

  'You... I...' she tried helplessly, but knew she stood no chance-not while he still had his arm about her shoulders.

  Yet she did not seem to have the will to tell him to take it away. That was until with blinding clarity she recalled the way she had seen him with his arm around his stepsister-in-law, and at once jealousy and pain were her master. She stiffened in his hold, and through clenched teeth ordered in no uncertain fashion, 'Take your arm from me!' And, when he was not quick enough to comply, Fabienne stepped angrily out of his hold, her fury taking her control as she cried, 'I refuse to be used as a substitute for-' She gasped in horror at what she had just said. She wanted it unsaid. So badly did she want it unsaid, ignored, forgotten. But, as she had known, Vere was not a man who hid from anything.

  He stilled. 'Substitute?' he queried quietly-and she knew, just knew, that he would not leave it alone until she had explained what she meant.

  She threw him an angry look. He knew, damn him, without her having to explain. 'Don't pretend with me!' she tossed at him accusingly.

  'What have I-?'

  'You know...'

  'Fabienne, I-'

  She did not want him using her first name; to hear her name on his lips weakened her. 'Oh, for goodness' sake!' she erupted and, having given in

  her notice, 'I'm off!' she snapped without ceremony, and stormed to the door. As fast as she went, though-and she did not hang about-Vere was at the door before her. 'No!' he snarled, and it was all she could do not to kick his shins. 'Let me out of here!' she spat.

  'Not until you've controlled that spirited temper of yours and explained-'

  'Me explain!' she spluttered-the cheek of it!

  'You think I've some explaining to do?'

  'I... You...' Oh, lord, he was tying her up in knots!

  She glared at him angrily-and saw some of the chill in his eyes thaw. 'Look, I know you're upset, and I understand that,' he stated evenly. 'But if you'd try to calm down and-'

  'Why should I calm down?'

  'Hell's teeth, I knew from the first that I was going to have trouble with you!' he ground out. Then took a controlling deep breath and with a firm hold on her elbow insisted on leading her back into the room. 'Why not sit down and-? 'I don't want to sit down,' she butted in, pulling her arm out of his hold and receiving one of his 'my God, I'll sort you in a minute' looks, though manfully he hung on to his control. 'Why should I sit down?'

  'Because I should like you to,' he answered tautly. 'Why can't I just-leave?'

  'Because you owe me an explanation for why you want to leave,' he pointed out-which, at any other time, she might have thought perfectly reasonable.

  But this wasn't any other time. Last night she had been in his arms, last night had been wonderful and loving-only he didn't love her and, in fact, had only been using her as a substitute love.

  'I don't-' she began, as jealousy and pain started to sting again. But then it all at once occurred to her that if Vere was about to dismiss her then he was going a funny way about it. She shot him a startled look and, the thought in her head, out it came. 'I thought you were going to ask me to leave?' she said slowly.

  'Why the hell would I want to do that?' he asked, and seemed so genuinely surprised by the notion that Fabienne could only stare at him. 'You-you said I'd saved you from coming to see me,' she murmured falteringly. 'So I did, but not because I wanted you to go.'

  'Oh!' she exclaimed, and desperately tried to get her head togethe
r, but nothing was making very much sense just then. 'You wanted to-er-ask me to-um-forget all about -last night?' she guessed, while with part of her brain she wondered what she was doing still standing there if to retain her dignity was so all-important.

  Vere opened his mouth as though he would answer her question. But then must have changed his mind. 'Look, we need to talk,' he stated flatly, and Fabienne realised that, since it did not seem as if he intended to dispense with her services, to a man of his principles it would seem only right and natural that, following on from what had taken place between them last night, he would want it all out in the open before he then went on to request that she forget all about it, and to assure her that it would not happen again. 'Would you sit down?' he requested.

  She could not think that it would take him all that long to say what he clearly felt had to be said before they went back to the status quo. Nor, since she still had every intention of insisting on leaving-which would negate his having to tell her anything-could she think of any reason why she should take a seat.

  Which left it down to her treacherous heart, and her love for him, and her deep, subconscious need to stay with him for just a short while longer before she severed all ties, to make her go over to a nearby couch and sit down. She waited only until Vere was seated in the chair nearby and it was an innate honesty that caused her to tell him, 'Regardless of anything you say, I'm still leaving.'

  For long moments, his expression inscrutable, Vere looked at her. And, if that was not unnerving enough, when he opened his mouth and commented softly, 'Oh, I do hope not, my dear,' Fabienne was again a jumbled mass of emotions.

  'Well, I-' she began, trying for a firm note, but the choked sound that came out caused her to break off. She swallowed-had to-did not miss the alert look that came to Vere's eyes and knew that she had to dispel at once any notion he might have gleaned that just a simple endearment from him could throw her emotionally out of gear. 'Well, I am not,' she began again, heartily glad to hear that her voice was firmer, 'not,' she repeated, 'going to be made use of by anybody.'