'Please—call me Jenny,' Jenny begged warmly, and was gratified by Mrs. Lowry's friendly response. 'Thank you, jenny. Everything is ready, and I've set the coffee percolator on the element in the kitchen. You have only to switch it on when you're ready.' With a polite smile she turned and left them, and Jenny felt Zachary's hand at her elbow as he led her through to the dining-room.
The table was meticulously set with sparkling white linen, highly polished silverware, white quality crockery relieved of its plainness by a single edging of silver, and uncut crystal goblets. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon nestled in a silver ice-bucket, and when the serving dishes were uncovered an appetising aroma assailed Jenny's nostrils and served to remind her how hungry she was. Duckling in orange sauce was followed by a delicious fruit flan liberally covered with whipped cream, and after the first few awkward moments at the start of the meal when Jenny thought they might not converse at all, Zachary took pity on her rather futile attempts at conversation.
'Relax, Jenny,' he said tolerantly. 'You'll develop indigestion concentrating on so many things at once. We'll talk over coffee.' .
She coloured slightly and met the almost impersonal glance he directed towards her, and thought perhaps it would be wise to do as she was told. To argue with him, or rouse his anger in any way would surely bring retribution, and she didn't possess the strength at the moment to pit her will against his.
The telephone rang as they sat back from the table, and Jenny nodded silently as he intimated he would answer the call from the privacy of his study. For the sake of something to do she cleared the table, carrying the dishes through to the kitchen, and at the sight of the dishwashing machine secluded in its niche beneath the sink, she rinsed and placed everything, in the machine and set it going. That done, she wandered through to the lounge and knelt down on the carpet in front of the stereo. An album of Glen Campbell's golden hits followed by one of Olivia Newton-John she carefully placed on the turntable and sank into a nearby chair as the first nostalgic strains whispered from the speakers. Guiltily she remembered the coffee percolator and sped to the kitchen to switch on the element. The cups were set to one side, along with the bowl of sugar, and Jenny was on the point of pouring the coffee when Zachary's voice from behind startled her.
'My apologies for taking so long,' he imparted briefly, and she sensed a slight smile in his voice as he continued. 'Mrs. Lowry will be distressed to think a guest has taken care of the dishes. I shall be chastised severely in the morning,' he added with wry humour. 'Now be a good girl and carry that coffee through to the lounge, for I'm in need of it. A case I'm working on has suddenly taken a downward turn, and I need some companionable silence in which to give the matter some thought.'
Jenny nodded, masking the pleasure she derived from the scene of domesticity they presented. 'Wouldn't it be better if you took me home?' she suggested politely. 'Then you could work undisturbed.'
'Alternatively you could stay and listen to the stereo or watch television and ply me with coffee, then take time to soothe away the cares of a hectic day,' Zachary suggested thoughtfully.
'I think perhaps I'd better go home,' she managed shakily as his hands curved over her shoulders and turned her round to face him.
'You're rather a scared little rabbit, aren't you, Jenny-wren?' he queried softly. 'I'm willing to wager that that ex-fiancé of yours never made love to you.'
Jenny didn't answer him, she felt she couldn't have even if ;her life depended upon it. Instead she stared straight ahead at the material of his shirt, trying desperately to concentrate on something—anything, so that she wouldn't disgrace herself completely and cry. One tear spilled over and ran down her cheek to drop on to the highly polished vinyl, and soon another followed, and yet another.
'Look up at me,' Zachary threatened softly, his hands still at her shoulders, but his grip had tightened until she was sure he must snap her bones. 'So help me, I'll—' he shook her twice, and she lifted her head to gaze at him mutely and was unable to stop her lower lip trembling.
'Jenny Meredith,' he began softly, angrily, 'I've had enough of this verbal sparring. Heaven help me! Up until ten days ago I was a hardened cynic incapable of believing it possible there was a woman alive who could tear at my emotions to the extent that you do. I want you here in my home,' his voice softened and he shook her gently. 'Not as a passing physical distraction, but as my wife.'
Jenny whitened and her head swam alarmingly. She was dreaming—she had to be!
'You can't mean that,' she whispered at last, her eyes huge dark pools of disbelief.
'No?' he questioned inexorably. 'I've known many women in my time. They were under no illusion there might be anything lasting in the relationship. Beautiful women with no scruples,' he elaborated hardily. 'Some have even fancied themselves as the future Mrs. Zachary Benedict. The thought of any one of them waiting dutifully for me to come home to, mothering my children, sharing my table—is totally incongruous.' He paused with a slight grimace, then smiled gently down at her white face. 'You, my Jenny-wren, could conquer my savagery, laugh instead of demur if I mussed your hair, and care not a whit if I kissed the lipstick from your lips. The man in your life would be your world, and with his children your reason for living.' He continued quietly— seriously, 'I'm asking you to marry me.'
Jenny looked up at him in a daze and saw through a hazy mist his serious expression. She felt stunned, for it seemed incomprehensible that he should want her as his wife. An amusing companion to dally a little while, yes— but his wife? It seemed too incredible.
'I—it's too soon. Too sudden—I can't really believe you can possibly mean what you're saying,' she stammered shakily.
'I've never before asked any woman to marry me,' Zachary said quietly. 'As to whether I mean what I'm saying… Tomorrow I'll apply for a marriage licence and make the first available appointment at the register office—unless you'd prefer a church wedding?' he slanted down at her. 'I'm prepared to suffer the formal regalia involved if you want a traditionally white bridal gown and a tiered wedding cake.'
Involuntarily Jenny reached out and fingered one of the buttons at the opening of his shirt and her fingers shook a little as they came into contact with the dark vibrant hair between the soft material. Her eyes slowly rose to the strong suntanned throat, took in the purposeful jawline, the sensuously moulded mouth, before meeting the brooding passion evident in his dark eyes. Suddenly she shivered, and with a slight sound that was a mixture of sheer surprise and fright she was lost in a black swirling vortex, the last thing she could remember being Zachary's muffled exclamation and his arms supporting her falling body.
She came back to reality with the taste of brandy on her lips, and saw the worried expression on Zachary's face barely inches from her own. She grimaced against the strong taste of the spirits and attempted to push the glass away, but it was held to her mouth relentlessly until every drop was gone. A spreading glow warmed her from within, tinging her cheeks a delicate rose.
'I thought fainting spells resulting from: emotive circumstances belonged to a bygone era,' Zachary commented with wry humour. 'But you do it twice in the space of two days.'
Jenny was supremely conscious of him leaning so closely over her as she lay against the cushions on the dralon velvet-upholstered lounge-settee. A tiny secret smile of bemusement tugged at the corners of her soft mouth as she looked up at him. 'Are you real ?' she mused faintly with a questioning inflection in her voice, sure that she must be dreaming.
'Oh yes, Jenny-wren,' he drawled softly. 'Don't tempt me to prove it,' he went on to warn her gently. 'You might get more than you bargained for, and in your present state it would be taking an unfair advantage.'
She smiled at him tremulously, blaming the brandy for loosening her tongue and some of her inhibitions. 'A pity to waste such an ideal setting—the soft lights and the sweet music,' she whispered wistfully.
Zachary's eyes flared alert and sensually alive, and he chuckled quietly deep at the b
ack of his throat. 'My, my! Who could resist such an invitation?' He lowered Jus head down to hers, his mouth teasingly trailing across her cheek to the corner of her lips. 'If such a small quantity of brandy will bring this result, I must remember to carry some with me all the time!'
Jenny closed her eyes, the dreamy sweetness of his kiss lifting her high on to the wave of an incoming tide. Slowly she reached for him, winding her arms up round his neck, and her fingers wove deep into the thick hair curling low at the back of his neck. It was heaven, the undoubted expertise of his touch arousing her to a new awareness where she wanted only for him to go on and never stop.
She made a distressed sound as he gently disentangled himself and sat leaning over her with a hand on either side of her shoulders. She looked up at him dreamily, her lips trembling and rosy from his kisses.
'Zachary?' she queried softly, her voice slurring slightly as she lifted a hand to touch his cheek.
His eyes held hers as his lips twisted into a quizzical smile. 'You're something of a minx, Jenny Meredith.' He stood to his feet, pulling her upright to stand within the circle of his arms. 'I think I'd better take you home, after all,' he intimated wryly. 'You're scarcely responsible for your actions.'
Jenny's lips curved into a witching smile and her eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief. 'Are you usually so gallant with your women?'
Zachary's eyes sparkled down at her dangerously. 'You, Jenny-wren, have precisely twenty seconds in which to be out of that front door and into the car, or by heaven you'll become my woman!'
Jenny's eyes widened at the intensity of his tone, and her lips parted involuntarily as she glimpsed the lambent passion in the depths of those dark eyes. That he meant every word she didn't doubt for a second, and deeming it prudent not to stand and argue, she turned and fled!
She didn't realize that she had silently been counting the seconds until she was safely seated inside the car, and then she felt far from calm. Jumbled thoughts raced and tumbled inside her brain until she was certain her head would explode. Her eyes riveted on Zachary's tall frame as he walked towards her. and slid in behind the wheel. His expression appeared controlled and unruffled and she marvelled that he could present so calm an exterior.
Jenny gazed with apparent fascination at nothing in particular directly in front of the windscreen as the car swept down the driveway to the road and covered the distance to her flat in a matter of minutes.
The silence inside the ear seemed to last an age and for the sake of something to say—any thing-was better than this seemingly interminable quiet, Jenny found herself murmuring a few words in a tiny polite voice.
'Thank you for dinner.'
'Come here,' Zachary ordered softly, and Jenny cast him an anxious look. Silently he reached out a hand and gently caressed the aide of her throat. 'Dear Jenny—trust in me, that's all I ask.'
The touch of his fingers was warm against her skin, evoking a treacherous longing deep within her, and it was all she could do not to fling herself into his arms.
'I'd better go,' she managed to conceal the ache in her voice with great effort. 'You have work to do.' Without looking at him she slipped from the car and shut the door firmly behind her, then walked quickly up the path to the front door of her fiat. The key slid smoothly into the lock and as she switched on the light she turned to see the Mercedes-Benz reverse down the driveway.
Unsettled, Jenny wandered from room to room, then switched on the television and disinterestedly viewed the programme for a few minutes before turning it off again. She still felt slightly muzzy-headed from the effects of the brandy and knew she should prepare for bed, but there were too many conflicting thoughts swirling around inside her brain to imagine sleep might come easily. The settee looked comfortably inviting, and placing a cushion strategically on its arm Jenny curled down meditatively, determined to assess the chaos Zachary Benedict had succeeded in causing to her emotions. She wasn't aware of dozing, and awoke much later feeling slightly chilled and vaguely stiff-necked, A glance at her watch showed she had been asleep for almost three hours, and with a series of yawns interspersed with several attempts to instil some warmth into her stiffened limbs she crept into bed.
A telephone call at the office shortly before midday from Aunt Madge confirmed that she and Uncle Dan had driven up to Auckland a day earlier than originally planned—Aunt Madge had chuckled humorously that this way she could wheedle Uncle Dan into allowing her two shopping sprees instead of one. It meant they must change their dinner date with Jenny, but they hoped she didn't have anything too important planned this evening that couldn't be postponed. Delighted, Jenny affirmed that she would meet them in the foyer of their hotel as soon as she finished work that afternoon, and as Aunt Madge voiced an interest in seeing her flat it was arranged that Jenny would drive them there so that she could change into something suitable for dining out.
When Jenny returned to the office after a hectic lunch-hour spent fruitlessly shopping for a new pair of shoes, and five minutes late into the bargain, it was to find a hastily scrawled message requesting she ring Mrs. Lowry at the above number. Jenny hurriedly dialled, motioning with her hand to Grant Ogilvie to place the dictaphone on her desk and nodded silently as he indicated he needed her to take dictation when she had finished her call.
'Mrs. Lowry? It's Jenny Meredith. I received a message to contact you,' Jenny explained quietly into the receiver.
'Yes, Jenny,' Mrs. Lowry responded warmly. 'Mr. Benedict asked if I would telephone and confirm a dinner engagement for seven o'clock this evening.'
Jenny felt disappointed and her eyes clouded a little. 'I'm afraid I can't—not this evening, Mrs. Lowry,' she conveyed regretfully. 'My aunt and uncle have arrived in Auckland a day earlier than expected and I've already made arrangements to meet them for dinner.'
'Oh dear,' Mrs. Lowry voiced worriedly. 'Mr. Benedict did mention that he expects to be in court all day, and I know he dislikes to be contacted there. However,' she continued resourcefully, 'I'll endeavour to leave a message with his secretary in the hope that he'll check with the office before leaving the city, otherwise I'll leave a written message here—it's my day off and I'm going out soon.'
'I am sorry, Mrs. Lowry,' Jenny offered apologetically.
'Never mind, Jenny, I know Mr. Benedict will understand. Goodbye for now.'
Jenny thanked her and replaced the receiver just as Grant Ogilvie emerged into the outer office, and hastily she collected her shorthand pad and pencil.
It was almost six o'clock before she had Aunt Madge and Uncle Dan safely ensconced in her car and away from the confusion of the inner city. Uncle Dan praised her driving and praised his saints that he wasn't a city commuter—in that order—then shifted his bulky frame and voiced mock indignation at the size of Jenny's car.
Aunt Madge chided him gently for behaving like an oversized grizzly bear, whereby he grumbled wryly that the sooner they returned to the tranquillity of their own country surroundings the better, Jenny heard Aunt Madge chuckle, and that good lady's placating words indicating that she would make it up to him drew a Cheshire-catlike grin from: Uncle Dan, and Jenny caught the devilish sparkle in his eyes as he countered with satisfaction that he had been counting on just that!
Inside the flat Jenny bade Uncle Dan to pour a glass of sherry for each of them while she changed, and in her bedroom selected a long skirt of chocolate-brown crushed velvet and a smart body-shirt in cream silk. She elected to leave her hair loose with the ends curling slightly and applied fresh make-up. Transferring her keys, money and other essentials to a more suitable shoulder-bag, she emerged into the lounge to receive her aunt and uncle's mutual admiration of her appearance.
'Thank you kindly! Such remarks are very good for my morale,' she acknowledged laughingly as she accepted the glass of amber-coloured sherry Uncle Dan held out to her.
'I love your flat, Jenny,' Aunt Madge enthused. 'The kitchen is so compact, yet there's everything necessary without being cramped
for space. And in a block of two you can always bang on the wall in case of emergencies.'
Jenny smiled engagingly. 'Hardly, Aunt. There's a solid double-block wall separating each flat. It would take a pretty hefty thump to raise even a sound on the other side.' A hint of mischief prompted her to add, 'Security-wise, I have good locks on both doors, safety-chains as well, and there's always the telephone!'
Aunt Madge looked faintly relieved and had the grace to smile sheepishly as Jenny burst into laughter.
'Honestly, you're almost as bad as Mother. So much for my liberated aunt!' she teased affectionately, while Uncle Dan managed a deep-throated 'hurrumph' that defied description.
'I think perhaps we should leave, don't you think?' Jenny sparkled towards her aunt.
'Oh, decidedly!' that good lady grinned amicably in return.
'D'you mean to say I have to put up with the two of you for the entire evening?' Uncle Dan questioned teasingly, his eyebrows raised in an expression of mock-horror.
'It would be more appropriate to ask if we have to put up with you, you incorrigible rascal!' his wife answered sweetly.
'Taken to answering me back, have you, woman?'
'Can you remember a time when I haven't?' Aunt Madge collapsed into a peal of barely stifled laughter as Uncle Dan shook a threatening fist in her direction.
The sound of the door-bell startled their merriment, and Jenny looked as surprised as did Aunt Madge and Uncle Dan. Quickly she crossed to the door, to reveal Zachary's large frame filling the doorway. She didn't have time to say anything before she was swept firmly into his arms and very thoroughly kissed.
'Zachary!' she gasped breathlessly when he finally released her—embarrassed and flustered that such demonstrative possessiveness had had the full scrutiny of her aunt and uncle. A blush coloured her cheeks as she performed the necessary introductions, deepening as she met the gleam in Uncle Dan's eye. Zachary, bother him, was not a whit put out, and he shook Uncle Dan's extended hand and met and matched that gleam with a decidedly devilish gleam of his own!
Bewildered Haven Page 8
