Husband for Real

by Catherine George

  ‘You were right,’ she breathed against his chest. ‘It was wonderful. Out of this world.’ She took a deep, relishing breath. ‘I had no idea it would be like that.’

  ‘Neither had I.’ James drew the covers over them and held her close, but Rose drew away to look at him.

  ‘You must have known!’

  He shook his head, his eyes so gloatingly possessive she shivered with delight. ‘This was different. Just knowing that everything we did was the first time for you rocketed me to such an incredible state of arousal it was all new to me, too. But second time round I managed to stay in control. For a while, at least.’ He smoothed the tumbled hair from her face, and sighed heavily. ‘Rose, it’s very late. I don’t want to let your go, but it’s time I drove you back.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said without enthusiasm, and wriggled closer.

  ‘If you do that,’ he said breathlessly, ‘I’ll never let you go.’

  On the way back to campus later James sprang a surprise. ‘Mrs Bradley’s away at her daughter’s place for a week. Come and stay with me until she comes back.’

  ‘Won’t she mind when she finds out?’ said Rose, utterly ravished by the idea.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone to stay before. But I’m sure she won’t.’ James slanted a grin at her. ‘As I told you before, she thinks it’s high time I had a “nice young lady” like you.’

  If only the young lady were as nice as he believed, thought Rose guiltily, fighting off a sudden need to confess.

  ‘Well? Will you come?’ he repeated.

  She eyed him doubtfully. ‘Won’t I interfere with your work?’

  ‘Bring some of your own. And if we don’t get much work done a little break won’t do either of us any harm. In fact,’ he added, as he drew up outside her building, ‘the kind of break I’ve got in mind will do me a hell of a lot of good. Will you come?’

  ‘Try to keep me away!’ said Rose recklessly, and kissed him with a fervour which met with such approval it was a long time before James let her go.

  ‘I’ll be round for you in the morning,’ he said huskily. ‘About ten. Be ready.’

  When Rose crept into the flat it was in darkness. She collected pyjamas and dressing gown, then lay in a hot bath, her eyes dreamy as she relieved the incredible events of the night. So that was what it was all about. Viewing it from a theoretical point of view in the past, Rose had always found it difficult to understand why the act of love was something people wanted to do so much. Now she knew exactly why. And pitied females who’d learned about it from lesser men than James. How lucky she was. Though she didn’t deserve to be. She’d deliberately set out to make James want her. And, miraculously, he did. Enough to come to the dance tonight and demonstrate it so plainly that now everyone on campus knew that Rose Dryden had somehow managed to bag Sinclair, the man with no time for women.

  Rose sat up at last and began to soap herself, her face hot as she found her skin marked with fingerprints in places, which clenched inner muscles at the memory of how she’d acquired them. She dried herself quickly, pulling on pyjamas in a sudden hurry to get to bed and go through every detail of the enchanted night again.

  But when she opened the bathroom door Rose found Con waiting for her, looking anxious.

  ‘Come into our room for a bit, Rose. Fabia’s making hot chocolate. Once we heard you come in we just had to know you were all right before we could get some sleep.’

  ‘Everything’s fine. Wonderful, in fact,’ said Rose, her eyes shining.

  ‘Yes.’ Con sighed heavily. I can see that. I just wish I hadn’t been responsible for it all. I feel like Dr Frankenstein.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘It isn’t your fault. You didn’t force me to carry out your plan. And no offence, Con, but it’s James who’s responsible for my present state of euphoria.’

  ‘I know!’

  ‘Everyone at the dance knows now,’ said Fabia, coming in with a tray. ‘Miles looked ready to slit his wrists when you left.’ She sighed gustily. ‘It was so romantic. Just like Richard Gere and Julia Roberts in An Officer and a Gentleman—only Sinclair didn’t actually carry you out.’

  ‘And it was Debra Winger not Julia Roberts,’ said Con dryly, handing a steaming beaker to Rose.

  ‘Whoever. The effect was the same.’ Fabia patted the bed beside her. ‘Come and sit down, Rosie. I take it that you and Sinclair are now officially a couple?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Rose took refuge in her drink. ‘Actually,’ she said into the mug, ‘I’m going to stay with him at his place for a few days. His landlady’s away.’

  Con stared at her aghast. ‘For pity’s sake, Rose, isn’t that going a bit far?’ She thrust her hands through her pale hair. ‘Damn. I feel so responsible. I wish I’d never mentioned that wretched plan.’

  ‘I’m very glad you did,’ said Rose dreamily. ‘Otherwise—’

  ‘Otherwise you’d never have come into contact with Sinclair, and I’m beginning to think that might be a jolly good thing!’

  ‘Why, Con?’ demanded Fabia. ‘Rose had to—er—cut her teeth on someone, some time. So why not Sinclair?’

  ‘Because,’ said Con patiently, ‘he’ll be leaving in the summer, and Rose won’t.’

  ‘I’ll meet that problem when I come to it,’ promised Rose. ‘And don’t worry, Con. It’s no big deal—just a college romance like everyone else’s.’

  ‘Not quite! If it hadn’t been for that hare-brained plan of mine it would never have happened.’

  Rose gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Nothing would have made me go along with it if I hadn’t wanted to.’ She raised her right hand. ‘And I solemnly swear I won’t drown you both in tears when it’s over.’

  The following morning Rose told James to come up when he rang the bell, and not only introduced him formally to Con and Fabia, but made coffee for everyone. The four of them spent a lively half-hour together before Rose handed over her bag to James and said she was ready to leave.

  ‘So,’ said James, in the car, ‘I take it my relationship with Miss Rose Dryden is now well and truly out in the open?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose serenely. ‘At least, I told Con and Fabia to give truthful answers if—when—questions are asked.’

  ‘And what will they say? That I’m your lover?’

  Rose shot him an outraged glance. ‘No way! They were instructed to say we’re just good friends.’

  ‘Which means everyone will definitely think we’re lovers,’ he said with satisfaction.

  ‘The circles I move in refer to it as “going out together”,’ said Rose primly.

  James gave her a leer. ‘Whereas in actual fact we’re going to stay in together.’

  ‘All the time?’

  He stopped the car in Henley Crescent and reached in the back for her bag. ‘We can go to the cinema, if you like, or out for a meal. Never let it be said I’m a skinflint. But it’s my turn, now, to draw the line at any venue where we’re likely to run into mutual friends. And not, like you, because I don’t want to be seen in public with you. I don’t care a damn about the things that cause you such hang-ups. But right now we’ve got the chance of a whole week together, Rose, and I’m damned if I’m going to waste a second of it with other people.’

  ‘Did you mind staying for coffee at the flat, then?’ she asked as they went indoors.

  James dumped down her bag and took her into his arms. ‘No, because I knew you were showing me that you’ve finished with all that hole-and-corner stuff you were into before.’ He kissed her nose. ‘When Mrs Bradley’s back you can invite your friends round here, if you like.’

  Rose leaned back against his linked hands. ‘No. I’d rather not. This is our special, private place. Come to the flat instead, If you’d like to.’

  ‘Of course I’d like to.’ James pulled her close. ‘I didn’t sleep much last night,’ he said into her hair.

  ‘Neither did I.’ She let out a deep, euphoric sigh. ‘I was happy just to stay aw
ake and dream.’

  For the first time since either of them had started at university neither James Sinclair nor Rose Dryden did a stroke of actual work for an entire week. Instead they cooked meals together, talking on every subject under the sun, and if the weather was fine they drove out of town to find a place to walk, or if it was wet stayed indoors and listened to music or watched television. On two of the evenings James went off to train with the rugby team, but otherwise they were never apart for more than a minute. And, as though it was something too precious to squander, they made love only at night when James converted his sofa into a bed.

  Rose soon learned that her first experience of sexual love had been a mere foretaste of the delight possible when two people came together intent on giving each other pleasure.

  ‘Though pleasure seems a milk-and-water kind of word to describe what happens between us,’ said Rose one night, and turned her head to meet the half-veiled eyes intent on her face.

  ‘You’re the English student. What word would you choose?’ asked James, smoothing a hand down her spine.

  ‘You’ll laugh.’

  ‘No I won’t.’

  She kept her eyes on his. ‘For me what happened just now was sheer rapture. And if that sounds too mushy and over the top, you did ask.’

  ‘It sounds exactly right,’ he said huskily. ‘And I have a theory as to why.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is there a possibility that what we feel for each other is something a tad more cerebral than lust?’ he said gravely.

  Rose bit her lip, afraid to commit herself.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ he asked affably. ‘Don’t be frightened, Rose. I was merely pointing out that maybe we’re attracted to each other for more than just our bodies. Or am I imagining the rapport we enjoy out of bed as well as in it?’

  ‘No.’

  James shook his head, resigned. ‘Just no?’

  ‘Yes. I mean you’re not imagining it.’

  ‘Good.’ He trailed a finger down her cheek. ‘You do realise that we’ve spent five days—and nights—in each other’s company, now, and except for a heated argument or two on world issues we’ve lived together in remarkable harmony?’

  As if she needed reminding!

  ‘I’m very easy to get on with,’ said Rose demurely.

  ‘While I’m anything but, as a rule.’

  ‘I think you are,’ she said fiercely, and kissed him.

  ‘Thank you.’ He held her closer. ‘But if you talked with some of the people I roomed with when I first came here they’d disagree, I promise you. I shared a student flat something like yours, only with three other guys. They were younger than me, straight out of school, first time away from home, and hell-bent on drinking and womanising. While my sole interests were study and sport. It made for a bad situation all round.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I looked around for lodgings and found this place before my second term. Mrs Bradley was newly widowed, and had decided to let a couple of rooms to students.’ He paused. ‘I persuaded her to make it one student only. Unlike most students, I had some money of my own.’

  ‘From your father?’

  ‘No. He left everything to my mother. But when she sold the family home Mother made the proceeds over to me, and Donald put me on to a financial adviser who helped me invest it in a way which gives me an income. Not vast, but enough to compensate Mrs Bradley for taking me on as her sole lodger.’

  Rose was impressed. ‘Most boys of eighteen with cash would have gone on a spending spree.’

  James grinned. ‘I was normal enough to splurge on the car when I got back from Oz.’

  ‘That’s a relief—nice to know you’re human.’ She rubbed her cheek against his thoughtfully. ‘So you’re the only lodger Mrs Bradley’s ever had, then?’

  ‘Right.’ He turned her face up to his. ‘Though I prefer to think of myself as the only lover Rose Dryden’s ever had.’

  She gazed back at him speculatively. ‘You like to be first, or the best, at everything, don’t you?’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he agreed, after thought.

  Rose eyes him militantly. ‘Is that why you made love to me? Because you knew you’d be the first?’

  ‘Hell no! It was part of it,’ he added honestly. ‘But the main reason was my gut feeling that you and I belonged together. I just couldn’t handle the thought of you with someone else.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have had to,’ she assured him. ‘After meeting you I couldn’t handle that, either.’

  ‘Then you feel the same?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Haven’t I demonstrated that with un-maidenly lack of inhibition?’

  ‘Yes. But you haven’t said so in as many words.’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  James pushed her flat and knelt over her, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead as he captured her hands to spread them wide. ‘Tell me exactly how you feel about me,’ he demanded.

  Rose felt like a moth pinned to a board by the relentless, glittering eyes. ‘This isn’t fair,’ she protested.

  ‘All’s fair in love and war,’ he assured her, and let himself down on top of her, taking her breath away. ‘And this, my darling Rose, is love. On my part, anyway.’ He kissed her hungrily, his fingers moving over her in sweeping arpeggios of such exquisite sensation she yielded herself up to him helplessly. Then his mouth followed his fingers to shock her with a caress so new and intimate she gasped and writhed, until at last he surrendered to her frantic pleas and surged between her parted thighs to take them rapidly towards climax.

  But at the very brink James held her there, his body suddenly still.

  ‘Say it,’ he commanded hoarsely, and Rose, totally beyond coherent thought, obeyed.

  ‘I love you,’ she gasped, raking her nails down his back, and with a growl of triumph James kissed her fiercely and brought them both to glory.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ROSE woke with tears on her face, aching with the familiar feeling of loss and regret ten years had never managed to dispel. And realised she was propped upright against the pillows with all the lights on. When she remembered exactly why, she noticed the time, and shot out of bed, cursing the anonymous pest as she rushed at top speed instead of making her usual gradual transition into the working day.

  ‘Gosh, you look a bit frazzled,’ said Bel, when Rose let her in. ‘Good thing I start work early on Saturdays. Here, take the post and shut yourself in the office with some coffee. Late night?’ she added archly.

  ‘No. Usual time. I just couldn’t get to sleep.’ Rose pulled a face. ‘But if I look that bad I’ll take advantage of your offer. Wouldn’t do to frighten off the customers.’ She hesitated. ‘Look, this is for your ears only, Bel. I’ve had a couple of anonymous phonecalls.’

  Bel grinned. ‘Querying your taste in underwear?’

  ‘No. Just a bit of heavy breathing, then he whispers my name and rings off. And, before you ask, the number was withheld.’ Rose pulled a face. ‘It seems silly now, in broad daylight, but it wasn’t at all funny late last night.’

  ‘I should say not! That’s nasty, Rose. Any idea who it could be?’

  ‘No. But coming on top of the Valentine card and the rose, I don’t like it one bit.’

  Bel eyed her warily. ‘I asked Mark if he’d sent the card, by the way.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’

  ‘We were just kids then,’ Rose protested.

  ‘A fact my brother pointed out. He promises to remember next year.’ Bel looked worried. ‘But where the heavy breather’s concerned unplug the phone tonight and use your mobile instead. What did Anthony say about it?’

  ‘Haven’t told him.’

  Bel looked disapproving. ‘I suppose he denied sending the card and the rose?’

  ‘Emphatically.’ Rose smiled wryly. ‘In fact he was quite hacked off about the whole thing.’

  ‘I b
et he was.’ Bel swallowed her coffee and patted Rose on the shoulder. ‘I’ll hold the fort out there. You stay in here and recover.’

  By the end of the day Rose was so tired she couldn’t bring herself to cope with the paperwork left from the night before. Sunday morning without fail, she promised it, and went upstairs to fall apart for a while before she even thought of making herself some supper. When the phone rang her heart skipped a beat—until she heard Anthony’s voice on the message.

  ‘How are you, Rose?’ he asked when she picked up.

  ‘Tired. But otherwise, fine. Busy day today.’

  ‘Rose, have you thought any more about contacting your husband?’

  Oh, yes. She’d thought of it. ‘I’ll get round to it eventually.’

  ‘Remember that you’re not obliged to speak to him, Rose. After all these years you can just inform him of your intention. Or have a solicitor do it for you.’

  ‘I know all that, Anthony.’

  ‘Do it, then,’ he urged. ‘I’ll call you on Monday.’

  Much as Rose rather objected to his peremptory attitude, she knew Anthony was right. It was high time she set herself free. But not to get married again. Once was enough.

  She’d known where James Sinclair worked ever since his promotion before the age of thirty to executive vice-presidency of a prestigious merchant bank. Fabia Hargreaves had sent her an article about him she’d cut out from the financial section of one of the Sunday papers. And had unsettled Rose for days afterwards. She knew perfectly well she should to have done something about divorce years before. But the article had revived her stubborn determination to make James the first to act.

  While Rose ate her supper she came to a decision. She would write to James at the bank. Then the ball would be in his court. And if he chose not to reply, she would just carry on with the divorce now she knew the court would grant this whether James agreed or not. Not that he had any reason to refuse. He must surely be as eager to be free as she was by this time.