Secretary Wife

Secretary Wife Page 7

by Rachel Lindsay

  Laura retreated from the fire, her body hot, but not from the flames. 'I think I'll go,' she said quickly.

  'Don't be ridiculous,' Carl Anderson said loudly. 'We can't keep it a secret for ever.'

  'What secret?' Rosemary asked.

  'That Laura has agreed to become my wife.'

  There was an electric silence; Rosemary's face blanched and she was too astounded to notice that Laura's had done exactly the same. 'You are—you are going to marry your secretary?'

  'I am going to marry Laura,' he replied evenly. 'I should have told you when you first arrived, but you were tired from your flight and I wanted to give you time to recover.'

  Rosemary shook her head, her expression still bemused. 'Is this some sort of a joke?'

  'It's hardly a joking matter.' Dexterously he swivelled his chair round to Laura's side and, before she could escape his hold, reached out and caught her hand. His grip was tight, warning her to be silent. 'We would have announced it a couple of weeks ago if it hadn't been for that nonsense printed in the paper about me,' he continued. 'But after that bit of notoriety I felt I'd had enough publicity to last me a lifetime.' He raised Laura's hand to his cheek. 'We're planning to slip away one morning and get married quietly.'

  'No!' Rosemary gasped. 'You don't mean it. You love me, Carl, you know you do.'

  'I did,' he said, and his grip on Laura's hand tightened so fiercely that she winced. Instantly the grip eased, though he did not release her hand. 'I never thought I would be saying this to you, Rose­mary, but I stopped loving you a long time ago.'

  'It's only four months since I left you,' she cried. 'I wouldn't call that long.'

  'When you spend your life in a wheelchair,' he said heavily, 'a day can seem like a year. That's how it was with me until I fell in love with Laura.'

  'You don't love her,' Rosemary exclaimed. 'You feel gratitude! For heaven's sake, Carl, you knew her years before you knew me. If you were going to fall in love with her, you'd have done so ages ago.'

  'I probably needed an accident to bring me to my senses.'

  He continued to speak, but Laura was unable to take in anything he said. Yet he must have sounded plausible, for she was aware of Rosemary sinking on to a chair and huddling forward, like a child in pain.

  'I won't believe it until you're married,' she whispered. 'I won't! I won't!'

  'Then you'd better stay and come to the wed­ding,' Carl said quietly.

  Rosemary stared at him, her blue eyes filling with tears. She looked so hurt and broken that Laura would not have blamed him if he had lunged for­ward and pulled her into his arms. Instead he moved restlessly and the blanket covering his legs twitched.

  'You may stay here as my guest, Rosemary, but if you do, Laura will have to stay here with you.'

  'You must be crazy if you think I'll do that!' Rosemary leaned forward and fell on her knees be­side the wheelchair. 'I love you, Carl. You can't marry anyone else. I want to spend my life with you.'

  'Two years isn't much of a lifetime.'

  Rosemary's head jerked upwards. Her expression froze and the tears glittered on her lashes like ice drops. 'So it is true,' she gasped. 'When I asked you this morning, why did you deny it?'

  'I was waiting for Laura,' he replied, and once again drew her hand to his cheek and then to his lips.

  It was this last gesture which convinced Rosemary he meant what he said, and with a cry of pain she sprang to her feet and ran from the room.

  As the door slammed behind her, Laura pulled her hand free and put the distance of the room between herself and the wheelchair. She was filled with an anger far deeper than any she had ever experienced, and she fought to control it. With all her heart she had wanted Carl to fight Rosemary, but she had never dreamed he would use herself as the weapon. For that was all she was: his weapon of defence against the beautiful girl he still loved.

  'It wasn't kind of you to use me,' she said icily.

  'I didn't intend to. It just happened. When you walked into the room and looked at me, it sud­denly struck me as a marvellous idea.'

  'A marvellous get-out,' she corrected.

  There was the soft sound of wheels on carpet and she knew he had come behind her, but she would not turn and look at him.

  'Don't be angry with me, Laura. Try and under­stand why I did it.'

  'I am trying. But it doesn't make sense. Or do you expect me to believe you don't love Miss Carlton any longer?'

  'Of course I love her I'

  'Then why the pretence?' She swung round and faced him. 'If you still love her, why—?'

  'Because I don't want to marry her,' he inter­rupted. 'Listen to me, Laura. Do you think I believe that Rosemary came back because she had second thoughts about tying herself to a cripple? She came here because she knows my time is limited. She's prepared to sacrifice herself for two years, to hide the repugnance she'd feel if I touched her, if I held her close to my body, because she knows that in a short space of time she'd be a widow of undreamed-of wealth!'

  'Don't talk like that!' Laura cried.

  'It's true! You've always known the sort of girl Rosemary is.' His eyes glittered silver in a grey-tinged face. 'She gave herself away a hundred times, but I was too blind to see it. Even when it came to this house, she didn't love me enough to want to furnish it herself. She never saw it as our home—only as a background in which she could scintillate.' His hands clenched and he banged one fist against the other. 'In a way I should be grateful I had the accident. If I hadn't, I would have married her and… God!' He lowered his head. 'At least I'd have had some happiness with her! This way I've had none.'

  Jealousy drowned Laura's sympathy and she looked at him with something akin to dislike. 'I'm sure you can still have some happiness with her.' she said coldly, 'providing you're willing to marry her.'

  'And what do you suggest I do with my mind? Blank it out? Do you think I could make love to her without knowing the revulsion she feels? No, Laura, I've done the only thing possible.'

  'For today,' she said evenly. 'But what about to­morrow and the day after?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I mean that she'll be back. The stakes are far too high for her to give up so easily. She'll stay in London and after a few days she'll come and see you again. It won't take her long to realise that your engagement to me is a lie.'

  'Need it be?'

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly and he moved his chair closer.

  'Need it be a lie, Laura? Why can't it be true? You aren't in love with anyone else, are you?'

  'No, but—'

  'Then why shouldn't we get married? I wouldn't expect it to be a real marriage,' he said hastily.

  With a murmur she turned her back on him. In moments of foolish day-dreaming she had often wondered what it would be like if Carl Anderson asked her to be his wife. But now that he had done it, she wished with all her heart that he hadn't.

  'You're dramatising the situation, Mr Anderson. It would be ludicrous for us to get married just be­cause you don't want to marry Miss Carlton.'

  'Why is it ludicrous? If you turn me down, I mightn't be able to hold out against her. I'm only half a man,' he said huskily, 'but I'm a man for all that. When she's near me, I… Please,' he pleaded, 'don't let me make a fool of myself with her. All I have left is my pride. Help me to keep it.'

  'I—I—' She struggled to find the right words, but since she did not know what to say, no words came.

  'It wouldn't be for long,' he said quietly. 'Only two years.'

  'Don't!' she choked and, swinging round, held out her hands to him. 'Very well,' she whispered. 'If you're quite sure.'

  'Perfectly sure. And thank you, Laura. I knew that you—of all women—wouldn't let me down.'

  Neither of them spoke after this, and the only sound in the room was the crackle of the logs.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LAURA became Mrs Carl Anderson two days before Christmas, with Mary and the valet Max as the only witnesses. To
avoid publicity they returned straight to the house where she was surprised to find that Carl—how strange it was to call him by his first name—had arranged a champagne luncheon.

  'We're neither of us going to pretend this is a love match,' he had said the night before, 'but I want you to believe me when I say you're the only woman I totally admire and trust.'

  Laura remembered this as he raised his glass and toasted her, and wondered what he would say if he knew how much she loved him. After lunch Mary and Max left them alone and they sat on either side of the fireplace in the drawing room. She was wear­ing a red dress, a colour she had never worn before, and she felt him staring at her appraisingly.

  'You should wear red more often,' he commented finally. 'It suits you.'

  'Red for robin redbreast,' she reminded him.

  'Talking of red reminds me of something.' He reached into his pocket and took out a little box which he tossed into her lap.

  She opened it and saw a large, dark ruby glowing up at her.

  'If it doesn't fit,' he murmured, 'you can easily get it altered.' Still she went on looking at it and he moved his chair over to her. 'Put it on and let me see what it looks like.'

  With a reluctance she could not understand she went to put it on her right hand, but he gently took it away from her and put it on her engagement finger, now marked by a circle of platinum.

  'It's your engagement ring,' he explained.

  She was moved and tried to hide it. 'I didn't need one.'

  'I'm going to give you lots of things you don't need,' he replied. 'You are my wife and I want you to have everything money can buy.'

  She held out her hand and looked at the ruby. 'This is beautiful, Carl, and I appreciate you buy­ing it for me, but please don't buy me anything else. I married you because…' She stopped, then said firmly: 'I don't want anything from you.'

  'I know you don't. That's why I want you to have everything.' He leaned forward, his eyes searching her face. 'It will all come to you when I die: the house, the company I built up, every­thing.'

  'No!' She jumped to her feet. His chair was so near that she stumbled on it and was only saved from falling by his arms coming round her waist. He kept them there, then deliberately pulled her down on to his lap.

  'Let me give you what I can,' he said softly. 'There's so much that I can't.' One hand came up to the back of her head and drew it forward until his mouth could rest on hers. For a second it remained there motionless, then the pressure increased and he pulled her closer.

  Laura clung to him, uncaring that she was giving herself away, knowing only that at last she was where she belonged, where she had always wanted to be. It did not matter that he loved another woman. This was as close to heaven as she was likely to get and she did not have the strength to turn away from it.

  'Carl,' she whispered, and caressed his silver fair hair. It, was like silk to the touch and she ran her fingers through it and down the side of his cheek. His lips moved gently upon hers and then placed feather-light kisses on her closed eyelids.

  'Dear Laura, how sweet you are.'

  It was the words 'dear Laura' that brought her back to her senses. Dear, sensible Laura. The ever-helpful, always available secretary. The girl he had married in order to escape from the woman he loved. Dear Laura, who he would never want to be his darling.

  Carefully she pushed him away and eased herself up from his lap. She knew he was watching her and she made a pretence of smoothing her skirt.

  'You aren't angry with me, are you?' he asked.

  'For kissing me? She marvelled that she could keep her voice cool. 'This is an emotional moment for both of us. Even a—a marriage like ours takes a bit of getting used to. Why shouldn't you kiss me? After all, we're friends—even though I am your wife!'

  He smiled, at ease again. 'You're a surprising girl, Laura. There are depths to you that I hadn't realised.'

  'Unfathomable depths,' she replied. 'Beware of them.'

  'I have nothing to be wary of with you. That's why I married you, remember?'

  'How can I forget it!' She turned to the fire and put on a log it did not need. 'What are we going to do for Christmas?'

  'I haven't given it a thought. What would you like to do?'

  'Have a quiet stay-at-home holiday.' She looked round the room. 'This will be the first night I've spent here, yet I feel as if it's my home.'

  'It's yours more than it was ever Rosemary's.' His voice was bleak and he propelled his chair to the bureau by the window, where he made a pre­tence of looking through some magazines.

  Laura watched him, knowing that the months ahead would not be easy for either of them. Today Carl looked on her with affection and gratitude, but there would be many times when he would look at her and wish she were Rosemary; and those were the times when he would hate her and him­self too.

  'Carl,' she said abruptly. 'There's something I want to say.'

  He swivelled round. 'Not a divorce yet!'

  She smiled. 'Not yet. But I… if I do anything that gets on your nerves… if you ever want me to move out… you just have to say so.'

  'Thank you,' he said gravely, 'but I don't fore­see the likelihood. I'm much more likely to get on your nerves!'

  'Oh no,' she exclaimed, 'I've been your secretary for too long.' Embarrassed, she put her hand to her mouth. 'Oh, lord, that wasn't a diplomatic thing to say!'

  He grinned, his bleakness gone. 'Thank goodness you can be indiscreet. I'd hate to have a perfect wife!'

  Yet in the weeks ahead that was exactly what Laura tried to be. Living at Holly Grove she saw a different side to Carl. As his private secretary she had come to know him well, but she was surprised at the greater intimacy that grew between them now that she was actually sharing his home. Since the first night of their marriage there had been no further emotional display from him, yet they were so mentally attuned that Laura was frequently aware of his thoughts before he even expressed them. Many times she longed to be physically close to him, and it was then that she envisaged the future and was haunted by it. If he had to die young, at least let his death be a quick one and not a lingering diminishing of strength that would leave him feeble and totally dependent on others.

  She tried not to dwell on these thoughts and, during the day, she was successful in keeping them at bay; but at night she paced her bedroom and found it impossible to envisage this house without its owner and her life without him at its centre. Never by word or gesture did Carl give indication that he worried about the limited time left to him, and it was not until they had been married for two months that he spoke to her about the plans he was making for the future.

  I wish you would get another medical opinion!' she burst out. 'I don't know how you can listen to Mr Edwards without—'

  'It wasn't only Mr Edwards,' Carl interrupted. 'He called in other specialists too.'

  'I'm sure there are more you could see.'

  'Hundreds,' he agreed. 'But that doesn't mean any of them can help me. One can only go to the best person available, and I assure you Mr Edwards has a worldwide reputation. Now stop being dram­atic and listen to the plans I've made for the company.'

  'I don't care about the company ' she cried.

  'It's going to be yours.'

  'No!' She jumped to her feet. 'No, Carl. When I married you I told you I didn't want anything from you, and I still mean it.'

  'I know you do. But I want you to have it. You're my wife.'

  'Only because you needed someone to protect you from Rosemary.'

  It was the first time she had mentioned Rose­mary since their marriage, though many times her presence had hovered between them like an evil spirit. But one could not continue to pretend Rose­mary did not exist.

  'Whatever my reasons for marrying you,' Carl said, 'you are now my wife and I have every inten­tion of providing for you.'

  'If you leave me any money I'll give it away,' she said vehemently. 'I'm not a child, and I won't be treated as one.'

 
'Won't you take anything from me?'

  'No.' She flung out her hand as she spoke and the ruby on her finger glowed like a flame. 'I'll keep the ring and the—and the clothes I have, but nothing more.'

  'Even if I told you that by refusing to let me take care of you, you'll make me extremely unhappy?'

  'That's an unfair way of putting it,' she pro­tested.

  'It's the way I feel. You married me to protect me from my own weakness, so at least let me show you some of my strength. If I can provide for your future I will at least feel like a man.'

  'Money has nothing to do with strength of char­acter. You don't need to repay me for what I did.

  I married you because—' She fell silent, knowing he would find in it only what he was capable of understanding and, since he regarded her as his friend, the secret of her love for him was safe.

  'I'm not offering you charity,' he said slowly. 'If you won't accept my fortune, at least let me take decent care of you.'

  She gazed at him, astonished that he could look at her without knowing how deeply she loved him. How handsome he was with his thick hair and strong features; his clear grey eyes and mobile mouth. It was indecent for them to be discussing what would happen to her own life when his no longer existed. Because she knew that to argue with him would only prolong the discussion, she shook her head.

  'I won't stop you from doing what you think is right, Carl, but promise not to—not to leave me a lot of money. There are so many other things you can do with it.'

  'I'll talk to Duncan about that.'

  'Duncan?' she questioned.

  'Duncan Thorpe—my lawyer.'

  She nodded. Several times she had heard him mention the name Thorpe & Mulvaney, but this was the first occasion he had spoken of his lawyer by name.

  'I think it's a good idea for you to talk it over with Mr Thorpe,' she said. 'If he's unbiased, I'm sure he'll agree with what I've suggested.'

  'Duncan is always unbiased,' Carl informed her. 'In that way he's like me.'

  'You're the most biased person I know!' He gave her such a look of injured innocence that she laughed outright. 'You're terribly biased, Carl. You're as full of prejudice as a colander is of holes!'

 

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