The Bride Who Wouldn't

by Carol Marinelli

  They entered through a glass revolving door. The hotel was familiar to Isaak for he had stayed here on occasion when he was in Paris on business, but as they stepped into their suite, he momentarily halted. It felt as if he knew this suite, from the Savonnerie carpet to the Louis XIV furnishings, and yet he had not stayed in this suite before.

  Isaak frowned and decided he must have stayed in one similar but he did not dwell on it for now for he was watching Kate who, having walked around the suite, was opening the grand windows and staring out to the square.

  The hotel had suggested, given it was their wedding night, that their luggage be sent ahead so there would not be the disruption of the staff unpacking their things. That had seemed an unnecessary detail to Isaak at the time.

  He understood it now for he ached to be alone with Kate but instead the staff were quietly unpacking and so he opened up the champagne and handed her a glass, which she took with a shaking hand.

  The touch of his hand on her bare shoulder had Kate jump a fraction and the feel of his fingers running down the tiny buttons of her bridal dress made her shiver, though not with revulsion.

  His scent, the feel of his hand gently kneading the tense muscles, the undeniable ardor that he had for her was dangerously appealing. The wish for her body to respond, as any normal woman’s would, had Kate choke down a sob that was building.

  The suite was everything Kate could have ever dreamed of for her wedding night. Her brief inspection had revealed that a huge marble bath had been filled and the bathroom was bathed in candlelight, she could almost feel it beckoning her now. The furnishings in the suite would usually have beguiled but it was the vast high bed with its silk quilt turned back and the roses and petals on it that brought tears to her eyes.

  It should be perfect.

  It almost was.

  Isaak’s mouth was now nuzzling at her shoulder, his fingers at the clasp of her choker and she wanted him to unlatch it as he French-kissed the base of her neck. His breath was a warm tickle, his tongue seducing that patch of skin over and over and it almost bought her undone for she wanted to arch her neck, she wanted to turn to his arms.

  But even if it was perfect, even if their marriage wasn’t a sham, Kate cringed inside as she recalled Basil’s attempts at making love and her reaction to the same. How she had sobbed and made a fool of herself with a man who knew her problem, how much worse would she be with a man who did not know her at all?

  The once-nice Basil had called her a frigid bitch and she would die rather than have Isaak do the same.

  Paris glittered, the most seductive city in the world, yet Kate looked at it with loathing. The column in the square stood as if to mock her—tall, imposing, phallic—it reminded her that it was ice that ran though her body.

  “Kate…” Isaak turned her around. He thought no less of Kate that she was paid to be here.

  Business could be beautiful too.

  And she was.

  She felt his finger on her cheek and it was surprisingly tender, and then he removed the glass from her hand.

  Kate knew nothing about sex and certainly nothing about what went on when passion was funded.

  She had not thought about it, for it simply would not happen, yet, now, as he removed the glass from her hand, it was briefly considered. His touch seemed far from manufactured and, had she thought about it, she would not have expected such tender intimacy, nor a patient mouth to so gently seduce.

  As his mouth moved to hers Kate pulled her face away the moment she heard the staff discreetly leave and the soft close of the door. “We’re alone now,” she said.

  “I know,” Isaak smiled.

  “So we can stop acting.”

  “Acting?” Isaak checked, for he had felt her tension start to dissipate and had felt the quicken of her pulse beneath his lips as he had kissed her neck.

  “We shan’t be sleeping together.” She saw him frown. “Or rather we shan’t be having sex. We shall do as the contract states and share a bed whilst at hotels.” She gave him the same smile that she had on the dance floor. “Your uncle and I had an agreement. Our marriage was only for appearances’ sake, sex was never to be a factor.”

  Isaak stood there. “Are you telling me that you and my uncle were never lovers?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Kate responded. “We never so much as kissed. I had agreed to the gorko and to occasionally kiss and be affectionate in public, once we were married.”

  Instead of anger there was a strange feeling of relief as that little knot of disquiet for Isaak was put to bed.

  He just wouldn’t be putting Kate to bed it would seem.

  “Why the health checks?”

  “Ivor didn’t even want his lawyer to know the truth.” Spite laced every word as Kate continued speaking.” If you don’t know how deep the river is, don’t step in.” She mocked him now with the Russian saying that he had used on her. “Of course, I understand if you want an annulment.”

  “Oh, I see,” Isaak responded. “I am supposed to run screaming for an annulment and you still get the money.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, no,” Isaak shook his head. “There will be no annulment. Anyway, no one but us needs to know that the marriage was never consummated. It would be a rather difficult thing to prove.”

  “Not really,” Kate said but her voice was less than sure now. This wasn’t going the way Kate had intended it to. She hadn’t wanted to reveal her truth to him, but he gave her no choice. “The doctor would know.”

  “What doctor?” Isaak asked and then his mouth actually gaped as the truth dawned. “Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”

  “Yes, and I intend to stay one,” Kate primly said. “So I think an annulment would be a good idea.”

  “You really want to go that route?” Isaak asked. “Have you any idea how rarely that law is used?” He was openly smiling now and it confused her. “It would be all over the press…”

  “Oh, would that ruin your reputation, Isaak?” She loathed that he was still smiling, almost laughing in fact.

  “I could take it,” Isaak said. “Could you though?” He could actually picture the headlines. “Imagine the newspapers—‘The Last English Virgin!’ Or, they could write, ‘The Curse of the Zaretskys Continues!’”

  She loathed that he laughed at his own joke.

  “Oh, Kate, just think about it,” he said. “There will be no annulment. Whether you like it or not we are together for a year.”

  “Till you cheat, till you go off with some—” She stopped and his eyes narrowed as she continued. “I guess you’ll have to get your kicks elsewhere.”

  “You think you have this worked out.”

  “I do.” Kate almost spat in rage. “You thought you had me trapped. Well you don’t.”

  “What is it with women and the assumption that men can’t survive without sex?” Isaak asked. “You have managed without, so what makes you think I cannot? You talk like I am some dog, that I will be out on the street in five minutes.” He looked her right in the eye and slowly shook his head. “You misled me. You were attracted to me. You let me think …”

  “You were very easily misled,” Kate coolly responded. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t read between the lines.”

  “True,” Isaak shrugged. “I brought you here, I arranged these things.” He gestured to the champagne, the flowers and to the candlelit bathroom. “To start our marriage, our year together, the best way I knew how. I wanted to spoil you, to give you pleasure, for us to enjoy our time. I do not want some martyr tied to the bed.” He looked at her and could not fathom that someone so beautiful could be so cold, not just with words, but that she could deny herself the pleasure that rippled beneath her cool surface. He stared till she could not hold his gaze.

  Yes, attraction was there.

  “You think I’m a whore,” Kate said through tense lips.

  “What is your issue with whores?” Isaak challenged. “You
speak of them with such contempt.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, baby, but you do. I happen to admire them, at least they do not deceive, at least they do not insist there must be more, or beg for me to speak with them, open up to them, marry them.” He looked at her. “Yes, I have a lot of respect for them, still, I won’t be needing one… I can keep to the rules.” He gave her a smile and raised his hand and made a crude gesture with his hand and wrist. “It looks like there will be a lot of this…”

  She slapped him.

  Just this stinging slap that landed on his cheek. And though the fact that she had slapped him alarmed Kate, more horrifying for her were her own words. “You vile, disgusting creature,” Kate screamed, but it was the sound of her own mother’s voice that seemed to fill the room, a repeat of the horrible things she had once said to her daughter. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Ah, but I’m not ashamed,” Isaak said and his words halted her tirade but her mind was still there, back in what should have been the safe haven of her bedroom. That she had been caught was embarrassing enough but the words, oh the words and the slaps and the shaming from her mother still played over and over in her mind.

  “Sex doesn’t shame me, Kate,” Isaak continued and she looked at the red mark on his cheek that her hand had left. “I would suggest that that might be you.”

  Kate looked to the bed in terror, the bed that she had agreed to share but had never expected to have to. “If you force me, I will go to the police.”

  “Force you?” Her words were far worse than the slap she had delivered; it was like a spit in his face. “How dare you even suggest such a thing.”

  “I apologise…” His face was as white as chalk, Kate realised, his breathing coming as if she had just delivered a very low blow.

  She had.

  “I should not have said that.”

  “No,” Isaak said. “You should not have. You have me pegged as a bastard—perhaps that is merited, but never suggest I would force myself upon a woman.”

  “I really do apologise.” She did, it was his disgust at her words that actually shamed her now. He was furiously pulling his tie and then he ripped off his shirt.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To have a shower,” Isaak said.

  He ignored the bath, the scented candles and stood under the running water.

  Talk about issues! Isaak thought, soaping up his armpits and then soaping his stomach before he looked down at his flaccid cock.

  A year.

  Despite brave words, he did not relish the prospect.

  Still, that was not troubling him now. He was enraged at her words—that she would even suggest…

  Let it go, Isaak told himself, and yet he could not.

  He turned off the taps and whipped up a towel, wrapping it around his loins and then heading out to where she stood, like some beautiful statue, still in her bridal gown.

  “I’ll be needing these.” He pulled open a drawer and pulled out underwear and she turned her back as he dropped his towel and pulled them on.

  “Are we to share a bed?” Kate asked.

  “Please, after what you just said.” Isaak gave a snort of disgust. “Anyway, I don’t sleep well with ice beside me.” He looked around—it really was a honeymoon suite and clearly designed to be spent together in bed for, rarely, there was no spare room. “You can have the sofa.”

  No, he was no gentleman!

  “I ordered breakfast for seven,” Isaak said climbing in between the luxurious sheets. “If you can set your alarm and manage fifteen minutes of torture lying beside me, I think that should cover it.” He picked up her lacy nighty that had been laid out and tossed it in her direction. “Enjoy your bath.”

  Alone in the bathroom Kate had to somehow negotiate the tiny buttons on the dress herself, all the while with tears pouring from her eyes, because how that bath mocked her, from the fragrant water to the froth of bubbles, to the candles dotted around it to the petals on the floor.

  Isaak had, in his own way, been romantic—every detail had been taken care of, and all this was beautiful….

  And so very wasted on her.

  No, there was no triumph now as she recalled the hurt and disgust in his voice when she’d threatened him with the police and Kate winced as she recalled that she’d slapped him too.

  Kate had spent most of her life trying to keep control. Don’t run, Kate, had been her mother’s oft stern warning. Keep your knees together when you get out of car, a frequent other. Don’t answer back.

  She had just lost her head for the first time and yet he hadn’t so much as pointed a finger at her.

  No, there was no feeling of victory as she stepped out of her bridal gown and then took off the lingerie. Then she struggled with the clasp of the choker and briefly remembered Isaak’s fingers playing idly with it. With a yelp of rage and frustration, she tore at it so that all the pearls clattered to the marble floor.

  Isaak lay there, his fury fading as he heard her desperate sobs while knowing that there was nothing he could do—if he went in she might start screaming, but it was agony to listen for, in his heart, he knew that he was not the cause of her tears.

  And sob Kate did as she lay in the delicious water.

  She had wanted his kiss, yet had not had the courage to continue.

  Kate lay there till finally her tears abated, then she got out and dried herself and put on the delicate nightdress. She ran a comb through her wet hair, calmer now but worried to go out there and wondering what her reception would be.

  She crept out and saw that the shutters were still open and stared out again, wishing she could have her time back, wishing she could have better explained things to Isaak and then jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

  “Things will seem better in the morning?”

  She managed a watery smile but he didn’t see it as Kate didn’t turn around. “I doubt it.”

  “Of course they shall.”

  “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

  “You’re not the first.”

  “And for…”

  “Go to sleep, Kate.”

  It was a long lonely night on the sofa and she lay there for ages, unused to having another near while she slept, surprised by his kind words when she had come out of the bathroom.

  Isaak wasn’t even close to the man she had imagined him to be, Kate thought as finally she fell asleep.

  Isaak did not sleep.

  Just before dawn, he got up to use the bathroom and saw the dress strewn on the floor and all the tiny pearls scattered everywhere.

  Walking back to bed, he paused for a moment and looked at Kate asleep on the sofa. Her hair had curled and her eyes were swollen. He didn’t know whether or not to wake her and tell her she could have the bed, yet he chose not to for she finally looked peaceful.

  His anger at her words had long since faded. He understood them perhaps, given that she had looked into his family background and would know his black family history—it was not a lineage to be proud of. His grandfather had gone to prison for assaults and the rape of women and his father had been in and out of prison too—his method of communication was his fists, or at times his boots or belt. If Kate knew all about it, given her issues she would have been terrified.

  Poor baby, Isaak thought as he got back into bed.

  Chapter 6

  Kate woke to her alarm and placed the throw rug over the sofa and then walked over to the bed.

  “Come in,” Isaak mumbled sleepily, throwing back the covers. “To the neatest honeymoon bed in history.”

  He actually made her smile as she climbed in.

  “I’ll just move over a little,” Isaak said, “and put my arm around you. Is that okay?”

  “Sure,” Kate said and he moved over. As his arm went over her, he was very careful to hold his body back, and she was touched that he did so. “I’m so sorry for what I said last night, about you…”

  “Shhh,” he s
aid. “You were upset.”

  “I just lost control…”

  “Really, did you?” His sarcasm made her smile. “It’s forgotten.”

  They lay in silence for a moment and the bed was so soft and warm and Isaak so kind, it actually felt nice to be here, especially when he spoke. “I will get your necklace restrung today for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kate said. “I hate it. It was my mother’s and I’ve always loathed it…”

  “Yet you wore it on your wedding day?”

  “It didn’t seem worth making a fuss about,” she admitted. “It wasn’t as if it was a real wedding….” Her voice trailed off.

  “Why don’t you get it strung in a way you like it, then,” Isaak said. “In your style.”

  Kate let out a soft laugh. “I don’t really know what my style is. I’m sort of dreading going out while we’re here, the Parisians always look so gorgeous.”

  “So do you.”

  Isaak lay there thinking, she did dress more than a little on the conservative side, thick stockings, buttoned up shirts. There was far too much holding back with Kate.

  “I like your hair like this,” he commented for her curls brushed his face.

  “It will be a disaster once the lights are on,” Kate said. “I should know better by now than to fall asleep with it wet.”

  He made no real reference to last night and it was as unexpected as it was a relief as they lay there chatting about clothes and her mother’s strict rules while she was growing up.

  “She was far more relaxed with my brothers,” Kate explained. “Just very rigid with me.”

  “In what way?”

  “In every way. I laughed too loudly, I didn’t stand up straight, I forgot to keep my knees together getting out of the car. She loathed that I got on so well with my father, she found his work boring, I found it fascinating. We used to go to auctions and if I wore jeans she’d say I was dressing like a boy. If I wore a dress she’d accuse me of showing myself off too much,” Kate said. “She still complains about what I wear even now…”