Dishonest woman

by Jessica Steele

  might as well throw the towel in here and now.

  `It's still hot,' he said, giving her hand a tug, so she had to finish crossing the brook.

  She was glad he was in a quiet mood too as they settled down to eat their picnic. What he was thinking about that he offered very little in the way of conversation, she didn't know, and didn't particularly want to. All she saw was that she had spent two weeks of seeing him every day. Had gone against her natural inclination not to go anywhere with him—though to be fair those outings had never been boring; Slade's mind was much too alert for it ever to be dull when he was around. But what outcome did she have? For all her plottings and plannings, she was still going to lose Bramcote.

  `Shall we go back?' she suggested as soon as they had finished off chicken legs, tomatoes and sandwiches, and the remains were all stuffed back in the plastic carrier.

  `Don't be in such a rush,' Slade said easily, reminding her when she didn't need to-be reminded. 'I shall be back in the hurly-burly of London tomorrow. I want to enjoy the peace and tranquility here on my last day.'

  Disgruntled, Kimberley lay down and closed her eyes. Let him get on with his peace and tranquility! she thought, put out, stifling a sigh as she wondered if she would ever know peace and tranquility again.

  `Do you always wear your hair in that style?'

  Get on with your peace and tranquility and leave me alone, she wanted to say. 'What's wrong with it?' she asked grumpily—and was further peeved when he burst out laughing.

  She opened her eyes and felt a mixture of emotions start up inside that Slade wasn't sitting staring out at the view from their hilltop vantage point, but was lying close to her propped up on one elbow, and was looking nowhere but at her. He's too close, she

  thought, wanting to get up and run.

  `You've got them on you today, haven't you?' he remarked pleasantly. Now what can I do to sweeten you up?'

  His head came nearer. He had kissed her before. She had grown accustomed to the fleeting meeting of mouths. He looked deeply into her eyes, then she saw nothing as his lips touched hers and moved away again.

  `I was going to say,' he said with a teasing smile, `that I see nothing wrong with the way you wear your hair.' He kissed her lightly again. 'It shows up your tiny delicate ears.'

  Kimberley sensed he wasn't as teasing as he was making out when the tiny delicate ears he had referred to were next to be saluted by his lips. She went to sit up, but found Slade's hand on her shoulder keeping her down.

  A feeling akin to panic tried to get started, making her want to push at him to let her free, but his head came down again as he moved off his elbow and leaned over her.

  She didn't want him to.kiss her—not like this. Her heart' was beating wildly as his kiss deepened. She closed her eyes thinking of all the things she should have done to keep Bramcote, but hadn't. Was there still time?

  Shaking inside, she made herself put her arms around him, and had to grip tightly when, as he felt what he must have thought was her response, Slade plundered her mouth, then went from there to draw her dress from her throat so his lips could take pleasure there.

  She gripped him again when his mouth claimed hers once more, her nails digging in for control as one hand slowly caressed its way to her breast. David! her mind cried, wanting to hit Slade's hand way from her as she turned her face away so he shouldn't see she was choking with a mixture of emotions at what seemed a betrayal of her love for David.

  His hand left her breast, and the sound of his voice brought her out of conflict. 'Don't you ever kiss back?' he asked gruffly.

  `I . . .' she faltered, `it's—been a long time.'

  She saw impatience in him at her answer. 'Then you have a lot of wasted time to make up for,' he said aggressively, and his mouth had captured hers again, leaving her in no doubt that he wanted her. His hands caressed her body, and conflict was in her again.

  That was until she felt his hand come under the skirt of her dress, felt him begin to caress her thigh, and then conflict flew as instinct alone had her pushing at him. She had sprung to her feet, her breath coming in short gasps as she fought for control.

  `Don't—don't do that,' she said shakily, her back to him. He too Was on his feet.

  Slade turned her so he could see into her pale face. For long unsmiling minutes they faced each other, Slade keeping hold of her, a hand on each shoulder. Tension was in the air, was all around, made even more tense when at last he said:

  `Marriage or nothing?'

  The heavens opened. Thunder rattled. But Slade didn't let go of her. And as rain battered at them, Kimberley made no movement, but just stood and stared back at him.

  Her hands clenched, her heart thudding, there was a constriction in her throat. Then, 'Yes,' she said solemnly, 'marriage or nothing '

  Slade held her eyes for three long agonising seconds, as Kimberley waited. Then his glance went to the rising and falling front of her rain-sodden dress.

  `We'd better make a run for it,' he said.

  He was bossy when they reached the house, and she didn't like it. Anti-climax, a damp squib, had her sharp with him when he told her to go upstairs, to take a hot

  bath and change her things.

  Mutinously she glared at him. 'I'll do it when you've gone,' she said, fed up with him, with everything.

  `I'll still be here when you come down;' he told her, with cool cheek, since she hadn't invited him to stay. And jibing, 'What's the matter? Afraid to be naked with me around?'

  Colour flared at his comment. It hadn't entered her head that he might pursue the intimacies begun up on that hill once they were back in the house.

  `You wouldn't . .

  `Oh, for God's sake,' he muttered. 'Get going before I start thinking of doing just that.'

  Kimberley went, locking herself in the bathroom as a precaution, even though from his last remark it was obvious that no such idea of invading her privacy had entered his head.

  She rubbed her hair as dry as she could make it, but it was still damp when with the expertness of usage she quickly flipped it into a knot at the back of her head. She felt calmer when, dressed in shirt and jeans, she went back to the kitchen where she had left Slade.

  He had dry trousers on when she went in and was just lifting his shirt out of the tumble-drier he must have fathomed out how to use.

  His chest was broad and muscular. Kimberley averted her eyes as he shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it—though she suspected his eyes had never left her, for when she looked at him again, his eyes were still on her. Unspeakingly, she stood by the door.

  `Come here, Kimberley,' he commanded, his tone cool, but with such note of authority that even while objecting to 'it, she found her feet moving towards him.

  She stopped when she was two yards away—a safe distance, she thought, if he was going to make a grab for her. But Slade didn't make a grab for her. His eyes still stayed with her, but his attitude became casual as

  he then pushed his hands into his trouser pockets.

  `So,' he said, looking at her consideringly, 'it has to be marriage, does it?'

  Kimberley's heart set up a riot that he had not forgotten the subject she had thought, up there on the hill, he had no time for.

  `Yes,' she said, striving to sound as cool as him, but her voice choked, barely audible.

  A drawn-out pause followed, where Slade continued to look at her in that speculative way. Then, his voice as casual as his attitude, he asked, 'Is it all right with you if I make the necessary arrangements?'

  It was Saturday. Kimberley awoke and lay there making no attempt to get up. The weather had turned fine again after that cloudburst last Sunday. Happy the bride that the sun shines on, she thought dully, and sat up, ousting thoughts that it should be David she should be marrying today, not Slade Darville.

  She made her mind stay with Slade. She hadn't seen him since Sunday, though he had telephoned to say all the arrangements had been made and that he would pick her up for
them to go to the register office this morning.

  His proposal with the rain bucketing down outside could in no way be compared to David's proposal that sunny day out there in the orchard. David's proposal had been so romantic, his 'Darling, I love you desperately, please say you'll marry me' just wasn't in the same field as the proposal Slade had uttered.

  She forced David out of her mind again as she recalled how she hadn't been sure at first that Slade's `Is it all right with you if I make the necessary arrangements?' had been a proposal at all.

  She had looked at him, thrown into confusion at the direct way he was looking at her, teetering on the brink of excitement that her chance to keep Bramcote might still be within her grasp.

  `Well,' he had questioned, nothing lover-like about him, 'do I arrange for you to become Mrs Slade Darville at the first opportunity or not?'

  So it was a proposal! Kimberley checked on the elation that would have her rapidly agreeing to say yes. Ought she to tell him that she didn't love him—could never love anybody again? She recalled then all the things Doreen had said about him, realised too that all this proposal was about was that Slade knew he couldn't get her any other way. He didn't want a marriage that would last either. Why mess it up with bringing talk of love into it? Slade didn't love her, she could be certain of that. There had been no word of love in his proposal.

  Her lips dry, she had moistened them. 'Yes,' she said, having no objection to raise to his 'at the first opportunity' either, since the sooner she had that marriage certificate, the sooner Bramcote would be ensured as hers.

  Slade's face had taken on a shuttered look at her confirmation that she would marry him, so she couldn't tell how he had taken her acceptance. But when he moved as though to come towards her, she had moved out of range—she had thrown herself at David when he had proposed, but Slade wasn't David.

  `I'd prefer a register office ceremony,' had come blurting from her.

  Slade halted. 'Sounds as though you've given the matter some thought,' he drawled.

  He would never know how much. 'It was only last month that my father died,' she said quietly, guilt smiting her that she was bringing him into this, even though if he hadn't made his will the way he had, she wouldn't have needed his help this way.

  `So you'd like to keep it quiet.'

  The fewer people who knew about it the better as far as she was concerned. Thank goodness Doreen was away. With luck she could be married to Slade and

  divorced from him before she came back, and no one in the village any the wiser.

  Slade had then got down to the business of jotting down the details he thought he would need, saying he would call in at the register office in Thaxly on his way to London tomorrow morning, and that she was to leave everything to him.

  He had kissed her in parting and she. hadn't backed away, knowing, since he had said he would be too busy in London to see her before Saturday, that she mustn't endanger that wedding coming off on Saturday by showing him in these last few minutes that she didn't want his kisses.

  The thought of Slade's kisses had Kimberley hurrying from her bed. She didn't dare let herself think about what was to happen that night, when Slade was under her roof. The only way this whole thing could be got through was for her to take it a step at a time. Once she was married to him, everything else would have to sort itself out. Though she was praying as hard as she could that Slade wouldn't raise too many objections when he discovered she had manoeuvred a single bed into the dressing room that adjoined hers. Common sense told her she had no chance of denying him her body—it was what he was marrying her for, wasn't it? But she wasn't going to have him in her bed all night if she could help it.

  The ringing of the phone, an unexpected call from Dr Ellis, was a welcome relief from her thoughts. 'How are you, Kimberley?' he asked. 'I would have been to see you, but I've been rushed off my feet.'

  `I feel fine,' she replied. But she wasn't sorry he was too busy to stay chatting—though she couldn't help thinking how very fortunate the Amberton people were to have such a caring man to look after them. Not many doctors, rushed as he was, would take time out to ring patients they liked to keep an eye on.

  She frowned at the thought that Dr Ellis was still

  keeping an eye on her. Then she mused that perhaps it was usual in view of her recent bereavement. Though she was glad he couldn't see the state she was in when later she went to get ready for her marriage. Dr Ellis would have discounted the 'I feel fine' she had given him after only half a look at her.

  Her hands were shaking so much she had difficulty in securing the tiny buttons down the front of the cream-coloured two-piece. The two-piece was unworn, bought because David had liked it. Kimberley pushed memory of him away. She was in this too deep now to start thinking of David, to start having second thoughts on what she was about to do.

  She was ready and with time to spare, time hanging heavily on her hands, for she couldn't very well look for something to do since she stood the risk of getting a mark on her cream silk if she pottered about. Besides, because she had needed to keep busy this week, there wasn't a room in tie house that hadn't been turned out.

  The sound of the front door bell made her jump, and she looked at the clock. Slade would be here in five minutes. She wondered about slipping on an overall to hide her wedding finery, not wanting anyone from the village to see she was dressed up obviously for something out of the ordinary.

  The bell went again, forcing her to abandon the idea. She wanted to get rid of whoever it was before Slade arrived. She went along the hall and pulled back the door. Slade had already arrived.

  expected you to come round the back!' Kimberley exclaimed, surprise at seeing him in a suit for the first time, an expensively cut suit at that, making the exclamation leave her without thought.

  `Today is special, wouldn't you say?' he asked, and was over the threshold and had taken her in his arms before she could think up a reply to that.

  He kissed her long and lingeringly. Kimberley put

  her hands on his shoulders, but more to steady herself than in supplication.

  `You're trembling,' he observed, letting go of her, `Nervous?'

  She nodded. Nervous was an understatement. Yet nothing would have her going back from what she had chosen to do. 'Do—you want a coffee or anything before we leave?' she enquired.

  `I want to marry you,' Slade said seriously, and walked to the living room with her.

  `N-no trouble in getting the day off ?' she asked, wondering if he was skipping a rehearsal as she picked up her bag and gloves.

  `I've brought some work with me,' he replied, and smiled as he looked at her and added, 'though I don't think it will get done.'

  She didn't think too much of his reply, but didn't think this was the moment to tell him she wouldn't mind at all if he spent the whole of the weekend studying the lines of his play.

  Having not thought about how they were going to get to Thaxly, but hoping, since the way she was dressed might draw attention if they went by bus, that he had thought to hire a taxi, Kimberley saw with some surprise that Slade had arrived in a very plush type of car which would certainly raise comment if it was seen in the village.

  She got inside without comment, the thought passing through her mind that he had hired it for the occasion, and she hoped he wouldn't be too much out of pocket as a consequence.

  Slade didn't start the car straight away, but reached on to the back seat and pulled forward a most lovely spray of freesias—and, having come equipped, extracted a pin from behind his lapel.

  `Do you mind a pinhole in your suit?' he asked, as the heady perfume assailed her, and as she shook her head, he attached them to her jacket with deft fingers.

  `Now you really do look as if you're going to be married,' he said.

  Kimberley did not feel married after the ceremony. She had a gold ring on the third finger of her left hand, but the ceremony had left her unmoved, save that when Slade had uttered his responses in
a firm voice she had felt the pull of tears that he wasn't David.

  But she was grateful to Slade for having married her, even though he had his own reasons for doing so, and elation came to her as they stepped into the street outside, her eyes shining, though not with unshed tears. She had done it! Bramcote was hers.

  `Happy?' Slade asked quietly, not missing her shining eyes.

  Ecstatic wouldn't have been an understatement, she thought then. 'Sublimely,' she murmured. And, in her intense gratitude to him, there in the High Street, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. She drew back too late to realise what she had done.

  `I had booked a table at the Swan for lunch,' said Slade, gripping her arm tightly. 'But if you'd rather go home . .

  He left the rest of his sentence unsaid. He didn't need to finish it as sanity returned to Kimberley and she realised just what she had triggered off.

  `I'm starving,' she said, as he had once, her elation scattering.

  It returned when he laughed at her reply. Tor food, I gather, from the expression on your face!'

  Kimberley was happy, at that meal, and it showed. She had never been overly talkative with Slade, but at that wedding lunch she chatted and laughed, entirely unaware that the girl she had been twelve months ago was coming to life, and that the man she had just married had nothing but admiration in his eyes.

  His eyes too were alight when the last drop of coffee was drunk and he took hold of her hand across the table.

  `Ready to go home now, Kim?' he enquired softly.

  `I...' Vivacity fell away. Her sudden trembling communicating itself to him, so that his eyes narrowed.

  He let go her hand, signalling to the waiter for the bill. Then he turned back to her, his voice easy. 'No rush,' he said casually, just his tone enough to calm her. 'Fancy going to the cinema?'

  Kimberley looked down at the corsage of fragrant freesias he had given her, her cream silk suit, and had to laugh. 'You're joking!' she protested.

  `You're getting to know me,' he said, and laughed too before suggesting, 'Why don't we go back to Bramcote, change out of our glad rags and . . .' he saw she had tensed, 'and go for a walk?'