The pressure about her shoulders increased. 'Yes,' she said, not sure if it was pride that said no one was to know the true state of affairs, or if it was because since she had married him he commanded her loyalty in public.
`So you see, Dr Ellis, you have no call to call my wife an idiot. And stupid though she may appear in your eyes for having married me I'm afraid I can't agree with your diagnosis.'
And " while Kimberley's mind was boggling that Slade appeared to be taking Dr Ellis severely to task, dropping traces of all but the barest civility, he then sent her anger soaring—anger she was powerless to
release, having let the doctor believe she loved her husband, as he went on to tell him:
`From now on I will accept full responsibility for my wife's health. You will kindly oblige me by removing her name from your list of patients.'
For several blank seconds Colin Ellis looked at him as if he suspected his hearing was faulty. Then, recovering, he turned from Slade, and manfully standing his ground asked:
`Is this what you want, Kimberley?'
That hard pressure about her shoulders came again. `I . . .' she began. The pressure on her shoulders didn't let up. 'Yes,' she said, and felt dreadful at the hurt look on the doctor's face. She wanted to say such a lot more. Dr Ellis had been marvellous with her father. 'I'm...' she had been going to say 'sorry', but that bruising weight across her shoulders increased again.
But she didn't have to endure it for very long. Slade waited only to see the doctor marching off down the garden path, then he took his arm away.
Which was just as well, because Kimberley had never been so angry in her life, and felt she would have severely injured him somewhere had he insisted on keeping hold of her. As it was, free to move about as she was, she didn't let a moment- pass before she was rounding on him.
`Who the hell do you think you are?' she yelled.
`Don't you know, darling?' he replied, not a scrap put out, seeming if anything to enjoy seeing the sparks that were flashing from her in her fury. 'I'm your husband.' And she had been thinking it would be unfair to ditch him if he was still around in February!
`And you think that gives you the right to...' she started to blaze.
`It gives me every right,' he interrupted her sharply, which she didn't care for any more than she cared for the implication behind his words. But he hadn't finished yet, and her, anger gave way to utter astonish-
ment when he added, 'And if your doctor friend ever dares to come sniffing around here again, I shall immediately take steps to have him struck off.'
`Struck off ?' She was gaping, trying to keep up with him, growing offended at his choice of words. 'What do you mean "sniffing around"?' she challenged disagreeably. 'You know Dr Ellis is . .
`For an intelligent woman, Kimberley,' said Slade, cutting her off again, 'there are times when you show a distinct lack of brain power.'
`Thanks very much,' she said tartly, that being all she had time for.
`It was clear to me from the moment I saw the way he looked at you,' Slade carried on, stepping over her sharp 'thank you'.
`What was?' She wouldn't stay down. 'What are you talking about?'
He eyed her levelly, causing her to wonder what it was he knew that she didn't. Then suddenly, her bewilderment there in her face to be seen, Slade's aggression left him.
`You had no idea, had you,' he said, 'that he's in love with you?'
Her eyes widened, then scornfully she laughed. `Don't be ridiculous! I've known him over a year and . . . He was marvellous with my father, called every day and never . .
`Which all adds up,' Slade chopped her off again. Then, leaning indolently against the kitchen sink, `Didn't it ever occur to you, sweet Kimberley, that it was more than a trifle odd for your father to make the will he did?'
`Odd?' she frowned. She knew full well why her father had left the will he had. She had explained to Slade all about it. 'Odd in what way?' she asked, puzzled.
`You loved your father,' Slade stated gently, 'which is probably why you never thought to question any-
I
thing about his last bequest. But I never had the pleasure of knowing the man who reared you.' He was talking to her kindly, cooling any anger she had felt with him. 'It hit me straight away as peculiar to say the least that a man who loved his daughter the way I believe he loved you should make that stipulation about you being married before you could inherit the home you care so deeply for. Particularly,' he added, his tone not changing when she looked ready to have a go at him if he was daring to criticise her father, 'when neither during his illness nor at the time of his death were you so much as dating anyone, let alone being near to becoming engaged.'
Her brow puckered as his last words sank in. What was he implying? She coupled what he had just said with his remarks about Dr Ellis being in love with her—and just couldn't believe it.
`You mean he thought . . .' she began incredulously, `the doctor . . .?'
`Precisely. Your father knew he was going to die. And I'm confident he must have revealed his worries about your future to the man who came to the house every day. Whereupon the doctor told him he had no need to worry, that he would marry you and take care of you.'
`No,' said Kimberley, shaking her head, not crediting a word of it. That was until Slade said:
`Your father believed you when you said you would never marry, and knew there was one way to force your hand.'
All but collapsing at his summing up of the few facts she had given him, Kimberley reached to the nearest kitchen chair. She was aware that Slade had taken a seat near her, but was groping to find a flaw in what looked like a watertight case.
`But—' she raised her head to see him carefully watching her every action. 'But,' came slowly from her, `I would never have married the doctor—I like him too much.'
I I
`Thanks for nothing,' said Slade with sarcastic charm.
`Oh, you know what I mean!'
`Tell me.'
She knew Slade didn't have any feelings for her but that sexual need to possess her, but suddenly that sensitivity in her knew hesitation in case she touched a nerve. Though why that should bother her, particularly when he had been such a bossy brute, was beyond her.
`Well—with you,' she began, and hesitated, 'er—I don't mean to be unkind,' she said quickly, 'but I don't know you—haven't known you all that long. A divorce wouldn't affect either of us emotionally, would it? Whereas, having known the doctor longer, and . . . and if as you say he is—in love with me, though I'm sure you're mistaken there,' she looked away as she added, `well, I just couldn't divorce him, could I? I'd—I'd be ..
`Stuck with him?' Slade finished for her.
She nodded, unable to look at him again. She knew she hadn't offended him, he knew the score as well as she did. But she had rather revealed too much of her hand. She wouldn't have been surprised to hear some stinging comment on her selfishness— he wouldn't have missed the intimation of what was in her mind come February. But it wasn't he who got mad, but she, when eventually his reply came.
`And what makes you think, dear Kimberley, that you aren't stuck with me?' he enquired blandly.
You know the answer to that as well as I do!' she snapped as her sparking hazel eyes flew to his cool dark blue ones.
She didn't like it that he was making her feel selfish, when with his track record he would soon get tired of waiting around anyway. Determinedly she turned her mind away from herself and Slade and any guesswork
as to how long the marriage might last.
`Anyway,' she challenged, 'what did you mean about having Dr Ellis struck off—you can't dictate like that, as bossy as you are!'
He ignored her opinion on his bossy nature and sent her an insincere smile instead. 'Couldn't I?' he queried softly. 'Not even if the medical bodies got to hear he had amorous intentions towards one of his patients?'
But he's never laid a finger on me that way!' she protested, gasping anew. Then her eyes gave her
away as she remembered that day of her father's funeral, the day Dr Ellis had put an arm round her and touched her cheek with his mouth.
`Are you sure about that?' Slade asked, his voice hardening.
`He kissed my cheek on the day of my father's funeral,' she muttered, too dazed at the thought that Slade could be right in his summing up to think of lying.
Dr Ellis had asked her to call him by his first name too, she recalled. He had made a point of asking her if she was going to Doreen Gilbert's party, said he would look forward to seeing her. Would he, if that stomach bug hadn't kept him busy night and day, have followed it up from there? Had he given her a couple of weeks to get over the initial sorrow of her father's death before...
Wide-eyed, she looked at Slade. 'It wasn't a kiss really,' she said, trying to deny that he was right, `more a . .
`Get the picture?' he asked, his voice mocking. 'The warm-up procedure.' And, his voice taking on a sarcastic edge, 'Beginning to regret you made a grab for the first likely-looking candidate you saw?'
His sarcasm brought her out of her stupor. 'Don't tempt me,' she said. Then, truthfully, 'Anyway, I've already told you I wouldn't have married him—even if what you've said is true.'
`Because you think he would have proved more
I
difficult to get rid of than me?' She didn't answer. `Lady,' said Slade, 'as you remarked a few minutes ago—you just don't know me.' And on the same breath, `What are you going to get me for my lunch?'
`How does an arsenic sandwich appeal?' she asked sweetly.
His roar of laughter followed her as she exited from the kitchen, his, 'I'm afraid, my darling, you're going to have to keep me alive. That will stipulated you should be married, not widowed,' ringing in her ears.
The short burst of temper that had had her storming away from his baiting tongue fled, as up the stairs and on the landing, she saw another leak had appeared.
She went downstairs for another bowl, glad to see Slade was out at the car bringing the groceries in, sparing her the need of another of his not so pleasant remarks about the house falling down. The bowl securely in place, she went disconsolately to her bedroom, found pencil and paper, and scratched her head to try to come up with some agreeable figures.
She was still there three-quarters of an hour later, a despondent look in her eyes, when Slade came into the room. If he had-come up demanding his lunch then he could take a run, she thought, more pressing matters on her mind.
He observed the pencil and paper still in her hand as he came over to where she was sitting, casually enquiring:
`What are you doing?'
`Your stomach will have to wait,' she said shortly. Then thinking he might know as he looked over her shoulder at her jottings, 'How much do you think a roof repair would cost?'
'More than you've got there, by the look of it,' he said, his cheerful tones grating in her ears. Then, bossing her about again, 'Come and have your lunch. I don't see why mine should go cold as well as yours.'
CHAPTER SIX
HAD she not had the worry of the leaking roof on her mind, Kimberley might well have enjoyed the meal Slade had prepared. Although the mashed potatoes were a touch on the lumpy side, the peas and chops were cooked just right. And he needn't have bothered at all, she thought, her coldness with him vanishing as he ignored her protest that she could do the washing up, and came to give her a hand.
`That the lot?' he asked, looking ready to dump the tea towel.
Kimberley nodded, looking out of the window at the rain that had now fined down to a drizzle so he should not see the smile that wanted to show itself that he found drying up a chore he could do without. But her head swung round in surprise when she heard him suggest:
`Let's take a walk.'
`It's raining!' she protested, not sure he was serious. His smile was full of charm. 'So wear your wellies,' he said.
Mad—he was quite mad, she thought some ten minutes later when up to her ankles in mud, glad of her wellington boots, Slade in gumboots, they squelched over the rain-sodden paths.
And she must be mad too, she thought, for, suddenly she was enjoying it. Though what she looked like in her stout raincoat and headscarf, she didn't like to think. Slade was bareheaded, seeming not to mind at all that his head was getting soaked, his sturdy trench coat protecting his broad shoulders from the unrelenting drizzle.
And it was outside, Bramcote getting farther and
farther away, that Kimberley found she was talking to Slade more naturally then she had at any other time. There was no need to pretend with him any more, she realised as they squelched on and he helped her over a stile. Slade knew why she had married him, knew everything there was to know about her. What was there to pretend about?
She pointed out places where she used to play as a child, laughing as she recalled and showed him just *here in the shallow stream she had fallen one day, and recounted how she had run home waterlogged.
`My friends from those days are scattered all over the world now,' she told him, 'but we still keep in touch by mail.'
Was Bennet a local lad?' he enquired easily.
`He—came from the next village,' she said stiffly, her pleasure in the afternoon gone. She wished he hadn't reminded her of David. She hadn't thought about him at all that day.
Slade stopped, and so did she. He put a' damp hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. 'Keep your memories if they're precious,' he said quietly, with understanding she hadn't expected of him, 'but don't let them live with you so that the rest of your life becomes spoilt.'
Solemnly she stared at him. Then suddenly his mouth was curving upwards, and he was telling her, `Your husband wants a cup of tea, woman.'
They were both quiet on the way back, and by the time they reached Bramcote, Kimberley was on the way to forgiving him for bringing up David's name. Slade had given her food for thought too. She would never forget David and those memories that were hers, but had the time come when she should get down to thinking what she should do with the rest of her life? It had seemed too much of an effort at one time to do more than cope with more than getting through one day at a time, but .. .
m
Slade opening the garden gate had her aware they had reached home without her knowing it. She remembered he had mooted a cup of tea, and went to put the kettle to boil while she got out of her wet things.
'I'll see to that. You go and get into a hot bath,' Slade said behind her. 'And don't forget to dry yourself well.'
His ordering her about on top of his directing her thoughts away from David, got through to her. And Slade Darville was just too much.
`You go and get into a hot bath—and stop bossing me around!' she snapped, her eyes sending daggers at him as she thumped the kettle down and turned to face him.
`What have I done?' he breathed.
And the next moment he was right up to her, had taken her into his arms, looked down at her damp and glowing face for endless moments. Then very gently he removed her sodden headscarf, that hand still gentle as he brushed strands of hair back from her face. Then the next she knew he had pulled her until she was up against him, making no attempt to kiss her as he held her, her head to his chest, his hand keeping it there.
`Take it easy,' she heard him say softly.
Why she should relax against him Kimberley hadn't a clue. But a sigh escaped her as she realised she flew off the deep end so much just lately, it was as if she was trying to make up for all those months when nothing had touched her, moved her.
Slade's hand came to the small of her back, but, afterwards not quite believing it, Kimberley didn't panic. He moved his hand away, not commenting that she hadn't pushed at him, but drew back to show her his hand was wet from contact with her wet raincoat.
Dark eyes looked deeply into her submissive hazel ones. 'You wouldn't like me to have your pneumonia on my conscience, would you?' he asked softly. Like a
lamb Kimberley went up to run a hot bath.
W
hat had happened to her down there? she wondered, having come to life in her tub. She shook her head as though to clear it. Slade could be nice sometimes. But that didn't mean she didn't have to be wary of him:
She opened the small drawer in her dressing table, to find a fresh hanky. The bottle of tablets she had returned there when tidying up looked back at her, and she picked it up. Dared she get rid of them? Was she so dependent on a bottle of tablets that she needed them there for insurance?
The bedroom door opening had her head jerking to it before she had come to any conclusion. Slade came in, like herself changed into dry clothes; he had most likely been in and out of the dressing room while she had been in the bath, she thought. Only the dampness of his hair, a shade darker than fair, reminded her of that walk in the rain.
She saw his glance go to the bottle in her hand, saw his mouth tighten as unspeaking he came within a few feet of her, and she knew then from the harsh look in his face what he was thinking.. He was thinking, she was sure of it, that the moment downstairs when he had pulled her to rest in his arms had had her needing something to quieten her nerves. And the trouble was, if she didn't want to invite more of the same, only with a more lover-like tendency, then she couldn't tell him he was wrong.
Without saying a word, he gave her one more look, then disappeared into the bathroom to return carrying a glass of water which, still unspeaking, he handed to her.
Kimberley put the glass down on the dressing table and found her voice. 'I wasn't going to take one,' she said, and, niggled that from his sceptical look she could see he didn't believe her, 'I was going to throw them away,' she said, not sure herself if it was the truth or
not. That sceptical look was still there. She went farther. 'I haven't taken any since . . .' she began, and stopped.
`Since that night I upset your—equilibrium?' he queried, and made her wish she had dropped them back in the drawer and slammed it shut when he had come in, when he drawled, 'You don't think you might be taking a risk by throwing all of them away?'
For a moment she wasn't with him And then it hit her that he was hinting she might need to keep one by her in case the same thing, his endeavour to consummate their marriage, happened again. She tensed, choking rather than swallow and let him see how easily he could flatten her.
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