Claiming His Wedding Night

by Lee Wilkinson

  A tall, nice-looking woman with soft dark hair and big brown eyes detached herself from the crowd and came to greet them, smiling from one to the other.

  ‘Jared…’ She gave him a hug. Then, holding out her hand, ‘And you must be Perdita. How nice to meet you. I’m so glad you could come.

  ‘I’m Estelle…’ Patting her sizable bulge, she added, ‘And this is Don Junior. An active lad who will almost certainly grow up to be a footballer.’

  As Perdita smiled, Don came over to hand them each a glass of white wine and add his greetings to those of his wife.

  ‘By the way,’ he went on, turning to Jared, ‘Greg’s here. He was just telling me about a new grape variety he’s thinking of planting…’

  As the two men fell into conversation, with a fondly exasperated glance at her husband, Estelle said to Perdita, ‘Don never talks about anything but wine if there’s anyone there willing to listen.’

  Then, linking her arm through Perdita’s, ‘Come and say hello to some of our mutual neighbours.’

  For a while they moved from group to group, meeting people and chatting. Everyone was pleasant and friendly, and curious.

  Understandably so, as almost everyone seemed to have assumed that Jared was a bachelor. Now to find he had a wife, and a wife with an English accent, caused a minor sensation.

  Most of the women asked, ‘Have you been married very long?’

  Most of the men, ‘Where has Jared been hiding you?’

  Having had no guidance from Jared, and with no idea how to answer their questions, Perdita said vaguely that they had been married for quite a while, adding that she had been living and working in London.

  When she failed to elaborate, it was plain that a few of them would have liked to have questioned her further, but good manners prevailed and the talk moved on to a variety of other things.

  She was discussing Valley life with Joanie and Howard who, she soon discovered, lived next door to Wolf Rock, when Estelle excused herself and went to find Don and chivy him into replenishing the dwindling stock of chilled white wine.

  After a while the conversation was interrupted by a man in a chef’s hat calling, ‘Food’s up, folks…Come and grab a plate while it’s hot.’

  With cheerful efficiency, Perdita’s glass was refilled and she was handed a plate containing a variety of barbecued meat and salad and some cutlery rolled in a napkin.

  Moving out of the crowd, she sat down at a small umbrella-shaded table a little apart from the rest.

  There had been no sign of Jared since they had left him talking to Don, but now she noticed him sitting on a swing-seat with a predatory-looking blonde.

  The woman, who must have been in her late twenties or early thirties, was undeniably beautiful beneath the heavy make-up.

  She was wearing a skimpy top and the briefest of shorts that would have looked more in keeping on a teenager, and was leaning towards Jared, all fluttering eyelashes and pliant golden curves.

  Her breast was pressed against his upper arm and one hand was spread, open-fingered, across his shirt front. When she said something, obviously teasing, his white smile flashed in response.

  ‘May I join you?’ Estelle appeared by Perdita’s side, plate in hand.

  ‘Of course.’ Looking up at the other woman, Perdita managed a smile.

  As Estelle began to tuck into a large steak, Perdita’s eyes were drawn once more to the pair on the swing-seat. As she watched, the blonde’s red-tipped fingers unfastened a couple of buttons and slipped inside Jared’s shirt.

  He caught her hand and withdrew it but, instead of just letting it go, he held it.

  Watching those glistening red lips pouting at him seductively, Perdita felt a fierce pang of jealousy and anger. How could he bring her here and then leave her to her own devices while he flirted openly with another woman?

  ‘I can tell what you’re thinking,’ Estelle remarked suddenly. ‘But don’t let Marcia’s antics bother you. Even though she’s got a perfectly good husband of her own, she’s never been able to resist trying her wiles on every man who comes within range.

  ‘Since she reached the ripe old age of thirty, she’s been even worse. It’s as if she’s terrified of losing her sex appeal.’

  Receiving no immediate response, Estelle went on, ‘You can see it’s not Jared’s fault. He’s doing absolutely nothing to encourage her.’

  ‘Unless you count holding her hand,’ Perdita said tightly.

  Estelle shook her head. ‘If you look more closely, I think you’ll find that she’s holding his hand. All Jared’s doing is trying, as gracefully as possible, to fend her off.’

  When Perdita turned bleak eyes on her, the other woman went on gently, ‘I can see you’re head over heels in love with him and, believe me, I know only too well what it’s like to be jealous.

  ‘When Don and I were first married, if he so much as looked at another woman I used to fly into a jealous rage. He wanted me to trust him, but somehow, even though he swore he loved me, I couldn’t. That lack of trust and my unreasonable jealousy almost broke up our marriage. It’s only by the grace of God that I woke up in time and realized that if I didn’t change, I’d lose him…’

  As Perdita listened, she glanced at the swing-seat once more. Jared had vanished and the blonde was sitting there alone, nursing an untouched plate of food and looking disconsolate.

  ‘Now our marriage is as firm as a rock,’ Estelle went on. ‘I trust him implicitly and I make sure he knows it…’

  ‘But, in your case, I’m sure Don’s worthy of your trust. Not all men are.’

  ‘That’s quite true.’

  ‘So is there any way to tell the difference?’

  ‘I think so. If you can put jealousy to one side and start to think clearly about what kind of man you’ve got, you’ll soon know.

  ‘Is he basically a one woman man? Is he willing to be faithful? Is he capable of being faithful? Has he enough moral fibre? Enough self-control?

  ‘If the answer to those questions is yes, he should be worthy of any woman’s trust.’

  Then, a shade hesitantly, ‘I don’t know what’s wrong between you and Jared, and I don’t want to know. But I’ll tell you one thing—though I’ve seen plenty of women vying for his attention, I’ve never seen him show the slightest interest in any of them.

  ‘So much so that if he hadn’t been quite obviously straight I might well have thought—’ She stopped speaking abruptly.

  Then, after a moment, sounding embarrassed, uncomfortable, she said, ‘I’m sorry. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut. I can only apologize if I’ve offended you by sticking my nose into your affairs.

  ‘But I very much hope that you and I can be friends. I like and respect Jared, so when I see two nice people who obviously love each other having problems, it seems a shame to—’

  Coming to life, Perdita broke in quickly, ‘You haven’t offended me. In fact I’m really grateful for such plain speaking.’

  Then, feeling a sudden urge to confide in this friendly, sensible woman, she admitted, ‘And you’re quite right about me being jealous. I never could help it. So many women seemed to find Jared irresistible that he could have had his pick—’

  ‘Presumably he did. He picked you.’

  ‘And that should have been enough?’

  ‘It wasn’t?’

  ‘At first it was, but I suppose I’ve always been afraid that I wasn’t beautiful enough, clever enough or interesting enough to hold him.’

  ‘But when it’s obvious how much he loves you…’

  ‘The truth is, he doesn’t love me,’ Perdita told her flatly.

  ‘You’re joking, of course!’ Estelle exclaimed. ‘Earlier, while you were talking to Joanie and Howie, I was watching him watching you and I’d stake my life that he’s mad about you.’

  Just as she finished speaking, Don called, ‘Estelle, can you spare a minute? I can’t find the cheesecakes you were talking about earlier.’

  �
��They’re in the fridge,’ she answered. Then, rising to her feet, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve finished eating. I’ll come and get them.’

  Edging round the table, she said to Perdita, ‘Men! Bless their little hearts. As far as they’re concerned, fridges are only used to keep wine and beer cold.’ Patting her bulge fondly, she added, ‘I expect this one will be just the same.’

  Estelle had been right about one thing at least, Perdita thought as she watched the other woman walk away. She did love Jared. Though, until then, she had refused to acknowledge it, even to herself, she had never stopped loving him.

  Was it remotely possible that, in spite of his denial, he still loved her?

  She felt a faint stirring of hope.

  If by any chance he did, and that love had survived all her mistrust and jealousy, then it must have been strong and enduring indeed.

  But if he had loved her like that, surely he wouldn’t have taken another woman to bed on what should have been their wedding night?

  Yet she had seen it with her own eyes.

  So how could she believe he loved her? How could she trust him?

  Common sense told her she couldn’t.

  But what if, in this case, common sense was wrong?

  She was still turning it over in her mind when Jared appeared and strolled towards her.

  Taking a seat opposite, he said, ‘I’m sorry if I appeared to abandon you but I was…held up.’

  ‘I noticed,’ she said tartly, then bit her lip in vexation. Why on earth had she admitted that she had been watching him?

  His dark head tilted a little to one side, he studied her before saying mockingly, ‘Anyone would think you were jealous.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she assured him coolly.

  ‘I take it you’ve been meeting people?’

  ‘Yes, but it was a bit awkward.’

  He raised a dark brow. ‘They weren’t friendly?’

  ‘Extremely friendly. They were also curious as to how long we’d been married and where I’d suddenly sprung from.’

  ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘That we’d been married for some time, but that I’d been living and working in England.’

  ‘Very diplomatic.’

  Glancing at her barely touched plate, he went on, ‘When you’ve finished eating, I thought we might make a move.’

  ‘I really don’t want any more. Have you…?’

  He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t hungry either.’

  Taking a deep breath, she asked, ‘Jared, do we have to go to Las Vegas?’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s high time this whole thing was brought out into the open before it’s buried once and for all.’

  Rising, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Then, still hand in hand, they went to say their thanks and goodbyes to Estelle and Don.

  ‘Going so soon?’ Don asked.

  ‘We’re off to Vegas for a couple of days,’ Jared said lightly.

  Noting their clasped hands, Estelle smiled. ‘Well, Don Junior’s piggy bank is empty and he still needs a baby buggy. So, if you happen to play roulette, put ten dollars on zero for me.’

  ‘Why zero?’ Perdita asked.

  ‘When Don and I first got together we had a cat we called Zero, and he brought us luck.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE journey was a long one and, while they travelled, Perdita found herself going over and over in her mind what Estelle had said.

  ‘If you can put jealousy to one side and start to think clearly about what kind of man you’ve got, you’ll soon know.

  ‘Is he basically a one woman man? Is he willing to be faithful? Is he capable of being faithful? Has he enough moral fibre? Enough self-control?”

  Everything she had ever learned about Jared made her answer yes to all those questions.

  So why had she doubted him? Admittedly, what she’d seen had looked pretty damning, but why hadn’t she at least listened to him?

  Thinking back, she remembered how he’d said, “There might be another explanation, rather than the obvious?”

  In truth, it had all seemed so cut and dried that she hadn’t. But suppose there was? Suppose her own jealousy had prevented her looking for it?

  For the first time real doubts began to take root and grow with staggering rapidity.

  During the early part of their relationship she had been naive and inexperienced and madly in love with him. Had he wanted to, he could have seduced her with ease, and he must have been well aware of that.

  But he hadn’t. He had shown endless patience. She had been the one to make the first move.

  And when he had told her that he’d been celibate since she had left him, she had believed him implicitly.

  So why, in those circumstances, would a man who could exert such amazing self-control stoop to entertaining another woman on his wedding night?

  Looked at in that light, it didn’t make sense.

  Those new, revolutionary thoughts were still going through her mind when they crossed the State border into Nevada.

  By the time they approached Las Vegas, night had descended with the suddenness it always did in desert regions.

  Though on this occasion Perdita knew what to expect, she still caught her breath at the first sight of the brilliant, many-faceted cluster of lights that lay in the surrounding blackness like a bejewelled brooch.

  Jared had been quiet and withdrawn during the latter part of the journey, as if he were thinking something serious through. Now, a strange note in his voice, he asked, ‘Still think it’s romantic?’

  Unsure of his mood, or exactly what he was getting at, she decided to play safe. ‘I think it’s still got the Wow! factor.’

  ‘Nicely put,’ he commented a shade mockingly, before falling silent again.

  As they drove into Las Vegas itself, she asked, ‘Where exactly are we staying?’

  ‘I’ll give you one guess.’

  Of course. She’d been a fool to ask.

  Wondering exactly what he had in mind, she queried, ‘Did you manage to get the same suite?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I did.’

  Feeling uneasy, she asked no further questions, but while Jared picked his way through the brightly lit streets she watched his face.

  He appeared to be still mulling something over, something grave and important, judging by his sombre expression.

  Only when they reached the Imperial Palace did he snap out of it, his earlier look of troubled irresolution gone. Now he looked stern and resolved, like a man who had made a bleak but necessary decision.

  Leaving the car in the underground parking lot, they went through to the lobby to check in.

  The man at the reception desk greeted Jared cheerfully. ‘Nice to see you again, Mr Dangerfield.’

  ‘Nice to see you, Patrick. How are things?’

  ‘Sure they’re not bad at all.’ Then, with a glance at Perdita, ‘You’re not here alone this time.’

  ‘No, I thought I’d bring my wife.’

  Patrick beamed at them both. ‘Good to have you here, Mrs Dangerfield. I hope you enjoy your visit.’

  Perdita thanked him and returned his smile.

  Checking in completed, they took the lift up to the seventh floor, one of the bell hops following with their small amount of luggage.

  When Jared opened the door to suite 704, Perdita forced her reluctant legs to carry her inside.

  The decor appeared to be unchanged and a glimpse of the bed, with its pink sheets and pink-frilled pillowcases, brought back all the memories she’d been trying for three years to leave behind.

  But, as she faced them squarely with her new-found knowledge of herself and Jared, they became relatively unimportant, no longer able to hurt.

  When the bell hop had departed, pocketing a generous tip, Jared said, ‘We’ve a table booked for dinner, but I thought perhaps we might pay a visit to the casino first?’

  Perdita was no particular fan of gambling but, still uns
ure how to say what she now knew she wanted to say, she answered, ‘Yes, that would be nice.’

  ‘Then if you’d like to go ahead and get changed, I’ve a phone call to make.’

  When she had freshened up in the pink-tiled bathroom, she swirled her hair into an elegant chignon and made-up lightly, before putting on her cocktail dress and sandals. A touch of perfume and a pair of glittering drop earrings fastened to her small lobes added the finishing touch.

  She had just finished when Jared appeared and, with barely a glance, disappeared into the bathroom.

  Only too conscious of the fact that he seemed to be deliberately avoiding her, she went through to the sitting room with a heavy heart.

  As soon as he returned, freshly shaved and looking coolly elegant in a well-cut dinner jacket and black tie, they made their way down to the casino.

  At the entrance desk, Jared paused to exchange a wad of dollars for a pile of fat pink plastic one hundred dollar chips.

  Left to her own devices for a moment, Perdita glanced around. The big room with its brightly lit tables, each manned by a croupier, was windowless and, suspended in a kind of timeless oblivion, it could easily have been any hour of the day or night.

  Glamorous hostesses, distinguished by black dresses and small rhinestone tiaras, took care of any single male guests, while long-legged waitresses, seemingly clad in little but pink feathers, went to and fro carrying trays of drinks and snacks.

  Most of the people there were wearing evening dress and an unmistakable aura of affluence. The air was full of the smell of wine and expensive perfume and noisy with the popping of champagne corks, the calls of the croupiers and the rattle of roulette wheels.

  Returning to her side, Jared asked, ‘What do you fancy playing?’

  ‘I…I don’t really know…Nothing too complicated. I’ve never played before.’

  ‘Then I suggest you try your hand at roulette.’ He steered her to the nearest table with an empty chair and, having settled her into her seat, put the pile of chips in front of her.

  The croupier, who wore a badge inscribed ‘Marylou’, smiled at them and said a nasal, ‘Welcome.’

  No one else at the table looked up, but almost immediately a waitress appeared by their side and asked, ‘What can I get you?’