The Determined Husband

by Lee Wilkinson

  There would be no need for any kind of commitment, no emotional hang-ups. Cheryl would neither ask for, nor expect, more than he was prepared to give…

  ‘Are you all right?’ Martin sounded concerned.

  She drew a shuddering breath and said as levelly as possible, ‘Yes, thank you. I just turned a bit light-headed. It’s probably the wine. I’m not used to drinking, especially at lunch-time.’

  ‘You look very pale.’

  ‘I’m fine now.’

  ‘Then, I’ll take you home.’

  Lacking the spirit to argue, she got to her feet and, praying that her legs would support her, made for the exit.

  Right on cue, the silver-grey limousine drew up outside and Carlson jumped out to open the door.

  ‘Have you any plans for the weekend?’ Martin asked as he got in beside her.

  ‘No,’ she said baldly.

  His pale blue eyes, with their sandy lashes, on her face, he suggested, ‘How would you like to come with me to Long Island? I have a house at the Hamptons. The forecast is for a good weekend, so we could make full use of the beach, or laze by the pool if you’d prefer it?’

  Seeing her stiffen, he said, ‘No, I’m not proposing a spot of lust in the sun. I’m simply inviting you to join a weekend house party at Pine Cove. Cheryl has cried off, so there’ll be a woman short…’

  Social gatherings weren’t her thing at the best of times… And how could she bear to join a house party, feeling as though she was bleeding to death inside?

  ‘You won’t even need to speak to me if you don’t want to,’ Martin added humorously. ‘There’ll be another four or five couples, all young and all good company…’

  That would simply be turning the screw. Seeing other couples happy together would make it almost impossible to hide all her own pain and misery…

  Watching her face and seeing she was about to refuse, he pressed, ‘Why not give it a whirl? You have no plans for the weekend, so what have you got to lose?’

  What had she got to lose?

  Put like that, the answer was, absolutely nothing.

  She could imagine little pleasure in going, but wouldn’t the alternative be even worse? If she didn’t go she would end up sitting alone, picturing Keir in the arms of another woman.

  It would be torture.

  Making up her mind in a rush, she said, ‘Thank you. I’d like to come.’

  Though it was swiftly hidden, she saw the flare of excitement and triumph that blazed across Martin’s face.

  ‘Good! Then we’ll stop off at your apartment so you can pick up whatever you need. If you don’t bother to get changed, how long will it take you to pack?’

  ‘Just a few minutes.’ Her answer was reluctant.

  ‘Then we can be on the Long Island Expressway before the traffic builds up…’

  Now she had committed herself, with Martin’s look of elation fresh in her mind, Sera was having second thoughts. Already aware that he was interested in her, she should have had the sense to refuse his invitation.

  She would have preferred to retain a purely businesslike relationship, to regard Martin Rothwell simply as her boss.

  Her private life had just disintegrated around her, and the last thing she wanted was for her working life to be complicated by his unwanted interest.

  Sighing inwardly, she decided that, over the weekend, if he showed any signs of getting too friendly, she would have to make it quite plain that she had no intention of indulging in an affair, or a fling, or whatever he had in mind.

  In the event, Sera couldn’t fault his behaviour. He made no attempt to get her alone or pressure her in any way, but treated her with the same kind of cheerful bonhomie that he treated his other guests.

  All the other couples proved to be friendly and, as Martin had said, good company. If Sera hadn’t felt so desolate, the weekend would have been enjoyable.

  As it was, she prayed for Sunday evening to come so she could be alone and lick her wounds in private.

  Good weather encouraging them to linger by the pool, they made a late start back. The traffic was heavy and it was getting on for ten o’clock when they drew up outside the Brownstone.

  As the chauffeur produced her small weekend case, Sera glanced up at Keir’s unlit window. It appeared he wasn’t yet home.

  Martin got out with her, but this time, to her relief, he made no move to accompany her inside.

  When, standing on the sidewalk, she thanked him for a pleasant weekend, he took her proffered hand and said, ‘The pleasure was all mine.’

  Then, before she could guess his intention, he stooped and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Sera. Sleep well.’

  A moment later the silver-grey limousine was drawing away.

  It seemed as though she’d misread his intentions after all, she thought as she climbed the stairs. His behaviour throughout the weekend had been that of a genial host. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Admittedly he’d kissed her cheek, but it had been a mere peck, and he’d kissed his other female guests in exactly the same way…

  The light on the top of the landing was dim and, head down and fumbling in her bag for her key, she had almost reached her door before she noticed the figure leaning against it.

  Straightening up, Keir demanded, ‘Where on earth have you been? I was becoming seriously concerned.’

  Sera gave a gasp and her nerveless fingers dropped the key.

  Stooping to pick it up, Keir unlocked the door and, when she went inside, followed her.

  ‘I didn’t think you were home,’ she said weakly. ‘There was no light on.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I was home.’ Though he didn’t raise his voice, she could see by the white line around his mouth that he was controlling his anger only with an effort.

  Feeling a sudden wild hope that she might have been mistaken about Cheryl, Sera asked, ‘Have you been home all weekend?’

  ‘No, I’ve been away on business.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The Catskills.’

  So she hadn’t been mistaken. And how could he be deceitful enough to call it business?

  Watching her drop her weekend case on the bed, his dark blue eyes as cold as the Arctic Ocean, Keir pointed out tersely, ‘You haven’t answered my question. Where have you been? And, before you decide to lie, let me mention that I just saw you getting out of Rothwell’s car.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of lying,’ she cried furiously. ‘But where I’ve been has absolutely nothing to do with you.’

  Taking her shoulders, he demanded, ‘Tell me, Sera.’

  ‘Very well.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’ve spent the weekend at Martin’s house on Long Island.’

  His white teeth snapped together. ‘Do you know what kind of reputation Rothwell has where women are concerned?’

  ‘I don’t care what kind of reputation he has.’

  Keir’s fingers tightened and he shook her a little. ‘Sera, don’t be a fool. He’s a dangerous man. You’re a damn sight too young and innocent to—’

  Twisting free, she pointed out jerkily, ‘I might be young, but I’m no longer quite so innocent,’ and watched a dark flush appear along his hard cheekbones.

  ‘In any case,’ she went on hardily, ‘there were ten other guests present and Martin behaved like a perfect gentleman.’

  ‘I saw him kiss you.’

  ‘He kissed all his female guests like that.’

  With dangerous quietness, Keir enquired, ‘And did he buy clothes for them all? Or are you going to try and tell me you can suddenly afford designer labels?’

  ‘No, I can’t afford designer labels.’

  ‘So what did you have to do to earn that little number?’

  Her hand swung up and gave his tanned cheek a stinging slap.

  He caught her wrist and said trenchantly, ‘Don’t ever do that again.’

  ‘Then, don’t insult me. If I had decided to sleep with him I wouldn’t expect to be paid for it.’


  ‘Have you slept with him, Sera?’ Keir demanded. Then urgently he said, ‘For God’s sake tell me you haven’t.’

  ‘Have you slept with Cheryl?’

  Curtly, he said, ‘I don’t see what that has to do with it.’

  The old double standards, she thought bitterly. ‘And I don’t see what business it is of yours who I’ve slept with.’

  He took both her hands in his and urged, ‘Please, Sera, listen to me. I thought we had an understanding—’

  Breaking off abruptly, he took a sharp breath. ‘I see you’ve decided not to risk it.’

  Too agitated to realize what he meant, she asked, ‘Risk what?’

  ‘Your finger turning green. They say Rothwell’s not un-generous so, if you play your cards right, you should be able to get a diamond as big as a brick out of him.’

  Dropping her hands, he swung on his heel. A second later the latch clicked quietly, but decisively, behind him.

  Feeling sick and empty, Sera stood quite still, staring blindly at the chipped brown paint on the door. Would the outcome have been any different if she had still been wearing Keir’s ring?

  But how could it? The fact that she wasn’t wearing it had made no difference to the way he’d spent his weekend.

  How could he be so hypocritical, have such double standards? Did he really expect her to sit quietly at home waiting for him while he took another woman to the Catskills, and then swore it was business?

  But the thing that hurt the most was the way he’d tried to cover his own misdeeds by putting her in the wrong. It confirmed all her previous doubts. He obviously cared nothing for her. All the feeling had been on her side.

  Sad and sorry, angry and bitter by turns, the silk suit tossed in a careless heap on the chair, she lay awake going over the whole sorry mess until the early hours of the morning.

  The instant she awoke, the previous night’s quarrel filled her mind. But somehow, while she’d slept, her attitude had changed.

  Recalling Keir’s ‘I was becoming seriously concerned’, she knew she had misjudged him. He might not love her, but she’d been wrong to think he cared nothing, and his anger and concern over her association with Martin had almost certainly been genuine.

  So, if he wasn’t serious about Cheryl, and if she explained about the suit and her reason for accepting Martin’s invitation, there might still be a chance to put things right.

  She knew with complete and utter certainty that Keir was the only man for her, the only man she would ever give her heart and soul to. If he needed a woman, she would happily live with him without making any demands or expecting any commitments.

  Maybe all she had to do was tell him.

  A glance at her watch showed it had just turned half past six. Almost tumbling out of bed in her haste, she pulled on her dressing gown and went to knock on his door.

  There was no answer.

  It was a fine, sunny morning. He might be out jogging.

  Going back to her own room, she showered and dressed as quickly as possible before hurrying downstairs and into the cool leafiness of the nearby park where they had often walked together.

  At a brisk trot, she followed the route they usually took, but starting from the opposite end in case he should be coming back.

  A young couple strolled slowly along, holding hands, followed by an elderly man walking a small black dog. Two youths, one with a canvas holdall slung from his shoulder, manoeuvred skateboards, while an old lady with white hair and a wrinkled face sat on a bench and fed the pigeons from a paper bag…

  Sera sighed. There was no lack of people, but no glimpse of the man she sought so eagerly.

  She was returning dejectedly to the Brownstone when she saw him coming out of the door. Her heart starting to pound, she quickened her pace.

  As Keir reached the bottom of the steps a low-slung white sports car drew up at the kerb and the woman at the wheel, her hair a red-gold cap, leaned to wave through the open window.

  He lifted his hand in answer and, saying something Sera was too far away to catch, jumped into the front passenger seat.

  A few seconds later the sleek car drew smoothly away and disappeared down the street.

  Looking after it, feeling an almost unbearable anguish, Sera found herself wondering how anyone could survive such pain.

  Having stood for a few minutes still and silent, she made a great effort to pull herself together. She should be thankful that somehow she had missed Keir.

  If she’d found him earlier, she would have made a complete fool of herself. Now, though her heart felt as though it was broken, her pride was still intact.

  And pride was all she had left.

  When Sera arrived at the office, neatly dressed and with her head held high, there was no sign of her boss. But then, she had never expected Cheryl to be in.

  The redhead had a reputation for working hard and playing even harder. It was clear that, at the moment, playing was paramount.

  Sera had been at her desk for some half an hour when the phone shrilled.

  ‘Hi!’ Cheryl said. ‘I wasn’t planning to come in today. I know there’s a lot to do, but can you hold the fort?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Sera’s voice was as steady as she could make it. ‘Are you ready for the Jaimeson deal to go through?’

  ‘Yes. But hold back on the Dolland Park. I want them to sweat a little. If there’s anything really urgent crops up that you feel you can’t deal with, you can get me on the mobile. Otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She giggled suddenly. ‘Or the day after if things really hot up.’

  Replacing the receiver, Sera had a sudden, disturbingly vivid picture of Cheryl and Keir in bed, their long legs tangled together, that bright head against his broad chest, and those red-tipped fingers running through his crisp, dark body hair.

  Somehow she fought down her nausea and went back to work, concentrating with a kind of fierce desperation that carried her through the morning.

  At lunch-time, Glenda, one of the secretaries from the main office, popped in with a packet of sandwiches and a coffee. ‘Knowing you’re on your own, I thought you could probably use these.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s kind of you.’ Sera managed a smile.

  The coffee was very welcome, but the sandwiches remained uneaten.

  It was after six and most of the staff had gone when the office door opened and Martin walked in.

  She looked up, startled. As far as she was aware, Martin never came into this office. It was always Cheryl who went to see him.

  ‘I’m afraid Miss Rothwell isn’t here,’ Sera said.

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t be here myself, only my PA went home sick, so I have an extra workload.’

  His voice casual, he remarked, ‘I understand Cheryl has gone off somewhere with Sutherlands?’

  When Sera said nothing, his pale blue eyes on her face, he pursued, ‘Do I take it she’s stolen him from you?’

  Sera lifted her chin. ‘He wasn’t mine in the first place.’ Levelly, she added, ‘And no woman can steal a man who isn’t willing to go.’

  ‘Bravo!’ he applauded. ‘I admire your spirit.’ Then briskly he asked, ‘Were you planning on staying much longer?’

  ‘No…’

  She hadn’t actually planned to stay. It was just that there was nothing to go home for. Nothing there but loneliness.

  ‘I was intending to go as soon as I’ve finished this analysis.’

  ‘Leave it,’ he instructed. ‘Glenda told me you’d worked right through lunch, so you’ve done plenty for one day. Come and have a meal. There’s just enough time. Then I’ve got tickets for that show you wanted to see.’

  ‘But I’m not dressed for going out,’ she protested.

  ‘You look fine to me. Come on.’ Martin was a determined man who never took no for an answer when it was something he wanted.

  Weary, her spirits at their lowest ebb, Sera put up no resistance when, gathering up her light jacket and handbag, he fairly hustled her out of t
he office and into the elevator.

  The following day, saying his own PA looked as if she would be off for a while, Martin had borrowed her from Cheryl.

  Sera had gone willingly, preferring, in the circumstances, to work for him rather than his sister.

  That accomplished, Martin had leashed his impatience. He knew that with so much at stake this was no time to rush things. It would pay him to move slowly, to play a waiting game rather than scare her off.

  During working hours, therefore, Sera found he was the perfect boss—friendly in a businesslike way, good-tempered, patient, always considerate.

  To her relief she saw hardly anything of Cheryl and, when Martin’s own PA failed to return, Sera accepted the post on a permanent basis.

  Out of working hours Martin was good company, easy to talk to and fun to be with. He never attempted to touch her or kiss her, but treated her like a cherished younger sister.

  She found herself being taken charge of, looked after, almost cosseted. She mattered. It was balm to her wounded soul.

  Unlike herself, he’d been brought up to be sociable and enjoyed having people around him. Brushing aside her quibbles about clothes—and careful not to suggest buying her any—he took her to shows and concerts, to nightclubs and expensive restaurants, and to join the weekend house parties he was so fond of giving.

  Truly grateful, she almost managed to convince herself that she was enjoying it all.

  Keir’s name was never mentioned and Sera saw nothing of him until one day, when she was about to get into Martin’s car, she looked up and noticed him standing on the sidewalk watching her.

  As she hesitated, he turned his back and walked away.

  The following week it was Martin’s birthday and, when they’d seen a show, they went on to Sky Windows to celebrate.

  After an excellent meal, during which Sera drank a great deal more champagne than she was used to, he took her hand and, raising it to his lips, said with great seriousness, ‘I love you, Sera. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. Will you marry me?’

  It was a sweet, romantic proposal, filled with warmth and genuine affection. She hesitated.