Wedding Fever

‘Of course.’ She smiled at his concern.

He claimed her mouth in a hard, almost savage kiss, and, before she could even kiss him back, he was gone.

Wondering what he wanted to tell her, hoping she knew, she went up to her room and unpacked the small case she’d taken to Maine, blushing a little to think how few clothes she’d worn for most of the time—how few either of them had worn.

She was on her way back to the big, sunny living room when Mrs Espling appeared in the hall and asked pleasantly, ‘Can I get you anything, Miss Marlowe? A tray of tea, perhaps?’

‘Oh, thank you. That would be lovely.’

Raine was just pouring a second cup and finishing one of the housekeeper’s delicious blueberry muffins when, without warning, the door burst open.

Looking up, a glad smile on her lips, she was surprised to see a slender, dark-haired woman, perhaps a year or two older than herself.

‘Hi!’ the newcomer said cheerfully. ‘I’m Tina. You must be Nick’s cousin. When he spoke to me on the phone he told me you and your father were coming over... Is he home?’

‘No, he’s gone into the office.’

‘On a Saturday!’ The bright brown eyes clouded with disappointment. ‘Any idea how long he’ll be?’

‘He said possibly a couple of hours.’

‘Then I’ll have plenty of time to go home and unpack.’

‘Do you live far away?’ Raine asked politely.

‘Just next door—’ Tina dropped into the nearest chair, obviously quite at home ‘—so I’m used to seeing Nick most days. Now it seems ages since I saw him—and gosh have I missed him!’

Then, by way of explanation, she went on, ‘For the last three weeks I’ve been staying in New York with an old schoolfriend. I’ve only just this minute got back. Nick was coming to the airport to meet me, only the—’ She broke off abruptly, then went on, ‘Only I found I could get home a day earlier than I’d expected, so I decided to surprise him.’

She was pushing back a stray dark curl when Raine noticed the sparkling sapphire on her left hand, and, with a sudden premonition, she remarked through stiff lips, ‘What a beautiful ring.’

Tina’s pretty pale face lit up. ‘Yes, isn’t it? I wanted a diamond solitaire, but Nick said it wasn’t my style and he chose this one.’

Feeling as though she was being shut in an iron maiden, Raine asked, ‘How long have you been engaged?’

‘Nick proposed to me and we went to buy the ring the day before I left for New York.’

Getting to her feet, Tina headed for the door. ‘I’ll go and unpack his present. I bought him a watch from Tiffany’s. I want it to be a surprise, so if he gets back before I do, don’t tell him.’

‘I won’t be seeing him,’ Raine said, and it was a prayer. Her voice controlled, even, she added, ‘Something’s cropped up and I need to go home, so I’ll be off to the airport myself in a minute or two.’

‘Well, so long, then.’ Tina gave her a wide, friendly smile. ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your visit. Have a good journey home.’

As soon as the door had closed behind the slim figure Raine phoned for a taxi. Then, hurrying upstairs, she threw her belongings into her suitcase with desperate haste, scrawled a note for her father, telling him that she was needed at home because Martha was poorly, and one for her uncle, thanking him for all his kindness, and was outside waiting as the cab drew up.

Luck was with her and she managed to get a seat on a plane that was leaving for London within the hour. Throughout the flight she sat pale and tense, dry-eyed, though her heart wept tears of blood.

Once a concerned stewardess touched her shoulder and asked, ‘Are you feeling ill? Can I get you anything?’

Grateful for the kindness, Raine shook her head and said, ‘No, I’m fine, thank you. Just tired.’

Tired and bitter and disillusioned, and swamped by such pain that, unable to bear it, she struggled to whip up anger to take its place.

What a fool she’d been. What a blind, stupid fool! All he’d wanted was a little light dalliance, some casual sex while his fiancée was away, but she’d given him everything she had to give—her heart as well as her body.

And how eagerly she’d offered that. Responding with a passionate sensuality she hadn’t realised she was capable of. She’d acted like a wanton.

And what if she was pregnant? Pregnant by a man who had only wanted an easy exchange of pleasure with no commitments. A sophisticated man who had no doubt presumed that she had taken precautions.

Horror filled her, causing her entire body to flush with heat. She felt her face and throat burn and a trickle of perspiration run down between her breasts.

A feverish calculation reassured her that her stupidity was unlikely to have dire results.

Aware of just how much the knowledge of her behaviour would upset her father, she felt sick with relief. Now he would never need to know.

Though that was pure luck. She flayed herself with the thought. Nothing could alter the fact that she had behaved like the worst kind of fool. A fool who had given in to passion, presuming that because she loved Nick he must love her, and that marriage and a home and family would automatically follow.

But she’d learnt a painful, mortifying lesson and learnt it well. Never, never again would she allow passion to rule her.

She had scarcely arrived home when a phone call from her father, enquiring how Martha was, threw her into a panic. Unused to lying, she found herself stammering, ‘Sh-she doesn’t seem too bad...’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m not sure... Some kind of flu...’

‘Then you can cope? You don’t need me back?’

‘Of course not.’

‘How did you manage at such short notice?’

Doing her best to sound her normal self, Raine endeavoured to answer her father’s questions and allay his. concern.

‘Well, don’t try to go into work as well as taking care of Martha,’ he said eventually.

‘I’ll see how things are,’ she hedged.

‘And let me know if you need me.’

‘I’m sure I won’t. I’d much rather you stayed with Uncle Harry... Give him my love.’

‘Don’t go,’ Ralph said. ‘Nick’s waiting to speak to you...’

‘Raine...’

She heard the urgency in the deep voice as, trembling in every limb, she put the phone down.

Common sense told her it would have been better to speak to him, to pretend, for her pride’s sake, that the little incident had meant nothing to her. But she knew only too well that she would have been unable to hide her pain and misery, her humiliation and shame.

The next weeks were the worst of her life. Feeling as though she was slowly bleeding to death, Raine somehow struggled through the long days and even longer nights.

Martha, having been told only that Raine had needed an excuse to come home, looked at her with anxious eyes, but, never one to pry, said nothing.

Nick tried several times to ring her, but Raine refused to speak to him, and, recognising his bold scrawl, destroyed the letters he sent unopened.

She went back to the office and tried to lose herself in her work, but the thought of Nick was always at the back of her mind, and a black weight of emptiness lay on her spirit.

She missed him and longed for him constantly, even while she reminded herself that he was hard and callous and uncaring—that he’d not only used her but betrayed his fiancée.

Ralph was reluctant to leave his brother, and it was a month before he came home. Though Raine was still fighting a desolation of spirit so intense that she felt she would never recover, she was able to hide it better by then, and met her father’s shrewd eyes with relative composure.

When, apart from asking how Harry was, she avoided mentioning Boston, Ralph took the bull by the horns. ‘What did you and Nick quarrel about?’

‘What makes you think we quarrelled?’

‘Don’t take me for a fool, girl. I know you’ve been refusing to speak to him, and, though Martha did her best, she’s no better at lying than you are.’

When Raine said nothing, her father went on, ‘It must have been something pretty serious to send you running home like a scalded cat, but I’m sure—’

‘Please, Dad,’ she broke in desperately. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Seeing her set face, the stubborn line of her mouth, he sighed. ‘Perhaps you’ll change your mind when Nick comes over.’

Feeling as though she’d been punched in the solar plexus, she croaked, ‘Over here? When is he coming?’

‘He said as soon as he can get away. Probably this weekend.’

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER a night spent tossing and turning, and with her mind finally made up, Raine rose early and pushed a few necessities into a case. That done, she wrote a note to her father saying that she was going up to London for a few days, then, while the household still slept, she quietly let herself out.

No doubt it was cowardly, but she couldn’t bear to stay and face Nick. Whatever it was that was bringing him here—a pricking conscience? Belated guilt at not having told her he had a fiancée?—she didn’t want to know.

Nothing he could say or do would wipe out the past or mitigate her shame. Seeing him again, hearing him apologise, would only add unbearably to her humiliation, strip away any remaining shreds of self-respect.

It was a dark, chilly November morning, with mist lying over the herbaceous borders and shrouding the trees, and, feeling like a fugitive, she hurried down to the old stable block that many years previously had been converted into garages.

The engine of her small car sprang into life immediately, and, its lights feeling the mist like the antennae of some insect, she drove down the drive and turned left towards the station.

Leaving the car in the station car park, she caught the early train into town. By breakfast-time she was booked into a quiet hotel near Green Park, confident that she could safely lose herself in London until Nick had given up and gone back to the States.

Over the next few days she did her level best not to think about him, but the memories refused to be banished completely.

Whenever she relaxed her guard she recalled the smile in his voice when he spoke to her, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, the swift mental affinity which had made them enjoy each other’s company so much... And a great deal more she would rather have forgotten.

And would forget, she vowed. She wouldn’t let herself keep on recalling the past, thinking of a man who belonged to another woman. A man who had only wanted to use her.

Knowing it would drive her mad to sit in her room, she forced herself to go out each day—walking, window-shopping, visiting museums and art galleries, passing the time somehow, anyhow, until she could go home.

On the fifth day of her self-imposed exile her phone call to White Ladies shook her, making her drop the receiver as though it were red-hot when Nick’s deep voice answered.

Though she had no appetite, she made herself eat, and at night, refusing to let herself brood, she went to concerts, to the opera and to a couple of the long-running shows.

Leaving the theatre on Friday night, after seeing a musical, she found that it was raining. Rather then just stand being jostled by the crowd, she had started to walk down Shaftesbury Avenue, keeping her eye open for a taxi, when she cannoned into a tall, slimly built man hurrying the opposite way.

The impact made her step back and drop her clutch-bag, which opened, spilling its contents all over the wet pavement.

‘I’m so sorry,’ the well-dressed stranger apologised, and, stooping, he began to gather up her belongings and drop them back into her bag.

Thanking him, she admitted, ‘It was my fault. I was trying to find a taxi and not looking where I was going.’ As she spoke she put weight on her right foot and winced.

‘Is there something wrong?’ he asked, his voice clear, with a distinctly upper-class accent.

‘I’ve just stepped awkwardly and turned my ankle. It’s nothing serious.’

‘Can you walk?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She took a step to prove it, and winced again.

His look held concern. ‘Perhaps I’d better give you a lift. My car’s quite close.’

When she hesitated, he added, ‘You won’t stand much chance of finding a taxi on a night like this.’

He was young and good-looking, with gold-rimmed glasses and a reassuring air of quiet respectability.

‘Well, if it’s not out of your way...’ she said slowly. ‘I’m staying at the Wirral Hotel, near Green Park.’

‘I know it. And it’s not out of my way. I have a flat in Curzon Street, and the family home is in Mayfair.’

‘Then, thank you. It’s very kind of you.’

‘Not at all,’ he said politely, meaninglessly, as he offered her his arm with old-fashioned courtesy. As they began to walk—Raine hobbling slightly—he added, ‘My name’s Kevin ... Kevin Somersby.’

‘Raine Marlowe.’

‘Raine?’ he echoed blankly.

‘Short for Lorraine,’ she explained.

‘Oh.’ Judging from his frown, he didn’t approve of shortening names.

His car was an extension of himself—an expensive, well-polished, rather sober saloon. He handed her in with care, and she found herself thinking that his excellent manners must have been instilled from birth.

During the short drive they chatted, and it came as no surprise to discover that he worked in the Foreign Office and that his mother was Lady Maude Somersby.

Though he was handsome, it was in an oddly negative way. His looks didn’t raise her blood pressure one iota, and he was so prosaic that he neither stimulated nor disturbed her. In short, he presented no threat, and she found herself relaxing in his company.

Having escorted her into the hotel lobby and been duly thanked, he wished her a pleasant goodnight.

‘Goodnight...and thank you again.’ Raine offered him her hand.

He held it for a moment, then asked a shade diffidently, ‘May I call tomorrow to enquire how the ankle is?’

‘Of course.’

He was a very nice, correct young man, she thought as she took the lift up to her room, and the complete antithesis of Nick.

When Kevin turned up after breakfast next morning, with a dozen long-stemmed roses and an invitation to lunch, she had no hesitation in accepting.

The lunch-date stretched into the afternoon, and they ended up having dinner and spending the evening together.

Before leaving her that night, he asked hopefully how long she would be staying in town.

Telling herself that Nick would surely get the message and go home soon, she answered vaguely, ‘I’m not sure ... probably another day or two.’

Clearly crestfallen, Kevin rallied to ask, ‘will you come to Manton Square tomorrow for lunch? Mother would like to meet you.’

Not sure how she could get out of going, and not even sure that she wanted to, Raine answered politely, ‘Thank you, I’d love to.’

‘Then I’ll pick you up about twelve.’ Kevin looked relieved, and Raine felt a sudden conviction that the invitation had been issued so that she could be vetted as a suitable companion for Lady Somersby’s only son.

Such was the case.

The next day she found herself greeted with the utmost courtesy by a regal lady with a cast-iron hairdo, several strings of pearls and pale eyes like gimlets.

After an excellent lunch, having been politely but minutely grilled about her background and social standing, Raine was given what was evidently the seal of approval when Lady Somersby suggested that Kevin might take her to see the family portraits.

The following evening, after a phone call to Martha had reassured her that Nick had returned to the States, Raine told Kevin she would be going home the next day. His obvious disappointment was somewhat alleviated when she added, ‘You’ll be very welcome at White Ladies any time you care to call.’

‘Have you a car in town?’ he queried.

‘No, I came by train.’

‘Then perhaps I could drive you home?’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said automatically, ‘but won’t you be at your office?’

‘I have some days due to me,’ he announced firmly. Raine found herself wondering what her father would think when she arrived home with a strange man in tow. But after some consideration she decided it was the ideal solution. Kevin’s presence would prove that she wasn’t mooning over Nick, and it should help to smooth over what might otherwise have been an uncomfortable homecoming.

Safe in the knowledge that no matter how vexed he was with her, her father would be polite and pleasant to any guest, she suggested, ‘If you have nothing planned for the evening, perhaps you’ll stay for dinner?’

Kevin gave her his charming smile. ‘Thank you, I’d like to.’

From then on he became a constant visitor, and early in the spring, with due ceremony, he proposed to her.

Raine had seen it coming, and she didn’t need to think about it. With Kevin, everything would be ordered and placid. He would never tear her apart emotionally and leave her bleeding to death. It might not be the most exciting of marriages, but they were happy and comfortable together. They wanted the same things out of life.

She said yes.

He bought her a discreet diamond solitaire and they began planning the wedding and their future together. In the following months there were only two things they disagreed on—working wives and where to live.

Raine wanted to continue with her job, at least for a time, but Kevin proved to be unexpectedly obdurate about it.

The contentious topics were shelved several times, and then, on Friday evening in September, as they strolled through the garden at White Ladies, Kevin reintroduced them.

‘It’s time we came to a decision, old thing,’ he said, and then, almost as though it clinched matters, ‘I have to tell you that Mother strongly disapproves of these modern marriages where the wife keeps working to the detriment of family life. And in any case,’ he continued, ‘my flat is too far away to make commuting every day feasible.’

‘I’d rather hoped not to have to leave Dad,’ Raine replied. ‘He’s looked after me ever since Mum died, and I’m all he’s got.’

Seeing Kevin frown, she added persuasively, ‘There’s a large, self-contained apartment here at White Ladies, and, with your office situated where it is, it wouldn’t be any further for you to travel to work than you’re travelling now.’

But once again he was adamant. ‘I’ve always felt that a wife should move into her husband’s home, not the other way around.’

‘But what would I do all day, cooped up in a London flat?’

His pale grey eyes looked hurt. ‘I hope we’ll entertain quite a bit when we’re married, and there’s voluntary work and committees and things... Mother will be pleased to help and advise you. And we’ve agreed we want to start a family.’

She seized on that. ‘Surely a town flat isn’t the ideal place to bring up children?’

‘When the time comes we’ll look for a house in the country,’ he promised. ‘Agreed?’

She nodded, and said reluctantly, ‘Very well. I’ll tell Dad I won’t be going back to work after the wedding.’

Having got what he wanted, Kevin was willing to be gracious. ‘If you’d like to be close to your father, when we do buy a house we can try to find something within a reasonable distance of White Ladies as well as London.’

He kissed her cheek. ‘I must go. I’m taking Mother to a charity function in the morning and then on to lunch, but I should be here some time in the afternoon. By the way, we’ll be dining in Lopsley. I’ve booked a table at that new place you said you wanted to try.’

Disarmed by his thoughtfulness, his attempt to please her, she accompanied him to the door and waved him off.

The old walled garden was a suntrap. Eyes closed, head pillowed on her discarded woolly, Raine lay flat on her back on the smooth, green expanse of turf in the centre while she waited for her fiancé.

The late afternoon sun shone redly through her eyelids. She could hear the bees buzzing around the lavender and autumn roses, and smell the various pungent herbs. A baby breeze patted her cheek and ruffled her wispy half-fringe.

Calib sat on her stomach, blinking sleepily while he contemplated nothing in particular. Applying a pink tongue to a velvet paw, he began to wash leisurely behind one ear.

His hearing was more acute than his human companion’s, and he looked up and paused in his ablutions a second or two before the door in the high pink-brick wall opened.

Raine heard the steps cross the crazy-paving path that meandered past the flower-borders, and felt Calib’s easy spring as he abandoned his perch. He always absented himself when Kevin came, determinedly repulsing all his attempts to make friends.

Her fiancé’s shadow falling over her face momentarily blotted out the sun. Keeping her eyes shut, she murmured a lazy hello, and smiled a little invitation.

When he sat down beside her and leaned over to let his mouth lightly brush hers, she reached up to put her arms around his neck.

Rather to her surprise she felt him stretch out beside her. Normally Kevin wasn’t one for lying about on the grass. Even the touch of his lips seemed different. Less deferential. More disturbing. Much more disturbing.

All thought was suspended as, making her heart start to race with suffocating speed and sending a swift surge of pleasure through her, he deepened the kiss.

While her entire body sang into life and a core of liquid heat formed in the pit of her stomach he explored her mouth with masterful thoroughness, one hand following the curve of her hip and buttock in a way it had never done before.

A sudden fear, like the shock of an icy plunge, made her brain click into gear.

Until now, Nick had been the only man who had ever been able to engender such an urgent and overwhelming response. And she didn’t want to feel this way. It terrified her.

Stiffening in rejection, she tried to push him away.

Refusing to be so summarily dismissed, he finished the kiss unhurriedly before lifting his head.

Raine’s eyes flew open.

At first, dazzled by the low sun, she could see nothing but brightness. Then she found herself focusing on a lean, sardonic face, with brows and lashes several shades darker than the thick blond hair, and eyes of a deep midnight-blue. A strong-boned, handsome face. No, much more than handsome—a fascinating, compelling face. A face she had taught herself to hate. A face she’d hoped never to see again...

Panic swept over her as her worst fears were confirmed. ‘You!’ she whispered, jerking upright. Trying to swamp fear with anger, she demanded furiously, ‘What are you doing here? How dare you kiss me like that?’

A level brow was lifted mockingly. ‘How did you want me to kiss you?’ His mouth, the top lip thin, the bottom one seductive, was much too close for comfort. ‘With more respect and less enthusiasm, as I understand your noble fiancé does?’

‘I don’t want you to kiss me at all,’ she hissed at him.

‘You did once,’ he reminded her with deliberate cruelty.

Her mind was suddenly in confusion, beset by memories that returned to her with devastating clarity.

Calib, who had been watching from a short distance away, came back with a little rush to push between them as, face burning, Raine ignored the goad and demanded, ‘And how do you know how Kevin kisses me?’

‘Your father described Kevin Somersby as a minor civil servant—a steady and correct young man.’

‘Which you interpreted as dull and inhibited!’

Rising to his feet in one fluid movement, Nick held out a lean suntanned hand. ‘Was I wrong?’

‘Totally wrong! He’s—’ Breaking off the hasty words, she said coldly, ‘I’ve no intention of discussing Kevin with you.’ Carefully avoiding Nick’s outstretched hand, she scrambled to her feet.

The clamour of her own heartbeat almost deafening her, she busied herself brushing wisps of grass from her grey and white striped cotton shirtwaister.