Falling for her Convenient Husband

Nathan Mallory stared at her long and hard then, and she could not help but wonder if he suspected she was giving him the same run-around that her father seemed to be giving him.

But, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, ‘I’ll wait,’ he clipped. ‘That cheque is my last remaining option.’

And Phelix knew then from the set of this man’s jaw that, in order to save his firm for him and his father, Nathan Mallory was having to bite on a very unpleasant bullet. Having completed his side of the bargain, he now had to wait for the man who had offered him the deal to complete his part. Yet Phelix just knew, as she looked numbly into Nathan Mallory’s stern grey eyes, that everything in him was urging him to leave. That if there was any other way he would have taken it. She felt humiliated, but that must be nothing to what this proud man must be feeling. And yet for his business, for his father, it was, as he said, his last remaining option.

‘D-does your father know about today?’ she asked tentatively.

‘I thought I’d prefer to have that cheque in my hand before I told him.’

That made her feel worse. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I truly am.’

He looked at her again, and his expression softened slightly. ‘I know,’ he replied.

And the next two hours had ticked by with still no sign of her father.

‘Will you excuse me?’ she said at one point, and went to her father’s study to make a call to her father’s PA. But Anna Fry said she had no idea where he was. ‘Is Mr Scott free?’ Phelix asked. And, when she was put through, ‘Henry? Phelix. Do you know where my father is? I need to contact him rather urgently.’

Henry did not know where he was either. But, alarmed at her anxious tone, he was ready to come over at once to help with her problem, whatever it was. Phelix thanked him, but said it was nothing that important.

So she went back to Nathan, gave him the evening paper to read—and started to grow anxious on another front. The sky had darkened to almost black when she heard the first rumble of thunder. Thunderstorms and their violence terrified her.

She tried to think of something else, but at the first fork of lightning she was again reliving that night—the night her mother had died. There had been one horrendous storm that night. She had been in bed asleep when the first crack of thunder had awakened her. She had sat up in bed, half expecting that her mother would come and keep her company—her mother did not like storms either.

It was with that in mind that as the storm had become more fearsome, Phelix had shot along to her mother’s room to check that she was all right. Only as she had quickly opened the door a fork of lightning, swiftly followed by another, had lit up her mother’s room—and the scene that had met her eyes had sent her reeling. Phelix had plainly seen that her mother was not alone in her bed. Edward Bradbury was there too.

‘What are you doing?’ Phelix had screamed—he was assaulting her mother!

Her father had bellowed at her to leave in very explicit, crude language. But at least her interruption had had the effect of taking his attention briefly away from her mother, and her mother had been able to dive from the bed and pull a robe around her shoulders.

‘Go back to bed, darling,’ she’d urged.

Phelix had not known then which terrified her the more: the violent storm or the dreadful scene she had happened across which was now indelibly imprinted on her mind for evermore.

But there was no way she was going to leave. ‘No, I’ll—’ But she had been urged from the room.

‘We’ll talk about it in the morning,’ her mother had promised, and pushed her to the other side of the door. They had been the last words she had ever said to her. By morning she’d been dead.

A fork of lightning jerked her to awareness that she was in her father’s drawing room with the man she had that day married. It looked as if it was going to be another of those horrendous storms. Rain was furiously lashing at the windows, and as another fork of lightning speared the room Phelix only just managed to hold back from crying out.

‘W-would you mind very much if I left you to wait by yourself?’ she asked, feeling that at any moment now she would disgrace herself by either shouting out in panic or bolting from him.

‘Not at all,’ Nathan replied and, realising he would probably quite welcome his own company, she fled.

Hoping she could get into bed, hide her head under the bedclothes and wait for morning, when her father would have paid Nathan the money he’d promised, Phelix quickly undressed. No way, with that storm raging, was she going to take her usual shower.

She got into bed, but left her bedside lamp on. She did not want to lie in the dark, when she would again see that ugly scene in her mother’s bedroom that night. Phelix closed her eyes and tried to get some rest. It was impossible.

She had no idea what time it was when, wide awake, she heard the storm which she had hoped had begun to fade return with even greater ferocity. It seemed to be directly overheard when there was a violent crack of thunder like no other—and then the lights went out.

Only vicious forks of lightning, in which she again saw her father’s evil face, her mother’s pleading, illuminated her bedroom. Striving desperately to banish the images tormenting her mind, Phelix made herself remember that she might still have a guest—a husband she had abandoned to his own devices.

Pinning her thoughts on Nathan, who had already been dealt a raw deal by her father and who might now be sitting in the drawing room in the dark, Phelix left her room and raced down the stairs. ‘Nathan!’ she called, her voice somewhere between a cry and a scream as thunder again cracked viciously directly overhead.

In the light of another fork of lightning she saw he was still there, had heard her, had come from the drawing room and had seen her.

‘You all right?’ he asked gruffly.

Words failed her. The fact that he was still there showed how very badly he needed that money. ‘Oh, Nathan,’ she whispered miserably, and in a couple of strides he was over to her, his hands on her arms.

‘Scared?’ he asked gently.

‘T-terrified.’ She was too upset to dissemble.

Nathan placed a soothing arm about her shoulders. ‘You’re shaking,’ he murmured.

‘It was a night like this when my mother was killed,’ she replied witlessly.

‘Poor love,’ he murmured, and she had never known that a man could be so kind, so gentle. ‘Come on, let’s get you back to bed,’ he said.

And, when she was too frozen by the empathy of the moment to be able to move, he did no more than pick her nightdress-clad body up in his arms and carry her up the winding staircase, his way lit by fork after fork of blinding lightning.

Phelix had left her bedroom door open in her rush, and Nathan carried her in and placed her gently under the covers of her bed.

‘Don’t leave me!’ she pleaded urgently as another cannonshot of thunder rent the air.

She was immediately ashamed, but not sufficiently so to be able to tell him she would be all right alone, and, after a moment of hesitation, Nathan did away with his shoes, shrugged out of his suit jacket and came to lie on top of her bed beside her. It was a three quarter size bed, but for all she was five feet nine tall there was not much of her.

‘Nothing can harm you,’ he told her quietly, and in the darkness reached for her hand.

She had gone down the stairs with some vague notion that he would feel uncomfortable sitting alone in a strange house in the dark. But here he was comforting her!

Again she felt ashamed. Then lightning lit the room, and she was again in that nightmare of unwanted visions of that night in her mother’s bedroom not so long ago. She clutched on to Nathan’s hand.

‘Shh, you’re all right,’ he soothed. ‘It will be over soon.’ And, maybe because her grip was threatening to break his fingers, he let go her hand and to her further comfort placed an arm around her thin shoulders. Instinctively she turned into him, burying her face in his chest.

Quite when, or how, she managed to drop off to sleep, she had no notion. But she was jerked awake when her bedside lamp suddenly came on—power restored.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, sitting up. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed again. Nathan was still on the bed with her. He got to his feet and stood, unspeaking, looking at her. ‘Oh, Nathan, I’m so sorry,’ she apologised. The storm was over; normality was back.

He surveyed her troubled eyes, her blushing complexion—and more shame hit her. This man had married her—for nothing. He had trusted her father’s word—for nothing. She wanted to cry, but managed to hold back her tears. This man, her husband, had suffered enough without him having to put up with her tears too.

‘You didn’t have dinner!’ she gasped, suddenly appalled, although she could not have eaten a thing herself. But just then the headlights of a car coming up the drive flashed across the window. ‘My father’s home,’ she offered jerkily, though was not taken aback when Nathan declined to rush out to meet him.

‘I’m surprised he bothered,’ he answered, bending to put on his shoes. But Phelix did not miss the hard note that had come to his voice.

‘What will you do?’ she asked, feeling crushed, sorrowfully knowing for certain now that her father did not intend to honour the deal he had made.

‘Frankly, I honestly don’t know,’ Nathan answered tautly, and suddenly Phelix could not bear it.

‘You can have my money,’ she offered. ‘I don’t know yet how much it will be, but you can have it all. I’ll—’

Nathan smiled then, a grim kind of a smile. ‘Enough is enough,’ he said.

‘You—don’t want it?’

Nathan shook his head. ‘Not to put too fine a point on it, little one, I’d cut my throat before I’d touch a penny of Bradbury money,’ he replied bluntly.

That ‘little one’ saved his remark from being as wounding as it would otherwise have been—and then they both heard the sound that told them that her father was coming up the stairs.

With the light of battle in his eyes, Nathan grabbed up his jacket and went out to confront him. Phelix hated rows, confrontation, but it started the moment her father saw Nathan coming from her bedroom.

‘What the hell game do you think you’re playing?’ Edward Bradbury roared.

‘I might well ask you the same question!’

‘I checked—you married her.’ There was a satisfied note in her father’s voice.

‘I kept my side of the bargain,’ Nathan agreed coldly.

‘Hard luck!’

‘You’re saying that you never had any intention of handing over that cheque?’

‘I thought you’d have twigged before now,’ her father gloated—and that was when Phelix discovered she had more backbone than she had thought. Which made it impossible for her to sit there and listen to the way her father, so careless of her, was so blatantly pleased with himself. ‘You can forget all about getting a cheque from me,’ he crowed.

‘Father!’ Phelix rushed from her room and out to the landing, ashamed, disgusted, and never more embarrassed to have such a parent. ‘You can’t possibly—’

‘Don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do!’ her father bellowed.

‘But you owe—’

‘I owe him nothing! He can forget about the money, and—’

‘And you, sir,’ Nathan cut across—furiously, ‘can shove your money!’ And somehow or other—perhaps in the thinking time during the long hours of his wait, perhaps with Phelix offering him the money she was due—Nathan seemed to sense now, when he hadn’t seen it before, that there was more in this for Edward Bradbury than allowing his daughter to have her own money. ‘And while you’re about it,’ he went on, his eyes glinting fury, ‘you can forget about the annulment too!’

That stopped Edward Bradbury dead in his tracks. ‘What are you saying?’ he demanded, looking more shaken than at any time Phelix had ever known.

‘Exactly what it sounds as if I’m saying!’ Nathan Mallory stood up to him.

Phelix saw her father’s glance dart slyly to her bedroom—and saw unadulterated fury sour his expression, none too sweet before. ‘Is this true?’ he turned to demand of his nightdress-clad daughter, his voice rising to a screaming roar when she was not quick enough to answer him. ‘Is this true?’ Hot colour flared to her face. She might be naïve in certain areas, but she knew what he was asking. ‘Is it?’ he shouted.

Her throat felt suddenly dry. She wasn’t sure what was happening here, but by the sound of it—if she’d got it right—Nathan wanted to score off her father by letting him think they had been—lovers.

Colour flared to her face again. Even her ears felt hot. But just then she truly felt that, in the light of her father’s conduct, she owed more loyalty to Nathan, the man she had married, than to her father.

‘If you’re asking have I slept with Nathan since our marriage, Father, then the answer is yes. Yes, I have,’ she answered. She did not dare look at Nathan as she said it, but realised full well what the huge lie implied—just as she realised that she must have said the right thing.

Because without a word to her Nathan, his chin jutting, leaned to her father, told him to, ‘Put that in your dishonourable drum and bang it, Bradbury,’ and walked down the stairs and out of the house.

And that was the last time she had seen him. Though even with her father’s plan for the marriage annulment scuppered it had not prevented Edward Bradbury from searching for an alternative route to get the marriage annulled. He’d still been nefariously plotting when, a few days later, Phelix had discovered exactly why that annulment was so important to him.

Feeling sickened that her own flesh and blood could care so little for her that he could so deliberately attempt to cheat her, Phelix had lost what little respect she’d had for her father. For the first time ever she had dug her heels in and refused to listen to any further talk of an annulment, or for that matter a divorce.

Had Nathan wanted a divorce or an annulment she would have agreed at any time. But he had not made any representation to that effect.

The church clock in front of her chiming the quarter hour brought Phelix back to the present.

Knowing she had to get back to the conference, she jumped up from the sun lounger, her thoughts promptly shooting back to Nathan Mallory. The night of their wedding was the last time she had seen him or had had any contact with him until today. She remembered his gentleness, his arm about her…

Stop it! She made her way to the conference knowing she was going to have to stop drifting off to relive matters that had taken place so long ago. She supposed it was just seeing Nathan again so unexpectedly that had set her off.

It was for sure she would have given Davos a very wide berth had she thought for a moment that he would be here this week. She had been aware, of course, that Mallory and Mallory had long since pulled themselves out of the financial crater they had been in. They were now one of the most top-notch companies in the business. But she had been certain that the heads of such large companies would not be bothered with this week’s conference, but would be circling around from next week, when the big noises from JEPC Holdings would be leading the show.

And yet, as she entered the conference centre, did it matter that Nathan Mallory was here? He had said hello and that was the end of it.

Nevertheless, as she spotted Duncan and Chris and made her way over to them, she could not help but be glad that, although still slender, she had filled out a little, had curves in the right places, and had developed a sense of style that suited her.

She took her seat and noticed Nathan Mallory seated some way away. She had done nothing either about an annulment or a divorce from him. And since she had not received any papers to sign from him, she could only assume that—although he was now more than financially able to support a wife—there could not be anyone in particular in his life.

After striving to concentrate on what the present speaker was talking about—‘Strategy and Vision’—she was glad when they broke for refreshments. She told Chris she was going outside for some air, and made haste before Ross Dawson should waylay her.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and too lovely to be stuck indoors. She strolled out into the adjacent park and felt as near content as at any time in her life. She ambled on, in no hurry, pausing to bend and read the inscription on a monument in tribute to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who had apparently brought the new sport of skiing to the attention of the world by skiing over the mountain from Davos to Arosa.

No mean feat, she was thinking, when a well remembered voice at the back of her asked, ‘Enjoying your freedom?’

She straightened, but knew who it was before she turned around and found herself looking up—straight into the cool grey eyes of Nathan Mallory. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here!’ she exclaimed without thinking.

‘Otherwise you’d have kept away?’

Phelix hesitated, then knew that she did not want Nathan to form an impression that she was as dishonest as her father. It took an effort, but she managed to get herself back together. ‘I still feel dreadful when I think of our last meeting.’ She did not avoid his question. She knew he would never forget their wedding day and its outcome either. ‘You’ve done so well since then,’ she hurried on.

He could have said that it was no thanks to the Bradburys, but by dint of sheer night-and-day labour he and his father had managed to turn their nose-diving company around and into the huge thriving concern that it was today. What he did say was, ‘You haven’t done so badly either, from what I hear.’ He did not comment on the physical change in her, but it was there in his eyes. ‘Shall we stretch our legs?’ he suggested.

She felt nervous of him suddenly. But he had never done her the least harm; the reverse, if anything. She remembered the way he had stayed with her that awful storm-ridden night when she had been so terrified.

It was not an overly large park, and as she stepped away from the monument Nathan matched his step to hers and they strolled the kind of a horse-shoe-shaped path.

‘You heard I studied law?’ she asked, feeling in the need to say something.

‘I’m acquainted with Henry Scott,’ Nathan replied. ‘I bump into him from time to time at various business or fundraising functions. I knew he worked at Bradburys, and asked him once if he knew how you were getting on. He’s very fond of you.’

‘Henry’s a darling. I doubt I’d have got through my exams without his help.’

‘From what he said, I’m sure you would.’ Nathan looked down at her. ‘You’ve changed,’ he remarked.

She knew it was for the better. ‘I needed to! When I look back—’

‘Don’t,’ Nathan cut in. ‘Never look back.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re right, of course.’

‘So tell me about this new Phelix Bradbury.’

‘There’s not a lot to tell,’ she replied. ‘I worked hard—and here I am.’

‘And that covers the last eight years?’ he queried sceptically.

He halted, and she halted with him, and all at once they were facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes. Her heart suddenly started to go all fluttery, so that she had to turn from him to get herself together. She supposed she had always known that this, ‘the day of reckoning,’ would come.

She took a deep breath as she recognised that day was here. ‘What you’re really asking,’ she began as they started to stroll on again, ‘is what was the real reason my father wanted me married and single again with all speed?’ She was amazed that, when she was feeling all sort of disturbed inside somehow, her voice should come out sounding so even.

‘It would be a good place to begin,’ Nathan murmured.

He was owed. Owed more than that she just tell him about herself. And he, she realised, wanted the lot. ‘I’m sure you’ve guessed most of it,’ she commented. She glanced over to him, and caught the slight nod of his head.

‘I was too desperate in my need to save the company to look for hidden angles in your father’s offer. But as I started to take on board that I’d been had, I began to probe deeper. And, while I still didn’t know “what”, it didn’t take a genius to realise—too late,’ he inserted, ‘that there had to be some other reason why your father wanted you in and out of a marriage in five minutes.’

That ‘too late’ made her wince. But she was honest enough to know that it was justified. ‘You were quicker at picking that up than me,’ she remarked, remembering how it had been that night. ‘That’s why you let my father believe an—er—annulment was out of the question, wasn’t it?’

‘It was the first time I’d seen him with you. It was pretty obvious from the way he spoke of and to you that an annulment was more important to him than simply doing a father’s duty and watching out for you. His prime concern, clearly, was that annulment.’ Nathan shrugged. ‘As enraged as I was, the question just begged to be asked—if he was so uncaring, why was he going to such extraordinary lengths to help his daughter gain ten percent of her inheritance.’

‘You knew that there must be some other reason?’

‘By then every last scrap of my trust in the man had gone. It didn’t take long for me to see that, shark that he is, there had to be something in it for him.’

It should, she supposed, have upset her to hear her father referred to as a shark, but what Nathan Mallory was saying was no more than the truth. My word, was he telling the truth! ‘There was,’ she had to agree. Now that she was in possession of the true facts of her grandfather’s will, she was totally unable to defend her father. And since the man she had married had been the one to have suffered most, she did not see how—or why for that matter—she should try to defend her father’s atrocious actions either. ‘There was something in it for him,’ she confessed quietly. ‘Something he had no chance to claim should I stay married.’

Nathan looked down at her as they ambled along. ‘You’re not going to leave it there, I hope?’ he enquired evenly.

For a few seconds Phelix struggled with a sense of disloyalty to her father. But he had long since forfeited any right to her loyalty. And Nathan was owed! ‘My father had plans that would never come to fruition if that annulment did not take place,’ she said at last. ‘But you’d realised that, hadn’t you?’

‘Sensed, more than knew,’ Nathan replied, but asked sharply, ‘Did you know in advance—?’

‘No!’ she protested hotly, not wanting to be tarred by the same disreputable brush as her father. ‘I didn’t so much as suspect…I’d not the smallest idea. I was still totally in the dark the next morning, when Henry Scott came to the house with some paperwork he needed to go through with my father. When my father was hung up with some business on the phone, I made Henry some coffee. Grace, our housekeeper, wasn’t back,’ Phelix vividly recalled.

‘She’d had the previous night off—she’d been to the theatre.’

‘You remember that!’

‘I have forgotten absolutely nothing about that night!’ Nathan said grimly.

Her heart did a peculiar kind of flutter. She had lain in her bed. He had cradled her close. ‘Er—Grace is still with us. She should have retired ages ago, but… Anyway.’ Phelix strove to get back to what they were saying, and came abruptly down to earth when close on that memory she thought of her father returning home that night. ‘I was a bit down—still coming to terms with my mother’s sudden death, and— Well, anyway, Henry—with the patience of a saint, I have to say—dragged from me what had happened.’

‘You told him you’d got married?’ Nathan’s tone had sharpened.

‘There’s no need to sound so tough! I was very upset over the way you had been treated! I told him my father had defaulted on some money he’d promised a businessman—er—who was down on his luck—to marry me. But I never said who the man was, and I never would. Nor, you can be sure, would my father.’