BOB and Genista left the office early, heading for the garage. The car was all ready for her. Bob and the salesman enthused over it, while Genista eyed the gleaming metallic green paintwork, and wondered how she had ever imagined she was going to be able to drive this elegant monster.
‘It’s a doddle really,’ the salesman assured her. ‘Automatic transmission—a beautifully well-behaved car, perfect for a beautiful lady,’ he told her gallantly.
Bob was endlessly patient while Genista drove nervously towards her flat. He had an hour to spare, he told her, so if she liked they could drive about so that she could accustom herself to the feel of the vehicle.
By the time they returned to the apartment Genista was beginning to feel slightly more confident. The car, despite its weight and size, was easy to handle. The leather seats cushioned her comfortably, and there was plenty of space for her long legs.
‘Can I reward your patience and steady your nerves with a drink?’ she invited Bob when they stopped.
He glanced at his watch, the worry she had noticed earlier in the day in his eyes again.
‘I won’t, if you don’t mind, Gen,’ he apologised. ‘It’s Elaine. She’s in a bit of a state.’ He tugged uncomfortably at his tie, avoiding Genista’s eyes, and then said on a rush, ‘She’s got some bee in her bonnet about getting old, says she’s worried I might fall for some young dolly bird. I’ve told her it’s all nonsense.’ His voice had gone very gruff, and Genista’s heart went out to both him and Elaine. ‘Thing is, Gen, she’s discovered a lump in her…in her breast, and she’s working herself up into a rare old state about it. Our doctor’s told her the chances are it will be benign, but she’s convinced it will mean an operation…’
‘Oh, poor Elaine!’ Genista was genuinely sympathetic. How dreadful it must be for any woman to have to face that sort of operation, especially one as vulnerable as Elaine. No wonder she was worrying that Bob would find her less attractive! It was all nonsense, of course. Bob loved his wife, Genista knew that, but even so, she could quite see why he might not want Elaine to be unduly upset. Cold fingers of fear touched her spine. What if by accident Elaine should get to hear of Luke Ferguson’s suspicions? But of course that was impossible. How could she? And suspicions were all that they were. Everyone else in the office knew that there was nothing between Bob and herself, and if Luke Ferguson bothered to ask around, he could find that out for himself.
When Bob had gone Genista ate a solitary meal, occasionally walking to the large window of her elegant living room to stare out in mingled fear and delight at her new purchase. George had been up with her new keys. He had seen her arrive in the car, and had made extremely approving noises, offering to garage it for her if she liked.
When she had finished her meal and washed up, Genista turned on the television. The programme was a documentary about rural life in England, and to her amazement one of the villages featured was the one in which she had been brought up. As she listened to the presenter talking about the contrast between urban and rural life, her eye was caught by the man standing behind him in the small village square, and her heart started to pound heavily in recognition. It was Richard. An older Richard, of course, but still undeniably Richard with his handsome fair-haired good looks and well built masculine frame. Genista looked in vain for Elizabeth at his side, but then of course the daughter of the local landowner and M.P. was hardly likely to be seen frequenting a very ordinary village pub, which was what the television reporter had been doing before walking outside to talk about the experience, and Middle Hesford’s pub was a real village pub, as Genista remembered, with no pretensions to fashionability. The local farm workers gathered there. Genista had only been once—with Richard. Their first date. She could remember it as clearly as though it had been yesterday.
She had lived in the village all her life, but for reasons which did not become clear to Genista until later, her parents had always kept themselves very much to themselves. Her father was a solicitor with a small practice in a nearby town. She was an only child, and her mother seemed to have no friends. Her parents were really all in all to each other, and often, without meaning to, they made her feel slightly as though she were in the way. Such love was very rare, as she had come to appreciate in the years since their death.
She had met Richard when he had come to seek her father’s advice about the purchase of a field adjacent to his farm.
Richard’s father had owned one of the most profitable farms in the area, and following his death from a heart attack when Richard was still at agricultural college, the latter had returned home to take his father’s place.
Richard’s mother and two sisters lived with him. Genista knew him by sight. He was something of a local pin-up, and Genista, who had just left school, and was working in her father’s office as a trainee secretary, had been overwhelmed when Richard had turned almost casually as she opened the door to let him out of the house, following his chat with her father, and asked her if she would like to go out with him.
It had taken her ten seconds to take in the question, and another fifteen to give him a stammered acceptance, accompanied by a vivid blush. Partially because she was naturally shy, and partially because she had been educated privately at an all girls’ school, Genista had had little to do with young men. To her Richard seemed almost god-like. She had heard the village girls chattering about him, and could not understand by what miracle he had actually chosen to ask her out.
The date was for Saturday, four days away, and they passed in a daze of mingled bliss and fear—bliss because Richard had actually asked her out, and fear in case he found her ridiculously childish and lacking in the sophistication he would naturally expect in his dates.
The money she had been carefully hoarding from her salary was withdrawn from her bank account and splurged on a new and—to her—slightly daring outfit which the salesgirl assured her was the very latest fashion—and some new make-up.
Her parents knew about the date, and had been tenderly amused by its effect on her.
Richard was picking her up in his car. It had been a twenty-first present from his father before the latter’s death, and Genista was breathless with excitement when she eventually heard it draw up outside the house.
Having promised her parents that he would take the greatest care of her, Richard handed her into the bright red sports car, and that had been the beginning of their romance.
After her initial shyness had gone, Genista had never for one moment doubted that her love for him was returned. Otherwise why would he continue to date her? It was true he never took her to meet his family, not to the many social gatherings amongst the local farming community to which she knew he was invited, but she believed this was because he wanted them to be alone. Their kisses had gone from shy, tentative embraces to a passionate intensity which left her shaken with a longing she could barely understand. The one occasion upon which Richard touched her breast had filled her with mingled excitement and shame. They had been going out together for six months when Christmas loomed. Richard had already told her that he loved her—and desired her. There was nothing to feel ashamed of, he told her—nor to fear either. He would teach her everything.
Her parents went away the weekend before Christmas. Her father had an important business meeting in London, and her mother was going with him. Genista felt a little nervous about staying in the house alone, but her parents had not suggested that she went with them, and besides, if she had done so, she would have had to miss her weekend date with Richard.
It had been nearly a fortnight since she had seen him. Farm work had kept him busy, he told her vaguely when he picked her up. She had left the house lights on, a little frightened of coming back to an empty house, and they glowed in the darkness as she stepped into the car.
Richard took her to see a film. It remained a dim memory in her mind—men fighting, blood everywhere, women screaming. Afterwards they had driven home slowly, her head on Richard’s shoulder. He stopped outside her house, turning her to him and kissing her with a hunger that alarmed and excited her.
Greatly daring, she had asked him in for coffee. It was only when she brought the tray in to the lounge from the kitchen that Richard realised they were alone in the house. His manner had altered subtly, but she had been too naïve to be aware of it. When he took her in his arms, she had responded with all the yearning love locked up in her young heart, barely protesting when his hand slid up under her jumper towards the tender peak of her breast. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought she would suffocate with excitement. Richard was pressing hot, urgent kisses on her face and neck, and through the spiralling excitement she heard him ask why they didn’t go upstairs.
The question shocked her. They couldn’t, she told him uncertainly. It would be wrong.
Nonsense, he had argued. They loved one another, didn’t they?
Genista was quick to agree, adding rather shyly that she had always hoped to be married in white, and that surely it wouldn’t be long before they could be married. After all, he had a home to take her to and…
In her innocence she was unaware of the reason for his abrupt withdrawal; the angry look on his face as he got up and walked across to the fire, all at once a slightly distant stranger.
‘What’s the matter?’ She had asked the question hesitantly, alarmed by the look in his eyes.
‘I can’t marry you,’ Richard had told her uncompromisingly. ‘Where the devil did you get that idea from? I never said anything about marriage.’
‘You said you loved me!’ It was the cry of a wounded animal caught in a vicious trap, but Richard brushed her words aside, his expression truculent.
‘Oh, come on,’ he demanded, ‘don’t give me all that innocent stuff. You knew the score. A passionate little thing like you isn’t meant for marriage,’ he told her. ‘We could have a good time together, Gen.’ His confidence was returning and he came and sat down next to her, hugging her against him and trying to kiss her, but Genista moved away. He didn’t want to marry her; probably didn’t even love her. Inside she was screaming with the agony of it, but outwardly she was as cold as marble.
‘I thought you loved me.’ At last the words were forced past her numbed lips. ‘I thought you wanted to marry me.’
‘Marry you?’ Her refusal to play the part he had cast for her obviously angered Richard. ‘God, my mother would have a fit! I’m going to marry Sir Peter Lawtry’s daughter—or so she hopes—not the illegitimate offspring of some small-town solicitor. Marry you? My mother would rather see me dead!’
They must have said other things, but Genista could not remember them. All she could remember was her mingled pain and disbelief, firstly that Richard did not love her, and had merely been using her, while cold-bloodedly contemplating a far more socially advantageous marriage, and secondly that she was, as he had said—illegitimate!
When he finally realised that he was not going to persuade her to go to bed with him either now or ever he had stormed out of the house, calling her such vile names that she felt physically sick with them, and making it plain that he could never have really cared about her. Her dreams in ruins at her feet, Genista had the rest of the weekend to dwell on what he had said before she was able to tackle her parents on their return.
Among the snippets of information Richard had flung at her had been one to the effect that her father had been married to a friend of his mother’s before he met Genista’s mother. His wife had been tied to a wheelchair following a hunting accident, and although Genista’s mother had borne him a child, he had not been free to marry her until after his first wife’s death.
Genista tackled her parents the moment they returned home.
They had not denied it. Her mother’s eyes had been full of understanding pity as she looked into Genista’s white face still haunted by the memory of what Richard had told her.
‘In essence everything Richard told you is true, Genista,’ she had said later, coming upstairs to where Genista had flung herself down on her bed, trying to come to terms with the truth. ‘But try to understand. Your father and I feel very deeply in love. He tried to do the right thing, to send me away, but I wouldn’t be sent. You see, I knew he needed me,’ she said simply. ‘Anne’s accident didn’t merely rob her of her freedom physically, it also damaged her brain. She was like a child, and your father wouldn’t be the man he is if he’d been able to desert her. I respected his decision to stay with her, but he couldn’t persuade me to go away and make a new life for myself. He was my life. When I knew I was carrying you I was so pleased. You were the living proof of our love, and I felt no shame. We knew Anne didn’t have long to live, and when we were eventually able to marry our happiness was complete, and we’ve enjoyed it all the more for not having taken it at Anne’s expense.’
‘But what about me?’ Genista cried in anguish. ‘I’m illegitimate! Richard’s mother would rather die than see him married to me. All he wanted was an affair—he told me so—he said he thought it would be like mother, like daughter.’
Her mother’s hand stiffened on the counterpane and then her arms went round Genista’s shuddering frame.
‘Oh, my poor little girl,’ she said softly. ‘He’s hurt you so badly. You’re so very young. I know you won’t believe me, but if Richard had really cared about you, nothing his mother might have to say could have prevented him from marrying you. One day you’ll meet a man who’ll love you, Genista, and he won’t care whether your parents were married or not; all he will care about is you.’
The music signalling the end of the programme brought Genista abruptly back to the present. Her mother had been right about Richard not loving her, and since coming to London she had discovered that parentage was of little importance. The people she worked with accepted her for what she was; and besides, these days illegitimacy meant nothing, but the pain of Richard’s betrayal had gone deep and festered. There had been no serious boy-friends in her life since. For a while she had even felt as though she hated her parents, especially when she heard the news of Richard’s engagement. Four months later Genista’s mother and father were dead. Genista had never ceased to be grateful for the fact that before her parents had left on holiday she had told them that she had come to realise that had Richard genuinely cared for her he would not have been concerned about her birth. She would have hated them to die thinking she blamed them for his defection.
It was high time she put the past behind her, she told herself, but this was easier said than done, especially with men like Luke Ferguson around. A shadow crossed her eyes as she got up to switch the television off. The whole thing had gone beyond a joke. She ought to have made it plain just how wrong his thinking was! Bob’s mistress indeed! She wouldn’t dwell on his other insults about her mercenary nature. If it wasn’t for the fact that it wouldn’t be fair to leave Bob in the lurch when he had so many problems on his hands, her notice would be on Luke Ferguson’s desk tomorrow morning! She had been horrified to learn from Bob that Luke intended to spend several weeks with them satisfying himself that the company was operating at optimum efficiency. All she could hope for now was that Elaine’s doctor would confirm that her tumour was benign, and that she could leave the company without feeling that she was deserting Bob in a time of crisis.
* * *
Her hopes were dashed the following morning when she arrived to find Bob already at his desk, wearing a very haggard expression. He greeted her thankfully, pushing a tired hand through hair which seemed to have gone greyer almost over-night.
‘Elaine?’ Genista asked him sympathetically, eyeing the two empty coffee cups already on his desk. To judge by the amount of paperwork lying there Bob had been in the office for quite some time.
‘Bad news, I’m afraid,’ Bob told her quietly. ‘Our own G.P. came round last night to break the news. I had to take Elaine to the hospital this morning, and they’re operating this afternoon. She was so calm,’ he told her worriedly, ‘too calm, and our doctor agreed with me. It’s as though she refuses to accept what’s happening. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she refuses to listen. I’m desperately afraid of what the truth will do to her.’
‘You can’t shield her from it, Bob,’ Genista told him gently. She was about to ask him what time Elaine was having her operation and suggest that he returned to the hospital leaving her to cope with their work, when she became aware that Luke had walked in, and was very obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. His expression was hard to read.
‘Bob, can you spare me Genista for the day?’ he asked crisply. ‘I want to take over the Mellington account myself. They seem to be experiencing problems, and I see that you and Genista both went to see them when they originally requested our services.’
‘Mellington?’
Poor Bob, Genista thought sympathetically. He was obviously far too concerned about Elaine to place the name, but she remembered it—a small firm in Cumbria who specialised in beautiful reproduction furniture. She was not surprised they were having problems. The firm was run by two generations of the family who had founded it, and father and son did not entirely see eye to eye. It had been the son who had wanted to use their services while his father had stubbornly wanted to cling to the old-fashioned methods he had used all his life.
‘You remember,’ Genista told him, ‘that firm up in the Lake District. We went up to see them and spent the weekend there.’
She made the comment in all innocence, forgetting what construction Luke was likely to place upon it. Elaine had gone with them, and Genista had spent most of the weekend alone, exploring the beautiful countryside, leaving Elaine and Bob to enjoy themselves together.
‘Oh, good heavens—of course I remember now,’ Bob agreed, harassment giving way to pleasure. ‘We stayed in that old coaching inn. Our bedroom had a huge fourposter.’
‘There isn’t time to get there and back in a day,’ Genista told Luke, hoping he would change his mind about visiting the factory, but instead a cool gleam entered his eyes, his expression distinctly mocking as he said softly, ‘Well, then, we’ll just have to stay over, won’t we? I shall need one of you with me as you set up the original package, and with Brian still in Amsterdam, I don’t think it would be a good idea to take Bob away from the office as well.’
It was on the tip of Genista’s tongue to refuse, to tell him that there was no way she was going anywhere with him, but then she looked at Bob, and remembered Elaine. If she refused, Bob would either have to go himself or brief someone to take her place; he had enough on his plate without having to worry about that.
‘When were you thinking of going?’ she asked Luke, her chin lifting defiantly.
‘Today. I’ll give you an hour to collect whatever you need, and then I’ll pick you up and we can be on our way. Give Jilly the name of the hotel where you stayed, and she can fix us up with rooms.’
‘I can drive myself there.’ Genista said stiffly. ‘There’s no need…’
Luke’s eyebrows rose quellingly.
‘And use two separate cars, charging both lots of petrol to expenses? No way. We’re travelling together.’ He glanced at his watch, flicking back the cuff of an immaculately tailored dark blue suit to reveal the gold wristband strapped to one sinewy wrist. ‘Ten minutes of your hour have already gone, and I want to be up there before it gets dark. Our meeting is fixed for tomorrow morning.’
The thought of spending a night under the same roof as Luke Ferguson sent shivers of fear down her spine, but there was no way she could get out of going without adding to Bob’s problems, so she swallowed the hot words of refusal clamouring for utterance and went across to Bob, touching him lightly on the shoulder. She knew that Luke was watching them, and she deliberately turned her back to him so that he wouldn’t see what she was saying.
‘I hope everything goes all right with the op.’
‘It’s afterwards that I’m worried about,’ Bob confided. ‘Elaine’s always been very insecure, and with this bee she’s got in her bonnet just recently about not being attractive any longer. I just don’t know how I’m going to reassure her. Still, that’s not your problem. Are you sure you don’t mind going with Luke, Genista?’ he asked awkwardly. ‘I know it’s none of my business, but I’m very fond of you, and Luke has something of a reputation.’
Genista had to stifle hysterical laughter. Bob warning her about Luke! If only he knew!
She was so determined not to give Luke the opportunity of coming up to her apartment that she packed in record time, pulling clothes haphazardly out of her wardrobe and pushing them into her case, one ear alert for the sound of the intercom warning her that he had arrived. She wouldn’t need very much, after all. Clean under-wear; an outfit suitable for a business meeting; her jeans just in case she managed to get any free time, and something comfortable to travel in.
She was just snapping her case together and tying the buckles when the intercom buzzed.
‘I’m on my way,’ she told George, hoping to forestall any attempt on Luke’s part to come upstairs, but to her dismay it was his darkly velvet tones she heard floating into the room, as he told her he was on his way up.
Feeling flustered, she pulled on the jacket of the suede suit she had decided to wear for travelling, snatching up her handbag and pausing uncertainly in the middle of her elegant living room while she waited for the bell to ring. Even so, when it did so the sound sent fear spiralling along her nerves. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door. She had meant to keep Luke standing in the small hall while she got her case, but he followed her into the living room, looking round appreciatively.
‘Very pleasant,’ he said at last. ‘Bob must think an awful lot of you.’
His cynical tone jarred, and Genista paused on the threshold to her bedroom, her fingers tightly gripped round the handle of her case, unaware of how vividly beautiful she appeared, framed there, her russet hair set off by the soft moss green suede suit, her eyes glowing brilliantly with the emotions she was fighting hard to control.
‘Just as I think a good deal of him,’ she said quietly.
‘Do you?’ There was disbelief in the words, and something else she could not put a name to. The colour seemed to have left Luke’s face. His eyes were hard, almost completely black; obsidian, she thought absently, cold and unfeeling.
‘So much so that you want to break up his marriage?’
‘I don’t want to break it up.’ The words were out before she could stop them, her face drained of colour.
‘Prove it,’ Luke said quietly. ‘Marry me.’
‘Marry you?’ Her voice sounded weak and husky, her eyes mirroring the shock his words had given her. ‘You don’t mean that. You…’
‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Marry me, Genista, otherwise I’ll make sure Bob’s wife gets to hear about your affair.’
‘You’d do that? But why?’
She was genuinely puzzled. She could understand that he might try to use such a threat to force her to sleep with him, but marriage? He couldn’t possibly want to marry her; he had made his contempt of her all too plain.
‘Why?’ There was a tortured expression in his eyes, a look of self-loathing which shocked her with its intensity.
‘Because since I met you I haven’t slept or eaten; because something about you torments me night and day. I must possess you, Genista. It’s like a sickness that won’t let me go.’
‘But marriage!’
‘I don’t want to have to share you with anyone else,’ he told her grimly, ‘or to be dangled on the end of a piece of string to flatter your vanity. Oh, it won’t last. One day I’ll wake up and find I’m free of this obsession which seems to haunt me, and then I’ll divorce you, but until then you’ll be my possession, to do with as I please.’
‘And if I refuse to marry you?’ Genista asked. Her throat was dry with tension. An obsession he had called his desire to possess her, and that was what it was; a hunger fuelled by her own foolish attempt to humiliate him. For a moment it crossed her mind that she might be wiser simply to open the door and run, but common sense reminded her that she wouldn’t be allowed to get very far. But marriage!
‘If you refuse I shall make sure Elaine knows all about your affair; about this apartment; about the weekend you and Bob spent together; the car he bought you…’
‘It’s not true!’ Genista told him angrily. ‘None of it’s true. We aren’t having an affair; I own this apartment in my own right. Bob is a very good friend…’
‘And you care enough about him to want to protect him. I didn’t think you had it in you, but it won’t work. I meant every word I said, Genista. It’s either marriage to me, or I tell Elaine everything.’
In normal circumstances Genista would not have hesitated. She would have gone straight to Bob and warned him so that he could tell Elaine, but Elaine’s operation and state of mind meant that this was impossible. If Luke told Elaine now that she and Bob were having an affair, she was only too likely to believe it. For one mad moment Genista contemplated going to see Elaine herself, but then acknowledged that this would probably only serve to make them appear more guilty. Luke definitely had the upper hand, she thought bitterly, but marriage—!
‘Why marriage?’ she demanded again. ‘Why not a brief affair? A one-night stand, even? After all, that’s all I’m fit for, according to you, isn’t it?’
Dark colour ran up under his skin as she flung the words at him. He came to stand over her, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of her upper arms, his eyes burning so hotly that she wondered how she could ever have thought of them as cold.
‘I’ve told you why. I can’t analyse my need for you, Genista. It defies all the laws of logic. I know you’re a cheap little tramp who sells her favours in return for financial gain; I know you don’t give a damn who you hurt or how, but God help me, I still want you so badly it’s like an ache in the gut, and it won’t be assuaged simply by one act of possession. You might as well offer a starving man a crumb of bread!’
His words frightened her; showing her the intensity of his desire for her. It was like a sickness, she thought, shivering under the look in his eyes. Richard too had wanted her, and had been prepared to lie to her by pretending love for her to satisfy what was merely sexual need, but Luke was prepared to go to even further lengths.
‘I want your decision now,’ he told her harshly, cutting across her thoughts. ‘Either we return from this trip as man and wife, or I tell Elaine all about your relationship with her husband.’
He really meant it, Genista acknowledged. Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed by giant hands, her breathing shallow and uneven as she contemplated the prospect of being Luke’s wife. A shudder ran through her as she remembered that soul-destroying kiss he had forced upon her. And that had only been a kiss! Even now she could remember how it had besmirched her, making her feel as cheap as the sort of woman he accused her of being.
‘If I agree, I’ll lose Bob anyway,’ she realised, desperately trying to find a loophole for herself. Instinct told her that there was no point in trying to plead with him by revealing Elaine’s dangerous emotional state; he would merely use the information as an additional lever.
‘You’re damned right you will!’ Luke swore savagely. ‘I don’t intend to share you with anyone else, Genista, but this way at least you keep your pride. He won’t leave Elaine for you, you must know that, and if you do care about him you won’t want to try and break up a marriage that obviously means a good deal to him. Strange, I shouldn’t have thought you the type of woman who shares her man. Or as long as he keeps on paying the bills, don’t you care?’
Genista longed to scream at him that he was completely wrong. She paid her own bills, and cared for Bob only as a friend, but she knew he would not believe her. He was so biased against her, so convinced that he was right that nothing would change his mind. While she stared sightlessly across the room he walked past her and into her bedroom, strolling casually round it, while the words of bitter fury froze on her lips.
‘Odd,’ he mused, glancing at the delicate feminine room with its pale peach decor. ‘It doesn’t give the impression of a room that’s shared by a man and woman.’ Before she could stop him, he opened a wardrobe door, studying the clothes hanging there.
‘Nice,’ he commented, ‘and expensive. Where does Bob keep his things? Or is he too discreet to leave any of the evidence lying about?’
Feeling too sick to reply, Genista walked towards the kitchen. Perhaps a glass of water could clear the nausea rising in her throat. She was reaching for a glass when she heard Luke behind her, his tall, lean frame filling the small room.
‘Well?’ he enquired grimly. ‘What’s the answer?’
‘If I had only myself to consider there is just no way I would agree,’ she told him in a shaky voice. ‘What you’re doing is blackmail—there’s no other way to describe it. The thought of making love with you makes me feel ill!’ Her voice started to rise hysterically on the last few words, and she gasped as hard fingers dug into her shoulders, turning her painfully so that she was facing Luke, the broad expanse of his white shirt blurring a little as tears filled her eyes.
‘Does it now?’ he grated in a voice laced with threatening menace. ‘Well, we’ll just have to see if we can’t change your mind about that, won’t we? Not now,’ he told her, as the colour left her face, leaving her vulnerable to the knowing probe of his dark eyes. ‘When I take you, Genista, I want to savour the experience, not rush through it like a callow adolescent. And you will savour it,’ he told her softly, the pressure of his fingers no longer painful, but persuasive, as they lingered on the frail bones of her shoulders, impelling her forward until her breasts were touching the dark wool of his jacket. ‘I’ll make you respond to me,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘Whatever pleasure Bob gave you, I’ll give you more.’
‘You couldn’t!’ The words were torn from her throat in a terrified cry. For a moment his words had almost mesmerised her; her heart was pounding unsteadily, sensations that turned her cold with fear, curling insidiously through her stomach, weakening her legs to the point where she wanted only to lean against Luke’s lean body. Her emotions shocked and terrified her. She hated the man, and yet just for a moment the images conjured up by his soft words had weakened her defences to the point where she had actually experienced a sharp stab of physical desire!
‘Try me.’
The sexually explicit invitation left her feeling nervously frightened. They were, after all, completely alone in the flat. She moistened her lips, unaware of the teasing provocation of the movement until she glanced up and saw the raw hunger burning in Luke’s eyes.
‘Don’t tempt me,’ he advised her harshly. ‘Now, do I tell Elaine about you and Bob, or are you going to marry me?’
Did she really have any choice? Dared she risk Elaine’s health and possibly her marriage by refusing? But if she married Luke, ultimately he would discover that he had been wrong. A hot flush of colour surged over her body as she dwelt on exactly how he would discover the truth, and she started to tremble violently at the thought of the intimacies marriage would entitle him to. Perhaps she could agree, and then find some means of escaping. If she could just get him out of the flat; just persuade him to wait until Elaine was over the operation.
‘I’m not going to wait, Genista,’ he told her, as though he had the power to follow her thoughts. ‘And don’t try running out on me. If you do I shall tell Elaine. I want your answer now.’
Genista took a deep breath. For Bob’s sake she had to do it.
Marriages could be annulled. She could find some way of keeping Luke at bay until Elaine was better.
‘Very well, I’ll marry you.’ Her lips felt swollen and dry and she badly wanted to lick them again, but fear of what the gesture might provoke prevented her.
‘Very wise,’ Luke said softly. ‘But don’t start thinking about a long engagement. We’re getting married today.’
‘Today?’ Her heart came into her mouth. ‘But…but that’s impossible!’
‘Not with an archbishop’s licence and an archdeacon for an uncle,’ Luke told her drily. He pushed back his cuff in a gesture which was becoming familiar to her. The sight of the dark hairs curling crisply against the gold strap of his watch made her stomach knot with apprehension. Some instinct told her that his body would be totally masculine, and her fingers curled moistly into the palms of her hands as she contemplated its enforced possession of her.
‘It will take me about an hour to make the arrangements. We can be married in Cumbria. And don’t even think about running out on me, because if you do I’ll find you, and I’ll make sure Elaine knows exactly what’s been going on between you and her husband. While I’m gone I suggest you occupy your time in finding something suitable to be married in.’ He pulled out his wallet and wrote a cheque, signing it firmly, and tossing it across to her. ‘On second thoughts, go out and buy yourself something, I won’t have my bride wearing clothes paid for by another man.’
‘And I won’t wear anything bought with your money!’ Genista flung back at him. ‘I’d rather be stark naked!’
‘An enticing prospect,’ Luke drawled coolly, ‘but I have a rather old-fashioned urge to be the only one to see my bride’s nudity. And don’t tear that cheque up, because if you do, I’ll take you out and buy you something myself.’
‘I’m surprised you don’t anyway,’ Genista raged, goaded beyond endurance. ‘What am I supposed to buy? Something white? If I had my way I’d be wearing mourning!’
For a moment there was a flicker of some emotion she could not name in the depths of the charcoal grey eyes, but then it was gone, his mouth uncompromisingly firm as he looked her up and down.
‘Save the amateur dramatics for those who appreciate them,’ he advised her dryly. ‘A simple suit should suffice. Whatever else you might lack, no one could accuse you of not having taste. Just remember that we shall be getting married in a small country church and that no one apart from ourselves will know that it isn’t a perfectly normal marriage.’
‘When in reality it’s merely a legal vehicle for you to satisfy your libido,’ Genista said bitterly. ‘And once you have, I’m to be flung aside like so much unwanted trash.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Luke said smoothly. ‘One hour, Genista—and remember, if you’re not here, I go straight to Elaine and tell her about your affair with her husband.’
When he had gone Genista sank down into the nearest chair, her legs trembling with fear and reaction.
Marriage to Luke Ferguson! Even now she could not believe it was actually going to happen; that the whole thing wasn’t merely some terrible nightmare. It was all real enough, she told herself soberly, her eyes alighting on the phone. A last desperate hope came to her, and she picked up the receiver, dialling the office number, and asking for Bob.
‘He’s at the hospital,’ Jilly told her. ‘They called him—something about Elaine. Apparently she needs a fairly major operation. I’ve never seen him look so worried. Can I take a message for him?’
After telling Jilly that it wasn’t anything important, Genista hung up slowly. She felt like an animal driven far below the earth, its every avenue of escape slowly blocked off. The chiming of the old grandfather clock which had belonged to her parents reminded her that she had barely forty-five minutes of her hour left. She glanced distastefully at Luke’s cheque, still reluctant to use it, and then she remembered a suit she had bought the previous month. It was still hanging in her wardrobe as yet unworn. She had bought it for the christening of a friend’s baby. It was in a very soft shade of pale green; a three-piece comprising a skirt in silk chiffon, slenderly fitting and finely pleated at the back; a pretty camisole top, and a long-sleeved jacket which gave the outfit a more formal air. Without it the camisole and skirt could easily pass for a dress, and there was even a hat in matching chiffon trimmed with soft pink roses. Genista remembered that when she had been trying it on the salesgirl had commented that it would be ideal for a summer wedding. Genista had agreed, never for one moment dreaming that she would be wearing it for her own. It had been many years since she thought about getting married—since Richard, in fact, but that did not alter the fact that had she so desired she had every right to be married in a misty froth of white with all the traditional trimmings.
The case she had packed earlier was in the living room, and she refused to add anything else to it. This was no true marriage; she had no need of a normal bride’s fripperies. The first thing she saw when she opened the case to pack the silk suit was the Oriental housecoat she had placed on top of her other clothes, and she averted her eyes from the rich jade silk. She had bought it in Hong Kong and loved the feel of the fabric next to her skin. It was designed on the lines of a cheongsam and she knew that it suited the slender lines of her body. No man had ever seen her wearing it, and none would, she told herself fiercely. She would find some way of preventing Luke from consummating this parody of a marriage.
She had just closed the case when Luke returned. He had changed out of the suit he had been wearing earlier and was dressed in hip-hugging jeans and a thin knit shirt which clung to the sleek muscles of his back and chest. The shirt was open at the neck, and Genista felt the familiar fear curl through her stomach as she saw the dark hair shadowing his chest.
‘Ready?’
How could he sound so cool? The man who had told her that it was his desire for her that was forcing him into this marriage seemed to have completely disappeared, to be replaced by this cool, distant, arrogantly male creature, whose presence in her home intimidated and alarmed her.
‘I’ve made all the arrangements. We’ll be married in Cumbria, spend the weekend there and then return to London.’
Not a word about where they were to live; what she was supposed to do about her job or what his family thought about his sudden decision to marry—and to a girl they had never seen, Genista thought incredulously, watching him lift her case as though it weighed no more than a handbag.
‘What are you waiting for?’
His sardonic words jerked her to her feet, and like someone in a dream she followed him out of the apartment.