Bachelor's Wife (10 page)

His look was satisfied as he pulled back to see his handiwork. 'Beauty is an understatement,' he breathed, and the next time his mouth hovered near hers, Perry's lips parted of their own volition to receive his kiss.

'Nash,' she cried his name, when his kiss finally ended, her arms now about him, all inhibitions disappearing as he wakened ardour in her, 'hold me close!'

Needing no second invitation, with one arm holding her securely close to his heart, the other busy at the zip of her dress, he pressed forward until she felt the solidness of the settee against her.

How she came to be lying down^ her dress loose about the top of her, she was too far gone to know or care. Nash's kisses had awakened dormant fires she had been ignorant of, his caresses making her moan from pure pleasure. She was his wife, came the words to quell any last-minute feeling that she shouldn't be like this with him, as he lay down with her his hands caressing her naked shoulders, his mouth moving enrapturingly nearer her breasts.

She wanted to tell him this was her first time as she felt him pick her up in his arms—instinct would direct him to her- bedroom door she knew. But she couldn't tell him, and as at the door of her bedroom he paused, his hold secure as he bent to kiss her, the only words to leave her were a submissive:

'I'm glad we're married, Nash.'

The bedroom door was never opened. She sensed a coldness coming to him the moment the words left her— that second before he set her to her feet.  

'What's wrong?' she asked, her desire for him giving her no lead to why that warmth should suddenly have left him.

His breathing was as harsh as his expression as he stepped away from her. 'As you say,' he said, his jaw rigid as he moved only to right her dress on her shoulders and hiding from view her half-naked contours, 'you are my wife. When you remember you also have a fiancé, I think like me you'll agree we shouldn't do anything that will make that divorce the harder to come by.'

Everywhere felt cold when he had gone. Even though

burning inside with shame and mortification, Perry sat huddled over her gas fire ten minutes later still wondering what had come over her.

That Nash's blood could have been nowhere as overheated as hers, that her reminder that they were married had instantly alerted him to how close they were to consummating that marriage, made her want to howl her eyes out from the humiliation she felt.

What had happened to her inner chemistry she had no idea. But she faced squarely that she had been part way to being seduced before Nash had so much as kissed her! That it had been Nash who had been the one to remind her of Trevor, her promise to him, made her cringe with self-contempt.

That Nash was an expert in the ways of getting under a woman's guard was no excuse for the way she had behaved. He had taken notice of her one protest, and would not, she felt sure, have pressed her had she made another protest. But she hadn't, Oh hell! she groaned. He had gone on his way thinking she was as easy as all his other women, and there wasn't a thing she could say in her defence. He hadn't forced her.

Perry buried her face in her hands, wondering how she would ever be able to face him again. Nothing had been decided about the divorce. Nash hadn't stayed above a minute after he had set her down outside her bedroom door. But by the very fact that he had called their love-making to an abrupt halt at the thought of being ensnared into a proper marriage must mean that he agreed to a divorce. He had said, hadn't he, that the divorce would be made harder to come by if they...? Oh, God!

Perry's shame and self-reproach had her hurrying to bed and burying her head beneath the clothes as if by doing so she hoped to hide from the misery of her feelings—but sleep was a long time in coming.

By the time morning came, lashed as she had been

through her waking hours, her torment at last found some relief as the thought seeded and began to grow that it hadn't been all so one-sided, had it? Not that Nash would have lain awake for hours mentally whipping himself for his part in it. Not him. He had probably fallen asleep the moment his head touched his pillow. Fallen asleep and slept the sleep of the guiltless.

But it was more than half his fault—the thoughts that had been with her on waking carried on as she sat across from Madge, busy with her needle. She hadn't invited Nash up to her flat, he had invited himself. She hadn't i invited him to put his arm around her either. Of course she should have stopped him fight there, only in her naivety she hadn't seen anything sexual, idiot that she was, in having his arm around her; she had seen it more as a comforting gesture. When you knew full well his relationships with women were hardly likely to be platonic, an inner voice sneered at her gullibility. She was saved from further berating herself by Madge enquiring whose turn it was to make the coffee.

     'Mine, I think,' and on an idea born of that moment, 'Can you hang on for a few minutes while I pop out and make a phone call?'

That Madge didn't make any wisecrack about
her
recent habit of slipping out, endorsed for. Perry, as she headed for the phone box, what a good sort she was. All she had said was, 'I'll make the coffee. It'll be ready for you when you get back.'

Inside the kiosk Perry emptied sufficient coins from her purse to cover the amount of telephone time it might take her in getting Nash's guardians to put her through to him. She didn't want to be fobbed off by any excuse his telephonist could dream up, the idea of getting what she had to say to him over the phone was much, much preferable to haying to say it to him face to face. Already she was churned up inside and doubting after last night's episode

if she would ever have the courage to look him in the face again.

'Devereux Corporation,' said  that well-remembered voice, and suddenly Perry knew there was only one way she was going to get past it.

'Put me through to Mr Devereux,' she said with all the firmness she could muster. And not waiting for her request to be blocked, she added, 'It's—Mrs Devereux speaking.' Then she found the many coins she had ready in anticipation of a long-drawn-out haggling were not to be needed, as a respectful warm entered the telephonist's voice.

'Certainly. Just one moment, Mrs Devereux.'

Still expecting it would be his secretary Karen Taylor that she would hear next, Perry was nowhere ready to hear that she had been put straight through to Nash.

'My dear,' he said, startling her that his deep voice wasn't anywhere near as cool as she had been expecting.

That was until it came to her that anyone could ring and say they were Mrs Devereux and that that gentlemanly instinct he had mentioned as having was at work, causing him not to call her by name until he was sure of the identity of his caller. The knowledge alone, that despite what he must think of her he was still ready to protect her, thawed some of the ice that had been building up against him.

'It's me, Nash—Perry,' she said, and then heard the coolness in him she had been expecting. 'I intended ringing you tonight.'

Did. that mean that he had nothing very pleasant to say to her? His tone indicated as much, and the thaw in her froze over.

'Well, I'm saving you the bother,' she answered snappily. And not waiting to hear why he had been going to ring her—it wouldn't be to apologise for nearly seducing her, she was sure of that —'We didn't get to fully discuss...' she hesitated, fairly sure his telephonist wouldn't dare to listen in, but caution coming to her from knowledge of the listening-in tendencies of the telephonist Mr Ratcliffe employed, 'er —the matter  we—er—should have done last night.'

'Neither we did,' Nash agreed, which was no help at all, she thought crossly. 'We got side-tracked, didn't we?'

Trust him to have to refer to something she was desperately trying to forget! Her colour pink, her feeling of wanting to put the phone down there and then faded as pride came to help her out. Pride, and a feeling that if he could refer to it when he was more than half to blame, then she was brave enough to refer to it too.

'So we did,' she managed as though she barely remembered it, knowing she was fooling no one but herself, 'and if I remember correctly, you intimated when you left...' The pink in her cheeks became a vivid scarlet as she recalled how he had covered up her semi-clad body before saying those words of intimation. She made herself carry on. 'You intimated you were agreeable to—to my—er—request.'

Silence at the other end had her gripping hard on the instrument in her hand. If Nash said no, then she would just
have
to see him again, have to beard him in his office. She had to have it settled, otherwise there was no hope of a future for her with Trevor. The way she had been with Nash last night flashed searingly through her mind, and she was awash with guilt when he finally deigned to reply,  his words short as though his time was valuable.

'My intended purpose for phoning you tonight was to tell you I've made you an appointment with a firm of solicitors for eleven tomorrow morning,' he abruptly told her,

'Sol...' she began, and as it came home that what he was saying was that the divorce was on, her voice faded, a smile beginning as, not waiting for her to say more, he told her the name of the firm and where she could find them.

'They know the outline of the case. You can rely entirely on their discretion. Once Mr Leighton has seen you he'll contact his out-of-town office and through them my solicitors, who will deal with your settlement.'

'Settlement! I don't want...' Perry found her time allowance in speaking with him was at an end as the phone went down in her ear.

Oh, he had to complicate the issue, didn't he, she thought irately, nowhere near to smiling as she came away from the telephone booth. He could keep his settlement—she didn't want his money. He knew that, of course. By his action he was treating her the way he treated his other women. He had soon banished from his head any notion he had had that she was different, she thought, and saw then that this was his way of saying that last night she had proved that much to him.

It further annoyed her, as she went in search of Mr Ratcliffe to ask him for the morning off, that when she should have been able to give at least a small sigh of relief that everything looked as though it would turn out the way she wanted it, she could take no pleasure from it because Nash had muddied it up with the settlement issue.

In view of the many hours she had worked late when pressure of work had demanded it, Mr Ratcliffe paused only to consider the work load they presently had on before he consented to her having the morning off.

'I wouldn't ask, only it is important,' she told him, and was saved feeling awkward that she couldn't tell him more by at that moment being called to take a telephone call from Trevor.

'Ah, you're at work, so you must be better.' His greeting causing her to realise her fake tummy upset must have had him thinking she had been too ill to be at work yesterday.

'Yes,' she agreed, and was glad to leave it at that as he went on to say that having been with his mother over the weekend he was reprieved from his usual Tuesday night duty, suggesting they saw each other that evening—though in case her tummy still wasn't up to it, they would go for a quiet drink somewhere and have a dinner celebration some other time.

Perry's spirits picked up during the afternoon. She as good as had the divorce in her pocket, she thought, and she had seeing Trevor tonight  to look forward to. And though there was that in her that said she ought to tell him about Nash tonight, there was a stronger urge that said since she had kept quiet this long, another day wouldn't matter. By tomorrow she might even be able to give him some idea of the date she would be free to marry him.

Trevor was in high spirits when he called for her. And as the evening wore on, visited by guilt for more than her paper marriage, Perry was perhaps showing him more affection than thus far she had allowed—even to the extent that when breaking from a heated embrace when before caution would have had her thinking maybe it was time she went in—alone, she found herself saying:

'Fancy coming in for a coffee, darling?'

Trevor's, 'Sounds promising,' had her biting her lip at the wisdom of her invitation. But it was quickly chased away by the vivid memory of the way she had clung to Nash last night, guilt her tormentor.

'I'll just put the kettle on,' she said as Trevor plonked himself down on the settee. That same settee where...

'I don't think you're interested in coffee any more than I am, are you?' he queried, a light in his eyes that should have warmed her, but instead had her knowing that in view of the amorous interlude they had exchanged in his car it might have been better to have invited him in another night.

'Perhaps not,' she agreed, her sights set on the easy chair as she walked back into the room. 'I can't hold you in my arms over there,' he hinted, and

guilt at her wantonness last night was with her again as she smiled and went to sit beside him.

But when Trevor took her in his arms and began to carry on from where they had left off in his car, Perry was shattered to find there was no response in her.

I enjoyed him kissing me a few minutes ago, she thought in bewilderment as she wrapped her arms around him as though just touching him would trigger off the reaction he so clearly expected.

She felt his mouth on hers, felt a roughness in his embrace she had never felt before, felt the tightness of his arms around her increase as desire for her grew in him. But nothing was happening for her! It was as though, she thought, horrified, Nash was still in this room. She felt him there, his unseen presence stultifying any natural feeling she had for Trevor.

'Come on, Perry,' Trevor urged, her lack of response getting through to him as he pulled away to stare at her. 'You were eager enough not so long ago. Why else did you ask me up?'

'I—It doesn't seem right,' she replied, and wasn't surprised when he gave a scoffing laugh.

'For God's sake, you're twenty-four, not fourteen,' he said, trying to pull her back, to him. 'We're engaged, for i heaven's sake—or as good as.'