Read Desperate Measures Online
Authors: Sara Craven
Desperate Measures (29 page)
- There was a smile in his voice. 'You did me a great service, Philippa, when you persuaded Henri to stay at the party. Am I not even allowed to thank you with a kiss?'
- She shook her head. 'We made a bargain,' she said stiltedly. 'I was just—keeping my side of it, that's all.'
- There was the barest pause, then he said, 'Just as you wish. I hope, however, that you will seriously reconsider your plans to start painting again.'
- 'No.' She lifted her chin. 'My mind is made up. I need something—some kind of life for myself. After all, I'm not your prisoner.'
- 'I cannot imagine a cage that would hold you,' he said with faint acid. 'You mean, then, to defy my wishes?'
- 'When they're as unreasonable as that—certainly.' She paused. 'I don't interfere with your—hobbies. I think you should allow me the same courtesy.'
- There was another taut silence.
- 'I think,' Alain said slowly, at last, 'that I should have had a vow of obedience included in our marriage ceremony.'
- 'Which I would have refused to take,' Philippa retorted crisply.
- 'Then it's impasse.' He shrugged, sounding amused. 'Very well, ma femme. Join your art class, if that's what you want, but do not allow your painting to interfere with your social duties. I shall be entertaining various members of the board of De Courcy International over the next week or two, and I expect you at my side, my devoted and docile wife,' he added with irony. 'Do I make myself clear?'
- 'As crystal,' she nodded. 'I won't let you down.'
- 'No,' he said. 'You will not. Our marriage must convince everyone.' His voice was thoughtful, and the green eyes travelled over her from head to foot in a devastatingly sensuous assessment. He lifted a hand and very gently traced the outline of her cheek, pushing back the soft strands of hair as he did so. He said quietly, 'Are you sure, mignonne—quite sure that you wish to spend the night alone after all?'
- She tried to speak, but her mind suddenly seemed to have stopped functioning. He was standing too close to her, she thought dizzily. His voice alone was a seduction, quite apart from the way he was looking at her—the smile in his eyes...
- She was aware of a hot, unfamiliar excitement, drying her mouth, and sending a wild, secret trembling through her body. She found herself wondering crazily what it would be like to go into his arms of her own free will—to give without restraint all he might ask of her. And in return to know everything...
- As Marie-Laure already knew...
- The thought invaded her consciousness like an icy deluge, shattering the spell which held her enclosed, and sending her reeling back to a kind of sanity, as the exact events of the past twenty-four hours came relentlessly into focus.
- It was Marie-Laure he wanted, of course. He'd had the torment that evening of seeing his mistress, but knowing that she was denied to him, so now he was turning instead to the girl he had made his partner in the most cynical marriage bargain of all time. Because she was female, after all, and available, and he could use her for an hour to two to find a temporary sexual oblivion. Because that was the most it could ever be, and she needed to remember it.
- And I, Philippa thought shakily, I might have allowed that. I might have let my curiosity lead me into a complete betrayal of myself and my principles. Because for me it might not have ended there. It might instead have been a beginning...
- Her mind closed, in rejection and fear.
- She heard herself saying softly and stonily, 'I wish to be left in peace, as you promised. I'm not a substitute for your mistress, Alain.'
- He was very still suddenly, looking at her, the laughter, the beguiling tenderness dying from his face.
- 'I need no such reminder,' he said bleakly, at last. 'You hardly resemble her, after all.'
- She supposed the gibe was deserved, but pain lanced through her just the same. Last night, he had seemed to find her desirable, but compared with Marie-Laure's sensual, voluptuous beauty, she could see she had very little to offer, except perhaps a certain novelty value.
- 'Before I leave you to your precious peace, my dear wife,' his voice stung, 'I should tell you the main reason I came here tonight was to inform you that I have telephoned the clinic, and your father's condition is stable. It is too soon to know whether the treatment is having any effect, but his doctors wish you to know they are optimistic'
- Philippa stared down at the carpet, her eyes blurring. She told herself it was a relief. 'Thank you.' Her tone was subdued.
- 'Pas du tout,' Alain said too politely. 'It is useful, perhaps, to remember precisely why we are together at this moment. And also why it would be foolish to expect any more from each other than the terms of our agreement.'
- 'Very foolish.' It was an effort to keep her voice steady.
- 'So now we both know where we stand, madame.' His voice sent a shiver along the length of her spine. 'But understand this. Our bargain will be kept, and you will take care how you challenge me in future. I do not need any spoken vow to make you obey me, and I shall not hesitate to enforce your obedience, in the privacy of this room as well as in public, if I think it necessary. There is too much at stake.'
- Philippa leaned back against the dressing-table, her fingers gripping the carved edge, her heart slamming against her rib cage.
- She said thickly, 'I won't forget.'
- Alain sent her a swift, hard smile. 'Good. Then I wish you a pleasant night.'
- She watched him walk away from her across the room. Heard the door close behind him.
- No, she thought, she would not forget. She would never forget. She had been granted a temporary reprieve, that was all. Because there was no escape clause in the contract she'd made with Alain de Courcy. And she would have to live with the consequences. All of them.
- She stared across the room at the bed, and her whole body began to tremble.
- CHAPTER FIVE
- Zak Gordano stood back, hands on hips, head on one side. For a long moment he said nothing, and Philippa held her breath. Then he nodded.
- 'That's not bad,' he said. 'It's not good either, but it's an improvement on anything you've produced so far.'
- Philippa's grin lit up the world. 'That,' she said, 'is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.'
- Zak raised bushy eyebrows. 'And you only married—what is it—a month ago?'
- 'Six weeks,' Philippa corrected, her expression suddenly wooden.
- 'So long?' Zak mocked. 'My God, no wonder the honeymoon's over and the pretty speeches are finished!'
- She had to smile in spite of herself. 'Yes—well, do you really think my work's getting better?'
- 'Maybe.' Zak paused, fingering his beard, his dark eyes studying her closely. 'The thing I keep asking myself is—why do you want to do this? God knows you don't need to paint. You're married to a millionaire. No question about where your next meal is coming from.'
- Philippa's eyes went frowningly to the canvas on the easel. 'Is that a problem?'
- 'There's certainly something,' Zak spread his hands. 'What can I say? You're too locked up in yourself— too inhibited to paint as you should be doing. You're
- still feeling your way, instead of going for broke. Holding back all the time. So I ask again—why bother?'
- She looked troubled. 'Am I wasting my time—and yours too? Is this what you're trying to tell me?'
- 'Hell, no. If I thought that, I'd have said so on day one.'
- Philippa was silent for a moment, then she said slowly, 'I suppose there could be several reasons why I'm doing this. I need to establish an identity for myself—to prove that I exist as a person in my own right, not just as a well-dressed adjunct to Alain. That's—not always easy to remember.'
- She paused. 'And there's Dad, of course. He always wanted me to paint. I feel I'm keeping faith with him somehow. That when I'm struggling to get the paint on the canvas here in Paris, I'm helping him fight for his health over in New York. Does that sound utterly ridiculous?'
- 'It doesn't sound ridiculous at all,' Zak told her gently. He paused again. 'What's the latest news on Gavin, anyway?'
- She grimaced. 'Slow. I call the clinic every other day. They tell me it's still too early for any definite prognosis, but that everything's going to plan. I just keep hoping.'
- 'That's as much as any of us can do.' Soberly Zak paited her shoulder. 'Tell me, Madame de Courcy, what does Gavin think of his son-in-law?'
- Philippa swallowed. 'Well, they don't really know each other very well as yet,' she evaded.
- Zak nodded. 'One of these days I'd be real interested to hear the history of this marriage of yours, and so would Sylvie. She says you haven't got the
- look in your eyes which means happiness for a woman. Yet your husband's a good-looking guy, and definitely no slouch when it comes to women, or so Sylvie says.'
- Philippa shrugged. 'I think most marriages have to go through a period of adjustment,' she countered.
- 'And that's what yours is doing?'
- 'I think so. Tell Sylvie to stop worrying about me.'
- 'I will. At the same time, I'll tell the sun not to rise tomorrow.' Zak paused again. 'Speaking of my wife, she's making bouillabaisse tonight. Says there's enough for you too.'
- 'Oh, Zak, I can't.' Regretfully Philippa shook her head. 'I have another dinner party to go to—a business affair. I'd much rather be staying for Sylvie's bouillabaisse.'
- 'Some other time, then,' said Zak. 'See you tomorrow, honey.'
- Philippa was thoughtful as she walked slowly down the narrow staircase that led from the studio to street level. Even she could see that her work was still too tentative. She wondered if it was Alain's attitude that was colouring her approach. His disapproval of her decision to resume her studies was still patent, if unvoiced.
- Yet he had nothing to complain about, she told herself defensively. She was keeping her side of the bargain to the letter. Whenever he required her to be at his side, she was there, groomed and smiling. She was beginning to be less shy too, and could hold her own in conversation. And Alain played his part too— she could not deny that. He was attentive and affectionate, every word, every gesture expressing his pride in her, and his satisfaction with her as a wife.
- She was becoming used to hearing herself described as 'charmante', and no one, to her knowledge, had drawn any more unfavourable comparisons with any other woman. So in that way, at least, he had reason to be pleased with her.
- She bit her lip. But that, of course, wasn't all. If their marriage could have been lived totally in public, it might have counted as a success. It was when they were alone together that it all went wrong. Oh, they didn't quarrel, or anything like that, she acknowledged glumly. It might almost have been preferable if there had been a few rows. In fact there were times when she found herself deliberately provoking Alain— trying to get a reaction. But all to no avail.
- No, Alain was invariably courteous to her, even charming in an aloof way, and his behaviour didn't alter one iota on the rare occasions he came to her bedroom.
- She felt her face warm. She didn't really want to contemplate those brief, embarrassing encounters in the darkness. Those swift, almost clinical couplings which were all she was called on to endure.
- She supposed she should be thankful for the consideration he invariably showed her. At least there were no more troublous attempts to seduce her. But gratitude, she had discovered, was not always the uppermost emotion in her mind, as she lay, tense and trembling, in his arms. She was aware of a strange restiveness when he left her, an aching void deep inside her.
- She told herself it was resentment. He might have a legal right to use her body, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Besides, resentment—endurance, also represented safety. They enabled her to retreat from
- Alain emotionally behind the barrier they offered— to resist the temptation of his physical attraction which still tormented her. Because she couldn't afford to relax her guard against him, even for a moment. The strange hunger in her body told her that, and she was disgusted at her own weakness.
- And what part Marie-Laure de Somerville-Resnais still played in his life, she could only guess. Certainly there were nights when he did not return to the apartment. He offered no explanation, and she certainly never asked for one. He knew the risks implicit in such a relationship, after all, she told herself stonily.
- The threat of the emergency board meeting, with its attendant vote of censure, had been withdrawn, at least temporarily. Louis de Courcy had been forced to acknowledge that his campaign to overthrow his nephew as chairman had been weakened by his new respectability as a married man. But that did not mean he wouldn't still be watching and waiting for Alain to make some mistake, some slight slip. And a resumption of his affair, however discreet, with the beautiful Baronne would be exactly the excuse that his uncle was looking for, Philippa thought, biting her lip. As for herself, her own feelings on the subject—well, that side of Alain's life was none of her business, was it?
- The irony of it all was the overt envy she sensed from most of the women she met. They clearly imagined she lived a life, not just of luxury, but also of blissful fulfilment.
- If they only knew, she thought, with a little sigh as she emerged into the late afternoon sunlight.
- The men seemed to come from nowhere—two of them, scrawny and greasy-haired, dressed in denims. One of them pushed her, sending her flying to the pavement, while the other one grabbed at her shoulder-bag.
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