Ivory Innocence (11 page)

Then he lifted his head and looked at her with a mocking smile. "Your famous cool keeps slipping, Ivory. We'll see how long you can stand being 'in name only.'"

She wriggled to be free, but he only pressed closer. Seeing that he was enjoying the movement of her body against his she became still, glaring up at him, though her own body was reacting violently. "I can stand it longer than you can!" she hissed at him.

Laughing sardonically, Matthew released her. "We'll see about that. Go and ask Mrs. Barnes to make coffee, will you?"

"Go yourself!" she cried, furious that he could affect her so deeply, so easily, and seem untouched himself.

"Oh, very well," he agreed pleasantly. "Any little courtesy that will please my fiancée."

As the door closed behind him, Ivory shook her fist impotently, breathing names she had not learned from her grandmother. He was a devil, a monster… a Kendrake!

And he had given the last of the Meldrums a chance for sweet revenge. She would deny him his physical satisfaction. It was really that simple. Except that she wasn't at all sure she could do it to him—or to herself.

She was obliged to act a part most of the time. Janey talked of weddings and asked questions about the service and what would happen afterwards, and Mrs. Barnes, though surprised, seemed equally pleased.

"I've always thought he needed another wife," she told Ivory. "He's not the sort of man to be alone too much. He needs a woman's tenderness."

Ivory wondered how the housekeeper could have reached such an inaccurate conclusion. Matthew needed nothing from a woman except the use of her body. He had made that clear when he talked about the "nonsense" of love.

Something that troubled her a lot was the thought of Rob's reaction to the news of her forthcoming marriage. She could not imagine how she would ever explain it to him. Whatever she said, Rob was going to be hurt. Although she owed it to him to tell him the news herself, she hesitated. She was afraid that he might see through her excuses and perhaps try to talk her out of such madness.

One evening at dinner, she was dumbfounded when Matthew set a velvet ring box on the table beside her, opening it to show her the beautiful square-cut emerald. The sight of the ring made a nervous pulse throb in Ivory's throat.

"What's it supposed to be?" she asked flippantly. "A mark of ownership?"

"It's usual for a man to buy his future wife an engagement ring. I promised not to keep you short of anything. I'm a wealthy man. But you know that."

Meeting his eyes, she said steadily, "Do you think I'm a fortune hunter?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he replied. "You knew all about me before you ever came for that interview. Your friends at Top Farm had told you—via Mrs. Barnes, of course. Not that I'm complaining. I admire a girl who can use her initiative."

"I'm flattered. But if you think I came here with ideas about cajoling you to the altar, you couldn't be more wrong," she said, her gray eyes steady on his.

Matthew's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I think I believe you. But you still used your initiative to get yourself a job. I was deeply impressed."

"You liked the look of my legs," she said ironically.

"Yes, I did. And the rest of you isn't half bad, either. I've always liked beautiful women. And beautiful paintings, and fine wines."

"You have a collection of all three, no doubt," she suggested. "Paintings on your walls, wine in your cellars, and women—where do you keep them? Hidden discreetly in love-nests?"

The blue demon smiled enigmatically. "If you expect me to incriminate myself, I must disappoint you. How many men have
you
left in the lurch, apart from young Garth?"

"Hundreds. But…" She hesitated, discarding her flippancy. "Rob's the only one who matters. He deserves an explanation. I shall have to go and see him."

"No need," he said with a wave of his brown hand. "I've already done that. I called at the farm a couple of days ago."

"And told him what?" Ivory demanded.

"The truth: that you and I are going to be married quietly at the beginning of next month. I've invited him and his family to the reception. I thought you'd like to have some friends present."

Astounded by his nerve, she struggled for words. "And what did he say?"

"He said he hoped we'd be very happy. He told me to be good to you. Then we shook hands. It was all very civilized, very stiff-upper-lip. He even introduced me to his mother. I've asked her if she'd mind looking after Janey while we're away on honeymoon. That will give the Barneses a break, too."

"You had the cheek—" she choked. "Your arrogance defies description, Matthew. You had no right to go there on your own. They're my friends. You might have let me tell them in my own way."

"What, tell them you're marrying me because of Janey? I couldn't allow that." His fingers clamped over her left wrist possessively. "Besides, I won't have you going to visit old boyfriends. You're mine now, like it or not."

She stared into blue eyes that were intense and fathomless, almost hypnotizing her, and for the first time she admitted to herself that she feared him. For Janey's sake she had to go through with this marriage, and for old wrongs that could only be avenged when a Meldrum came back to Hedley Hall. But she was afraid of the man who was going to be her husband. He had threatened to make her his prisoner and now he had accomplished his purpose. He desired her body without caring for the damage he might do to the person inside it.

On the evening before the wedding, she had to endure a dinner party with the Drummonds. Harry Drummond was a close business colleague of Matthew's, and he had brought his wife with him to attend the wedding. Ivory received their good wishes with the peculiar kind of numbness that had been settling over her for the past few days. Harry Drummond was a solid, pleasant man, his wife Nancy pretty and smiling, but nothing of the conversation penetrated Ivory's mind. She knew she had performed her part adequately, and if she had been a little quiet, it had been put down to the natural nerves of a bride on the evening before her wedding.

Still feeling as though she were moving in a dream, Ivory ate the special breakfast Mrs. Barnes brought. On the tray there was a card in an envelope addressed in Rob's handwriting. The card had a picture of a demure bride and handsome groom amid showers of orange blossom, white doves and silver bells. The verse was trite, referring to the joys of the bridal day and the wedded bliss to follow; it made Ivory wonder what Rob would say if he knew there was no love involved in this match to which she was about to commit herself.

She faced herself in the mirror as she applied the lightest of makeup. Her skin was pale as alabaster, even her lips bloodless; her gray eyes stared back at her bleakly. She emphasized them with shadow and liner, and colored her lips a pale pink, then, as an afterthought, smudged a touch of lipstick on her cheekbones to make herself look less like a ghost.

Since it was to be a registry office wedding, with no church service, she had chosen a dress and jacket in a creamy jersey silk, with a wide-brimmed hat made of stiffened lace. The pale outfit complemented her coloring and she felt that she looked like a bride, except for the emptiness in her eyes. But she would have to summon a smile for the sake of other people, for darling Janey and dear Mrs. Barnes, and for the Drummonds.

She heard a car drive away, and a few minutes later Janey rushed in, wearing the pink dress she had dreamed about, her curls brushed and shining and her brown eyes dancing with excitement.

"Daddy and Mr. Drummond have gone," she announced. "Mrs. Drummond sent me to ask if you're ready. You do look pretty, Ivory. Are you coming? We don't want to be late."

Touched by Janey's innocent pleasure, Ivory bent and kissed her cheek. Whatever happened, she could not regret that she was making Janey's life secure. Hand in hand, they went down to the sitting room.

She accepted the glass of sherry Nancy Drummond brought her and walked to the window to look out through the break in the trees, across the rolling fields. Lifting her glass in farewell to the past, she murmured under her breath, "For Janey. And for the Meldrums!" and drank the sherry in three quick gulps.

It did help, she supposed. She felt a little lightheaded as Nancy Drummond drove along the lanes toward Grantham, the quiet market town where the ceremony was to take place, while Janey chatted merrily from the back seat. The Drummonds would act as witnesses. Ivory thought that it was probably just as well that she had no father to do the traditional thing and ask if she had any last-minute doubts.

Arriving at the registry office, they were shown into an anteroom where Harry and Matthew rose to their feet, both wearing dark suits and gray ties. But there the resemblance ended. Harry, homely faced and tending to paunch, beamed his delight. But Matthew seemed forbidding, tall, tanned, and about as relaxed as a coiled spring. His dark face showed all the warmth of a carving. In his eyes the devil was somber, watchful, making Ivory wonder how she had ever come to this moment.

But here it was.

Then it was over; the words said, the signatures written, the kiss exchanged—a cold, formal kiss. Was he as apprehensive as she was?

His lips felt like ice, chilling her.

The sleek car purred round the drive of Hedley Hall and eased to a halt. Matthew let Janey out, then walked round to open Ivory's door and offer his hand.

"Go and open the front door," he said to Janey, who rushed off to the porch. Then he bent and swept one arm behind Ivory's knees, the other beneath her shoulders, and lifted his bride into his arms. She clutched for the cartwheel hat, but it fell off and floated to the gravel. Matthew ignored it.

"There's no need—" she began, and was silenced by a look.

"Put your arms round my neck," he ordered. "I'm going to carry you over the threshold. We may as well do the thing properly."

Ivory obeyed, watching his strong profile, the straight nose and firm line of his jaw, his mouth clamped shut making hollows under his cheekbones. Her lips ached to be pressed to his throat as he carried her effortlessly across the gravel.

"I didn't know you were a romantic," she jibed.

"Yes, let's do it properly. The form without the meaning, the words without the emotions."

He stepped through the porch and into the hall, where he stopped and turned his head to look at her squarely. "And now the kiss," he said under his breath.

"Yes, master," she muttered, and leaned forward to let her mouth meet his erotically, determined to have her victory at this moment.

Matthew let her feet drop to the floor and his arms clasped round her, one hand caught in her hair to keep her imprisoned. My husband, she thought as the magic of his proximity worked its usual damnable spell, making her lean weakly against him.

He held her away from him, his eyes glinting with mockery. "Welcome home, Mrs. Kendrake."

Only then did she realize that they had an audience. The Drummonds laughed in the porch, and beyond the open door of the drawing room, where a buffet table was bright with flowers, stood the Barneses, Mrs. Garth, Rebecca, and Janey—and Rob. Coloring, Ivory looked at the man she had married, and hated him. The triumph was his, after all.