Semi-Detached Marriage (18 page)

Turning to face her, he said forcefully, 'I
don't know why you're doing this, Cassie, but if going out with Tom is some
kind of moral blackmail to make me jealous so that I'll give up my job, then it
won't work. I don't like blackmail and even less do I like the people who
perpetrate it. Nor do I go much on your using Tom as a tool.'

Colour flared in Cassie's cheeks. 'I'm not
using him!'    

'No? Then I feel sorry for him.' Simon
paused, then went on heavily, 'I love you, Cassie. And I want us to be
together. You felt that you couldn't live in Scotland and I could understand
that and was willing to compromise. But now it seems that that doesn't satisfy
you either; you want an all-out surrender to your wishes. But I'm not that kind
of man, Cassie. And if you can't go on as we are, then it looks as if you're
going to have to make a choice.

'What-what choice?' Cassie's voice was little
more than a whisper.

'Between me and your job.' He said it slowly,
reluctantly, as if he found it hard to get the words out.    

Cassie couldn't speak, could only stare at
him numbly. She felt as if all the world had suddenly stopped and she was
acutely aware of little things: of birds quarrelling outside the window, of the
smell of stale tobacco that still hung in the room from the party, of the cold
feeling that seemed to take her heart in its iron grip.

When she didn't speak Simon's voice hardened
and he said roughly, `And leave Tom out of this. He only complicates matters.
It would be better if you didn't see him again.'

Without bothering to think of the
consequences, Cassie let her ungovernable temper and constant need to assert
her independence come to the fore and she answered defiantly, 'I shall see him
whenever and as often as I like!'

Simon's lips drew back into a grim, sardonic
smile. `That's what I thought you'd say.' He turned on his heel and walked into
the bedroom.

Cassie stared after him for a moment, cursing
herself for a fool, then she followed him into the bedroom and saw that he was
throwing some clothes into his overnight bag.

`Where are you going?' she asked.

`Back to Scotland.'

'Do you-have to go now?'

He gave that grim little smile again, a look
that Cassie had never seen on his face before today and which she found
frightened her to death.

'Why stay? There's nothing for me here.' He
shut the case, shrugged himself into a jacket and walked past her as she stood
in the doorway. At the door to the hall he paused and looked back. His voice
polite, impersonal, as if he was speaking to his secretary or someone, he said,
'When you've made up your mind, perhaps you'll let me know.' He waited for a
moment, but she could only stare at him dumbly, and so he gave a brief nod and
walked out of the flat.

CHAPTER SEVEN

FOR a couple of days Cassie lived in a kind
of vacuum, certain that Simon hadn't meant it, that he'd only issued his
ultimatum in the heat of the moment and that he would soon ring and put
everything right again.

 Only he didn't phone. The days lengthened
into a week, but still he didn't call. Cassie rushed home every evening, firmly
refusing all Tom's invitations for a date, just sitting alone and waiting for
the phone to ring. When it did she would start up eagerly, her heart beating
overtime, trying to compose her voice but still sounding husky and eager when
she said the number. But always it was a friend, whom she would cut short in
case Simon tried to call her and found the number engaged.    

By the end of the week all certainty and
self-confidence had gone. She drooped over her work and was short tempered with
her colleagues, who looked at her in surprise, knowing that she didn't suffer
fools gladly but never having seen her in this sort of mood before. At the
weekend she stayed at home, certain that Simon would phone then, even if it was
only to find out if she was defying him, but the empty hours dragged on without
interruption. All that did come to the flat that weekend was a letter from Tom
saying how much he missed her company, that he would understand if Simon had
forbidden her to see him, but that he very much wanted to go on with their
friendship in any circumstances. With the letter came a huge bouquet of
flowers, but it was the phrase 'if Simon has forbidden you to see me again',
plus a growing anger and resentment, that finally made Cassie pick up the phone
late on Sunday night and ring Tom. On the surface the call was to thank him for
the flowers, but she only put up a half-hearted resistance when he tried to persuade
her to see him again and she ended up by agreeing to have lunch with him the
following day.

It was a gesture of defiance; really, but a
rather pathetic, empty gesture when she couldn't throw it in Simon's face. And
immediately she'd accepted she knew it was wrong. But it was only lunch, she
told herself, having lunch with a man was quite acceptable. Everyone did it. In
fact everyone seemed to be having affairs nowadays; only this week she'd heard
that an old school friend was getting a divorce, of someone else who'd left
home to live with a married man. It seemed that marriage was definitely `out'
this year. Sexual morals were like fashion, constantly changing, what outraged
society one season was perfectly acceptable the next.

But it wasn't just lunch, of course. Having
gained so much, Tom soon got her laughing again and persuaded her to have
dinner the next day, and before she knew quite where she was, Cassie was gently
coerced into seeing him almost as often as before. But always, as soon as she got
home at night, the first thing she would do was to run the tape on the
answer-phone hoping for a message from Simon. There were messages in plenty
from other people, but from Simon there was nothing.
           Worry and fear
gave way to stubborn anger; if Simon thought he could wear her down so that she
would give in, he was wrong. If he didn't love her enough to even phone her,
then he could just go to Hell.

Tom watched her as she went through all the
range of emotional feelings, from worried and unhappy, through angry and
resentful, and waited until she was defiant again before showing his hand. He
had been as attentive as usual during the month that had elapsed since the
party, taking her out to meals and the theatre, making her laugh and forget for
a blissful few hours the ultimatum hanging over her head. He had been careful
not to make any kind of demands on her, until Cassie began to think that she
had imagined that brief moment at the party when she thought that he had been
going to kiss her.

But one Friday night, when they had been out
to a night-club for a meal and had danced until the small hours, he brought her
home and, instead of giving her a light kiss goodnight and leaving her on her
doorstep as he usually did, Tom purposefully strode into the flat, shut the door,
took her in his arms and kissed her.

Cassie immediately tried to pull away, but
his hand was at the back of her head, holding her still. Her mouth moved under
his as she tried to protest, but he took advantage of it to force her lips
apart, assaulting her mouth again and again as his kiss became deeper and
passion took over.

Cassie's head swam, for a few moments longer
she feebly tried to resist, but it had been so long since she'd been kissed, so
long since she'd been loved. Her body ached with need, cried out to be touched,
aroused. She gave a low moan and stopped fighting, surrendered her mouth to
him. Tom made a small sound of triumph in his throat, his hand tightening in
her hair as his mouth ravaged hers. At last he lifted his head, put a hand on
either side of her face and gazed down at her, his breathing so unsteady that
his body trembled, his eyes naked with desire.

'Cassie! Oh, honey.'

Slowly she opened her eyes, came back to
reality. Panic filled her and she put up her arms to vainly try and push him
away. 'No, Tom, please!'

But he wouldn't listen, holding her so that
she couldn't escape and saying, 'Don't fight me, Cassie. You wanted me to kiss
you as much as I did.'

'No, that isn't true.'

'Yes, it is. Yes. You've known how I felt
about you ever since Simon's birthday party. But you've needed time to get over
Simon, I've known that, and I've been willing to wait. But you're ready now,
Cassie, ready to accept that he doesn't love you any more.'

Cassie stared at him in horror, appalled that
he could make such sweeping assumptions, and even more that he obviously
believed them. She gave an incredulous gasp, but before she could speak he was
kissing her again, his lips demanding a response that she had no will-power to
resist.

'Cassie darling,' he murmured against her
hair, his voice thick and unsteady, 'I want to love you. Please let me love
you.'

'Oh, Tom!' Her hands crept up round his neck
as she looked into his face, then she leant her head on his shoulder and said,
'This is crazy. We both know it is.'
          

'Love is crazy. And, boy, am I crazy about
you! Ever since the first moment I saw you I've wanted you.'

His voice went on above her head, saying the
kind of things that every woman loves to hear, even though they were from the
wrong man. Cassie could hear his heart beating loud beneath her head, his hands
gently stroking her shoulders, his lips touching her hair. Closing her eyes,
she lost herself in the pure sensuality of his embrace, let him go on doing
what he wanted, caressing her with his voice, his hands But tlbm bs hand moved
down to her breast, like five totes of fire that burned through her skin. She felt
a spark of pleasure, then jerked quickly out of his embrace.

    She stood a good yard
away, staring at him, her body trembling and her breathing scared, uneven. 'I want
you to go. Please, Tom.'

He grinned, sure of himself, and moved
towards her.

'No, you don't. You…'

'If you touch me again I'll scream!' Cassie's
voice rose and there was an hysterical edge to it that made him stop
precipitately.

Frowning, he said, 'What is this,. honey?
Don't say you didn't want me to kiss you.'

'No, I don't know.' Cassie shook her head in
confusion and brought her hands up in front of her defensively. 'Please, Tom,
just go!'

'Go? After this?'

'Yes.'

He looked at her for a long moment, then
shrugged. 'Okay, if that's what you want.'

Moving towards the front door, he put out a
hand to open it, but turned towards her again before he did so. 'Aren't you
going to say goodnight?'

'Goodnight, Tom.'

'No, like this.' Before she was even aware of
what he was going to do, he had taken a swift stride towards her, caught hold
of her arm and backed her against the wall. Then he bent his head and kissed
her for the third time. He put everything he had into that kiss, and he was
very experienced, had been around. Cassie was lost after the first few seconds
and emerged with her head in a whirl, her body quivering with awareness.

'Don't send me away, Cassie.
Let me stay. I want you so much, so very much.' His voice was in her ear, soft
and persuasive as his lips caressed her neck, her throat, the curve of her
chin.

Her desire to be loved almost overwhelmed
her. It would be so easy to yield, to say yes. And what difference would it
make, no one would ever know. Simon didn't love her, he'd left her alone. It
would serve him right if she gave herself to another man. She'd warned him that
she would, hadn't she, and he'd still gone away. Demon reasons rose up to tempt
her to say yes, and it would be so nice, so easy. His lips were hot against her
skin, his hands firm as they caressed her quivering body.

But then tears spilled out of her eyes and
she began to cry, the sobs catching in her throat. Startled, Tom raised his
head, consternation in his blue eyes.

'Cassie, don't. Honey, please don't cry.' He
tried to stroke her shoulders soothingly, but Cassie had her hands up to her
face and was crying without restraint. 'Here.' He thrust a large handkerchief
into her hand and then took her by the arm and led her back into the
sitting-room and helped her sit down on the settee.

He moved away, but Cassie hardly noticed. Her
whole body was racked by sobs as all the pent-up tensions and emotions of the
last month broke through at last.

'Cassie, honey. C'mon, I want you to drink
this.' Tom was kneeling on the floor beside the settee, a glass of
amber-coloured brandy in his hand.

At first she shook her head in refusal, but
he insisted and it was easier to obey than fight, so she gulped it down, the
spirit making her cough, but easing the heartbreaking sobs so that she sat
passively, her body quivering as the silent tears ran down her cheeks.

Tom sat down beside her and took her in his
arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He stroked her air gently until she'd
cried herself out.

'I'm sorry.' Her voice was muffled against
his chest.

'No, I'm the one that's sorry. I didn't realise
how much Simon meant to you.'

'What do you mean?' Cassie tilted her head to
look at him.