A Taste of Honey (13 page)

Fool. Silly fool.
And she wished he’d leave her alone so that she could curl up in her misery.

Oh, my God. Had he heard me when I’d said I loved him? Please, no. Don’t make me any more vulnerable than I already am with him. Make me as unrelentingly cool as he is toward me. Don’t let me show Will how much I love him. How much I want him.

“Yes, I suppose we can.”

“Honor and respect, they’re the key words. Anything can work if you have honor and respect.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Yeah, everything’s going to be fine.”

Charli would never tell Will how much he affected her. How the mere touch of his hand sent her emotions in different directions until she couldn’t tell if she was on solid ground or walking on air.

She knew positively that if Will had the remotest idea how she truly felt, he’d tease her unmercifully. The power it would give him would be intolerable. He was arrogant enough now. Whatever happened between them, she had to keep her deep love for Will a secret. He must never learn the truth or her life would be hell.

It didn’t matter how he made love to her; the truth would always separate them.

He spun away from her. She could hear his labored breathing, quickly turning into a deep, bordering on snore-like, sound. He was sound asleep, but she could never sleep. She wanted to lie here beside him and wonder at the things he had done to her. She wanted him inside her again. She was insatiable.

She snuggled into his body and he stirred slightly. She buried her face into the warmth of his back and kissed him gently down his spine. She fingered his hair at the base of his neck, wallowing in the thick texture of his hair; the way it curled slightly up at the end. She rang her fingertip across one shoulder and then the other, and his hand came up to brush her away and to scratch where her fingertips had tickled the skin. Her knees came up to curve into his buttocks and she placed an arm around his waist; her body protected, warm, and completely relaxed.

A Marriage of Convenience, the phrase is a calque of French: marriage de covenance, is arranged for personal gain.

Charli opened her eyes and looked straight out of the bedroom window into a china-blue sky. It was a glorious day with no hint of rain.

Will.

She spread out her arm; the bed was empty. She sat upright and heard the shower running and, relieved, she lay back among the pillows.

She stretched luxuriously under the warm covers, reluctant to start the day. She glanced at her bedside clock. Would it matter if she didn’t get up? If she wanted to, there was nothing to stop her from lying here all day and dreaming.

She laughed softly. What a romantic fool. But if she lay in bed long enough Will would come back and find her eagerly waiting for him.

She flushed. Will now monopolized her.

He entered the bedroom. “Good morning,” he said and came and sat on the edge of the bed.

She lowered her eyelids. Wanting to look at him, drink him in, but afraid she wouldn’t be able to control her emotions. “Good morning,” she replied.

“How about breakfast on the terrace?”

“Sounds good.”

“Mrs. Plunkett is preparing it as we speak.”

Charli was ravenous as if she hadn’t eaten food for days.

He pulled back the covers. “Get ready,” he said and playfully spanked her rump as she got out of bed.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She didn’t appear any different and yet somehow she was. She seemed surer of herself, as if an aura of confidence surrounded her. Boldness, more daring. She peered closer at her image. Her skin seemed clearer; her eyes brighter. Throwing her arms high into the air, she did a small pivot. From this moment on her life would become exciting just from the fact of knowing him. He had brought her to heights that she didn’t know existed. He had given her a glimpse of paradise and she wanted more.

Stepping into the shower, she stood under the steaming spray of water and, in top voice, broke into a chorus of “Waltzing Matilda.”

Dressed in a bathrobe, she joined him on the terrace. He stood. Charli gasped as strong hands spanned her waist. Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her into him. His lips moved over hers and they kissed, hungrily.

His mouth never left hers as he moved them from the terrace back into the bedroom. He fell beside her on the bed and they made love.

Charli had the delicious thought that he loved her as deeply as she loved him.

• • •

They had just finished breakfast. Charli gazed out over the city skyline; the day was dull and hazy. She turned her gaze to Will, absorbed in reading the Sunday morning paper. It would be strange working with him now that he was her husband, but not impossible. She was too much the professional to allow their altered relationship to interfere in the efficient running of Knight Books. The company meant too much to both of them.

He spoke to her. “Settling in okay?”

She smiled. “Yes, very much so.”

“Good.”

“When do you use the hotel room?”

“Mostly when interstate or overseas visitors come.”

“Will we take the tram or will we drive?”

His turn to look surprised. “Tram? I don’t understand.”

“To work.”

“There’s no need for you to work.”

“There’s every need in the world,” she argued. “I’m chief editor and most importantly, I need to work.”

He chewed his bottom lip. “I didn’t suppose you’d want to work now that we’re married.”

She relished the flash of anger. Did he really expect her to sit home and watch soapies on television? “I intend to work, Will. I intend to run Knight Books with you. I intend to make decisions and — ”

“You intend?” He threw down the newspaper and stood. Hands on his hips. “What about me? What about what I intend? You know my feelings about working with women.”

“Because of your first wife? The way she cheated on you and took away your star writers?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I want you to stay home where you belong.”

“Where I belong? What is this? The eighteenth century? We’ve had women’s lib for a long time now, Will.”

She drew in a stabilizing breath. “So you think I might run off. Cheat you. Destroy you as she did?”

He had the grace to look ashamed. “I didn’t exactly mean that.”

She controlled her temper with effort. “I intend to work for the sake of my sanity.”

He chortled. “For a minute there I thought you were going to say for the sake of love.”

“I’d rather love a rattlesnake.”

“I have no illusions about your feelings for me, but — ”

She cut in on him. “And I have none about yours for me, let’s keep it that way.”

“That’s fine with me. Can you tell me what in the hell I’m doing here?”

“Yeah, wasting your time.”

“You’re my wife and there are certain obligations that go with that privilege and I expect you to uphold each and every one of them.”

“You pompous ass. Privilege? My God, just who do you think you are? So I must never blemish the Knight name.”

“You’re dead right, because you wouldn’t like the consequences if you did. Do I make myself clear?”

She didn’t answer him.

“Do I make myself clear?” he repeated.

“Abundantly clear,” she said. “I hate you.” Oh my God, what a childish thing to say to him, but she was so darn mad, so frustrated she could scream.

His eyes glittered. “I can live with that.”

“I wish I’d never married you.” She so wanted to stir him up, hurt him like he was hurting her. She was being such an idiot. Why didn’t she stamp her foot and drop her bottom lip?

“Too bad,” he said, his jaw tense, the veins in his neck standing out like rope.

She hated him. She loved him. She hated him. Oh, dear God, she loved him.

She tilted her head and stared defiantly into his eyes, refusing for him to see how his words had hurt her. “I never anticipated love from you. We made a deal and I’ll stick to it.”

“All the way?”

“All the way.”

“That’s all I want,” he said, and her heart died.

Marriage is considered a business contract, yet, with time, many couples fall deeply in love.

On weekends, mostly Charli spent her time in the garden. She’d never tire of the beauty of the house and surrounds; in an odd way, she was content with her life, and though contentment was a long way short of love it was about all she could expect.

Dinner that night was pleasant, except Will was engrossed with papers he’d brought from the office. “More salad?” she inquired. He didn’t answer. She sighed and tried another tactic. “There’s a grub on your lettuce?”

He looked up at her. “Did you say something?”

“More salad?”

“No, no thanks,” he said, looking across at Charli. “I want you to read this manuscript.”

She reached for the proffered sheets, thrilled that he was asking her opinion. “Do you think it has promise?”

“It looks good.”

“What genre?”

“A murder mystery. One of the best I’ve read for a while. You’ll never guess who dunnit.”

“I don’t know, I’m a whiz at picking the murderer. Agatha Christie fan from way back.”

He smiled. “Don’t read it now — over the weekend will be fine.”

“I’m anxious to read it now. I’ll start it later in bed.”

“Up to you.”

“Coffee?”

He stood up and came to her side. “Let’s have coffee in the lounge. I’ll light a fire and we’ll have a brandy.” He laughed softly. “I’ll have a brandy, you can have a lemonade.”

A warm glow spread through her as she followed him into the lounge. She loved this time with him. Just the two of them. Let’s play house. All she wanted to complete the perfect picture would be your bed or mine. Don’t kid yourself. This was a complete sham. Two people each playing a specific role. Will the perfect loving husband, and she the devoted wife. She wondered how long they could put up the pretense and what would happen when it all tumbled down around them.

How would they pick up the pieces?

Will lit the fire and she sat in an oversized lounge chair. He stood in front of the roaring, open fire, one elbow resting on the mantelpiece. “I’d like to invite our parents next weekend.”

“Do you think your mother would want to come?”

“You still don’t feel comfortable with her?”

“To the contrary,” she lied. “I’ll look forward to the weekend.”

Unexpectedly, he moved from his place by the fire and came to her side. He reached down and laced his fingers through hers, warm and strong. Pulling her to her feet, his mouth came into contact with hers. Hot and firm. A liquefying rich reaction infused her, drawing her compellingly to him. Her mouth opened under his pressure, and their kiss deepened to a romantic touch of tongues.

She arched to him with a little moan of hunger.

“Want to come to bed?”

He was a sensual man and needed sex; she wanted their marriage to be as normal as possible; besides, her need for him was forever within her and she wasn’t strong enough to ignore it.

“Yes.”

A wife’s proper role is to love, honor, and obey her husband, as her marriage vows stated. A wife’s place in the family hierarchy is secondary to her husband, but far from being considered unimportant, a wife’s duties to tend to her husband and properly raise her children are considered crucial cornerstones of social stability by the Victorians.

Women seen as falling short of society’s expectations are believed to be deserving of harsh criticism.

Mrs. Plunkett had prepared a sumptuous meal for their parents. Seafood chowder followed by roast pork loin, scalloped potatoes, and green salad, and the pièce de résistance — a triple-layer chocolate cream cake. The table was grand; the wine chilled. Perfect.

The biggest surprise came when their parents arrived together. Charli peered outside, one car, her dad’s. Her father had picked up Ester Knight. Interesting. Her father on a date with Will’s mum? They were so opposite in character, the way they lived, the way they thought, and yet it seemed they were attracted to each other. The farmer and the society woman. Good title for a romance.

She kissed her father’s cheek. “Dad, come in, make yourself at home.” She kissed Ester’s cheek. “Ester, how lovely to see you.”

Her dad helped Ester with her coat, fussing around her as if she’d lost a limb or two. And when he curled his arm around Ester’s shoulders, Charli knew the truth. They were a couple. They had a thing going on. My God, were they in love? Charli didn’t know whether to be pleased or shaken.

“Nice place,” her dad said as they followed them into the living room.

“It belonged to my husband’s brother, Will’s uncle. I’ve always loved it,” Ester explained. “It’s been neglected over the last years.”

“I don’t know,” her dad said. “Seems to me it’s lived in now, and pretty rightly so.”

Thanks, Dad.

“Beer, Steve?” Will asked.

“Please,” Steve answered.

“Mum?”

“White wine, thank you, William.”

He looked at Charli. “Apple juice?”

“Lovely,” she said as she took a seat opposite to where her father sat, very, very close to Ester. Charli thought you couldn’t get a playing card between them. She was busting to know what was going on between them but didn’t know how to broach the subject. She couldn’t come right out and say, hey, are you two dating? She’d have to be patient and wait until they broke the news themselves.

Will handed out the drinks. Her dad took a deep swallow from the can, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, “We’ve got news.”

Wow, she certainly didn’t have to wait long. She knew her dad was going to say something spectacular and braced herself for full impact. “News, Dad?”

Ester giggled like a teenager on her first formal date. Had she heard wrongly? Ester giggling, it didn’t gel.

Her father placed his beer on a table, placed his arm around Ester’s wide shoulders, squeezed gently, and said, “Shall we tell them, ole girl?”

Ester looked adoringly, yes that’s the only word to use, adoringly into Steve’s eyes and simpered, “Let’s.”