Marriage by Deception (9 page)

‘It isn’t that.’ She turned in his arms, clasped his face between her hands and drew him down for her kiss. ‘There are just—things I have to do.’

Like a stepsister to explain to, she added silently. A tissue of lies to unravel. Usual stuff.

‘Tomorrow night, then.’ The turquoise eyes were urgent—hungry. ‘I’ll cook you dinner at my flat.’

The wonder of the afternoon was shattering, splintering into tiny shards under the onset of reality.

She freed herself—stepped back—huddling her clothes clumsily in front of her. A gesture that was not lost on him, judging by his swift frown.

‘Sam—’ She tried to smile. ‘This is all going too fast.’

‘Janie,’ he said, not smiling at all. ‘You set the pace. And I didn’t take anything you didn’t want to give.’

‘I don’t deny that.’ She bent her head. ‘But it doesn’t change a thing. You had a list. I was a name on it.’

‘And now you’re another notch on the bedpost. Is that what you’re implying?’ His tone was harsh.

She spread her hands, her eyes pleading. ‘Sam—I don’t know. After all, what do either of us really know about the other?’

And that, in spite of everything that had happened between them, was the real crux of the matter.

‘I imagined today might have built up the database to some extent.’ His smile was sardonic. ‘I learned a hell of a lot.’

Her head lifted. She said crisply, ‘That was sex.’ And the most untrustworthy element in the universe…

‘Really?’ His brows lifted ‘Now I could have sworn we were making love. I apologise for my gross error. It won’t happen again.’ He saw her flinch at the bite in his voice, but didn’t soften. ‘Get dressed, Janie, and I’ll take you back. Just don’t forget you were the one who wanted it this way.’

He stalked to the fitted wardrobe, pulled out jeans, a shirt and jacket, grabbed underwear from a drawer, and left the room, shutting the door hard behind him.

Ros trod over to the bed, and sank down on to the edge of it. She was trembling, and on the edge of tears. But she had to stay in control.

Everything had changed, she thought sombrely. Yet nothing had changed. She and Sam were still as far apart as they’d been when she’d first walked into that restaurant.

In fact, the glorious physical intimacy that they’d shared seemed to have stranded them at an even greater distance from each other. As if fate was tormenting her with a glimpse of what happiness could be like…

She wasn’t some naive girl, who thought every bedroom encounter was a declaration of commitment or
that being sexually compatible necessarily indicated an equal emotional stability.

But neither was she a risk-taker—someone who lived for the sensation of the moment. She thought she was a realist.

The happy endings she wrote about in her books were compounded from hope rather than experience.

Because sex was the great deceiver. It drew you in, sent you a little crazy, then spat you out.

It made you dream of—long for—impossible things. Plan for a future that only existed in your own imagination. Ignited all kinds of other emotions, like jealousy and suspicion.

She knew all that. Which made her behaviour of the past few hours even more inexplicable.

It had been realism which had tied her to Colin, she thought. The conviction that a relationship needed solid foundations in order to thrive and grow. That liking someone was safer than being head over heels in love.

And yet in less than a week Sam Alexander had blown all her carefully constructed theories to smithereens.

He had shown her more pleasure than she’d ever dreamed of. And opened the door to a pain that could leave her in total devastation.

That was the realisation she now had to live with.

Damn him, she thought, the muscles in her throat working convulsively. And more fool me for allowing it to happen.

And one of the most worrying aspects of the whole situation was that the Sam who’d pushed himself into her life and invaded her dreams no longer bore any resemblance to the wistful personal ad in the
Clarion
.

The emotive words about love and marriage had just been bait. She hadn’t trusted them from the first. Yet, in spite of her disbelief, she’d been the one he’d caught in his trap.

How could I have done this? she asked herself bleakly. How could I have allowed it to happen?
Wanted
it to happen?

She stood. Made herself walk to the shower room and wash from head to foot, letting the water cascade over her head and shoulders, and down her trembling body. Then she towelled herself until her skin burned, before wrapping herself, sarong-style, in a dry bath-sheet.

As she walked back into the bedroom, combing her damp hair with her fingers, Sam was standing by the bed.

Ros checked with a faint gasp, and saw his eyes turn to chips of turquoise ice as they scanned her.

He said curtly, ‘Spare me the outraged virgin routine, Janie. We both know it’s rubbish. Your having second thoughts doesn’t suddenly turn me into a monster.’

‘What do you want?’ she demanded defensively. Anger seemed to surround him like a force field. She could feel its vibrations across the room, and had to resist an impulse to wrap her arms protectively round her body.

‘Nothing that your over-heated imagination is suggesting.’ His voice jeered at her. He held out her pair of cream suede loafers. ‘I found these downstairs, that’s all.’

She bit her lip. ‘Oh—I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.’

Stung, she threw back her head. ‘And, you, of course, are some kind of saint.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘But I’m honest with myself, at least, which is more than you can say, my sweet rose of the world.’

‘Honest?’ Her voice rose in scornful disbelief. ‘Next you’ll be telling me that personal ad was for real. So—was it, Sam? Were you genuinely looking for love and marriage? A relationship? For once, tell me the truth—if you can.’

He didn’t look away, and she saw his face grow bleak and his mouth harden.

‘No,’ he said. ‘None of it was true.’

‘At last,’ she said. ‘Something I can believe.’

‘Oh, cut the self-righteous indignation,’ he came back at her grimly. ‘Your reply to the
Clarion
ad wasn’t exactly a model of candour either. Because you weren’t “Looking for Love” at all. And you admitted as much.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I had no ulterior motive. I—I did it for the best of reasons. Can you say the same?’ She was shaking inside but she kept her voice steady. ‘Which number was I, Sam? How many of the others who fell for your “Lonely in London” charade ended up in your bed? Tell me that.’

He tossed her shoes on to the bed. His voice was harsh. ‘You’re the first, Janie. And the last. However, you can believe what you want.’

He walked to the door. Paused. ‘And while we’re dealing with honesty, let’s be brutal about it.’ His glance skimmed her contemptuously. ‘Because in spite of everything, I could have you out of that towel and back into bed, my warm and willing partner, for as long as I chose to keep you there. If I wanted to. You
know it, and I know it, so come down from the moral high ground, darling. You’re not fooling anyone.

‘But as you’re so hell-bent on getting back to London,’ he added curtly, ‘oblige me by getting yourself into your clothes and downstairs in ten minutes, or I’ll come back and dress you with my own hands.’

His smile flicked her like the edge of a whip.

‘Candid enough for you, darling?’ he asked. And went.

S
HE
had no one to blame but herself.

That was the thought that turned her brain into a treadmill during the silent, endless journey back to London.

It rained heavily all the way, and Sam, his face set in stone, drove with an unwavering, almost fierce concentration for which Ros could only be thankful.

She couldn’t bear to hear any more, she thought wretchedly. She didn’t want to be reminded of what a pathetic fool she’d been.

As they neared Chelsea, she said, ‘You can drop me anywhere.’

‘I’m taking you home,’ he retired curtly, and she subsided, biting her lip.

There was a parking space right outside her house, and he slotted the Audi into it with icy precision.

As she fumbled with the door catch, Sam was out of the driving seat and round to the passenger side to open it for her.

‘Thank you,’ she said. By now, her lip was bleeding. The bitter, metallic taste filled her mouth. ‘And goodbye.’

He ignored his dismissal and followed her up the steps. He held out a hand. ‘Let me have your key.’

She began stiffly, ‘There’s really no need…’

‘Another point we differ on. As you already know, I prefer to see you safely into the house.’ He paused.
‘And I’m not leaving until I’ve done it, so let’s not waste time arguing.’

In seething silence, Ros handed him the key.

She stood defensively in the hall while he briefly checked the ground-floor rooms.

She gave him a small, wintry smile. ‘However did I manage before I met you?’

‘You didn’t have to,’ he said briefly. ‘The security of the house was your parents’ responsibility.’ He paused. ‘When are they coming back?’

‘Two—three weeks.’ Of course, she realised, he still thought this was their house.

He nodded, his face resuming the stony expression he’d worn in the car. ‘I’ll be in touch before then.’

‘No.’ The word was torn out of her. ‘I don’t want that. We said—you agreed…’ She swallowed painfully. ‘It ends here. Now. It must.’

‘In spite of today?’ His tone was curious—almost meditative.

‘Because of today,’ she flung at him. ‘It should never have happened.’

‘I can’t disagree about that.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘But I’m afraid it’s not that simple.’

‘It was a mistake,’ she insisted stubbornly. She paused. ‘Or have I got it all wrong?’ she added scornfully. ‘Do I actually have to pay you to go away? Is that what it’s all about?’

There was a terrible silence. As the turquoise gaze swept her, Ros felt as if she’d been suddenly encased in ice.

He said softly, ‘Believe me, at this moment I’d give every penny I own and more to walk out of here and not look back. That was a cheap crack, Janie.’

She looked down at the carpet. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mut
tered. ‘But you can leave. We—we don’t have to compound the error. Make matters worse.’

He said quietly. ‘Nature might do that for us. Unless you’re on the pill, of course?’

Her lips framed another ‘no’ but no sound emerged. She stared at him—at this stranger standing in her own hall—saying the unthinkable. Warning her of the impossible.

She felt the colour draining from her face. Heard the sudden thud of her heart, panicking against her ribcage.

He nodded, his mouth set. ‘In that case you and I have had unprotected sex. And that’s why I’m staying in touch, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me,’ he added, between his teeth. ‘Because if there are consequences, I want to know.’

He walked past her to the front door and paused, looking back at her.

She wanted to speak his name. Had a crazy yearning to say or do something that would bring him back to her. That would close his arms around her, keeping her safe.

But her mouth felt frozen. Her whole body seemed suddenly paralysed. She could only stare at him, her eyes enormous in her white face.

Because there was no safety any more. No security. And if she’d been capable of sound she would have howled like a dog.

He looked back at her, his mouth curling in a small, grim smile.

He said, ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ And walked out, closing the door behind him.

She stood, leaning against the wall, staring unseeingly at the solid wooden panels of her own front door. The
barricade that was supposed to keep out intruders. To protect her.

Except that of her own free will she’d jettisoned all her defences. Deliberately made herself vulnerable. Surrendered completely.

And now she might have to live with the consequences for the rest of her life.

I never even gave it a thought, she realised with a pang. Yet when I was with Colin, we always took precautions. Or he did.

Wanting Sam had filled her heart and mind to the exclusion of all else—including basic common sense, she thought, wincing. She’d been carried away on a riptide of emotion that had allowed for nothing but the total satiation of her senses.

She stirred restlessly. Being a fool was bad enough. She didn’t have to make excuses. Nor did she have to be a victim, either.

It was time she stopped feeling sorry for herself and took control of her own life again, she thought with cold calculation.

So, she would call her doctor in the morning and ask to be prescribed the ‘morning after’ pill. Endure the lecture he would undoubtedly see fit to give her, and which she so richly deserved. And that would fix everything.

And then she’d be able to tell Sam that there was no need for him to bother any further. That the situation was taken care of. Write ‘Finis’ at the end of the chapter.

Except that she didn’t actually know where to find him, she realised suddenly, and with horror.

Oh, God, she castigated herself. She’d been to bed
with this man—yet she didn’t know his address, his telephone number, or even where he worked. The shame of it left her reeling. Not to mention the unmitigated stupidity.

She’d have to keep that from the doctor, she thought feverishly or he’d send her to see a psychiatrist. And who could blame him?

She began to walk towards the stairs, and paused, rigid with a new fear as she heard the sound of stealthy movement on the floor above.

Sam hadn’t simply been playing the dominating male when he’d checked the house, she thought, dry-mouthed. There’d been a genuine danger which he’d been aware of but she hadn’t. Until now—as all the statistics she’d ever read about women being attacked in their own homes rose up to haunt her.

She backed down the hall, reaching with damp, clumsy fingers for the telephone, only to see a yawning Janie appear on the half-landing.

‘Oh God.’ Ros drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘It’s you. You—you startled me.’

‘Of course it is. Who else were you expecting?’ Janie ran her fingers through her hair, peering down at Ros. ‘Where on earth have you been?’

‘I went out.’ Ros forced herself to smile, to attempt to speak normally. ‘I wanted some fresh air. It—it was such a lovely day,’ she added lamely.

‘Lovely?’ Janie echoed incredulously. ‘Are you kidding? We’ve had inches of rain, plus thunder and lightning. I took a couple of paracetamol as soon as I got in, and fell asleep on the bed.’ She paused. ‘Are you on your own? Because I could have sworn I heard voices. That’s what woke me.’

‘It was just the answering machine.’ Ros took a
deep breath. ‘What are you doing back here so early anyway?’

Janie tossed her head. ‘I got Martin to bring me home. I couldn’t stand any more of his mother clicking her tongue and saying we were in too much of a rush over the wedding. She kept looking me up and down, trying to suss out if I was pregnant, the dirty-minded old bat.’

Ros sighed inwardly. ‘I thought you liked his parents.’

‘I bent over backwards to like them,’ Janie declared moodily. ‘But they clearly don’t think I’m good enough for their beloved son.’

In spite of her inner turmoil, Ros’s lips twitched. ‘There’s a lot of it about,’ she agreed, gravely. ‘But I might have reservations too if a child of mine suddenly rolled up with someone I’d never heard them mention before, saying they were engaged.’

‘Oh, I might have known you’d take their side.’ Janie’s tone was pettish.

‘I’m not taking sides at all,’ Ros assured her wearily. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’ She paused. ‘Are there any paracetamol left? Because I’m actually developing quite a headache myself.’

‘Really?’ Janie sent her a frowning glance. ‘To be honest, darling, you do look like hell. As pale as a ghost. Your day out doesn’t seem to have done you much good.’

‘I was just thinking exactly the same thing,’ Ros said with tired irony, and went upstairs to her room.

She wanted to sleep. To close her eyes and sink into blessed oblivion. But she couldn’t relax. Her churning brain wouldn’t allow it. Nor would her heightened
emotions, prodded into turmoil by a host of unwanted memories.

Because Sam was with her—in this house, this room, this bed—and there was no escape from him. She could taste his skin, sense its texture beneath her seeking hands. She could feel the warm weight of his body grazing hers. The silken hardness of him filling her. The joy of him, and the unbelievable, unceasing pleasure.

She pressed a clenched fist against her trembling lips to repress a moan.

She had to do something to rid herself of this torment, she thought desperately. To exorcise this ghost who lay with her and whispered words of passion and desire that she dared not hear.

With sudden resolution, she swung her feet to the floor, reaching for a robe, catching sight of herself in the long wall mirror as she did so.

She paused and was still, observing herself closely and painfully. Searching for visible changes in the body she’d thought she knew so well, and which no longer, in some strange way, seemed to belong to her. Which might, already, be possessed by someone else.

A little quiver ran through her senses. She straightened her back, feeling the faint pull of her aching muscles, the voluptuous tenderness of her breasts.

Impossible, she thought wonderingly, that she should look no different. Yet the slim figure confronting her appeared the same. There were no bruises, she acknowledged wryly. No obvious scars. For a second her hand touched the flatness of her stomach, in a gesture that was pure question, then she realised what she was doing and snatched it away.

It’s my heart that’s changed, she thought sadly. And my mind. The other—well, that isn’t even an option.

She put on her robe and tied the sash tightly, then went barefoot up to her study.

After all, she reasoned, as she switched on the computer, she’d been able to exploit the excitement and sexual tension she’d enjoyed in Sam’s company. Now she could use the pain too, if that was all there was left for her.

She was still working two hours later, when Janie put a surprised head round the door.

‘I thought you were asleep. I came up to tell you I’ve put a Spanish omelette together, if you’d like some.’

‘Thanks.’ Ros smiled at her, flexing weary shoulders. ‘That’s really thoughtful, love.’

‘Oh, well.’ Janie gave an off-hand shrug. ‘Actually, I need to talk to you, Ros. To ask your advice.’

Ros bit her lip as she got to her feet. ‘I’m the last person who should be advising anyone,’ she said bleakly. ‘My life isn’t a conspicuous success at the moment.’

‘How can you say that?’ Janie led the way downstairs to the kitchen. ‘You have your career—this marvellous house. Even a man—of sorts.’ She pulled a face. ‘Where is Colin, by the way? I thought he’d be back from his rugby tour by now and well ensconced.’

‘Actually, no.’ Ros tried to sound casual as she sat down. The omelette, which Janie dished up from the pan with a flourish, smelt wonderful, crammed with ham, peppers, tomatoes and cheese. She picked up a fork. ‘Colin and I are no longer an item.’

‘My God.’ Janie’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Maybe
I should go away more often. You could transform your entire life.’

Ros forked up some omelette. She thought, I’m afraid I already have…

‘So what prompted this?’ Janie demanded eagerly.

Ros shrugged. ‘It just—seemed the thing to do,’ she returned evasively.

‘Hmm.’ Janie gave her a narrow-eyed look as she filled two glasses with Rioja. ‘A likely story. My guess is that you’ve met someone else. And now you’re blushing,’ she added gleefully. ‘Come on—tell me everything.’

Ros said crisply, ‘You have a vivid imagination, Janie. There’s—no one.’

Janie pouted slightly. ‘Well, maybe you have a point. I’m still not sure that Martin’s the right man for me. Not if he won’t stand up for me against his parents.’ She sighed. ‘It’s all a bit of lottery, isn’t it? Perhaps I should have stuck to my plan and met “Lonely in London” after all.’

Ros’s fork clattered on to her plate. ‘No,’ she exclaimed, too quickly.

Janie stared at her. ‘How do you know?’ Her face was suddenly wistful. ‘He could have been the man of my dreams.’

‘Possibly,’ Ros said coldly. ‘And you’d be just another conquest for a serial womaniser. Something for him to brag about with his friends.’

Janie tossed her head. ‘Well, there’s no need to get so het up about it. After all, I gave him the brush-off, thanks to you. I don’t suppose I’d get a second chance, even if I wanted one.’

Ros reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Promise me you won’t try,’ she said urgently.’ I’m
sure things will work out with Martin in the end—if you want them to—and you’re prepared to compromise. But if not you’ll meet someone else, Janie. I know you will. But not through some ghastly cheating, lying advertisement,’ she added passionately.

There was a pause, then, ‘Wow.’ Janie gave an uncertain laugh. ‘You sound as if you really mean that.’

Ros nodded, her heart as heavy as a stone in her chest. ‘Believe it,’ she said. And went back to her supper.

One day followed another in bleakness. Ros worked crazy hours, ensuring that when she went to bed she was too tired even to dream.

She went to the doctor, listened to his strictures about prevention being better than cure, obtained her prescription, and then walked, without the slightest hesitation, straight past the pharmacy. When she got home, she locked the slip of paper into a drawer in her desk.