The Right Bride? (45 page)

‘Clutter?’ he came in, effecting to look amazed.

‘I swear he’s hoarded every engineering magazine that was ever published,’ his wife replied. ‘He has years and years of back issues.’

When Mrs Varley served the last course, Silas, with a look to Colly as if to seek her confirmation, a gesture that was purely for his parents’ benefit, thanked Mrs Varley and said that they would see to everything else themselves. Colly thanked her too. In her view Mrs Varley was a first-class cook.

All in all it had been a happy meal, Colly considered. If feelings of guilt had come along and given her a nip every now and then, she hoped she had been too well mannered to let it show.

She did not feel she could breathe easy, though, until, with hugs and kisses and a very firm suggestion that she and Silas should dine with them before too long, they went to wave his parents off.

‘Was that so bad?’ Silas asked as they came back along the hall.

‘Your parents are super,’ she answered, adding coolly as they headed towards the kitchen, ‘The guilt I shall have to live with.’ They went into the kitchen and she owned she felt somehow on edge with Silas. ‘But if you can get me out of another dinner I’d be glad.’ Ready to tackle the remaining dishes, Mrs Varley having already loaded up the dishwasher, Colly began to fill the sink. ‘I’ll leave it fifteen minutes, then I’ll be on my way,’ she commented, thinking to wait until his parents were well clear.

She began to wash the pots and pans, but to her surprise Silas picked up a cloth and began to dry them. ‘You could stay if you like?’ he offered equably after some moments. She looked at him, startled, and caught a glimpse of his smile as he added, ‘I’ve a spare bedroom. It wouldn’t…’

She knew he had a spare bedroom; she had used it. And she would love to stay, but…Was love always about denial? ‘I think it’s enough that I shall have to put up with you tomorrow night,’ she said sharply, fearful that her need to be with him might yet see her give in. But, since the subject was there, just crying out to be addressed, ‘I—er…’ she murmured, her voice already losing its sharp edge. She looked away from him. ‘I suppose there’s no chance I’ll have a room of my own tomorrow night?’

She had to look at him again. She saw he was unsmiling, but she heard a note of sensitivity in his tones when, his glance gentle on her, he answered, ‘I’m afraid, Colly, that is very unlikely.’

Her heartbeats suddenly started to thunder at his gentle look. And all at once—perhaps it was partly to do with the strain of the evening; she could not have said—she just knew she needed to be by herself.

‘Hard-hearted Hannah’s leaving you with the dishwashing
and
the drying,’ she announced, taking her hands from the water and drying them.

She went into the drawing room, where she had left her small evening purse, and picking it up took out her car keys. She heard a sound and looked up to see that Silas had come to stand in the drawing room doorway.

She went towards him. He did not move out of her way, and even though her heart was thundering she managed to find a little acid to tell him bluntly, ‘Might I suggest that as soon as you’ve done the dishes you go and get as much sleep as you can?’ He raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘And it might be an idea if you had a lie-in in the morning.’

‘You reckon?’ he drawled.

Oh, she did. She very much did. ‘From where I’m viewing it, unless that room in Dorset has twin beds, it very much looks as if you’re in for a very uncomfortable night tomorrow,’ she said sweetly, adding for smiling good measure, ‘Sleepless in a chair.’

He was not taken in by her phoney sweetness. Nor was he put out by what she had said either. But he managed, effortlessly, to take the fake smile off her face when, as nicely as you please, he enquired, ‘Did I say that to you when you insisted on getting into bed with me that time?’

Speechlessly she glared at him. It had not been like that, and he knew it. But, having effectively silenced her syrupy tones, Silas stood away from the door to let her pass.

She was already on her way when, ‘I’ll call for you round about two,’ he said, going to the door with her.

Don’t bother, sprang to mind—but, against that, she loved the man; she knew she could not let him down.

T
HERE
were five minutes to go before two o’clock on Saturday afternoon when Silas called for her. Colly was ready and waiting. Although inwardly she felt that she would never be ready.

She swallowed hard before she could open the door to him. And had to again remind herself of the lecture she had given herself about forgetting her guilt, her feelings that she was deceiving some octogenarian. She must see the other side of this coin. Think of Silas. He had not been thinking of himself when he had decided he must marry, but thinking of the good of the company, its workers and its shareholders. As he had said, his grandfather wanted to meet his wife and she—she was his wife.

She opened the door. ‘Sorry to have kept you.’ She apologised for her delay in answering his knock. Silas was casually dressed in trousers and shirt and she was basically simply pleased to see him. ‘I’ll just get my overnight bag,’ she murmured.

Silas carried her bag to his car, and a minute or so later they were on their way. ‘My mother rang to thank you for a wonderful evening,’ he thought to mention.

Obviously he had made the appropriate excuses for her not being there. ‘On reflection, I think the evening went off quite well,’ she commented.

‘My parents loved you,’ Silas answered.

‘Oh, don’t!’ she cried, guilt having another stab at her. ‘They were ready to love any woman you married before they met me.’ She told it as she saw it, knowing in her heart that
she would love to be a true daughter-in-law to Paula Livingstone. ‘Your mother’s so warm.’

‘You’ve missed that,’ he said softly, perceptively, and asked, ‘How old were you when you lost your mother?’

‘Eight,’ she replied, but did not want to dwell on that. ‘You will get us out of dining with your parents again, won’t you?’

‘You worry to much,’ he said, which to her mind was no sort of an answer.

She fell silent, and as mile after mile sped by Silas seemed occupied with his own thoughts. Though he did think to ask after some while, ‘Anything else worrying you, Colly?’

‘Where would you like me to start?’ she answered snappily. But was then instantly ashamed of herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘All this is more my fault than yours.’

‘What a sweetheart you are,’ he replied, and her heart did a tiny kind of giddy flip—he had sounded as though he really meant it.

‘I’ve been thinking only of myself and my guilt, but you too must be hating like blazes that you don’t feel able to be open about our—er—relationship with your family.’

She did not know what she expected him to answer to that, but she was momentarily floored when, quite out of the blue, he quietly let fall, ‘You know, Mrs Livingstone, I think I quite enjoy being married to you.’

Her mouth fell open in shock, and she was glad he had his eyes on the road in front. Silas quite enjoyed being married to her? A song began in her heart—until plain and utter common sense flooded in. Why wouldn’t he enjoy being married to her? They were living apart. He had the marriage certificate he needed, but that was as far as his commitment went.

Which in turn had to mean that, of anyone he could have chosen to do a marriage deal with, he was happy he had made the right choice. Well, bully for him!

Realising she was getting nettled and uptight again—which
was no sort of mood to be in to meet her grandfather-in-law, Colly made a more determined effort.

‘Uncle Henry phoned yesterday,’ she said brightly.

‘He’d read of our marriage?’ Silas guessed. And, straight on the heels of that, ‘You didn’t tell him…?’

‘Thank you for your confidence!’ she snapped, but knew she was in the wrong and gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘Why am I always apologising to you? I know, I know,’ she went hurriedly on, ‘I slipped up before with Tony Andrews. But I didn’t with Uncle Henry.’

‘Was he very put out?’

‘He was very understanding, actually. I told him the apartment belonged to your grandfather, by the way. And,’ she felt obliged to go on, ‘that you go abroad from time to time, but that when you are home you sometimes stay at the apartment.’

‘Have I made a liar of you?’ he questioned with a kind glance.

‘That’s what you told me,’ she defended. ‘That you sometimes stay overnight.’

‘Remind me to do it more often,’ he responded dryly.

She laughed—this man did that to her.

Silas Livingstone Senior was tall, like all the Livingstone men. He had a thatch of white hair, was upright, and came out to greet them. He did not hug her, but after shaking hands with Silas took her hand warmly in his. His words were warm too, as he feasted his eyes on her, and demanded, ‘How dare that grandson of mine run off and marry you without me there to wish you well?’

Colly smiled at him, a natural warm smile, as she replied, ‘We didn’t want to wait and we didn’t want any fuss.’ And, because they had done him out of attending his grandson’s wedding, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘With a smile like that I’ll forgive you,’ he replied gallantly, and invited, ‘Come in. Gwen’s got the kettle boiling.’

Gwen, it appeared, was his housekeeper, a plump little lady
who had been with the Senior Livingstones for years. And Gwen it was who wheeled a trolley into the drawing room.

But it was Colly who poured the tea and, over tea and cake, accepted Grandfather Livingstone’s regrets that he had not attended her father’s funeral.

Colly realised that her father’s funeral had not been all that many months after Silas Senior had lost his wife. And that, his age apart, perhaps he had not been emotionally up to attending a funeral.

‘You knew my father?’ she enquired.

‘Not personally. But most people in the engineering world knew or had heard of him,’ he answered, and spoke of several of her father’s achievements.

Colly felt very proud, and suddenly realised that she felt quite relaxed. She was proud of Silas too, when he and his grandfather had a short conversation about something to do with engineering—all Greek to her—that cropped up as a side issue.

But, both men plainly thinking it not too polite to talk on a subject she could not join in, they swiftly abandoned the topic, only for her feeling of being relaxed to go plummeting when Grandfather Livingstone suggested to Silas, ‘You’ll want to freshen up, I expect. Your room’s all ready for you. It’s the one at the front.’

Oh, heavens! It was a large house, a house in its own grounds. But, as large as it was, there was no chance of their ‘room’ being a suite.

‘We’ll take our bags up, shall we, Colly?’ Silas suggested easily, apparently aware which bedroom his grandfather referred to.

‘Fine,’ she answered, smiling, hoping her sudden feeling of tension was not showing to the elderly man who, she was fast realising, was thrilled that his grandson had married and brought his bride to see him.

Silas carried both their overnight bags up the stairs. She
was banking on twin beds. Wrong! As soon as the door was open she shot a speedy glance to the sleeping arrangements—it was a double bed.

As Silas stepped by her, and went to place their bags on the floor, so Colly stayed where she was. When thinking she might have to share a room with him she had been able to convince herself that, while preferring it to be otherwise, she would, for the sake of what they were about, be able to cope. But now, with the reality of it here, she did not feel convinced at all!

‘What’s wrong?’ Silas had noticed that she seemed frozen over by the door.

‘Nothing,’ she answered stiltedly, her glance darting to the only padded chair in the room. She moved more into the room and Silas came and closed the bedroom door. When he unexpectedly placed his hands on her shoulders she jumped as though bitten.

‘Nothing!’ Silas scorned, turning her to face him. ‘It looks like it!’

‘Don’t go on!’ she snapped, pulling out of his hold.

If she had hoped he would leave it there, however, she discovered it was a forlorn hope. ‘Look,’ Silas began sternly, plainly not best pleased to have her so jumpy when he was anywhere near, ‘as far as anyone knows you and I are married. But,’ he went on, to lay it on the line, ‘while I accept that you are a beautiful and desirable woman, you have to accept that I do not want to do anything that—in the long term—will bind you permanently to me.’

That well and truly did away with her tension. Not because of what he said, his attempt at reassurance, but because of his inference that she might give him half a chance should he try and test the water. ‘As if—’ she flared—who the devil did he think he was?

‘So, whatever fears you have of anything happening be
tween you and me,’ he cut in before she could go for his jugular, ‘forget it!’

She opened her mouth, ready with a few choice words, but with difficulty swallowed them down. ‘Right!’ she hurled at him, glaring at him. He stared back.

‘Now what’s wrong?’ he demanded bluntly, his expression dark.

Let him whistle for an answer. But as she continued to glare stubbornly at him, so his dark expression suddenly cleared, and she knew she was not going to like what was coming even before it arrived. She didn’t.

‘Surely,’ he began, ‘you don’t
want
anything to happen between us that will consummate—’

‘Stop right there, Livingstone!’ she erupted. ‘I do not now, or ever…’ Suddenly she ran out of steam. All at once she began to see the funny side of their non-argument—for what was there to argue about? Neither of them wanted the same thing. Her lips started to twitch, and while she became aware that his eyes were on her mouth she just had to tell him. ‘In relation to your “What’s wrong?” I suppose I’m just a touch miffed that you—or any man, given these circumstances—should be so immune to my charms.’

His lips twitched too, as she came to an end, and she guessed he appreciated her honesty when, honest himself, he took her in his arms and replied, ‘Immune? I think you know better than that—don’t you, Colly?’

She looked up at him, her heart pounding. ‘So now we know where we stand?’

‘Exactly,’ he agreed, placed a light kiss on her lips and, his arms dropping to his sides, took a step back from her. ‘Sing out if there’s anything you need. I’ll go and keep my grandfather company until you’re ready to join us.’

Colly unpacked the few things she had brought with her after Silas had gone. She acknowledged that she felt better for what she could only think of as Silas’s wading in to clear
the air. Indeed, now that he was no longer in the room with her she began to wonder what all the fuss had been about. Silas had let her know point-blank that he wanted the state of their marriage to stay exactly as it was, and that she could sleep easy with him in the same room. But—a smile lit within her—it was nice to know that he was not totally immune to her.

She owned to feeling a touch apprehensive, however, when in the early evening she went down to dinner. But she discovered, with Silas there as a buttress and his grandfather being a man of courtesy and olde worlde charm, that she had no need to feel in the slightest apprehensive. The only small hiccup occurred—and she was sure that she was the only one who felt in any way awkward—when Grandfather Livingstone asked Silas, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve had time to check on the apartment recently?’

‘I have,’ Silas answered, having been there that very day. ‘You’ve nothing to worry about there,’ he assured him.

A short while later they left the dining room and returned to the drawing room, and Colly realised a little to her surprise, as the next hour ticked by, that all in all it had been a very pleasant evening.

When, during the conversation that followed in the next half an hour, she picked up that Silas’s grandfather was usually in bed by ten-thirty, she thought the time might be right to make noises about retiring.

‘I’ll be up later,’ Silas commented.

Nerves started to try and get a foothold again. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’ She smiled as she got to her feet and both men stood.

Up in the bedroom she was to share with Silas, she blocked her mind to all save reliving the lecture he had given her: while not being immune to her, he had no desire to make theirs a full marriage.

On the plus side she discovered that her grandfather-in-
law’s household did not subscribe to the more modern duvet when it came to bedding. She showered and got into her nightdress and, leaving herself with sheets and a blanket, went and draped the over-large padded quilt over what she wincingly saw looked to be a not-very-comfortable chair. It still did not look very comfortable after she had draped the quilt over it. She added a pillow.

From there she went and switched on the bathroom light, and left the bathroom door ajar so Silas should have sufficient light to find his way around without banging into anything. Hopeful that she would be asleep before Silas came to bed, she put out the bedroom light and got into the big double bed. Just so that there should be no mistake, she opted to occupy the centre of the bed.

But so much for her hope to be asleep before Silas came up the stairs. She was still wide awake when, what seemed like hours later, she heard him at the door. She had her back to the bathroom her eyes closed, and was concentrating solely on making her breathing sound even when, almost silently, Silas came in, quietly closing the door after him.

If he knew that she was still awake he said nothing. She had nothing she wanted to say either. He must have taken her hint when he had seen the light from the bathroom, and did not turn on any other light. She heard him moving about, then, when the bathroom door closed, she opened her eyes to find the room in darkness.

Shortly afterwards there was light again, briefly. She closed her eyes, heard the light switch off, and knew that Silas was making his way to that not-too-comfortable-to-sleep-in chair. At least that was where she hoped he was making his way to; there would be all-out war if he thought he was sharing her bed!

It was a thought that, after an hour, or it might have been two, of listening to Silas trying to get his long length comfortable, she was having to review.

The chair creaked again as he once more adjusted his position, and she started to weaken, started to feel sorry for him. Just what had he done to deserve this? Nothing but try to do his best for the firm his grandfather had started.