The Second Bride (15 page)

Jo slid off the bed in a hurry. 'Sorry, Rufus—shan't be long.'

He looked up from the paper with a smile. 'Take as long as you like. You look better.'

'I feel better. I seem to need more sleep these days.'

When Jo was bathed and made up and looking, even to her own eyes, rather stunning in her wedding dress, she rejoined Rufus and handed him a box. 'Your wedding present.' She watched in trepidation as he opened it and drew out a gold half-hunter watch with a chain ending in a quartz and crystal fob.

He stared at it, utterly taken aback. 'Good Lord— Jo, I don't know what to say.'

Jo bit her lip. 'Don't you like it?'

Rufus smiled at her with a warmth he rarely displayed. 'How could I not? It's magnificent!'

'The provenance is in the box,' said Jo breathlessly. 'The watch dates from about 1900 and the chain a little later.'

Rufus stripped off his wrist-watch and threaded the new chain through the buttonhole in his lapel, then inserted the watch very carefully into his top pocket. He laid the box on a table, then bent and kissed her very deliberately on the mouth. 'Thank you very much indeed, Jo. A special kiss for a very special present. I'll treasure it—keep it to hand on to our son.' He slid a hand down and patted her stomach.

'Or daughter,' she said firmly, and he laughed.

'Whichever.'

The days passed quickly in visits to the British Museum and the National Gallery, to Westminster Abbey and St Paul's Cathedral. They walked in Hyde Park and did some shopping in Bond Street, saw a hit musical and a straight play, and afterwards dined late at the hotel. Jo went to bed each night too tired to lie awake longing
in
vain for her husband to make love to her.

The last night before their return to Pennington, Jo refused another trip to the theatre, preferring an earlier dinner and a film afterwards on the satellite television in their suite.

'Whatever you say,' yawned Rufus, professing himself only too pleased with the arrangement, 'in fact you can have dinner up here if you like.'

Jo liked the idea a lot. 'My feet are hurting after all that shopping,' she confessed.

'Then take a long, hot bath, get into your dressing gown and we'll choose something special for our last evening.' Rufus smiled at her lazily. 'Are you sorry to be heading back to life in Pennington?'

'No, not a bit!' Jo slumped on the sofa beside him to watch the television news. 'I've got the draft of my novel to work on, remember.'

'I've been thinking about that,' said Rufus, eyeing her. 'I know we agreed you'd use your flat for your writing, but for the time being could you work on your draft at home?'

Home, thought Jo. 'Why, Rufus?'

'We're expecting a few deliveries in the next couple of weeks—furniture and so on. It would be easier if you were on hand when they arrive.'

She eyed him curiously. 'What did you do before?'

'Suffered a great deal of inconvenience.' Rufus shrugged. 'But if you feel you can't work there—'

'I can work anywhere,' she assured him. 'The muse deserts me over mental pressure, not change of location. But you'll have to fetch my word processor from
Bruton
Road.'

'Done,' he said promptly. 'Shall I shower first or do you want your usual wallow now?'

'You go first,' she said absently, then smiled up at him, surprising an odd look in the ink-dark eyes which so rarely betrayed his feelings. 'What's the matter?'

'Nothing,' he said expressionlessly. 'Nothing at all.'

The evening was a pleasant change from the frantic activity of the days preceding it. They ate lobster salad, followed by
tarte
tatin
,
and Rufus finally opened the bottle of champagne that Jo had refused on their first day in preference to tea.

Curled up on the sofa, relaxed with good food, Jo accepted a glass of the pale, bubbling wine, and Rufus sat beside her to watch the film, which was a light romantic comedy perfectly in tune with her mood.

'Though I usually prefer dark, atmospheric thrillers,' she told him as the opening credits rolled. 'I love going to the cinema. But this is the next best thing.'

'I haven't been to the cinema in years,' he remarked. 'I'll take you to the Regal when we get back, if you like.'

Jo nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes, please! '

Silence fell between them as they watched the film, which was light and unusually witty but towards the end leaned towards bedroom scenes rather more than Jo would have liked. She sipped at her champagne, growing tenser by the minute, wishing she had the strength of mind to suggest they watched something less erotic. It was a great relief when the film was over at last.

'Not bad,' commented Rufus, and refilled her glass.

'The fairy-tale ending was a bit contrived, I thought,' said Jo casually.

'Good for
box office,
I
suppose.
People like fairytale endings.' Rufus stared down into his glass. 'They don't happen often enough in real life.'

How true, thought Jo forlornly. She got to her feet, and to her dismay found she wasn't in entire control of them. 'I think I'll go to bed.'

Rufus got up, his eyes gleaming with amusement. 'Are you by any chance unsteady on your pins, Mrs Grierson?'

'Yes,' she said sheepishly. 'I think I am.'

'You were so hot under the collar over the love scenes you drank two glasses of champagne,' he said, grinning.

'Did I?
Two?'
She giggled. 'In that case you'd better give me a hand to the bathroom.'

Rufus complied, laughing as he guided her weaving feet across the room. 'Can you manage?'

'I hope so!'

When she emerged from the bathroom some time later Rufus was waiting outside the door for her. 'All right?' he asked.

'Perfectly.' She eyed the distance to the bed doubtfully, and Rufus chuckled and picked her up.

'Allow me!' He carried her to the bed, laying her down on it with exaggerated care. 'A good thing you didn't dress for dinner tonight.'

'It's only my legs which let me down,' she assured him, settling back against the pillows. 'The rest of me seems much the same as usual.'

Rufus sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at her. 'So how are you, Jocasta Grierson? The honeymoon's almost over and you've survived very well from where I'm sitting. Do you agree? Or have you been pining for your attic all along?'

'No,' she assured him. 'I've enjoyed it
all
immensely. It's my first experience of a hotel like this.'

'It won't be your last, Jo,' he promised softly, and leaned over her, a hand either side of her on the bed.

Jo gazed up into his face, fascinated as she saw the pupils of his eyes widen to engulf the dark iris. They lay there motionless, eyes locked as Rufus hung over her, balanced on his hands, then suddenly his eyelids came down like shutters and he stretched out beside her, burying his face in her hair as he took her in his arms.

'I so badly want to hold you like this,' he said, his voice muffled against her hair. 'I really thought I could do it, you know.'

'Do what?' she whispered, her heart beating thickly.

'Share a room with you and keep my distance.' He raised his head suddenly to look down into her heavy eyes. 'Can you believe that I just want to sleep with you, Jo?'

To her infinite regret Jo knew that Rufus meant what he said. There was no hint of sexual persuasion in his embrace. She sighed. 'Get in, then.'

He stared at her in disbelief. 'You mean that?'

'Yes.'

'If I turn out all the lights and do the usual nighttime things in the bathroom, will you have changed your mind by the time I come back?' he demanded.

'No.' She smiled at him. 'But if you don't hurry it up I'll be asleep.'

Within a remarkably short time Rufus slid into bed beside her, teeth brushed, newly shaved, clad in the
pyjama
trousers worn, she suspected, out of deference to his new room-mate.

'Do
you always wear
pyjamas
?' she asked as he stretched out beside her with a sigh.

'No. I bought three new pairs just for the occasion. Tonight I'm wearing tasteful navy blue.'

She giggled. 'And I'm in tasteful pink—suitable for a blushing bride.'

'You're just the slightest bit stoned, aren't you?' he said, amused. 'For which
I
'm very grateful.'

'Why?' she asked, yawning.

'If you weren't I'd hardly be here in your bed, would I?'

In no mood for debate Jo burrowed deep into the pillow with a sigh, her heart giving a sudden thump when an arm encircled her waist and drew her close. For a moment she lay tense, then relaxed, and, instead of lying awake as she fully expected, fell asleep very quickly in the warmth of her husband's embrace.

Jo woke in the night to visit the bathroom, and afterwards, half-asleep, slid back into the warm bed, straight into arms outstretched in welcome to receive her. Instantly Jo found herself wide awake, aware in every
fibre
of the hard male body against her own. Her pulse quickened and she raised her head to find her mouth only a hair's breadth from her husband's.

Rufus breathed in sharply, then lowered his head until their lips met. He kissed her mouth, her eyelids, returning to her mouth in between attention to her cheekbones and her earlobes, his hands moving over her in caresses so subtle and cajoling that she felt as though her bones were melting.

She knew he was holding himself on a tight rein while he sought to undermine her non-existent
defences
, but their kisses quickly grew wilder, their breathing ragged, until Jo could no longer control little choked sounds of response as his caressing fingers touched off sparks of flame which ran along her veins and set her body on fire. He hung over her, his eyes glittering down into hers with a question she answered with an involuntary thrust of her hips against his aroused body, and with a smothered sound he took possession of her with a fiery tenderness, making love to her gently at first, then not gently at all as the rhythm of their loving became faster and fiercer until
fulfilment
overwhelmed them simultaneously, teaching them that their first time together had been no fluke of never-to-be repeated rapture.

Jo woke to daylight, and muted voices in the other room, and sat up groggily, her face hot as the events of the night came rushing back.

'Good morning,' said Rufus, strolling into the bedroom, wearing his dressing gown. 'Breakfast is served. I wish I'd asked for it later—you could have slept on for a while.'

'Good morning,' muttered Jo, clutching the covers to her chest. 'What time is it?'

'Eight-thirty.' Rufus sat on the edge of the bed and detached one of her hands, holding it in his as he looked at her. 'Are you all right, Jo?'

Unwillingly she met his eyes. 'Yes, Rufus. A bit embarrassed, but I'm fine.'

His face relaxed a little. 'Honest, as always. I wondered if the champagne had something to do with your lack of resistance in the night.'