The Virgin Bride (The Australians) (5 page)

‘And?'

‘I lasted three hours before I admitted defeat and quit. It seemed I wasn't as money-hungry as I'd thought I was. I had to leave, or end up in jail. Because, believe me, if one more guy had squeezed my buns as I walked past, I was going to give him a mouthful of fist.'

‘Oh, that's so funny! Still, I'll bet you were a very cute young man.'

‘Cute!' God, but he hated that word.

She laughed some more, her mouth falling open and her eyes dancing over at him.

He didn't mean to do it. He really didn't. But she was so lovely and he'd been so lonely. Before he knew it he was twisting in his seat, leaning over the gear lever, cupping her face and kissing her.

She didn't resist him, despite the firm pressure of his mouth on hers, despite his tongue taking advantage of her parted lips, despite all those old-world values of hers.

Oh, yes, there
was
a fleeting moment when she froze beneath his kiss, and her hands
did
flutter up from her lap to lie, palms flat, against his chest. But she didn't press him away, or try to shut her mouth. She accepted the intimate invasion of his tongue, and even moaned a soft moan of pleasure.

It was that soft moan of pleasure which opened the floodgates of his suppressed passion and showed Jason that his notion of always wanting to ‘give' when making love to Emma was a fallacy. All of a sudden, giving had nothing to do with his feelings. Seduction became the name of the game. Seduction, and coercion, and possibly corruption. He wanted to make her moan again, wanted to make her forget who she was with, wanted her to surrender blindly to his will.

His mouth ravaged on while his right hand lifted from her face in search of her breasts. He found one through her clothes, warm and soft and surprisingly full. He kneaded it with his fingers, his thumb-pad feeling for, and finding, the nipple. She moaned again, a muffled, choked sound which spoke of a pleasure which both shocked and delighted her. Her back arched away from the seat slightly, pushing her breast more firmly into his highly experienced hand.

Jason became so caught up in her responses—not to mention his own galloping arousal—that he didn't at first feel her pushing against his chest. It wasn't till her struggle turned panicky that he registered she was no longer wanting him to continue.

He'd never encountered resistance to his lovemaking before. Not at this advanced point. It stunned him, when, for a split second, he couldn't—or wouldn't—stop.

But then he did, his mouth wrenching from hers as he slumped back into his seat. His right hand, which moments before had been teasing her nipple into taut erection, lifted to comb his hair back from his sweat-beaded forehead.

‘Sorry,' he muttered, furious that he might have just jeopardised his chances with her. But, hell on earth, she could have stopped him sooner.

She didn't say a word, just sat there, staring out of the passenger window with her hands clenched tightly in her lap. He saw that her breathing was still erratic and her cheeks were flaming.

‘I said I was sorry, Emma,' he repeated tautly, his own breathing only now calming down. The rest of him wasn't in good shape, either, and promised a sleepless night ahead. Either that, or several cold showers. Any other alternative repulsed him these days. He wasn't a randy adolescent with no self-control. He was a man, a man who wanted a woman, not self-gratification.

Her head slowly turned and her eyes were wide and glazed-looking.

‘You don't understand what you've just done,' she said shakily.

‘What? What have I done?'

‘You've shattered everything I've always believed about myself.'

‘Which is?'

‘That I would only ever feel like this with Dean…'

‘Like what, exactly?'

‘Like this…' And, taking his hand, she placed it on her breast again, so that he could feel the still hard nipple, plus the mad pounding of her heart beneath.

The extent of her sexual naivety really hit home. Jason conceded that he could use her lack of experience to bend her to his will—this very night, if he chose. But he knew she would regret it bitterly in the morning. And blame him.

He wanted her respect, as well as her body. Above all, he wanted her as his wife. So it was against his best interests to seduce her. But he wasn't going to let her go on believing his hand on her breast was anything more than it was.

‘Love and sex do not have to go hand in hand, Emma,' he murmured as he knowingly and ruthlessly caressed her breast once more, watching in dark triumph as her lips gasped apart. ‘What you're feeling is simply a matter of chemistry, and hormones.'

Abruptly, he removed his hand, more for his own benefit at that point than for hers. There was only so much he could take.

‘You're a grown woman, Emma,' he said a little harshly, ‘and you're probably as frustrated as I am.'

‘But I thought that…that…'

‘That frustration was a male domain? That nice girls didn't want or need sex?'

‘No. Yes. No. I don't know. I…I thought nice girls had to be in love to want to make love.'

‘I'm sure being in love would enhance the experience emotionally, but making love without love can still be…extremely satisfying.'

She stared at him, and he could almost read her mind. She was thinking what it might be like to make love with him. She'd enjoyed his kiss, thrilled to his hand on her breast over her clothes. How much more pleasurable to have his hands on both breasts, naked, to have his hands all over her, inside her, to have
him
inside her.

He had difficulty controlling the surge of arousal which threatened to make him throw all caution to the winds. He managed by focusing on what it would be like to have her on their wedding night, to have her every night afterwards, and whenever he wanted.

‘We're sexually in tune, Emma,' he argued, in a desire-thickened voice. ‘I can feel it.
You
can feel it. Marry me and I can promise you that that part of our lives will be very fulfilling.'

‘You…you think our marriage could really work?'

‘I know it could,' he reassured her firmly.

‘But we don't love each other.'

‘Love is no guarantee of happiness in a relationship, Emma. Surely you can see that. We like each other, and we want each other. We can plan things together with cool heads, instead of hot and sometimes ill-judged hearts. We'll make a great team.'

‘You're very persuasive.'

‘And you're very lovely.'

She flushed. ‘You confuse me.'

‘I want you.'

‘I'm still not sure why you do.'

‘You underestimate yourself.'

‘No, I don't think so. I know what I am, and I know I'm not the sort of girl a man like you would normally look at twice. You've asked me to marry you on the rebound, Jason.'

‘That's not true. I've asked you to marry me because you're exactly what I want in a wife.'

She frowned at this statement, and in truth it
had
sounded rather cold. Jason regretted it immediately. He leant over and laid a gentle palm against her cheek. ‘So what's your answer to be, lovely Emma?' he asked softly. ‘Will you marry me or not?'

‘You…you were going to wait a month before asking me again,' she replied a little shakily, her eyes searching his as though in fear he was about to kiss her again.

‘I've changed my mind. I don't want to waste another moment. Even if you say yes, it will take several weeks to arrange things. The licence alone takes a month, and the banns, three more weeks.'

‘Banns?'

‘In the church. I'm going to marry you before God, Emma. I'm going to promise to cherish you till death do us part. And you're going to walk down that aisle to me, wearing white, as befits your beautiful innocence.'

‘Oh!' she exclaimed, her eyes flooding.

‘Don't cry,' he murmured. ‘Just say yes, and I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy.'

‘You…you promise you'll never be unfaithful?'

‘Never!' he vowed heatedly.

‘If you are, I'll leave you.'

‘If I am, then I'll deserve leaving.'

‘So be it. Then, yes, Jason. Yes, I'll marry you.'

‘W
ELL
?'
was the first thing Nancy said to him the following morning. It was his weekend for Saturday morning surgery, unfortunately, otherwise he would have taken Emma engagement-ring-shopping. New-watch-shopping for himself as well.

He contemplated not telling Nancy, but discarded that as futile since he had a fatuous smile plastered all over his face. ‘Can you keep a secret, Nancy?' he asked with stupid optimism.

‘Dr Steel! What a silly question! Of course I can.'

‘She said yes.'

Nancy clapped excitedly. ‘Oh, that's wonderful news! Wait till I tell—' She broke off and looked guilty. ‘I mean…how long do I have to keep this a secret?' she asked painfully.

‘Do you think you might manage till Monday? That's when I'm going to take Emma shopping for a ring.' Whichever doctor took Saturday surgery had Monday off.

‘I guess I could,' she said, if a little unhappily. ‘But what if Emma tells someone herself beforehand?'

Jason almost laughed. What a terrible disaster that would be. Poor Nancy—to have a scoop and have to sit on it!

He thought about the situation and relented. ‘Oh, all right, Nancy. Just let me pop over to the shop and
let Emma know I've told you, then you can tell whomever you like.' In truth, he'd already rung Emma once this morning, to make sure she hadn't changed her mind overnight. She hadn't, but had sounded a bit dazed still. She was going to cook him dinner that night, but that was half a day away. A personal visit ASAP would clearly not go astray.

She was just opening the shop when he arrived, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, before turning a little worried. ‘Is there anything wrong?' she asked.

‘Not at all. Shall we go inside, or shall I kiss you right out here in the street?'

Her look of shock-horror amused him. ‘There's no use thinking you an keep our engagement a secret here in Tindley, Emma,' he said, smiling. ‘Nancy already knows. I told her.'

‘You
told
her! But why?'

‘Because I want everyone to know. Don't you?'

He could see by her face she didn't, and his happy mood immediately deflated. ‘What's the problem?' he demanded to know, his ego wounded. ‘You're afraid Ratchitt will somehow get to hear you're marrying another man?'

She didn't deny it, and he had difficulty controlling his temper. Taking her elbow, he shepherded her into the privacy of the shop. The last thing he wanted was all of Tindley to overhear their arguing.

‘Look, Emma,' he muttered once they were safely alone. ‘I thought we had this out the other night. The man's a rotter. And he isn't coming back. When will you get that through your head? Stop being a maso
chist, for pity's sake, and give yourself a decent chance at happiness.'

Her eyes flashed at him. ‘You think I
want
him to come back now?'

‘Yes, I do. I think you're fixated on the creep and you won't be happy till you see him again. One part of me wishes he
would
come back, so that you could see just what you've been pining for. My guess is you've romanticised Ratchitt for far too long. If I knew where he was, I'd send him a damned wedding invitation.'

She paled. ‘You wouldn't.'

‘Too right I would. You think I'm frightened of him? I'd pit myself against the Ratchitts of this world any day, and I know who'd come out on top. Stack us up side by side, Emma, and love or no love, I know who you'd choose in the end!' His voice softened when he saw how stricken she was looking. ‘He's low-life, darling. You deserve a lot better than that.'

‘You…you called me darling,' she said shakily.

‘And so you are,' he crooned, and drew her into his arms. She went willingly, her mouth soft beneath his. He kissed her just long enough and hard enough to make her breathless, and to show her just why she'd agreed to marry him. When he released her, she looked up at him with gratifyingly enslaved eyes. If he felt a tiny stab of guilt for using her blossoming sexuality to his own selfish advantage, then he argued it away in his mind. He was the man for her, wasn't he? He would make her happy, not Dean Ratchitt.

‘Now, let's have no more foolish talk,' he said
firmly. ‘I'm going to marry the loveliest girl in Tindley and I don't care who knows it!'

 

The next few weeks were the most amazing in Jason's life. His relationship with Emma deepened considerably with their time spent together. They discovered surprisingly similar tastes in books and movies, both liking character-driven plots you could really get your teeth into. Neither had any patience with mindless violence or horror stories. Science fiction only got the thumbs-up if the characters were believable and didn't have unpronounceable names. Jason had always read a book or watched a video to wind down after a long day's doctoring, and whilst he always bought new books—and only read them once—he liked nothing better than to see a favourite movie several times.

When he'd showed Emma his video collection, she'd expressed delight at spotting some favourites of her own, and insisted they watch every single one together. Over the past month or so they had, and then had such fun listing their top five in order of preference. Jason had been astounded at how close their lists were. They both put
Witness
at number one, and, whilst the next three had been in different order, they'd both selected
Braveheart
,
Chariots of Fire
, and
Tootsie
for numbers two to four. Only in the fifth selection had they differed, Emma liking Jane Austen's
Emma
—which he'd laughingly pronounced a form of nepotism—whilst he'd put in
Blade Runner
.

Yes, Jason was delighted at how the woman he'd chosen with his head and not his heart was working out. Just talking to Emma was great. And with any
serious lovemaking sidelined till the wedding, they had a lot of time for just talking.

He discovered that his fiancée, whilst not academically brilliant, was creative, intuitive and sensitive, holding interesting opinions on a wide range of subjects. In the year she'd nursed Ivy, she'd read her aunt the newspaper every day from cover to cover, and had acquired a general knowledge which was surprising. Her memory was excellent. She still read the paper over breakfast every morning, she told him with pride.

Jason also admired her cooking skills, whilst she, in turn, simply admired him. He could feel it, and it fed his confidence where she was concerned. Once their wedding day was on the horizon, he really didn't care if Ratchitt returned.

The trouble was…it wasn't Ratchitt who showed up to spoil things. It was Adele.

It was two weeks before the wedding, a coolish Friday in late October. Doc was taking surgery that afternoon, and Jason was out on house calls. He'd just finished his last call and was heading back to Tindley when his mobile beeped. It was Nancy.

‘A call came through for you, Dr Steel,' she said, a bit snippily. ‘A lady doctor, no less. She said it was an emergency and she needed to contact you immediately.'

Jason felt his stomach flip over. ‘Did she leave her name?'

‘Yes. Dr Harvey. She said you would know her numbers off by heart,' Nancy added, suspicion in her tone. ‘Anyway, she wants you to ring her back straight away.'

‘Right. Thanks, Nancy. Dr Harvey's an old colleague from my Sydney days. Must have a medical problem she needs consulting on,' he found himself babbling. Hell, he could feel Nancy's dark disapproval down the line. The possibility—however remote—of her spreading a rumour around Tindley that Dr Steel was no better than Dean Ratchitt, and had some lady-friend on the side whilst he was courting Emma, brought panic. Emma was so vulnerable in that regard.

‘Damn you, Adele,' he growled as he pulled over to the side of the road and dialled the number of the surgery first.

She wasn't there. She was on the road somewhere. Would he like her mobile number?

He said he knew it, which he did. He'd rung the darned thing a million times in his day.

She answered on the third ring.

‘Jase?'

He ignored the jolt the sound of her voice made, not to mention the way she shortened his name. She was the only person who'd ever called him that, and he'd liked it straight away. Perhaps she knew the effect it had on him, for she'd always used it a lot, especially in bed. It had been
Yes, Jase; please, Jase,
and
Oh, God, Jase
, all the time, in low, husky whispers. It sent shivers down his spine just thinking about it.

‘What do you want, Adele?' he said, quite coldly, determined not to let her see she affected him in any way. But the length of his celibate state didn't help. Only by reminding himself that he was just two weeks
from marrying Emma could he keep the image of a nude Adele gyrating on top of him from exploding to the forefront of his mind.

But then she spoke again, and he was in imminent danger of being mentally unfaithful.

‘It's great to hear your voice, Jase. I've missed you, darling. Have you missed me?'

Jason cursed her to hell in his mind.

‘My secretary said you had an emergency,' he ground out in what he hoped was his best no-I-haven't-missed-you voice.

‘It's your brother, Jase. Jerry.'

Jason snapped to attention. He'd sent Jerry the watch and ring, as planned, as well as a wedding invitation, and had received a small thank-you note, but a regret about the wedding. Jerry was chronically shy and didn't like formal dos.

‘What about Jerry?'

‘He came into the surgery last night with severe abdominal pains. Just by chance, I was the doctor allotted to him. I didn't want to take any chances so I had him admitted to hospital. Thank God I did, because he had a pretty bad night. They've done tests and he has some form of obscure food-poisoning. He's not critical, but he's a very sick man. The specialist said he won't be in the clear for a couple of days. I thought you might want to be with him.'

‘What hospital?'

‘Royal North Shore.'

‘I'll come straight away.' Doc wouldn't mind taking over for the weekend in this situation. Jason had
done the same for him when he'd had to go to a funeral in Brisbane a couple of weeks back.

A funeral…

Dear God, he hoped Jerry didn't die. ‘How did you find my number, Adele?' he demanded to know.

‘Oh, Jase,' she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice, that slow, sexy smile she used to give him as she undulated towards him across the bedroom, peeling off her clothes as she went. ‘I've always known where you were. I was just waiting a while till you came to your senses. Six months I was going to give you, remember? It's been more than that now.'

Bulldust, he thought. She hadn't been going to contact him at all, not till this business with Jerry had made it necessary. She just couldn't resist playing
femme fatale
.

‘I'll bet you're bored to tears down there in Hicksville,' she went on a droll tone. ‘Country towns and country girls just don't have what it takes to keep a city boy happy. And you're a city boy, Jase,' she said, with a low, wicked little laugh. ‘Through and through.'

He knew that. It had been a battle to adjust. But he
had
adjusted, and he
liked
his new life. Okay, so it wasn't wildly exciting. There were no first nights at the opera; no dinner parties in penthouses overlooking the harbour; no all-night sex sessions to drive him out of his mind.

But such things were just passing moments of pleasure. They weren't
life
, not the kind of life he wanted.

‘Actually, I'm not bored at all,' he countered
coolly. ‘I love it here. Fact is, I'm going to be married a fortnight tomorrow.'

She hardly missed a beat. ‘No kidding? What happened, Jase? Get some poor little country girl in trouble, did you?'

‘Trust you to think something like that. No, Adele, Emma isn't pregnant.'

‘Emma. What a sweet goody-two-shoes name! Does she have a sweet goody-two-shoes nature to go with it? Or is she just a little bit naughty sometimes? Does she do for you what I used to do for you, darling? I can't imagine you doing without
that
once in a while.'

‘Emma's a nice girl, Adele,' he said icily.

‘Nice, is she? Oh, poor Jase. I think you
are
going to be bored. But you can always drop up to Sydney once in a while. Make some excuse to the little wife. A conference is always good for a weekend away.'

‘I have no intention of doing any such thing, Adele. I left you seven months ago and you're staying left.'

She laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. ‘You won't forget me that easily, Jase. You might pretend to, but when you're lying in bed with your nice little wife, and having sweet goody-two-shoes sex every night, you'll think of me. I'll guarantee it.'

‘I wouldn't count on it, sweetheart,' he snapped back. ‘Thank you for doing the right thing by Jerry. It surprises me you didn't just give him an antacid tablet and send him home to die. I guess even the worst doctor in the world gets it right occasionally. Don't call me again, Adele. Goodbye.'

He was shaking by the time he hung up. Literally
shaking. He dropped the phone on the passenger seat and lowered his sweating forehead onto the steering wheel, glowering down at his lap and the evidence of what she'd done to him with just her voice.

Slowly, he pulled himself together, and put his logical mind into gear. Old tapes playing in his head, he decided. Not love. He'd lived with the woman for three years, made love to her countless times, become addicted to her brand of sex. Hard to wipe out any addiction in a few months. She was like a bad habit which was difficult to toss. Yes, his body had responded—out of habit, not out of true feeling. He refused to believe differently.