The Marriage Bed: An Ideal Marriage? / The Marriage Campaign / The Bridal Bed

He shrugged off the business shirt, reached for a dark-coloured open-necked polo shirt and tugged it over his head.

Honesty was the only way to go. ‘Genuine remorse.’

He removed his trousers and donned a casual cotton pair.

He looked up, and she caught the dark intensity of his gaze. ‘Apology accepted.’

Her nervous tension dissolved, and the breath she’d unconsciously been holding slipped silently free. ‘Thank you.’

Retreat seemed a viable option and she crossed to the capacious walk-in wardrobe, selected tennis gear, then extracted casual linen trousers and a blouse.

The buzz of the electric shaver sounded from the en suite bathroom, and he emerged as she finished changing.

Gabbi felt the familiar flood of warmth, and fought against it ‘What time do you want to leave?’ It was amazing that her voice sounded so calm.

‘Seven-fifteen.’

They descended the stairs together, and ate the delectable chicken salad Marie had prepared, washed it down with mineral water, then picked from a selection of fresh fruit. A light meal which would be supplemented by supper after the last game of tennis.

Conversation was confined to business and the proposed agenda at the next board meeting.

Chris and Leanne Evington resided at Woollahra in a large, rambling old home which had been lovingly restored. Neat lawns, beautiful gardens, precisely clipped hedges and shrubbed topiary lent an air of a past era. The immaculate grassed tennis court merely added to the impression.

A few cars lined the circular forecourt, and Gabbi slid from the Bentley as Benedict retrieved their sports bags from the boot.

Social tennis took on rules of its own, according to the host’s inclination and the number of participating guests.

The best of seven games would ensure a relatively quick turn-around on the court, Chris and Leanne determined. Partners were selected by personal choice, and it was accepted that two rounds of mixed doubles would precede two rounds of women’s doubles and conclude with two rounds of men’s doubles.

Gabbi and Benedict were nominated first on the court, opposing a couple whom Gabbi hadn’t previously met. All four were good players, although Benedict had the height, strength and skill to put the ball where he chose, and they emerged victorious at the end of the game with a five-two lead.

Chris and Leanne’s son Todd had nominated himself umpire for the evening. A prominent athlete and law student, he had any number of pretty girls beating a path to his door. That there wasn’t one in evidence this evening came as something of a surprise.

Until Annaliese arrived on the scene, looking sensational in designer tennis wear.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ Annaliese offered a winning smile.

‘Mixed has just finished,’ Leanne informed her. ‘The girls are on next.’

Annaliese turned towards Gabbi. ‘Will you be my partner? It’ll be just like the old days.’

What old days? Gabbi queried silently. Surely Annaliese wasn’t referring to an occasional mismatch during school holidays?

Leanne allocated the pair to the second round, and Gabbi accepted a cool drink from a proffered tray.

The guests reassembled as Todd directed play from the umpire’s seat. The men gravitated into two groups, and in no time at all Annaliese had managed to gain Gabbi’s attention.

‘I had a wonderful afternoon phoning friends and catching up on all their news.’

‘One of whom just happened to mention the Evington tennis party?’ Gabbi queried dryly.

‘Why, yes:

‘Who better to know the guest list than Todd?’

‘He’s a sweet boy.’

‘And easily flattered.’

Annaliese’s smile was pure feline. ‘Aren’t most men?’

‘Shall we join the others?’

It was thirty minutes before they took their position on the court, and evenly matched opponents ensured a tight score. Deuce was called three times in the final game before Annaliese took an advantage to winning point by serving an ace.

An elaborate seafood supper was provided at the close of the final game, followed by coffee and a selection of delicious petits fours.

Gabbi expected Annaliese to commandeer Benedict’s attention. What she didn’t anticipate was an elbow jolting her arm.

It happened so quickly that she was powerless to do anything but watch in dismayed silence as coffee spilled onto the tiled floor.

‘I’m fine,’ Gabbi assured Benedict as he reached her side. She bore his swift appraisal with a determined smile.

Only a splash of hot liquid was splattered on her tennis shoes, and a cloth took care of the spillage.

‘You could have been burnt,’ Annaliese declared with apparent concern.

‘Fortunately, I wasn’t.’

‘Are you sure you’re OK, Gabbi?’ Leanne queried. ‘Can I get you some more coffee?’ Her eyes took on a tinge of humour. ‘Something stronger?’

She was tempted, but not for the reason her hostess imagined. A ready smile curved her mouth and she shook her head. ‘Thanks all the same.’

It was almost midnight when she slid into the passenger seat of the Bentley. Benedict slipped in behind the wheel and activated the ignition.

‘What happened in there?’

The car wheels crunched on the pebbled driveway, and Gabbi waited until they gained the road before responding.

‘Could you be specific?’

He shot her a quick glance that lost much of its intensity in the darkness. ‘You’re not given to clumsiness.’

‘Ah, support.’

‘Annaliese?’

Tiredness settled like a mantle around her slim shoulders. Indecision forced a truthful answer. ‘I don’t know.’