A Reason For Marriage

‘The inference being far too charming for me, I take it.’

She could tell without looking at him that his mouth had twisted slightly just as she could hear the mocking amusement in his voice.

‘Too charming. Too innocent, and far, far too vulnerable, Jake,’ she said as coldly as she could. ‘But then I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you any of that. What does worry me a little is that she’s also intelligent. What will you do when she discovers it, I wonder?’

‘Bitch.’ The insult was laconic, without heat or emotion. ‘Still living alone, are you?’

The question was careless and uncaring, flicking her on the raw as it underlined the solitariness of her life.

‘That’s the way I prefer it,’ she told him coldly.

‘Still the ambitious career-woman. I thought it might have palled by now. Strange how I never realised all the time you were growing up that you had such a strong streak of ambition.’

‘Why should you? I certainly never recognised a good many very obvious traits in you.’

He moved in front of her, frowning at the biting contempt in her voice.

‘Such as?’ he invited softly.

It was too much. She had already endured enough tonight, her head was pounding violently. He knew exactly what he’d done to her, so why make her say it? Did he enjoy tormenting her?

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She got up too quickly, his proximity to her suddenly claustrophobic. In her panic she tried to push past him and found that his body blocked the way. Closing her eyes against the onslaught of pain in her head she swayed dangerously and put out a hand to save herself. Everything was whirling madly out of control, the only point of reality in her disordered world the sure, firm sound of Jake’s voice, and she clung to it like a drowning man to a life-raft, willingly letting herself sag against his body as she felt his arms go round her and her mind abandon her completely.

Dimly she was conscious of being picked up, of being carried, of Jake’s suddenly increased heartbeat. She could hear Beth asking anxious questions, and Jake’s reassuringly measured reply.

‘Don’t worry, she always did push herself too hard. It’s probably just jet-lag catching up on her. Which is her room Beth?’

And then as she closed her eyes and surrendered to the luxury of being in his arms she heard him saying, ‘No, it’s okay, you stay down here, I don’t think she’s actually fainted. More of a dizzy spell really. She’ll be okay.’

They were going upstairs, Jake moving swiftly. He had carried her like this once before, the first time he had made love to her. All at once her stomach clenched on a fierce burst of pain. She didn’t want to remember that time now. How thrilled and yet frightened she had been, how gentle and tender Jake’s lovemaking. But it was pointless remembering it, it had all only been an illusion, something deliberately created to deceive, and neither her pride nor her self-respect had ever recovered from the fact that it had deceived, very successfully.

Indeed if it hadn’t been for Wanda she would never have found out, would now have been married to Jake for five years, would probably be the mother of his children. So why didn’t she feel relief instead of dull misery? Would she really have preferred not to know, to have married him anyway? Angered by her own weakness, she tried to push the memories away. They were inside her bedroom now. She opened her eyes cautiously, hurriedly closing them again as she felt the room sway. It was her own fault, she thought guiltily, she had eaten next to nothing on the flight from New York, and very little since. No wonder she had no strength, no resistance.

Past and present started to merge dizzily together, loosening her hold on reality, confusing her to the point where she wasn’t sure of anything other than the fact that she was in Jake’s arms. She felt him lower her on to the bed, and opened her eyes, blinking as she was caught in the cool green beam of his.

‘Jake.’

Her whole body trembled with the effort of speaking his name, weak tears almost blinding her as she saw that she had been unsuccessful in banishing the hard coldness from his eyes. She was eighteen again and desperately in love. She reached out, imploring, her breath ejected from her lungs in a shocked whimper as Jake drew back, holding her away so savagely she thought he might crush her fragile bones.

‘What is it you want from me, Jamie?’

His voice had an unfamiliar raggedness to it, a harsh echo of an old pain that disturbed and confused her. Her tongue touched the dry contours of her mouth, her stomach cramping in nervous protest. She felt lightheaded and dizzy, unable to formulate any words that would make any sense. Somewhere at the back of her mind trembled a warning that she was doing something incredibly foolish, but she was not prepared to listen to it. All she could think of was how much she ached and yearned for this man sitting beside her, and looking at her as though for some reason he wanted to strangle her.

Confusion hazed her mind, trapping her back in the past, her eyes unknowingly eloquent and pleading as she looked at him.

‘Jamie, for God’s sake.’ His fingers snapped back from her wrists as though her skin burned. ‘What in hell’s name are you playing at now?’

He was moving away from her and she didn’t want him to go. Panic and pain tore at her with knife-sharp claws, a whirling black emptiness was engulfing her, through which she cried out his name in sharp anguish.

Momentarily the darkness parted and she felt the heat of Jake’s body against her own, his mouth on hers, swiftly answering the plea in her voice. Mindlessly, voluptuously she gave herself up to the pleasure of touching and kissing him, her tongue feverishly tracing the well remembered shape of his lips, her heart thudding frantically against her ribs.

‘JAMIE?’

The sound of Beth’s hesitant voice brought her abruptly awake. Confused, she glanced around, stunned to discover that it was daylight. ‘How are you feeling?’ Beth approached the bed anxiously. ‘I wanted to call the doctor last night, but Jake said it wasn’t necessary. He says you had a bout of these fainting attacks during your teens.’

‘Yes, I did,’ she responded almost absently, her mind struggling to assimilate the bewildering confusion of images and half-memories surging through her. Jake had carried her upstairs last night, he had been angry with her, they had argued; her face flamed hotly as she had a sudden, too-vivid memory of something else. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She couldn’t have really kissed him… She closed her eyes, shuddering slightly.

‘Jamie.’

‘I’m fine, just a little weak…’

‘Jake said you were asleep when he left you. He told me not to disturb you last night. It’s just as well he was here. I had no idea you were subject to these attacks.’

Jamie wanted to tell her that she wasn’t, that her faintness had been brought on by a headache and the acute tension engendered by Jake’s presence, but wisely she said nothing. Her heart was still pounding fiercely, her thoughts tormented by that hazy memory of Jake’s mouth against her own as she used all the skill he had taught her to soften its hard outline. Dear God, surely she could not have done such a thing? It must surely be her imagination playing tricks on her. How on earth was she ever going to face Jake again if…

Other memories began to surface. Jake had tricked her into agreeing to go home at Christmas. But why? He could want her company as little as she wanted his. He had claimed that Mark and her mother missed her. Her mouth tightened. Was that why he wanted her there, or was it simply so that he could torment her further?

‘What did you think of Amanda?’ Beth asked eagerly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, as Jamie struggled to sit up. ‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’

‘Far too nice for Jake,’ Jamie replied promptly, wishing she hadn’t been so curt when she saw Beth’s surprised expression. ‘She was telling me last night that she isn’t at all keen on the idea of getting married yet, to anyone,’ she told Beth by way of explanation. ‘I get the impression she’s scared stiff that between them her father and Jake will force her into it.’

‘Oh no, surely not? Jake would never do anything like that. Why, if he wants to get married he could find any number of women who’d jump at the chance.’

‘Ex-mistresses, you mean?’ Jamie said sarcastically. ‘Jake’s too proud for that, Beth. He’ll want a wife he can mould and dominate. An innocent, untainted by any other man sexually or mentally. I’m sure in his eyes Amanda would make him an excellent wife. She’s an only child and her father is a very wealthy man.’

‘I know you and Jake don’t get on, but surely that isn’t really how you see him, is it?’ Beth was plainly troubled. “I know he can be strong-willed and arrogant, but…’

‘No buts, Beth,’ Jamie told her wearily. ‘Jake’s cool-headed enough to decide what he wants out of life and then to go out and get it without bothering himself over trivial little details like emotions and feelings.’

Plainly perplexed by her cousin’s bitterness, Beth stood up. ‘I just came to see if you were awake. I’ll go and make you a cup of tea now. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

Nodding her head, Jamie turned her face into the pillow. All right was the last thing she felt. No amount of determination had protected her from the savage reality of seeing Jake. It was the same every time and it got worse, not better. She shuddered as she tried to eject from her mind the tormentingly hazy memory of being in his arms; of wantonly pressing herself up against his body, of betraying herself to him in the most humiliating way possible. Sweat broke out on her forehead, sickness cramping through her stomach. Please God, let it not be true, let that mocking elusive memory belong to the more distant past, or better still her imagination. She could not, would not endure the torment of Jake knowing that her years of cool indifference towards him were nothing more than a brittle barrier behind which she hid her love.

CHAPTER THREE

ANOTHER day over—thank God. Sighing faintly, Jamie locked the door of the office behind her and hurried out into the cold early November darkness.

They had been busy recently, but that was not the reason for the lines of tension creasing her forehead and the overstrained look in her eyes. Even Ralph, her partner, had commented that she was not her normal cool, calm self. She had Jake to thank for that, she thought angrily, her soft mouth twisting.

Only last week she had received an ecstatic letter from her mother telling her how thrilled she and Mark were that she was going to be able to get home for Christmas—Jake had told them, apparently.

Trust him. He was tying her up in knots, making it impossible for her to find an excuse for not going home. How ill was Mark? A deeper frown touched her forehead. Whenever she asked her mother about her stepfather the replies she received were reassuring but evasive. Very mild angina was how her mother had described Mark’s condition, but what if it were more than that, what if… Panic and dread clutched her heart at the thought of anything happening to her stepfather, if he was more seriously ill than she was being told and something should happen to him. She knew that she would never forgive herself if Mark died without her having seen him.

Even so the situation was an impossible one. If only Jake did not live so close to Queensmeade. Because he had taken over the running of the factory he was constantly in and out of Queensmeade discussing business with his father, and unless she knew specifically that he was going to be away she had purposely not gone home, unable to bear the thought of facing him in the place where she had once known such foolish joy.

How typical it was of Jake’s arrogance that he should expect her to put the past calmly behind her and behave as though nothing had happened. If Wanda hadn’t opened her eyes to the truth she would have been married to him and it would have been too late. They had planned to tell Mark and her mother how they felt about one another on their return from holiday. Jake had been talking about a Christmas wedding. How naïve she had been to think he actually loved her, and how clever he had been to keep her in the dark as to his real feelings.

What hurt her most was not that she had loved him, but that she had trusted him as well, had looked up to him and adored him all through their childhood—and been too bedazzled by the wonder of this demigod, whom she had worshipped all her life, actually loving her, to have the wit to question the reality of an experienced and very male man in his mid-twenties falling passionately in love with an inexperienced teenager he had known all his life.