A Bad Enemy (16 page)

'Of course,' Lisle returned lightly. 'Chief bridesmaid, no less.'

She worked like an automaton, but she still wasn't ready when the doorbell rang.

She called, 'I'll get it,' to Janie, and opened the door. Jake was lounging on the doorstep. His eyes met hers with irony.

'Full circle,' he commented. 'Ready to go?'

'Not quite. I—I seem to have more things than I thought. Does it have to be this evening?' She sent him a pleading look. 'If I had another day…'

'This evening,' he said implacably. He gave her a long, hard look. 'Perhaps I don't like ghosts either.'

Lisle flushed unhappily, turned away. What use were denials, when they would not be believed? she asked herself. Perhaps when she was his wife, and he had had indisputable proof of her innocence, he might think again.

'Then maybe you wouldn't mind waiting,' she said in a constricted tone. 'I'm sure Janie will give you some coffee.'

He nodded and turned in the direction of the kitchen.

Lisle flew round, cramming the last items into her cases. She was only packing clothes, but there were other things she simply didn't have space for, or time to collect—ornaments, and some books and records, and a few pictures she'd bought, inexpensive prints mostly, but she liked them, and didn't want to leave them. She'd come back, she thought, at some convenient time and gather them all up.

Janie came to the kitchen door and watched as Jake fetched Lisle's cases from the bedroom.

She said with an exaggerated sigh, 'I do like a masterful man.'

He grinned at her. 'We're a dying breed.'

She groaned. 'Does that mean you haven't a brother?'

'Not even a second cousin twice removed,' he told her regretfully.

Watching them, Lisle thought how much she would give to have Jake look at her with the same lazy admiration in his grey eyes, the same genuine warmth in his smile. Cindy Leigh ton had been blonde, she thought, probing the wound to find if it still hurt, and receiving a very painful affirmative, so perhaps blondes were Jake's preference.

She said a muted goodbye to Janie, promising to phone her as soon as she had any definite plans, and followed Jake down to the car.

As he took his place beside her, he sat wearily for a moment, staring at the dashboard.

Lisle moved impulsively, placing a hand on his arm. 'Drop me at the station. I can make my own way from there,' she urged. 'You've had a lousy day. You can't want to drive all those miles.'

'Perhaps not, but I intend to just the same.' His mouth twisted. 'And drop the cossetting note, Lisle. That isn't what I want from you at all.'

Her glance fell away. She said huskily, 'What
do
you want,Jake?'

'I thought I'd made it clear,' he said. 'I want your social acumen, and your body, not necessarily in that order. Is there anything else you want to know?'

'No,' she said, dry-mouthed. 'I think that just about covers it.'

She shrank down into her seat, as if she was composing herself for sleep, but behind her closed eyes and surface calm, her mind ran in circles like a small caged animal, looking in vain for escape.

Jake said nothing more to her and she was thankful in some ways for the respite, but at the same time she wondered if that was to be the pattern of their marriage—confrontation at both mental and physical levels, interspersed with long silences, and, if so, how she could bear it. It was in conflict with every small ideal she had ever had about the relationship between husband and wife.

When they arrived at the house, she looked at him uncertainly as he took her cases from the car, wondering if he intended to leave immediately. But the question was answered for her when Mrs Peterson came to welcome them with the information that she had prepared some sandwiches and would bring them to the drawing room with a tray of coffee as soon as they were ready.

'You did say that was all you wanted, Mr Allard,' she added, giving him a worried look. 'But it would take no time to cook you something, if you'd prefer.'

Jake smiled at her, the tired lines on his face relaxing. 'The sandwiches will be fine,' he said. 'Shall we say ten minutes.'

'Just as you say, sir. And I've made up the bed in the room you had before. I hope that's satisfactory.'

When they were alone, Lisle said tautly, 'I didn't realise you planned to stay the night.'

He lifted his brows. 'Any objections?'

'I suppose not.'

'Graciously spoken,' he jeered. 'What happened to the womanly solicitude you were brimming with in London? I thought at the time that, if closely examined, it would turn into an overwhelming desire to be rid of me any price.'

Lisle shrugged. 'If that's what you want to think…' she said colourlessly.

'Half the time, I'm damned if I know what to think,' Jake said, his tone curiously bitter, and she glanced at him quickly, wondering if he was beginning to have second thoughts about the cold-blooded arrangement to which he was condemning them both.

She said, 'I've already eaten. If you don't mind, I'll go up to my room. It's getting late and I want to unpack those cases before everything gets too crushed.'

His face was inscrutable. 'And if I do mind? You're going to be my wife. Perhaps I'll want you to help me relax, smooth away the knots. Isn't that what good wives are supposed to do?'

She was tied in knots herself. She looked across the room at him, her eyes widening in a kind of mute appeal.

Jake swore softly under his breath. 'Run along,' he said impatiently. 'You look as if you're about to collapse.'

She felt like it too. Her room seemed strangely alien as she moved slowly around it, putting things on hangers, making space for them in cupboards. It was strange to think that most of the nights of her childhood and girlhood had been spent inside these four walls, because they said nothing to her now. That child, that girl might never have existed.

She looked at herself distrustfully in the mirror. She looked the same, although a little pale and strained. How was it possible to look the same, and yet be so deeply, irrevocably changed, and how could it happen so quickly? She could count the time she had known him in days still, and yet it made no difference.

The girl who had dreamed her dreams in this room was gone for ever, and Lisle knew that even if time could run backwards and the last week be wiped away, that would not be her choice.

Even on his own terms, she wanted Jake. For better or worse, she thought ironically.

The knock at the door wasn't particularly loud, but it seemed to reverberate through the room.

Mrs Peterson would never have knocked like that, Lisle thought, hugging the sweaters she was holding defensively against her breasts. She had undressed earlier. She was wearing her nightdress and robe, and she was tempted to take one flying leap into bed, sweaters and all, pulling the covers over her head and pretending to be asleep. Except that he wouldn't be fooled for a moment.

The knock was repeated impatiently, then the door opened and Jake walked in. His eyes raked her mercilessly.

'Turned deaf and dumb?' he asked sarcastically.

'No,' she said. 'I just didn't want to be disturbed. For all you knew, I could have been asleep.'

He shook his head. 'I've heard you pacing up and down, backwards and forwards. I knew you were awake.'

'But that doesn't mean I necessarily want company.'

'Oh, quit complaining,' he said wearily. 'If you imagine this stop-go policy of yours has filled me with insatiable lust, then you're wrong. I've had a swine of a day, and I'm in no mood for bedroom games, especially when they're of the inconclusive variety that you seem to favour. I prefer to wait until I have the legal right to enforce any demands I make on you. I hope that sets your mind at rest,' he added sardonically.

'Wonderfully,' said Lisle. 'I feel like the man who was told he'd been granted a stay of execution because they were building a bigger and better gallows. Perhaps now you'll tell me what you do want.'

'I just wanted to let you know that I'd rung the hospital, and Murray has had a fair day. I apologised for our failure to visit him, but they seem to feel he'd already had too many visitors today as it was. I said that you'd be along tomorrow.

She flushed dully, remorse striking at her. She'd been so tied up in her own emotions and confusions that she'd hardly given her grandfather a thought.

'Yes, of course,' she said constrictedly. 'Thank you for telephoning. I—I should have done so myself.'

Jake shrugged. 'Think nothing of it. I am genuinely fond of Murray, you know. It isn't just gratitude because he once gave me a helping hand.

'Or the favours he's done you since,' some demon prompted her to say.

His brows lifted. 'Now what do you mean by that?' he challenged. 'If it's Harlow Bannerman, I'd hardly regard digging the company out of its self-inflicted mire as a particular privilege. Or were you thinking along more personal lines, beauty?'

'Don't call me that,' she protested heatedly.

'Why not? It's no more than the truth.' The grey eyes moved over in total reminiscence, making the blood flare in her face.' ' "But beauty's self she is," ' he murmured. 'I'm sure you can supply the test of the quotation.'

She could, only too well, and on a reflex action, her hands moved to tighten the already secure sash of her robe. Jake laughed, and she turned away, hotly embarrassed, at that little piece of self-betrayal.

'If you were referring to yourself,' he said drily, 'there've been damned few favours going so far. Not that I've been on my knees begging for them either, of course.'

'Of course,' Lisle agreed with a snap. 'But then no man in your income bracket ever has to beg—does he?'

'Not often,' he agreed, apparently unruffled by her waspish taunt. 'And I have no intention of starting either, so be warned, beauty. I take what I want.'

'And pay for it?' Her mouth curled.

'Whatever I consider it's worth.' He sent her a mocking look. 'Take care you don't pitch your price too high, Lisle.'

'And if I do—what then?' she said. 'Will you — cancel the contract?'

'No way, beauty.' Jake's grey eyes glinted at her. 'Merely re-draft its terms in a way you won't like.'

'In the same way as you're re-drafting Harlow Bannerman?'

He smiled. 'Not quite.' His glance sharpened. 'I take it you disapprove of my methods?'

'It's no longer any of my business,' she said bitterly. 'I don't work there any more—remember?'

'But that won't stop Gerard crying on your shoulder,' he commented brusquely. 'When he does, you might bear in mind that he's brought his troubles on himself?

'Then his—demotion is an additional punishment.'

'Demotion? I'd hardly call it that.' Jake's voice slowed to a drawl. 'He's going to learn how to tackle a job properly, instead of being allowed to play ducks and drakes with the Sales Department. Where's the hardship in that?'

'Oh. You make it all sound so terribly reasonable,' she said bitterly. 'But you know as well as I do that you're slapping him down.'

'Perhaps someone has to. Would you rather it were Harry Foxton—because that could be on the cards too.'

Her head came up with a jerk, and she stared at him, her eyes dilating. 'What do you mean?'

'Do I really have to spell it out? You can't make the running with a spectacular lady like Carla Foxton and expect the world not to notice. And, generally, when people have stopped looking, they start talking. Word soon spreads, and contrary to what they say, the husband isn't always the last one to find out.'

Lisle bit her lip, dismayed. 'What do you think will happen?' she asked eventually, in a small voice.

Jake shrugged. 'I'm not Harry Foxton. 'He should have made sure Carla's stable door was bolted from the day they were married instead of indulging in useless recriminations when it's too late. As it is—I know some of his cronies, and they reckon he's hitting the bottle hard and that when he does, he becomes mean.'

Lisle moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. 'He—he really loves her—Gerard, I mean. He was going to ask her to leave her husband and be with him.

'Can he afford her?' Jake asked cynically 'By all accounts, she's another over-priced woman.

'He can't now, certainly.'

Jake gave a crooked smile. 'If that's a subtle accusation that I've put a spoke in the wheel of true love, forget it. The present Mrs Foxton loves herself and Harry's money with almost equal degrees of passion, and I wouldn't think Gerard even features in the ratings, except incidentally.'

She couldn't accuse him of being unfair, because his summation of the situation coincided with her own.

'Do you speak through—bitter experience?' she asked at last.

He gave her a sardonic look. 'Let's say I know the type. As you were shrewd enough to point out, my income bracket has seen to that.' He paused. 'After all, beauty, you wouldn't be marrying me if I was poor.'

The jibe caught her like a whiplash, and Lisle stiffened, words of angry denial already forming on her lips until she realised, just in time, what their utterance would imply.

She had almost told Jake that she would want him no matter what the circumstances, even if he became a penniless bankrupt tomorrow. She had almost told him that she loved him, and wanted nothing more than to be his wife. And what a damaging, abject admission that would have been in the circumstances!

'
I want your social acumen and your body
,' he had said, only a short while ago. Love wasn't a word he was prepared to include in the vocabulary of their relationship.

So she could not be the one to introduce it. At the very least, he would be embarrassed; at the worst, he might laugh. And she could not risk either reaction. It would cost too much of the tender, vulnerable emotion she nurtured so secretly.

'You're very quiet,' he mocked. 'Trying to think of a way to break it to me gently, Lisle?'

Her nails dug sharply into the palms of her hands, but the smile she sent him was light and taunting.

'Why should I? You know as well as I do, Jake, that I wouldn't be marrying
anyone
if he was poor.' She smothered a little yawn. 'And now perhaps you'd let me have my room to myself again. I'm a little tired.'