A High Price to Pay (21 page)

Nick's arms were wrapped round her, his mouth tracing small lazy

patterns on her breasts, his body still joined with hers. A little sob

rising in her throat, Alison tried to disengage herself.

He lifted his head slightly and smiled at her, the blue eyes filled with

an expression that almost stopped her heart.

'Wait,' he told her softly, his voice a promise.

Her hands came up and pushed at his bare shoulders.

'I'd like you to go, please.'

Nick looked at her again, but this time there was no warmth or tender

beguilement in his expression.

He said quietly, 'I beg your pardon. Would you mind repeating that?'

'I want you to go,' she said. 'I want you to leave me alone. You—you

had what you wanted and . ..'

His hand closed round her chin, not altogether gently. 'You little

hypocrite! It was entirely mutual and you know it.'

'You don't need to remind me. I'm already deeply ashamed.'

'Are you, by God?' The sudden harshness in his voice grated across

her nerve endings, making her wince. 'But there's no need to be, my

prudish wife. Sex, after all, is like any other appetite. Once it's been

stimulated, it needs feeding. You're in no way abnormal.'

Her whole being cringed. To hear the joy they had shared reduced to

that level was almost more than she could bear. If he'd struck her, the

shock could not have been deeper.

She said, 'Thank you for the reassurance, but that isn't exactly what I

meant.'

'I'm all for clarity,' Nick said softly. 'And at any other time I'd be

delighted to hear what your tortuous little mind has decided to use as

an excuse this time. But not now. At the moment I have other things

in mind—and allowing myself to be turned out of your bed isn't one

of them. You mustn't- be so niggardly with that charming little body,

my sweet. I've paid a tall price for the privilege of keeping you in the

manner to which you're accustomed. Surely you can steel yourself

to—accpmmodate me once in a while?'

Alison said in a tiny, thin voice, 'You have no sense of shame at all,

do you?'

'Not where you're concerned, darling. On the contrary, I feel like a

man who's discovered treasure in his own backyard.'

'With Melanie as an additional bonus?' she asked bitterly. 'Do you

never suffer from scruples?'

'Never.' Insolently, he bent and brushed her mouth with his. 'Either

professionally or personally. Isn't that what you expected me to say?'

'I suppose so,' she said wearily. 'I always knew you had your own idea

of morality. Why should a minor point like an arranged marriage

change anything?' She paused. 'But don't think for one moment that

Melanie would take any act of infidelity as lightly.'

'Oh, I wouldn't.' The blue eyes glittered down at her. 'I knew from the

first that you were very different propositions. At the moment, of

course, she eats out of my hand. But I don't expect this idyllic

situation to continue for very long.'

Her voice cracked slight. 'You—you will be kind to her?'

'Naturally,' he said. 'As a matter of fact, it's very easy to be kind to

Melly. She's—extremely receptive. After you, sweet wife, it's

something of a relief to be with a woman who thinks I'm wonderful,

and isn't fighting me tooth and nail every step of the way. And now,

let's change the subject.' The practised hand slid the length of her

body in sensuous command. 'I may as well make the most of what

little time with you I have left.'

Hot tears scalded her eyes suddenly. 'You're vile! Doesn't it matter to

you that she'll probably guess where you are, and be hurt?'

'She knows exactly where I am,' Nick said coolly. 'She was very

understanding.' He bent to one rose-tipped breast, tugging the

tumescent peak gently with his lips.

The burning pleasure of his hands and mouth on her skin was already

having its inevitable effect, carrying her away on a swift and painful

tide of feeling she was unable to resist.

While she was still able to speak, she began, 'You can't...'

'Oh, but I can,' he said softly. 'And I will. I intend to have something

to remember from this— travesty, darling, before you push me out of

your life for ever.'

'Damn you,' she muttered hoarsely, her body arching involuntarily to

meet the first, powerful thrust of his. 'Damn you…'

And was engulfed in a storm of sensation which threatened to tear her

apart. This time there was no finesse in their coming together, and no

reticence either in the harsh, sobbing silence as they took endlessly

from each other, Alison's own demands as fierce and overwhelming

as those of the man who drove her remorselessly to the end of

endurance itself.

When it was over, she lay spent and shaken beneath him, the tears

raining helplessly down her face. As, at last, Nick lifted himself away

from her, she had to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to

prevent herself from reaching for him, clinging to him. She'd

promised to free him; she couldn't renege on that. Nor did she want

his pity.

She pressed her clenched fist against her teeth, biting at the knuckles,

damming back the words that must never be uttered. If she spoke, she

would plead, and she couldn't do that; what little self- respect she still

possessed forbade it.

She was aware of the shift in weight as Nick left the bed, and heard

the soft sounds of movement as he retrieved his clothes and began to

dress.

At last there was a silence deeper than she had ever known.

His voice broke it bleakly. 'You can have your divorce,' he said. And

the door closed behind him in utter finality.

IT seemed impossible that she should ever sleep, but eventually she

did—and awoke to Mrs Horner bringing in her tea, just as if it was

any other day.

'The weather's nice,' Mrs Horner announced, pulling back the

curtains. 'They reckon it's set fair for the weekend. Pity Mr Nick

couldn't stay down here and relax for once instead of chasing off back

to London.'

Alison pulled herself up against her pillows. 'Has he gone already?'

She tried to make it sound the most normal thing in the world.

'At the crack of dawn, according to Cook.' Mrs Horner directed a look

of mild censure at Alison. 'You should get him to relax more, Miss

Alison, or he'll be making himself ill.' She headed for the door. 'Oh,

and your mother's asking for you,' she volunteered. 'Seems in a bit of

a state.'

Alison groaned inwardly. 'I'll go to her as soon as I'm dressed.'

She felt dead inside, but life was dragging her relentlessly back into

the familiar groove, and she supposed she would be grateful for that,

as she showered and dressed hastily in jeans and a loose top.

Mrs Mortimer was sitting in her usual chair by the window when

Alison entered, bright spots of outrage burning in her face.

'Just what is the meaning of this?' she demanded, thrusting a sheet of

paper at Alison.

Alison's brows drew together. The heading across the letter indicated

that it came from one of the local driving schools, and, addressed to

her mother, it informed her politely that the driver's refresher course

which had been booked in her name would commence that afternoon

at two o'clock, and that her instructor Mr Robert Hargreaves would

call at the house.

Alison read it through and shrugged. 'I don't know,' she said. 'Perhaps

it's a mistake. Maybe there's another Mrs Mortimer in the locality.'

'If there is, then I've never heard of her,' her mother dismissed the idea

with an angry wave of her hand. 'They're touting for custom,

obviously, and you must telephone them at once, and tell them their

tactics are a disgrace. I have no intention of driving again—there's no

need. You're perfectly capable of taking me anywhere I want to go.'

Alison said mildly, 'If you could drive, it would give you added

independence, Mother. After all, I may not always be here.'

Mrs Mortimer's bosom swelled. 'And where else would you be, I'd

like to know? Are you implying that the occasional lift—the odd

favour, is too much trouble for you?'

It occurred to Alison that she would not describe the unceasing daily

demands on her time and patience in quite those terms, but she knew

from bitter experience that even to hint as much would lead to one of

those painful, tearful scenes from which her mother invariably

emerged in triumph, so she said merely, 'Of course not. I was just

thinking of you. You could pop over and see Aunt Beth whenever you

wanted, for one thing. And Mrs Bristow has asked several times for

you to visit her.'

Mrs Mortimer wore her stubborn look. 'It's far simpler for them to

come here,' she said. 'My health is rarely good enough to tempt me to

undertake any kind of journey. You must make that clear to people,

Alison. They seem to forget what I've had to suffer this year. They

can be so thoughtless sometimes. Even Melanie annoyed me very

much yesterday evening—almost interrogating me, if you please,

about where I'd been, and what I'd been doing.' She gave an angry

little laugh. 'Rather like the Spanish Inquisition! She's a child, of

course, and can't be expected to understand my feelings, and so I told

her.'

'I don't think Melly intended to be—insensitive,' Alison said slowly.

'I'm sure she has your well- being at heart.'

'Then she should realise I want to be left in peace with my dear

memories.' Mrs Mortimer gave a little sigh. 'And this house is so full

of them still, in spite of all the changes that your husband has seen fit

to make,' she added with a touch of acidity. 'He seems extremely

restless, Alison. Mrs Horner tells me he's left us again. He said

nothing about it at dinner last night.'

'I think some problem blew up.' Alison wondered bleakly how her

mother would react to the news that her marriage was over. As long

as her own comfortable existence wasn't threatened, she would

probably not be particularly concerned, she decided.

Her mother tutted. 'I must admit I find the atmosphere more peaceful

when Nicholas is away. He tends to have a disruptive personality.'

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. 'Now, please go and

tell this driving school that its services will not be required.'

Melanie was hovering in the hall as Alison came downstairs.

'Has the post come?' she asked.

'Yes.' Alison gave her a steady look. 'Were you expecting a letter?'

'Not exactly,' Melanie admitted, her eyes fixed on the paper in

Alison's hand.

'I see.' Alison flicked the corner of the paper. 'Do you know

something about this, perhaps?'

'Mummy's driving lessons?' Melanie nodded. 'Of course I know.

Don't you think it's a marvellous idea?'

'In theory, it's all right,' Alison said drily. 'In practice it's impossible.

I'm ringing up to cancel them.'

'Oh, but you can't!' Melanie protested at once. 'I mean, they won't.

Nick arranged it that way. He said she'd want to get out of it if she

could, and that the school weren't to accept any excuse, but turn up as

arranged.'

Alison's brows snapped together in shock. 'Nick—said that?'

'Well, of course.' Melanie gave her an appealing look. 'You mustn't be

angry with him. Mother is the limit, you know, expecting you to wait

on her hand, foot and elbow all the time. And it's not good for her to

stay upstairs in that room, thinking martyred things. You know it

isn't.'

'I'm not arguing,' Alison assured her. 'I know it's not healthy, but I

haven't found any successful method of budging her, or even getting

her to face ordinary life again.' She paused. 'And even if the driving

school car arrives, as you say, I don't know how we can persuade her

out of her room and into it.'

'Oh, Nick will manage that,' said Melanie with supreme confidence.

'She's a wee bit in awe of him, you know, and if he puts the pressure

on, she'll do as she's told.'

Knives turned slowly in Alison's heart. 'I see,' she managed, and

walked into the dining room. She touched the coffee pot, aware her

hands were shaking, and hoping that Melanie, who had followed her,

hadn't noticed. 'I think I'd better ring for some fresh.'

'Where is Nick anyway?' asked Melanie.

'Not here.' Alison pushed the sugar basin to the other side of the milk

jug as if her life depended on it.

'Oh,' Melanie said blankly after a pause. 'You mean he's gone out—or

is he still in bed?'

'Don't you know?' Alison gave her a straight look. 'Didn't he tell you

he was going back to London?'

'What?' The sound was a yelp, Melanie's face a picture of

consternation. 'Oh, no, I don't believe it! And without a word to me.