A Perfect Marriage (5 page)

Being fair, she reminded herself that tonight the girl had been at a party. Surely she didn't wear that kind of thing at the office. And supposing she did? If she liked to dress that way, there was no law against it. "Does she put her hair up at work?" she asked idly.

Seeming disconcerted at the question, Max took a second to answer. "No. She pulls it back sometimes in a sort
of
 
dip
thing, or one of those coloured bows. Keeps it out of her eyes, I suppose."

"Does she have a boyfriend or anything?"

Max turned to look at her. "I've no idea." He sounded irritated, perhaps bored. "Why?"

"She didn't seem to be with anyone tonight. I just wondered. I mean, it can't be for lack of choice, can it?"

He shrugged. "Maybe she does. I hadn't thought about it."

Chapter 3

Celine went to Rotorua several times in the next few weeks, usually staying overnight. Dora seemed well, though
fraillooking,
and the third time Celine decided on impulse to drive back to Auckland after the evening meal, which Dora and Ted ate quite early.

On her arrival the house was dark and empty. She switched on some lights and made herself a cup of tea, read the paper, which she hadn't had time to do all day, and went up to bed.

She was fast asleep when Max came in, but she stirred when he opened the bedroom door.

He murmured, "Celine? I thought you weren't coming home tonight."

"Mmph."
She heard vaguely the sounds of him entering the bathroom and a little later coming out again, felt him bump into the bed with a stifled curse, then the mattress depressing under his weight as he climbed in beside her.

Sleepily she inched closer to him, sliding an arm over his chest and nestling into his side. In the summer he wore only the bottom half of his pyjamas. He felt warm, and
she
 
rubbed
her cheek briefly against his chest, the wiry hair tickling her skin.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

"Mm-mm," she grunted in denial.

His chest rose and fell briefly beneath her cheek, in laughter or a sigh, as she slipped back into sleep.

Brushing her hair in the morning, she asked him, "What time did you get in last night?"

"I didn't look." He had his back to her, contemplating the contents of his wardrobe. "When did you get in? I thought you were staying in Rotorua."

"After nine.
Dora seems okay for now, and I think Dad's quite enjoying looking after her. It must have been past midnight before you
came
in, wasn't it?"

Max pulled a shirt from its hanger.
"Probably.
Sorry I disturbed you." He shrugged into the shirt and started buttoning it.

"Only for a minute."

,
 
He glanced at her. "Yes, you dropped off again pretty fast."

Celine put down the hairbrush and turned to go downstairs.

"Celine?"

Her hand on the doorknob, she looked back enquiringly. He was tucking the shirt into his pants. "Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?"

"Who's invited us?"

"No one."
He did up the zip without looking, and felt for his belt buckle. "I thought you might like a night out. We could go to a show or a film afterwards, maybe.
Just the two of us."

"Sounds nice," she said doubtfully. "Only I promised Sharon and Stephen I'd go round this evening to talk about their redecorating. I've already put them off once because of Dora
: "

"You're going to do some work for them?"

"Didn't I tell you?" As he shook his head, she said, "Sharon asked me at Stephen's retirement party if I'd help her redesign the interior of their home."

But on their way home he'd been in a strange mood, and somehow the subject of Sharon's plans had never come up.

"Can we go out tomorrow-or, no, that's tournament night at badminton-another time?"

"Sure." He jerked the belt closed about his waist, looking down to fasten the buckle. "Let me know when you have a free evening."

Celine frowned slightly, not sure if she detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone. But he had turned away from her and was stooping to get his shoes out of the wardrobe. Mentally shrugging, she opened the door and went on downstairs.

Their social calendar became even more crowded as Christmas approached. Together or separately they attended several pre-Christmas functions, both business and private, and as the newest senior partner of the firm, Max thought they should invite his colleagues and their spouses around one evening for drinks and snacks.

"What about the Chatswoods?" Celine suggested. "I think Sharon is a bit worried that Stephen will drop out of everything, now he's retired."

:Yes
, ask them, that's a good idea."

"I might have a chance to talk to Sharon again about their house."

It was an informal gathering, with everyone appearing relaxed as they sat or stood chatting on the terrace and around the pool outside. Celine circulated with trays of titbits and Max made sure everyone had a glass of wine or fruit juice or a soft drink.

There was no real need to watch for people who had no one to talk to or looked uncomfortable, because they all knew one another anyway. But Celine sensed a tension in Max that was unusual for him.

 
As he handed her a glass of wine for herself, she said, "Your new junior partner isn't here, is she?"

"No, she isn't," Max said shortly, picking up a glass for himself from the table nearby.

"Did she say she wasn't coming?"

He shrugged. "Not that I recall." He lifted his glass and sipped at it. "Damn, this is too sweet. I thought I had
dry
."

Surprised at his vehemence, Celine said mildly, "Get another, then."

He shook his head, looking thoroughly out of temper. "It doesn't matter," he muttered. "Andrew and Lisa aren't here, either. Their kids' school has a Santa party tonight." He tilted his head suddenly. "Was that the doorbell?"

"Yes, I think so."

She made to put down her glass, but he was already on his way, saying over his shoulder, "I'll go."

She was talking to one of the other partners when Max returned with Kate Payne and a handsome, fair-haired young man. Celine excused herself and went over to them.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you." She smiled at Kate as Max, with an oddly tight look on his face, made the introduction. "I didn't have a chance at Stephen's retirement party."

"And this is Dave-er-Robards?" Max looked interrogatively at Kate's escort.

The young man smiled, showing excellent teeth, and held out his hand. "That's right, Mr. Archer. How do you do, Mrs. Archer?" His accent was North American, and his tone held a hint of deference.

"Celine," she corrected him.
"The States or Canada?"

"Canada," he answered. "I'm just spending a few months in your beautiful country."

"Can I get you
two something to drink
?" Max offered, his expression relaxing a little. "Medium white for you?" he asked Kate, obviously anticipating her affirmative.

"I'll have a beer, if you have it," her companion requested.

  
 
As Max strode away to get the drinks, Kate said, "Sorry we're late. I've been showing Dave around a bit. We went up to the summit of Mount Eden. It was lovely there-cool."

"Wonderful view!" the young man said. "The harbour and the city look just great from there at sunset. I was blown away!"

"Not literally, I hope." Celine smiled. The wind could get fierce on the summit.

Kate said, "Actually it was quite lovely, hardly any breeze at all. Dave insisted on going down into the crater." She smiled up at him.

"I've never got the chance to walk inside a volcano before. Even a dead one," he told Celine.

"Dormant, not dead," Kate informed him. "It could blow again at any time."

He looked from her to Celine. "Is she pulling my leg?" Celine said, "No, she isn't. They only look dead. Scien tists say that several of the volcanic cones about Auckland might erupt again. We hope there'll be plenty of warning." "It seems so peaceful!"

"What does?"
Max asked, returning with the drinks.
"There you are, Kate." He smiled at her as she took the glass from him. "And here's your beer." He offered a frothing glass tumbler to Dave.

While the young couple explained, Celine looked about covertly, noticing that most of the food on the plates placed at strategic points about the terrace had gone. Murmuring an excuse, she slipped off to the kitchen to replenish the supplies.

Later, when everyone had left, Celine and Max walked around picking up glasses, leftovers and empty plates. "That went off all right, didn't it?" Celine said cheerfully.

"Mmm:
" Max
sounded slightly absent. "I suppose everyone enjoyed themselves."

"Except you?"

"What makes you think that?"

Stacking several plates with care, she said vaguely, "I thought you seemed ... distracted."

"Just feeling my duties as the host," he said.

She smiled automatically, not convinced. "Are you all right,
Max
?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Lately you've been ... different."

"In what way?"
He stooped to fish out a paper napkin floating on the surface of the pool, holding it away from him as it dripped. Without waiting for an answer, he said, "I need a holiday. We should go away at Christmas."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."
He squeezed the napkin in his hand and threw the sodden ball accurately and rather forcefully into the plastic bin she'd brought out for the rubbish. "Do you have any preferences?"

"We may not have much choice. A lot of places will be booked out over Christmas and New Year. And we can't leave till after Christmas Day, anyway."

"Why not?"

Celine stared at him with surprise. They always went to his parents' home for lunch that day, with other members of the family including the grandchildren. And on Boxing Day they drove down to Rotorua to see her father and stepmother. Ted and Dora would have spent Christmas with Dora's daughter and her family. "Your mother will be expecting us."

"My mother might be thankful for two less to cater for," Max suggested. "Maybe she'd like to go away herself, if she had the chance."

"We all help," Celine said, puzzled at his tone. "It's not as though she has to do everything herself. I always thought she and your dad enjoyed having the family there."

Max put a hand up and shoved it through his hair, uncharacteristically ruffling its smooth cut. "I suppose they do," he admitted. "I just thought we might do something different for a change. But if you think she'll be hurt..: ' He shrugged and went over to pick up the rubbish container. "I suppose you'll want to go to your dad's the next day, too."

"I think we should, especially the way things are. Maybe we could book a hotel somewhere down south, and call in to see Dad and Dora on the way," she said helpfully.

Max gave her a glimmer of a smile. "Sure. I'll see what I can do." On his way through the door, he paused. "Don't forget the staff party's on Friday night, at the office."

"Most of them were here tonight," Celine said. "Would you mind if I don't go this time? I've got the bridge club final the night before and I haven't finished my Christmas shopping. I'm running a bit late this year-I don't want to leave it until Christmas Eve."

Max's blue eyes looked curiously opaque. "Please yourself. There's no need to be there if you'd rather not."

When Max arrived home late on Friday night, she was sitting on the floor of the bedroom dressed in a nightgown and wrap and surrounded by parcels and boxes, rolls of Christmas wrapping paper, gift cards, coloured ribbons and bows.

He leaned on the doorjamb, his arms folded, and she looked up. "How was the party?"

"The same as usual," he shrugged. His eyes were bright and his hair less sleek than usual. She thought there was a faint flush on his cheeks, too. Staring a little, she asked, "How much have you had to drink, Max?"

"Not so very much." He was examining her with an unfamiliar, dispassionate look, as though she were a painting he was trying to assess. He straightened, jerked his tie undone, and came away from the door, strolling over to her. Celine moved a roll of bright printed paper away from his feet, afraid he would step on it.

"Come to bed," Max said abruptly.

She looked up, a small, puzzled smile on her face. "Come on," he said, bending down to take her hand as she reached for the scissors.

"I haven't finished," she protested, looking at the strewn paper, the neat pile of assorted gaily packaged parcels in
one
 
corner
, the several items in plain paper waiting to join them. '`It won't take long."

"Never mind."
Impatiently, he tightened his grip, hauling her willy-nilly to her feet. "Do it tomorrow." His other hand pulled undone the neatly tied bow at her waist so that her wrap fell open, revealing the thin nightdress underneath.

"Max!" Half laughing, half bewildered, she demanded, "How much have you drunk?"

His diction was perfect as he said, "I don't need to have been drinking to want to make love to my wife." His hand still imprisoned hers, drawing her purposefully closer.

"No, but-" She stopped as he shot her a strange look, not just a glance into her eyes but a comprehensive, lightning survey of her entire body.

"You're a beautiful woman," he said, his voice deepening. "I," he added with calculated deliberation, "am a very lucky man." He tugged her into his arms with inexorable strength, looked down at her face and then lowered his eyelids and kissed her, his mouth hungry and seeking, almost aggressive in its demands on her.

She could taste whisky on his lips, in his mouth, but she soon forgot that in the shock of the kiss. He overcame her resistant stillness with the sheer force of his embrace, perhaps not even noticing her hesitancy in his singleminded onslaught. She felt the growing heat of his body, and was faintly surprised at
an answering
warmth in her own as his mouth continued its insistent assault, and his hand swept down her back to her thighs, almost roughly pushing up the satin wrap and the gown beneath it as he found her warm skin.