Bachelor's Wife (14 page)

started again to scream. And then her scream was shocked into silence as she felt the weight hauled off her, and watched stunned as Nash's fist shot out and sent Trevor flying through the air.

What Nash was doing there, where he had come from, was more than she could cope with, then as her head spun dizzily she saw undismayed that several pieces of her furniture would be in need of repair where Trevor had crash landed.

Ignoring him, Nash turned to her. She saw a frightening livid fury in his face as he took in her shocked, ripped and torn state, but she was past wondering if she looked as ashen as she felt.

'You look ghastly,' he gritted, not bothering to dress it up. 'Did he...'

'No, no, I'm—all right,' she managed, fighting hard ' against the dizziness that was turning her world grey.    

She saw his contemptuous gaze flick to where Trevor was trying to regain his feet. She felt as ghastly as he said she looked when she saw the expression on Nash's face, and through mists gathering in her brain had a distinct impression that murder was about to be committed.

She tried to call Nash's name, to stop him, but no sound came save Trevor's blubbering attempt to save his skin as he too witnessed from Nash's expression that he would be lucky to get out of there with his life.

'She had it coming,' he croaked.

Nash went forward, 'You
bastard?
he spat as he advanced.

'She had it coming,' Trevor repeated, fear in his voice as he backed, away and tried to excuse himself.

'You...' Nash called him another name that should have shocked Perry, but didn't, as he followed his prey- across the room.

'She's been playing me along for months.' Perry saw Trevor's eyes feverishly searching for a way of escape just as mists of grey swirled up around her, 'making out she

was a virgin when she's known one man at least! His rising voice reached her as Nash grabbed him by his lapels. 'Don't...!' Trevor squealed. And it was at that point that her struggle to stay conscious ended.

All was quiet when she came round. Her eye lids fluttered open to discover she was still on the settee but now had a blanket covering her. A movement at the side of her had her recognising Mrs Foster. Where Nash or Trevor were she didn't know, but fear at what had been about to take place before her faint had her asking agitatedly:

'What happened?'

'You fainted,' Mrs Foster told her gently, and as she tried to sit up, 'Don't move. Mr Devereux has gone for the doctor. He said you were to lie still if you came round before he got back.'

'Doctor!' Perry exclaimed, and felt too weak suddenly to argue. Though her feelings for Trevor were all muddled up at that moment she just had to find out what had happened to him.

'Trevor,' she whispered fearfully, "half dreading she would be told Nash had killed him. 'What happened to him?'

Mrs Foster's face was a mixture of grimness and satisfaction. Satisfaction faded the grimness as she revealed, 'I'd just reached your landing on my way up to see what the dickens was going on when all at once I had to make "myself very small,' she smiled at Perry trying to encourage a smile at the thought of her overweight size instantly reducing itself. But Perry was past summoning a smile, so she went on, 'Well, all at once Trevor came hurtling out of your door propelled by Mr Devereux, who didn't even wait to see if he'd broken his neck as he threw him down the stairs and then disappeared into your sitting room again.'

'He hadn't broken his neck, had he?' Perry queried, hating any form of violence and dreading the worst. 'No such luck,' said Mrs Foster uncharitably, causing

her to see that like Madge she had never liked Trevor, but unlike Madge, had kept it to herself. 'I wanted to find out what was going on, since you must be in some trouble. So I stayed there only long enough to see that young man crawl out on all fours—in a hurry, from the way his car took off—then I came in, to see your husband trying to bring you round from a faint.'

Still feeling faint, Perry wondered how long she had been out, since her landlady had mentioned something about Nash going for a doctor.

'I could see for myself that you'd been attacked,' Mrs Foster continued—a brief reference to Perry's torn clothing. 'Mr Devereux went and got a blanket from your bedroom, explaining a bit of what he saw when he came in. I told him I wished I'd given him a helping hand in throwing Trevor Coleman down the stairs, for all he didn't need any assistance from me.'

'I'm sorry for all the upset, Mrs Foster,' Perry apologised, 'I never imagined Trevor...'

'Good gracious, you've got nothing to apologise for,' she answered stoutly. 'I just thank God Mr Devereux called when he did. You started to scream just as I'd opened the front door to him. He was up the stairs before I'd got the door shut.'

The sound of someone entering the house had Mrs Foster moving her stiff joints to leave the chair Nash had placed for her by the settee. Then Nash and another man about the same age came into the room, and Nash came straight to look down at Perry.

'I won't ask how you're feeling,' he said abruptly, 'I can see.' His tone alone without the disgruntled look of him told her there was no time in his life for the sordid scene he had been made a party to—endorsing, as his glance flicked away, that he couldn't bear to look at her, that the sooner the doctor had checked her over and he could be gone the better as far as he was concerned.

Then he was introducing his doctor friend Daniel Hepwood to both her and Mrs Foster, surprising Perry out of her idea that he had found
^-
the whole scene nauseating in the extreme, something he didn't want to be associated with, by saying:

'This is Perry, my wife, Daniel,' claiming her as his wife to his friend, and introducing her as such. 'I've explained about the accident Perry was in and the attack on her a short while ago. Mrs Foster and I will wait downstairs while you check her over.'

As soon as they were gone Perry tried to protest that she was fine, that she didn't need to be checked over. But when Daniel Hepwood drew back the blanket and saw the marks of fresh bruising starting to show through her torn clothing, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts, he gave her a winning smile.

'Would you have old Nash having my guts for garters?' he enquired teasingly, and she had to give in.

She had had enough today, she thought as she answered questions, had a light shone in her eyes, her pulse taken. She didn't think she could take Nash charging up here and laying down the law about what was best for her --it was much easier to give in.

'You'll mend,' Daniel pronounced, pulling the blanket up over her. And, with his ear cocked towards the open door, 'Ah, methinks I hear the rattle of the tea-cups. Fancy one?'

She did, though she felt guilty when he went down in hoping he would be the one to bring her up a cup, and so , taking up more of his valuable time. But Mrs Foster had already been up once, bless her, and she didn't want her disabling herself with a second journey up those steep stairs. Nash, she thought, even if he had stayed to hear what Daniel Hepwood had to say, wouldn't stay longer.

While she waited, she put her will power to use. She felt  better now, she told herself. She would leave the settee in a minute, go and change. She would rinse her face, brush her hair, that would make her feel better, and—and tomorrow she would get down to doing some serious thinking. Today it was beyond her.

She heard firm footsteps on the stairs, and had a smile on her face ready to thank Daniel not only for the tea he was bringing, but also for dropping everything and rushing round at a moment's notice.

Her smile disappeared as Nash, balancing a cup and saucer on a tray and looking as though he was very unused to the task as he endeavoured not to spill any, entered her sitting room.

'I thought you'd gone,' she said without thinking, relief flooding in that although his eyebrows went up, there was a suggestion of a quirk to the corner of his mouth that could mean he wasn't about to lay into her.

'Now why should I do that?' he asked, taking the cup and saucer from the tray arid handing it to her. 'What sort of a husband would I be if I left my wife alone on—our wedding anniversary?'

The tea slopped over into the saucer, a drop falling on to the blanket as Nash's hand came out to steady it. Seeing she was over her start, he took the seat previously occupied by Mrs Foster and then Daniel Hepwood.

'Er—you—er—phoned the hospital?' she asked, not needing his reply.

'I thought I'd enquire how you were doing,' he answered.

Would she never lose this feeling of being guilty over everything she said or did just lately? Perry wondered, knowing she had metaphorically been caught with her hand in the till and couldn't lie her way out of this one.

'It worried me—Trevor,' she explained, owning up. 'I th-thought—-realised last night that by not telling him... By letting him find out about ...'

'Leave it,' Nash instructed, seeing she was struggling. 'It's not important-'

She turned grateful green eyes to him. She owed him the explanation after he had so kindly arranged that private room for her, but if he thought it wasn't important, then at that moment it was good enough for her.

'Daniel gave me a couple of sedatives for you,' he announced, his voice easy. 'Do you want to save some of your tea to help them down or shall I get you a glass of water?'

She had taken them before she realised Nash was being quite masterful. He hadn't given her the chance to decide whether she wanted to take them or not, but had merely emptied them into her hand and leaned forward to ensure that she did so.

But when he said, 'All right if I act as lady's maid?' visions of him calmly stripping her and dressing her in fresh untorn clothing had her thinking he was going very much too far.

'Thank you all the same,' she said primly, 'but I can manage to change quite well by myself.'

'Foiled again,' said Nash, and Perry had the most unladylike impulse to take a swipe at him when she saw him grin wickedly. 'To be more precise,' he said, 'I was asking your permission to pack a few things for you.'

'Pack!' She was glad this time her cup was empty as it rattled in her hands before he took it from her. 'Pack what? Where do you imagine I'm going?'

It had taken a lot of effort for her to leave hospital and get this far. If he had any bright ideas in his head of packing her a case, and by the look of him he had every intention of doing that with or without her permission, and taking her where, she couldn't begin to think, then he could jolly well think again!

'How,' he said, undisturbed by the determined look of her, 'how does the idea of spending a few weeks in the country appear to you?' And not letting that idea do more than lightly touch the surface, 'I know of a delightful house in darkest Sussex where you'll be able to rest and regain your strength before you start to take up life again.'

She wasn't going to go. She wasn't. Even if it did sound like: heaven. 'Whose house is it? she asked suspiciously.

'Mine.' He was serious as he went on, 'I've already phoned Mrs Vale, my housekeeper. She'll have a room ready for you by the time we arrive.'

'Perhaps when
you
arrive you'll extend my apologies to Mrs Vale,' Perry said stubbornly. 'I'm going nowhere with you.'

She looked away then, not liking that his face took on an expression that looked more determined than her own. She wouldn't look at him even when, after a lengthy pause, he enquired quietly:

'Frightened, Perry?'

'Frightened?' she exclaimed, and was suddenly terribly unsure of herself. In a way Nash did frighten her. Oh, not his mannerisms, his bad temper with her on occasions.

Certainly not that time he had kissed and caressed her—God, she'd made a fool of herself then—but something about him, what she didn't know, had some inexplicable instinct warning that she might end up suffering more pain than she was at the moment—if she went with him.

'You've just received a shock of the worst kind.' His voice was quite still, a hint of gentleness there. 'I hadn't intended to refer to it, but if what happened to you—might have happened to you,' he corrected, 'has affected your trust in men, then be assured I would never attack you in such a way.'

She was gasping as he came to an end of what he was so seriously telling her. 'I know you wouldn't!' she said, shocked that he could think she doubted it.

'You trust me?' he asked, and looked pleased when she nodded.

She did trust him, she thought, her brow wrinkling. Bewildered that even having trusted Trevor, never having given thought that he could do what he had, not knowing

Nash nearly so well, for some unknown reason she just knew he wouldn't so vilely attempt to abuse her.

'I thought you were going to kill him,' she said, following her own train of thought, and finding Nash had no trouble in following her.

'It was on the cards,' he said, his tone hardening. 'Had you not chosen that precise moment to moan and pass out...'

'Mrs Foster said you threw him down the stairs,' she remembered. 'Why—why were you so angry, Nash?'

There was a brief pause before he replied, his eyes taking in her exhausted face, the sedatives at work, the lassitude showing. 'Wouldn't any decent man have done the same?' he asked in reply. Then he rose from his chair, suddenly the man of action that he was.

Tiredness went from her briefly as she wondered where he was going when he went from the room. In seconds he was back, her jeans and sweater in his hands, telling her he had made a second trip to her bedroom.

'You can change in here while I get your things together in the other room,' he told her", clearly expecting no argument.

'I'm not going,' she found the will to protest, and had to watch as Nash hid the exasperation he must be feeling with her when bluntly he told her:

'You're not fit enough to be on your own and you know it. And before you say you're not on your own, that Mrs Foster can look after you, you'll accept with the honesty that's in you—give or take a few acceptable lies in the circumstances—that it takes that good lady all her time to potter about her own place without further crippling herself half a dozen times a day by climbing upstairs to see if you're all right.'