Ivory Innocence (15 page)

Oh, Matthew. Matthew! She wrapped her arms around the pillow and hugged it, wishing it had strong arms, warm lips and blue-devil eyes. His uncle's crimes were not his fault. He was hurt and bitter, but there were times when she glimpsed kindness and even tenderness in him. What she wanted most of all in the world was to persuade him to take down the barrier he had erected around his softer self. If only he would let her get close enough to try.

Ivory was out in the garden helping Rebecca and Janey set up the playhouse when Mrs. Barnes came rushing out, a smile wrinkling her whole face.

"He's home!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Kendrake's back. Taxi dropped him at the gate, so he said. He's gone up to his room—I mean, your room. Shall I do something special for dinner? Roast lamb, do you think?"

"Roast lamb will be fine," Ivory said standing up slowly. She was torn between jumping for joy and running away to hide somewhere. After almost three weeks away from Hedley-Magna, after deserting her on their honeymoon, how could he just walk in without warning? What on earth would she say to him? She went into the house and climbed the stairs, and went into the bedroom just as Matthew emerged from the dressing room, shirtless, a pair of cuff links in one hand.

At the sight of him, every nerve in Ivory's body was swamped by the reality of his presence. She forced herself to close the door and lean on it, then looked at him calmly.

Matthew's expression was guarded, too. "Do you have to live in those bloody trousers?" he said irritably. "You know I hate them."

"If you'd given me some warning—" Ivory began.

"Warning? You make it sound like an invasion. This happens to be my home, in case you'd forgotten."

Bitterness made her want to say that it was only his by default. But she closed her lips on the words and thought dismally that his absence had played its own tricks, making her forget how easily he could hurt her.

He strode across the room to drop the cuff links into a little leather box on the dresser. "Where's Janey?"

"In the garden, with Becky."

He looked round, his eyes narrowed. "Becky Garth? Have you been up to Top Farm?"

"Only when I collected Janey!" she exclaimed, annoyed by the hard suspicion in his voice. "I had to fetch her home, didn't I?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I need a shower. You keep an eye on those children. We don't want them falling into the pool."

Without answering, she slammed out of the room and ran down the stairs almost in tears. Marriage had evidently made little difference to her life.

Throughout dinner she was aware that his eyes devoured her, though he spoke mainly about the crisis that had called him away from the cottage on the moors. One of his close associates had died suddenly, obliging Matthew to spend time in London before flying to the States for consultations to ensure that the business ran smoothly.

"And wasn't there time to phone me?" Ivory asked acidly. "Did business keep you occupied twenty-four hours a day? Or did you just forget I might be worried?"

"If you'd been all that concerned, you could have contacted me," he said roughly.

"How could I, when I didn't know where you were?"

"I told you you could reach me through Harry Drummond, if you wished."

"When did you tell me that? I don't remember—"

"In the letter!"

"What letter?"

He glared at her, but the sight of her bewilderment took the edge off his temper. "Didn't you get it? Dammit, I posted it the minute I got to London. It should have reached you that Saturday at the latest. I know you were still at the cottage because I rang the Hall that Friday and Saturday evening and there was no reply."

"I… I was here," she confessed. "But the first night, by the time I reached the phone it had stopped ringing. And on Saturday you must have called while I was fetching Janey."

"And didn't Mrs. Wheeler forward the letter?" he demanded.

"I haven't seen any letter! There's been no word from you since that terse note you left at the cottage. I didn't know where you were, or why you'd gone, or how long you would be away."

"It was a misunderstanding, then." His lips were compressed as his blue eyes burned into hers. "I don't know about you, but I could do with an early night. You go up. I just want to make a phone call and find out what happened to that letter."

Ivory obeyed, but rebellion seethed inside her as she climbed the stairs. He had made no attempt to apologize, just ordered her to bed to wait for him, as if she were a concubine. Very well, if that was the way he wanted it, so be it.

She put on the seductive nightdress he had bought her. It left her arms and shoulders bare, and concealed very little of the rest of her. Turning out all but one lamp, which glowed in a corner, she sat in the big bed waiting for her husband to come and claim his marital rights.

He emerged from the dressing room wearing only a brown silk robe a shade darker than his skin. Even in the dim lighting she could see the desire that flared in his eyes at the sight of her.

"Mrs. Wheeler asked her son to post the letter on to you," he said. "He put it in his pocket and forgot about it."

"I see," she replied quietly, no longer interested in the letter.

Matthew stood before her with that thin robe clinging to his muscular shoulders, the front open to display a deep V of tanned chest. She had primed herself to remain cool as a doll in his arms, but just to look at him, tall and arrogant, his dark hair ruffled from undressing, worked strange emotions on her, making her realize how much she had missed him.

He sat down on the bed. His hand reached out to touch her shoulder and stroke the white length of her arm. Then his hand found hers, strong and brown against her pale fingers.

"That nightdress doesn't really suit you," he said gruffly. "The color's too dark. I ought to have bought white. Virginal white."

"It's a little late for that," she replied.

His eyes revealed that he, too, was remembering that time in front of the fire at the cottage, when she had given herself freely. His gaze rested on her mouth, making her lips ache for his kisses even while she steeled herself to be unresponsive.

"I owe you an apology," he said in a low voice. "I meant what I said at the cottage. But I needn't have been so brutal about it."

Before she could think of a reply, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a deep passion and tenderness that roared suddenly into desire. He slid down the straps of her nightdress, kissing her shoulders and her breasts, then her mouth again. His fingers explored her intimately, and when he lay beside her the urgency in his body assured her that there had been no other women to lighten his business trip. Ivory found herself giving kiss for kiss, caress for caress, caught up in the sensual wonder of him.

She woke the next morning to hear the shower rushing and Matthew whistling to himself, sounding full of life. He appeared wearing a bathrobe, rubbing his hair with a towel as he gave her a boyish grin. "Good morning, Mrs. Kendrake. Sleep well? I did, like a top." He leaned on his elbows either side of her, and his fingers caught in her hair as he dropped light kisses on her eyes, her nose, her cheeks.

The familiar sweet throb began in her veins. She could feel his warmth even through the bathrobe and the sheet, and her nostrils were full of the tangy aroma of the soap he used. When he was in this mood she could not deny him, or pretend she felt nothing for him. Her arms came up and locked round his neck, drawing his head down until his mouth was on hers, gently, moving with tender intent until she arched against him, silently demanding more of him.

Then Janey's voice sounded outside the door. Instantly Matthew rolled round to sit on the opposite side of the bed, while Ivory looked dazedly at the little curly-headed girl who rushed in beaming with delight.

"Aren't you ever going to get up?" Janey demanded.

"I've had my breakfast. Daddy, you promised we could go and buy me a new bike today. Oh, do hurry!"

"I believe I said after lunch," Matthew replied, easing himself to his feet as he wrapped the bathrobe more securely around him. "Scoot, Janey. Go and bother Mrs. Barnes."

Janey's face fell, her underlip thrusting out in the way it did when she was hurt and thinking of throwing a tantrum.

"No, it's all right, Janey," Ivory said swiftly, sitting up with the sheet protecting her. "Pass me my dressing gown, will you? You didn't tell me you were going to have a new bike."

"Daddy only said so last night when I was in bed," Janey replied, throwing a sullen look at her father as she handed Ivory the negligee. "Why do we have to wait until after lunch?"

"Because I've got things to do this morning," Matthew said. "Don't be so impatient."

As Ivory climbed from the bed one long shapely leg was displayed to her husband's interested eyes. Meeting his glance, feeling the glow still on her, she flushed and gave him a regretful look, to which he replied with a wry smile.

"I suppose you've been encouraging her to burst in here of a morning," he said drily. "I shall have to get a lock fixed. Maybe I'll buy one while we're in town. And something for you. What would you like, Mrs. Kendrake?"

You, she thought. I want you. But she said lightly, "I thought you valued me for my thrift."

"I do. Among other things." His gaze swept over her intimately, admiring the way her pale skin gleamed through the deep-blue silk. "My ivory maiden," he added under his breath.

The carpet was thick and soft under her bare feet as she walked across to where he stood and looked up at him through her lashes, knowing how Eve had felt after she bit into the apple. "Hardly a maiden, not anymore," she murmured with a glance to where Janey was happily bouncing on the bed. "Anyway"—with a twinge of guilt she remembered the emerald pendant she had thrown into a drawer at the cottage on the moors—"you don't have to buy me anything."

"I feel like celebrating," Matthew said softly.

"Oh? Celebrating what?"

"The fact that I've given up some of my business responsibilities. Ah, I thought that would surprise you. I've resigned a couple of directorships, and I've appointed Harry Drummond as vice-chairman of Kendrake Enterprises, so if something comes up they won't need to keep running to me with their problems. Harry can do some of it. Which means that I can spend more time at home, now that I'm a married man with domestic commitments."

"You had those before," she reminded him with another glance at the oblivious child.

A shadow clouded his eyes, the lightness gone. "Yes, I know," he said, and turned away. "Go and get dressed, for heaven's sake, or I may forget we have an audience."

Ivory went into the bathroom. But as the water sprayed over her from the shower, she wondered why there was this barrier between Matthew and his daughter. Lately it had been less noticeable, so its reappearance struck her with renewed force.

It proved to be a happy day, one that Ivory was to look back on with nostalgia for a long time. After lunch they all drove into town and looked at bicycles, ordering a gleaming red one to be delivered the following day. Then Matthew insisted on buying Ivory a new dress to wear when he took her out to a celebration dinner that evening. She tried on a dozen before he was satisfied.