The Right Bride? (41 page)

‘I think you could be right,’ he answered, and loosened the duvet so she should be free to go.

She sat up—their bodies collided. ‘S-sorry,’ she stammered again, made valiant efforts to leave, and got cross. ‘Why am I apologising?’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re the one who’s trying to lead me astray!’

‘Outrageous accusation!’ he denied, and suddenly they were both laughing. Then, breaking off, they were staring at each other. And then—kissing.

And it was all too wonderful. Silas had his arms around her, she had her arms around him, his lips were seeking hers, parting her lips with his own, and his hands were holding her, warm and burning her skin. There was thunder in her ears and in her heart.

She clung to him, and kissed him as he kissed her. ‘Oh,’ she sighed blissfully, and quite adored him, was in another world entirely as his hands began to caress over her back. ‘I’m not s-sure this is good for you,’ she murmured in one isolated sane moment.

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he breathed against her throat, and the next she knew she was lying half beneath him and his hand was somehow beneath her nightdress, stroking upwards.

Shock hit her—his caressing hand strayed higher.
‘No!’
she cried urgently, her head in panic—but surely she’d got that wrong; she’d meant yes. She wanted him.

‘No?’ he queried.

‘This isn’t…You…Stop!’ she ordered, when once more his caressing hand began to adventure.

His hand stilled. Stayed on her upper thigh—but stilled. He bent and tenderly kissed her—and she was lost. ‘This could be the best medicine so far for the both of us—wouldn’t you agree?’ he asked against her mouth.

The words ‘yes, oh, yes,’ were already forming—but that was when the doorbell sounded. Colly shot a startled look to the bedside clock. Half past eight.
Half past eight!
‘Mrs Varley!’ she cried, with a strangled kind of sound, and leapt out of bed, galvanised—and hurtled to her room.

Mrs Varley had her own key and would let herself in. To ring the bell was a mere courtesy because she knew there was someone there, Colly realised, as she rushed to get showered and dressed.

She was almost dressed when a whole barrage of complications hit her. Had Mrs Varley not arrived when she had then she and Silas might well have made love. On thinking about it, Colly knew there was no ‘might well have’ about it. She had put up all the resistance of which she was capable and, as Silas had said, he was feeling stronger than he had believed. But where would that have got them? Their marriage would have been consummated. And, while Silas still wanted that marriage certificate, what he definitely did not want was a wife.

That thought stirred her pride into action. Complications aside, she felt it incumbent on her to let him know that as he did not want a wife so she did not want a husband.

She remembered his kisses and could not lie to herself—she wanted more of them. To be in his arms…But this would never do. She recalled her response, the way she had clung to him—she had more or less offered herself to him! She recalled the way her lips had so willingly, so urgently met his—and died a hundred deaths. Oh, how was she ever to look him in the eye again?

That was when, too truly het-up to bear it, Colly decided that she did not have to look him in the eye again. She had intended to be away before his mother got here this morning anyway.

It seemed to Colly that, later than she had meant to be, she
had better get her skates on. Paula Livingstone could arrive at any moment. If she hurried, Colly realised, she might be able to be away without having to see Silas again either.

Colly did not merely hurry—she flew!

C
OLLY
did not see Silas again. She heard from him, though. The next day. Flowers arrived. ‘Thank you—for everything’, the card said, ending ‘Silas’. How final was that?

She wanted to hate him that he could cast her off with a few flowers, and owned she was not best pleased. Even so, she just did not have the heart to toss his flowers in the bin.

And, since they filled two vases, she supposed that ‘a few flowers’ was a bit of an understatement. And, in all honesty, what had she expected? She had left his apartment without a word. Had he wanted to thank her personally, she had denied him that chance.

Day followed day just the same, she discovered, when a month had dawdled by since that day she had walked out of Silas’s apartment. While her chief concern was to know how his recovery was going—and, after the finality of his flowers, to ring and ask was totally out of the question—other matters, minor in comparison, were about.

For one, Colly had her interview for the foundation course she’d applied for, and was accepted to start in September. For another, Nanette sought her out at the art gallery and bluntly stated that, since Colly was going to benefit when the sale of the house went through, she could come and help clear everything out.

That, apart from calling in antiques valuers, Nanette had small intention of lifting a finger was neither here nor there. Colly was glad to be busy. It was a large house—her days were fully occupied. Her evenings less so.

Tony Andrews continued to ask her out, and, while she had no intention of going out with him, she started to form the
opinion that he was not so bad after all. He hadn’t pushed it when she had let him know that the evening ended on her doorstep, had he?

And, anyway, with a month passing since she had zipped up her overnight bag and rocketed out of Silas’s apartment, she felt that Silas had to be better by now. And a well-again Silas, when she recalled the virile look of the man, meant that no way was he sitting at home evenings; well, not by himself, he wasn’t.

The next time Tony Andrews phoned and suggested they dine together somewhere, Colly agreed.

‘You said yes!’ he exclaimed.

Already she was half regretting her decision. ‘I should love to have dinner with you,’ she said quickly, before she could change her mind.

She knew, though, when twenty-four hours later she waited for him to call, that her acceptance had stemmed from being pricked by spiteful barbs of jealousy that Silas would have renewed
his
dating activities. She had to admit, too, that the hope of dislodging Silas from being so constantly in her heart and her head had something to do with her decision to go out with Tony.

Which effort was totally defeated when, on entering the smart eating establishment Tony had chosen, the first person she should cast her eyes on was none other than Silas Livingstone!

The restaurant was crowded, dozens of other people were there. So why should he stand out from the crowd? It was a question she had no need to ask. He was her love, her life—pure and simple.

Silas had spotted her too; she knew that he had. He was with a party of other people; she refused to try and pinpoint which of the attractive women in the group he was with. But as her eyes locked on him, so for a split second his eyes seem to lock with hers.

She turned away and looked at Tony, who was beaming his best smile down on her. Then the head waiter was leading them to their table and her fast-beating heart slowed down to a sprint. From what she could see Silas looked fully recovered from the bug that had flattened him. And she could not have been more pleased about that. She could not deny, either, that even if jealous darts were giving her a bad time she was still the same glad to have seen him.

Colly bucked her ideas up. Tony was doing his best to be an ideal dinner companion. She had agreed to dine with him, and politeness, if nothing else, said she should forget the party of six who appeared to be having a splendid time.

So she ate, while barely knowing what she ate. And she chatted and responded cheerfully to any comment Tony made. But, oh, how she heartily wished that the evening were over.

She knew that she was not going to completely relax until Silas and his party had gone. But she had struggled through to the dessert stage of her meal before she glimpsed some of the people Silas had been with making their way to the exit.

She determined to keep her eyes fixed either on her plate or Tony. She might want to look her fill at Silas, but, on the rarest chance he might cast a glance over to her, he would not find her looking at him again.

‘Hello, Colly.’

So much for her decision not to look at him. She looked up, realising that Silas must have left the people he had been with to come and stand right next to her. But while her heart pounded, and before she could find her voice, he, to her astonishment, did no more than bend down and kiss her cheek in greeting!

Feeling too stunned to be able to think, let alone think straight, ‘Hello,’ was all she was capable of mumbling.

Silas was not a bit fazed. ‘How have you been?’ he asked pleasantly.

Since the last time he had seen her—when she had run from his bed? ‘Er—busy,’ she answered.

‘Busy?’ he queried, quite well aware that she now worked only one day a week.

‘The house is being sold,’ she replied, guessing he would know she meant her old home. ‘I’m spending a lot of time there—er—clearing up.’

Plainly he was bored with such detail. She saw his glance go to her dinner companion. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ he enquired.

It passed her by totally that he was upbraiding her for her lack of manners; she was still feeling flabbergasted that not only had he come over to their table, but he had actually kissed her.

By this time Tony was on his feet. ‘Tony Andrews,’ he introduced himself.

‘Silas Livingstone,’ Silas supplied, and the two shook hands.

She saw Tony register that Silas was
the
Silas Livingstone of Livingstone Developments, and realised that with Tony being in public relations perhaps it was part and parcel of his job to know who anybody was. But at last she found her voice, to quickly butt in, ‘You’re well again now, Silas?’

Both men turned to her. ‘Thanks to your—personal—nursing,’ Silas replied smoothly. And she wondered how she could love him so much yet at one and the same time want to punch his head. All too obviously that ‘personal’ was a reference to the way she had lain with him when he’d had the shivers.

‘I didn’t know you included nursing in your many other talents?’ Tony queried, sounding curious. She wondered which hat he was wearing: his PR hat, where he soaked up any useful snippet, or if it was just idle interest.

‘I should have been lost without Colly there to keep me warm,’ Silas answered before she could reply.

She stared at him, stupefied. ‘Silas had a fever. You may
have read about it.’ She smiled at Tony while at the same time speculating if it would cause very much of a scene if right there and then she handbagged this man she was married to. ‘I should think you’ll consider it very carefully before you venture to the tropics again.’ She smiled at Silas.

He looked her straight in the eyes. ‘It had its compensations,’ he murmured, nodded to Tony—and went to rejoin his party.

‘I didn’t know you knew Silas Livingstone?’ Tony questioned the moment he was out of earshot.

‘He knew my father,’ she replied. ‘My father was in engineering too.’

‘So that’s how you know him,’ Tony documented. ‘Um—you sound very well acquainted?’

‘I was at a loose end when he was sick,’ she explained, as though casually. ‘I haven’t seen him in ages. How’s your mother?’

Tony took the hint. Then took her home. And, she was glad to note, was on his best behaviour. Though whether that was because he was remembering the last time he had brought her home, and the ages it had been before she’d agreed to go out with him again, she did not know. Or maybe he was just trying another tack. Or maybe, she mused, he had just gone off her.

Colly had proof that Tony Andrews had not gone off her when the very next evening he rang, ostensibly for a chat, but in actual fact to see how she felt about going out with him again.

While she supposed it was flattering to have someone that keen, she had barely finished thanking him for a pleasant evening the night before and thought it was too soon. No way was she looking for a steady boyfriend—though she did not doubt that she was not the only female he asked out.

‘I’m busy with the house just now,’ she excused, having
last night explained about her involvement with clearing her old home.

‘But that’s during the day,’ he pointed out.

Colly had no intention of arguing. ‘I’ll call you, Tony,’ she said decisively.

Barely had she put the phone down than it rang a second time. She suspected that it was Tony again, perhaps about to enquire just when he might expect her to ring. She just did not need this, and almost let the phone ring until he got tired. But, against that, she had dined with him last night, and he had behaved himself when he’d brought her home.

She picked up the phone. ‘Hello,’ she said.

‘Who were you talking to?’ asked a voice that set her heartbeats pounding.

‘When?’ she asked, striving to get herself together. Silas!

‘You’ve been on the phone for an age!’ he accused.

‘Well, you know how it is when you’re popular!’

‘Tony Andrews?’

His question sounded like another accusation. ‘Tony,’ she confirmed.

Silence, then, shatteringly, ‘You have remembered you’re married to
me
?’ Silas demanded.

Her mouth fell open. ‘Get you!’ she exclaimed, stunned. But, recovering fast, and feeling not a little cross at what she thought he was hinting, ‘I haven’t committed adultery, if that’s what you’re asking!’ she flew. And, starting to feel angry that he’d dared to ring to say what he had—this was all too one-sided as far as she was concerned, ‘I trust you can say the same?’ she snapped spiritedly, knowing darn well that he could not.

But, to shatter her further, ‘Believe it or not, I take my vows seriously,’ Silas replied. Her mouth fell open again in shock. Marriage vows, did he mean? She realised that he did—must do. Vows encompassed marriage vows—which must mean that he had not been to bed with anyone since
their marriage? Strangely enough, she believed him, and suddenly she was glad he could not see her—she would hate him to see the delighted smile that that information had wrought. She tried for something either witty or sharp to say, but found she was stunned into silence, until, ‘Have dinner with me?’ Silas invited.

‘No!’ It did not take any thinking about. Theirs was not a ‘have dinner with me’ relationship. He knew that too. So why was he suggesting it? ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly, suspiciously.

There was a pause, then—and she was sure she heard a smile in his voice—‘I might have a proposition to put to you,’ he hinted.

Yes, yes, yes. He had proposed they marry. He had also proposed she go and stay at his apartment for a few nights—and look what had happened. ‘I’ve had some of your propositions!’ she retorted sharply, and, knowing that the yes, yes, yes part of her was within an ace of taking over, she promptly slammed down the phone.

No sooner was it done than Colly regretted doing so. But she went to bed smiling and knowing that she loved Silas more than ever. Which seemed to make it a good idea to keep well away from the man. But, oh, how she would dearly love to have dinner with him.

Silas did not ring again. She did not expect him to. That did not stop her heartbeats from racing, though, on the few times when the phone did ring. She wondered why he had phoned at all, and doubted that he’d had any proposition to put to her, or that he had telephoned with the sole purpose of asking her to have dinner with him. Which meant, then, that he must have rung only to remind her that she was married to him.

She would have liked to get excited at how possessive that ‘You have remembered you’re married to
me
?’ had sounded. But in reality she knew that Silas, perhaps thinking that she and Tony were closer than they were, had only phoned to
remind her that their marriage was secret and that there was an unwritten ‘no immediate divorce’ clause to it.

It was a lovely June morning when Colly looked out of her window at the bright sunlight—and felt that life seemed somehow to be unutterably dull. She had not seen or heard from Silas in weeks.

She reminded herself that theirs was supposed to be a non-communications type of marriage, and tried to count her blessings. Nanette was currently away, holidaying with ‘a friend’, and the house was in the process of being sold; once all the legal work had been completed she’d no longer need to have any contact with her.

Tony Andrews was still asking her out. He’d obviously decided not to wait for her call and frequently phoned her. She still worked every Tuesday at the gallery—and Rupert was still bending her ear with the tragedy of his love-life.

And that was the crux of the matter. The reason why she felt so down. She did not crave a love-life; she just craved to see Silas. But he never got in touch, and he would think it mightily peculiar if, for no especial reason, she took it upon herself to contact him.

Colly gave herself a short sharp lecture on how she was going to beat this thing. She was not, not, not going to let her feelings for Silas ruin her life. Maybe when she had started that foundation course she would meet other people, get to know other people, let her life take a new direction.

But for now she was going to start a new life—with the people she knew. She rang Tony Andrews. ‘Colly!’ he exclaimed, sounding pleased to hear her.

Already she was regretting what she was about. But that was not the way it was supposed to go. ‘I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me?’ she invited.

‘Would I ever!’ he accepted eagerly. ‘At your apartment, do you mean?’

No, she had not meant that at all. But she hesitated—get a
life. ‘If that’s all right with you,’ she answered. ‘We can eat out if you prefer…’