The Right Bride? (43 page)

‘Because you didn’t want to or because of your marriage vows?’ Silas insisted.

She felt cornered. ‘Because I just don’t sleep around!’ she said heatedly, and saw that Silas looked somewhat shaken by her confession.

‘You don’t?’ he queried, on his feet too. ‘Hmm—you have, though?’ She would not answer, but then found he was persistent if nothing else. ‘At some time you have—experimented—fully?’

She still did not want to answer. Silence reigned until, dumbly, she shook her head, finding the carpet of great interest. ‘How old-fashioned is that?’ she asked, and, expecting some derisive remark that at twenty-three she still hadn’t left the starting blocks, she turned her back on him.

But to her surprise Silas made no derisive remark, but came over to her and, taking hold of her upper arms, turned her to face him. Gently then he drew her against him. ‘Don’t be embarrassed,’ he instructed softly.

‘I feel stupid,’ she confessed, and for long wonderful seconds was held in his gentle hold.

Then, unhurriedly, he lowered his head and gently kissed her. ‘You’re not stupid, you’re lovely,’ he assured her, and led her back to her chair. ‘So what happened when you rejected Andrews’ advances?’ he asked.

Feeling a little bemused—Silas’s light kiss just now had had far more effect than the assault of Tony Andrews’ kisses—she endeavoured to think straight. ‘Well, he wouldn’t take no for an answer—’ she began, but was stopped from saying more when, on the instant enraged, Silas cut her off.

‘He assaulted you? He sexually assaulted you?’ he roared. ‘Where does he live?’ he demanded, on his feet and seeming about to charge off to Tony Andrews’ address and flatten him.

‘No. No,’ Colly said quickly, realising that Silas’s protection of her stemmed only from the fact that he had given her the right to use his name. It was the reaction of any decent man, but there was nothing more personal in it than that. Though she did so hope that Silas liked her. ‘I think I told him no a couple of times, and he wanted to know why not—he thought I was playing hard to get,’ she rushed on. ‘I should never have invited him to the apartment, I can see that now.
Anyway, he couldn’t see why I wouldn’t. Oh, heavens, this all sounds so sordid.’

‘You’re doing fine,’ Silas encouraged, his fury in check. ‘You’re getting there,’ he added, as though recalling how over the phone she had said that
she
had done something so dreadful. And, as though to encourage her further, he retook his seat and stayed quiet until she was ready to go on.

‘Well, Tony was—well, you know—and wanting to know what was to stop us. He said that he was unattached, and that I was free, and…Well, anyhow, I was starting to feel a touch out of my depth, so I must have grabbed at that “out”, and I told him I wasn’t free.’

‘You told him you were married?’

‘Not in so many words, I don’t think. But then I got all over the place in my head, and all I knew was that no one must know about our marriage.’

‘You weren’t making a very good job of it,’ Silas butted in.

‘It gets worse.’

‘I’ll brace myself.’

‘By then I was panicking.’

‘Poor love,’ he said, as she at one time, she clearly recalled, had said to him.

She felt a little heartened. Sufficiently, anyway, to be able to carry on. ‘I knew at once that I’d said the wrong thing. Instinctively knew, I suppose, that I had to say something to counteract that I’d just as good as said I was married. She swallowed. ‘I then went and dug myself into an even bigger hole.’

‘You told him you were married to me?’ Silas guessed.

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t have to. Tony guessed. He must have remembered that night you two met. You know, that night when…’

‘When I commented on the fact that you’d had a hand in nursing me?’

‘Such as it was—my nursing, I mean,’ she said, thinking how all she had done was dole out his medication. But as she recalled waking up in bed with him, so she blushed scarlet.

‘A-anyhow…’ she tried to rush on. ‘Anyhow, from that Andrews deduced that the man you were married to must be me,’ Silas took up, with a not unkind look at her blushing face. ‘Is that it?’ he wanted to know.

‘I said it gets worse,’ Colly reminded him quietly. And, wanting it all said and done, she hurriedly added. ‘Tony works in PR. He knows all sorts of press people—’ She broke off when she spotted the sharp look that came to Silas’s eyes.

‘You foresee a problem?’ He was ahead of her; she knew that he was.

This was it. She had to tell him. She took a deep breath, but had she been hoping it might steady her, she knew it had failed. She was shaking inside as she blurted out, ‘I was panicking, and I knew I had to do something to counteract that I’d as good as told him that I was married. I just wasn’t thinking,’ she confessed, ‘and I told him that we were—um—getting divorced.’

Silas stared at her as if he could not believe his hearing. ‘You told him that you and I were going to divorce?’ he questioned harshly. ‘You actually told this man with press connections that you and I were divorcing? When you know, have always known, that that is the last piece of information I want broadcast—’

‘I’m sorry,’ she cut in miserably, watching as Silas, as if needing to be on his feet, left his chair. ‘I was in panic, as I said—trying to make good something I’d inadvertently let slip—that I wasn’t free.’

Silas seemed gone from her, his look thoughtful. She would dearly love to know what was going on behind his clever forehead. ‘What chance is there that Andrews won’t make capital out of this?’ he wanted to know.

‘I’ve no idea. He was pretty mad at me when he left, so I
don’t suppose he’s likely to want to spare me. Shall I ring him?’ she asked. ‘Appeal to him not to—’

‘No!’ Silas answered decisively. And, his thoughts and conclusions soon reached, he resumed his seat, and looked her straight in the eye as he informed her, ‘I want you to have nothing whatsoever to do with Andrews in the future.’ And, his chin jutting slightly, ‘Is that understood?’ he stressed.

‘I’m not so keen myself,’ she agreed, and was rewarded with a near smile. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked, hoping Silas would not say that in his view she had done more than enough.

He did not say anything of the sort. But nor did his smile make it when he let her into his deliberations. ‘All things considered, there is only one thing we
can
do if I’m to be able to continue to make long-term plans for Livingstone Developments.’ Her eyes were fixed on nowhere but him when, coolly, he brought out, ‘Thanks to you, my dear, I believe the time has come to reveal that we—you and I—are married—happily married.’

Her mouth went dry. She had no idea what any of that might mean, yet knew that figuratively she hadn’t a leg to stand on. She had known the rules when she had married Silas—she had known in advance that divorce was a forbidden word. She it was who had broken the rules, and it was she who had messed the whole of it up.

‘Y-you intend to tell your grandfather?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘My father,’ Silas corrected. ‘He’s an early riser. I’ll phone him from the airport and ring my grandfather when I get back. By then he’ll know from my father that you and I are married, and that despite what they might read in the press neither of us has any intention of being divorced.’ And, having told her how it was to be, he stood up. She guessed he was keen to get to bed and get what sleep he could before he went to
catch his early flight. Colly stood up too, and Silas escorted her to the door. ‘Agreed?’ he thought to ask.

Colly stared unhappily up into his searching dark blue eyes. She had no idea what sort of complications this turn of events might bring. But she had brought this sorry state of affairs about, so how could she not agree?

‘Agreed,’ she answered, and again wanted to apologise for whatever chain of events she had set in motion by her agitated ‘I’m not free’ to Tony Andrews. She did not apologise, but felt so down just then that she would dearly have loved it had Silas held her for a moment or two in a gentle hug.

But Silas did not give her a hug. Nor did he attempt to kiss her cheek. She supposed he must be as fed up with her as she was with herself.

‘I’ll be in touch when I get back,’ he told her.

‘Whatever you say,’ she replied, and left.

C
OLLY
spent the next two days searching the various newspapers for any reference to the fact that she and Silas Livingstone were married—there was none.

But, oh, what had she done? By now Silas’s father, and his mother too, of course, would know that their son was married. And, by the look of it, Colly realised, she had panicked unnecessarily. With nothing in the papers there had been no need for any of his family to know that he had a wife! By now Silas’s grandfather probably knew as well—but there had been absolutely no need for anyone to know! And Silas would hate her.

In an agony of torment from not knowing what, if anything, was going on, Colly felt very inclined to ring Tony Andrews and ask him if he intended to use that snippet that Silas Livingstone was married. Against ringing Tony, though, was her fear that if he had not already been in touch with his press pals, any call she made might prompt him to do so. And anyhow, Silas had been adamant that she should have nothing more to do with Tony; she supposed Silas knew more about these things than she did.

She left her bed on Thursday, wishing she had some idea of when Silas would be coming home. Oh, what a hornets’ nest she had stirred up! And yet she’d had to warn him, hadn’t she? And it had been his decision to, as it were, go public. And in all fairness, looking back to last Monday, when she had gone to see him, Colly still did not see how she could not have told him what she had.

To add to her inner turmoil there was nothing in the papers that day either. She had no idea if Silas would call or phone.
‘I’ll be in touch when I get back,’ he’d said. She wished now that she had thought to ask when that would be. As it was, not wanting to miss his call, she had spent most of her time since yesterday more or less glued to the apartment.

He did not phone that day either, but it was around nine o’clock that evening when someone knocked on her door. Silas! It could be one of her neighbours, of course. She was acquainted with several of them by now, but as her heartbeats raced she somehow knew that it would be Silas.

Which caused her to take a very deep breath before she opened the door. It was him! They stared at each other. Colly sought to find her voice, but the ‘Hello’ she found came out sounding all husky and, to her ears, weird. ‘Come in,’ she invited, and left him to follow her into the sitting room. She turned. He was business-suited. ‘You’ve come from the airport?’ she enquired politely.

‘I got in this afternoon. I thought I’d better spend some time in the office.’

‘Have you eaten?’

If he could tell she was nervous he did not refer to it. ‘I have, but I wouldn’t mind taking you up on your offer to make me a coffee,’ he replied pleasantly.

Colly was relieved to escape to the kitchen. They had been at his apartment when she had volunteered to make him coffee. Her relief was short-lived, though, because a few seconds later Silas joined her in the kitchen.

‘Andrews been in touch?’ he asked conversationally.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’m flavour of the month there,’ she responded.

‘Does that upset you?’

‘You know better than that!’ she replied shortly. But then folded completely and blurted out, ‘Oh, Silas, I got it all wrong, didn’t I?’

‘You did?’ he asked, seeming not to know what she was talking about.

‘You won’t know, being out of the country and everything, but there’s been nothing in the papers about—about us—being married!’

‘I know,’ he surprised her by saying. So she could only suppose he had read the foreign editions while abroad. Either that or he had found time to scan them since his plane had landed that afternoon.

She sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry. I rather jumped the gun, didn’t I—coming to see you like that? But,’ she excused, ‘I felt you had to know.’

‘You did the only thing possible,’ he assured her.

‘I did?’

He smiled then, and it so lit his face that her heart turned over. How dear he was to her. ‘There hasn’t been anything in the press yet, but there will be tomorrow,’ he said succinctly. ‘Shall I carry that in?’ he suggested, taking up the tray of coffee.

They were back in the sitting room—she seated on the sofa, Silas having taken the chair opposite, with the highly polished table in between. He relaxed back, seemingly enjoying the coffee he had apparently been parched for. She ignored her own coffee; there were things here that she felt she ought to know.

‘You—um—seem pretty certain the—papers will be printing—’

‘Just the financial ones, I suspect,’ Silas chipped in, and went on to dumbfound her as he explained, ‘I got in touch with my PA first thing on Tuesday. I suspected that before our marriage—or divorce—was made news, someone would contact my office for verification. At the end of my instructions Ellen knew to confirm, if pushed, that I was happily married, to laugh at any suggestion that a divorce might be in the offing, and to then transfer the call to my own PR department, who would quote that which I had dictated to Ellen.’

Colly stared at him. ‘Forward planning has nothing on you,’ she said faintly. And, endeavouring to recover, ‘And someone did ring?’

‘Several people,’ he confirmed.

‘Am I allowed to know what this piece of dictation was?’

He shrugged. ‘I kept any details about us to a minimum by saying that Columbine Gillingham and I had married quietly on account of your father’s recent demise. And from there I took the limelight off you and me by giving details of your father’s brilliant engineering brain and mentioning some of his more spectacular achievements.’ Silas paused. ‘I hope that doesn’t offend you, Colly?’

How could it? It was true that they had married quietly, shortly after her father’s death, even if his recent death was not the reason for their quiet wedding. Nor could she be offended that Silas had referred to her father’s brilliant engineering brain; it heartened her that her father’s engineering achievements were not forgotten.

‘No,’ she said simply, ‘I’m not offended.’ And, realising then that with the press having contacted Silas’s office she had done the right thing after all in contacting him, she reached for her coffee and took a sip. A trace nervously, she had to admit, she moved on to enquire, as calmly as she could, ‘You—rang your father from the airport? You—um—said you would.’

‘I rang him.’ He nodded, and his lips twitched a little. ‘My mother was ringing my hotel in Italy before I got there.’

Oh, crumbs. ‘They—your parents—they’re all right about it?’

‘You mean their not being present at our wedding?’

She had not meant that, though supposed they had a right to feel a touch annoyed. ‘I mean more about you being married.’

‘They couldn’t be more pleased. Not to put too fine a point on it, my mother is overjoyed.’

‘She is?’

‘She is,’ he confirmed. ‘She remembers speaking to you on the phone—and says you have a lovely voice.’ Colly stared at him. ‘My father,’ he went on, ‘is just pleased that I’m happy.’

‘You—are happy?’ Colly queried.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

Why indeed? The future of Livingstone Developments appeared secure, and the future of the company was what he cared about. ‘Have your parents told your grandfather yet, do you think?’

Silas looked at her solemnly, and she felt he hesitated a fraction before he confirmed that his grandfather did indeed know that he had taken himself a bride. ‘My grandfather is delighted,’ he revealed.

But Colly had a strange feeling that there was more than that. ‘And?’ she pressed, a touch apprehensively, she had to admit.

‘And,’ Silas replied calmly, ‘my grandfather wants to meet you.’

‘No!’ She did not even have to think about it. ‘No,’ she said again, though less forcefully this time. Silas said nothing, but just sat watching her. And then Colly did start to think about it, even if she did not like the idea any better. ‘When?’ she asked.

‘He’d like us to visit this weekend.’

This weekend!
Weekend?
‘Weekend?’ she questioned faintly. ‘You mean a
whole
weekend?’ Well, that wasn’t on. Whatever excuses Silas had to make, he could jolly well get them out of it.

‘He’s very lonely since my grandmother died.’ Silas, whether he knew it or not, jangled her heartstrings. ‘But, in view of our other commitments, I said we’d arrive on Saturday—rather than the Friday he suggested—and stay just the one night.’

Stay one night: Colly did not feel any happier, but something else Silas had just said caused her to forget that for the moment and follow this new trail. ‘Our—other commitments?’ she queried warily—and was right to be wary, she very soon discovered.

‘Quite naturally my parents will be most offended if they don’t get to meet you first,’ Silas explained.

Colly did not think very much of his explanation! She owned that her brain did not seem to be working at full capacity just then, but it very much appeared that if she was to meet Silas’s grandfather on Saturday—and bearing in mind that today, or tonight, was Thursday—then at some time between now and then she must first meet Silas’s parents.

‘This is getting much too complicated,’ she complained, casting a belligerent look over to the man she had ‘quietly’ married.

He bore her look pleasantly. ‘What’s complicated?’ he asked, and sounded so reasonable she could have truly done with hating him.

Particularly since she could not come up with much of an answer. ‘Why can’t we just tell your parents the truth? That we are married, but—’

‘Because to do so would put them under an obligation not to tell my grandfather the truth,’ Silas cut in heavily. ‘This is my situation, not theirs.’

Reluctantly Colly could see that. To involve his parents in the way she had suggested would just not be fair to them. But she protested just the same. ‘I don’t like deceiving people,’ she said woodenly.

‘How are we deceiving anyone?’ he asked, and she truly did hate him that while she was starting to feel all stewed up he could continue to sound so reasonable. She gave him a look of dislike. It bounced off him. And he was still insufferably reasonable when he drew her attention to the facts.
‘My grandfather wants to meet my wife—you, Colly,
are
my wife.’

You are my wife. She found it hard to hate him while her heart took a giddy trip at those words. But, though those lovely words sounded beautifully possessive, she knew full well that Silas stated them as merely fact. Colly pulled herself sternly together. ‘I didn’t sign up for any of this when I agreed to marry you,’ she reminded him snappily.

‘Neither did I!’ he returned bluntly. And, his expression harsh, ‘As I recall, it was you who let the cat out,’ he reminded her.

He had her there. If she had not let Tony Andrews know she was not free, and then gone on to compound that error by telling him she was getting divorced—giving him space to speculate on whom she might be married to—none of this would be happening. As it was, Silas had been forced into taking what action he had to when she’d triggered off that which could have led to disaster.

She was in the wrong, and she knew it. Colly took a defeated breath and, as graciously as she could in the circumstances, enquired, ‘When do I meet your parents?’

His harsh expression faded. ‘We’re having them over for dinner tomorrow evening.’

‘Over at your place?’ she asked, her voice barely audible—keep reminding yourself that you’re the one in the wrong, Colly.

‘Over at
our
place,’ he corrected.

‘You’re not expecting me to move in with you?’ she asked in sudden alarm.

He looked cheered. ‘Oh, your face!’ he exclaimed, but sobered to let her know, ‘As far as anyone else knows we live together, but at this stage I see no need for us to go that far.’

Why did she feel miffed at what he said? She did not want to live with him, for goodness’ sake—well, not under the present circumstances, she qualified.

‘We must be thankful for small mercies, I suppose,’ she offered dryly, and saw his lips twitch, felt a moment’s weakness where he was concerned, but hurried on, ‘I’m cooking?’

‘Mrs Varley will attend to that. My parents will be at my place around seven, but just in case they should be half an hour early, if you could be there around six?’

‘You’ll be there—at six?’

‘I’ll finish work early,’ he said, and suddenly Colly was feeling dreadful.

‘I’ve caused one almighty giant upheaval, haven’t I?’ she said apologetically.

‘Oh, Colly, don’t be too upset,’ Silas said gently, leaving his chair and coming over to take a seat on the sofa with her. And, his tone friendly, not sharp, as she felt she deserved, ‘One way and another you have done me a favour.’

She turned in her seat to look at him, her heart pounding to have him so close. ‘How?’ she asked with what sign of normality she could find. ‘If I hadn’t—’

‘I find it next to impossible to tell lies to my family,’ Silas cut in. ‘So when my father asked me outright if I’d thought any more about what he’d confided about grandfather altering his will I was able to calm his anxieties and truthfully tell him I was seriously involved with someone.’

‘You meant me?’

‘You,’ Silas confirmed. ‘By then you and I were married.’

‘I don’t suppose you can truthfully get more seriously involved than that,’ she mumbled.

‘Everything slotted in for both my father and my mother when they recalled how, when I was in hospital, you were allowed in to see me. How, when I got out of hospital, you were at my apartment staying with me. My mother really started to get her hopes high then, by the way. When, less than a couple of months after that, said cat bolted out from the bag, it didn’t seem so far-fetched to them when I explained that we had quietly married.’

‘They didn’t think it at all odd that we didn’t invite them to our wedding?’

‘Not so much when I told them your maiden name—who you were. My father at once recognised your name. He had been with me, paying his respects at your father’s funeral. My mother, while a triftle put out, it has to be said, at the same time understood when I said I didn’t want to wait but wanted to marry straight away. That, with your father’s death so recent, we’d agreed we did not want a big tell-the-world type of wedding.’