Convenient Brides (27 page)

‘Where the hell have you been?’ he roared at her as soon as she stepped through the door.

She put her bags down and tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I went shopping.’

‘All day?’

Emily blinked.

‘I’ve been calling you since ten o’clock this morning. I thought something must have happened to you,’ he contin-ued crossly.

‘Well, no doubt you’re disappointed, but here I am alive and well,’ she said archly.

‘You should’ve called me.’

‘On what number?’ She glared back at him. ‘I’ve only been to your office once and I have no idea what number to call.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘You’re right, of course.’ He reached for the jacket of his suit, which he’d hung on the banister of the stairs. He took out a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.

She gave it a cursory glance before slipping it into her purse.

‘Well, now I’ll know who to call if I need financial advice.’
She brushed past him to go upstairs. ‘Excuse me, I have to get changed.’

‘Emily.’

She stalled on the first step, turning to face him.

He looked at her, clutching her shopping bags under one slim arm, her eyes sparkling with defiance, her beautiful honey-coloured hair defying the lotions and potions of expert application to cascade at random about her shoulders.

‘Never mind,’ he said, turning away. ‘I’ll wait for you in the lounge.’

Emily turned back and bolted up the stairs.

She came back down forty minutes later dressed in a calf-length cerulean sheath with tiny shoestring straps that emphasised the slimness of her shoulders and the gentle curve of her breasts. Her hair was still mostly on top of her head, apart from a few wayward tendrils that insisted on caressing her shoulders.

Damien’s eyes travelled over her appreciatively as she stood before him. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

He opened the door for her and she walked through, conscious of his eyes following her every movement.

The journey in the car was painfully silent. Emily framed several sentences in her head but it never seemed quite the right moment to speak. He was either concentrating on traf-fic or on the issue of where to park, so in the end she remained silent.

He finally parked between two cars, not far from the restaurant in Neutral Bay. He opened her door for her and casually took her arm as they walked along the pavement towards the restaurant.

‘Every three months or so the interstate partners in the firm get together and run through various practice matters. These evening functions are a way for the wives—or husbands, as the case may be—to socialise. I hope you won’t find it too boring.’

‘I’ll try and make the best of it,’ she said, sneaking a glance at him.

He looked down at her and seemed about to say something when a couple stepped from a car just ahead of them. A booming voice greeted them.

‘Damien, my man! And this must be your charming bride.’ A huge paw grasped Emily’s hand and shook it vigorously. Another strand of her hair fell down at the impact and Damien slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently towards him.

‘Darling,’ he said, sending a shiver up her spine at his casually delivered endearment. ‘This is Hugo Brand and his wife Jeanne. This is Emily.’

Jeanne pressed a cold fish hand into Emily’s while Hugo looked on beamingly.

‘Never thought you’d get around to it, Damo.’ He grinned. ‘Just wait till you get a couple of kids running around your feet. You won’t know what hit you.’

Emily fought against the blush she could feel stealing along her cheeks but fortunately Damien was looking else-where. She looked up to follow the line of his gaze and watched as another couple approached them. The man was tall and blond, with the sort of Scandinavian good looks that always drew female stares. The woman was attractive also. Not quite as tall as the man, and a deep brunette with the sort of figure most women had to pay for.

‘Damien,’ the woman said, reaching up to kiss both his cheeks. ‘You look scrumptious.’

‘Now, now, Linda.’ The blond man chuckled. ‘The man’s got a wife.’

‘Andre and Linda Janssen.’ Damien pushed Emily for-ward. ‘This is Emily, my wife.’

Emily didn’t know how she got through it. Her hand went out and touched each of theirs briefly, and her face smiled as if she were really delighted to meet them both, but on the inside she was crumbling.

So this was Linda Janssen, his mistress. Andre didn’t
look the type to turn a blind eye, but then, Emily thought, Linda didn’t look the type to be playing up either. She gave the impression she adored her husband, holding on to his arm as they made their way to the restaurant door, smiling up at him when he joked with Damien about the day’s meetings. Emily trailed along on Damien’s arm, feeling terribly out of place. The mouse-like Jeanne followed in Hugo’s wake, looking too shy to say boo to a goose. It was going to be a long evening.

The food was beautifully presented and arrived at exactly the right intervals along with the best of wines, both red and white, but later Emily could barely recall what she’d eaten, and she didn’t drink at all, other than to sip at a tall glass of iced water.

At some point during the dinner Damien turned to her with the bottle of red wine in his hand. ‘Drink, darling?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you.’ Her eyes flashed at him. ‘Darling.’

He reached beyond her to pass the bottle to Hugo, who took it with gusto, filling his own empty glass.

‘Damien tells me you’re a writer,’ Hugo said, swivelling his huge bulk towards her. ‘I’ve never met a real-life writer before.’

‘It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, believe me,’ she said.

Linda leaned across Jeanne to address Emily. ‘Is it true about the book you were going to write being cancelled?’

Several heads turned their way.

‘Yes.’ Emily flicked a glance in Damien’s direction before continuing. ‘I was given another offer too good to refuse. I decided to take it. The compensation so far has been adequate, although it may yet prove to be a foolish move on my part.’

‘Sounds intriguing.’ Linda reached for her wine. ‘Are you working on another book now?’

‘No, nothing at the moment,’ she said. ‘I’m considering a career change.’

‘Oh? What will you do?’ Linda asked.

‘I haven’t decided as yet. I’m still considering my options.’

‘That’s the trouble with women these days, Damo.’ Hugo leant across Emily, breathing wine fumes over her. ‘They’re too damned intelligent. Whatever happened to the women who wanted nothing more than a brood of kids and some housekeeping money once a week?’

Emily let Linda and Jeanne do the protesting for her. The spirited discussion carried on without her, while her mind was engaged elsewhere.

At last it was over. Linda and Andre were the first to make a move and Damien stood up with them, reaching for Emily’s hand.

‘Come on, darling,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘You look ready for bed.’

‘Damien!’ Linda scolded him. ‘You’re making the poor girl blush.’

Emily bore it with good grace, although she was deter-mined to give Damien an earful once they were alone. Hugo and Jeanne followed them out of the restaurant and left them to walk to Damien’s car alone.

Emily walked beside him, pulling her hand out of his once the others had left.

‘Wasn’t the food to your liking?’ Damien asked as he deactivated the central locking of his Jaguar. ‘You didn’t seem to be eating much.’

He opened the door for her and she slipped in under his arm, avoiding his eyes.

‘I wasn’t particularly hungry,’ she said once he joined her in the car.

‘You shouldn’t let people like Hugo upset you.’ He looked across at her as he turned the engine over. ‘He’s a harmless old bear.’

‘I wasn’t upset by Hugo.’

He drove towards the Harbour Bridge, his attention on the merging traffic. She waited for him to ask what had upset her but he remained silent.

‘Aren’t you going to ask?’ she snapped at him after some time had passed.

He glanced at her briefly before checking the mirrors to change lanes. ‘Ask what?’

She fumed, clenching her hands into tight fists in her lap. ‘Why I’m upset, of course!’

‘I would’ve thought that was more than obvious,’ he commented wryly. ‘You found spending an evening in my company utterly deplorable, didn’t you?’

Emily ground her teeth and bit out, ‘No, actually, what I found deplorable was having to spend the evening sitting opposite your mistress.’

‘You still seem rather convinced of that old story. But tell me, did you happen to notice her husband sitting beside her all evening?’ he asked.

‘That means nothing. You were sitting beside me all evening and it didn’t stop Linda from flirting with you.’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ His tone was impatient.

‘Tell me you don’t have a special relationship with her,’ she demanded. ‘Go on. Tell me.’

‘I’m not going to allow this conversation to continue,’ he said, taking the Double Bay exit. ‘You’re not being rational and I’m getting angry.’

‘Oh, good!’ she taunted. ‘The aloof Damien Margate is about to explode with uncontrollable emotion. What fun this will be.’

‘Careful, Emily,’ he warned. ‘You might not like the consequences.’

He pulled into the driveway and she got out as soon as he stopped the car. He called her, but she continued to make her way to the house regardless. It was only when she reached the front door that she realised she didn’t have her key.

He came up behind her and unlocked the door over her shoulder, propelling her through with his other hand. He turned her to face him, the front door closing heavily under the thrust of his hand.

‘I don’t want to hear you speak of Linda Janssen in such a way again. Is that clear?’

Emily lifted her chin a fraction, her blue eyes refusing to be intimidated by his. ‘Why?’ she challenged him. ‘Does it make you feel guilty?’

He reined in his temper with an effort. ‘I won’t tell you again.’

‘What are you going to do Damien—darling?’ she goaded him recklessly. ‘Take me to court?’

‘No,’ he said, reaching for her before she could step away. ‘I’m going to take you to bed.’

S
HE
should have fought him. She should have resisted his mouth and hands. But she didn’t. As soon as his lips ground against hers in a bruising kiss she was instantly caught up in a maelstrom of passion that had only one sure end. She returned his kiss with a blistering heat of her own, her tongue tangling with his, her legs threatening to give way beneath her as he crushed her to him.

One of the pictures hanging behind her wobbled precar-iously as their surging bodies collided with it in their haste. Damien steadied it with one hand while the other pushed aside one of Emily’s shoestring straps to gain access to her breast. She gasped as his hand shaped her, his thumb grazing a path over her engorged nipple as his mouth returned to hers.

She was sure he was going to take her then and there on the stairs. She was mentally preparing herself for it when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, tipping her on to his bed and coming down on top of her, his mouth still hard upon hers.

Emily tore at his shirt with greedy fingers. His belt buckle was digging into her stomach so she removed it from his waist, flinging it to one side of the bed. Her fingers sought the zip of his trousers without shame, releasing it with a gasp of anticipation as his erection brushed against her hand. She held him, shaping him with exploring fingers, her heart leaping in her chest at the dark light of desire burning in his gaze as he looked down at her.

‘There’s a condom in the bedside table drawer,’ he said huskily. ‘You can put it on for me.’

She fumbled in the drawer and unpeeled the wrapper.
She took her time, enjoying the power she had over him as he groaned at her feather-light touch, until he could stand it no more and pushed her back down on the mattress, pinning her with his strong thighs.

‘Tell me you want me,’ he demanded, nudging her intimately with his body.

‘I want you.’ She stared with unashamed longing at him.

He pushed her dress upwards, his gaze raking her boldly from the flat plane of her stomach to the tiny triangular lace that barely covered her. He hooked a finger under the lace and pulled it away, uncovering her femininity, his eyes feasting on her perfect form.

She held her breath as his mouth started at her belly button, trailing downwards until she could feel his warm breath on her intimately.

‘Oh, God,’ she gasped as his tongue separated her, toying with her until she was writhing with a pleasure so intense it was almost like pain. She let out a cry, a soft whimpering cry that rose and rose until she had to bite down on her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming out loud.

He slid back over her and entered her deeply, his own groan of need also sounding loud in the silence of the night. ‘You feel so damn good,’ he said against her mouth. ‘So unbelievably good.’

Emily could feel her pleasure building all over again with each deep surge of his body inside hers, bringing her to-wards new heights of feeling. Her body was soaring, all her tense muscles turning into molten liquid by the touch of his hands.

He timed it perfectly. Just as she was being swept away by another tide of earth-shattering sensuality his own release sounded in her ear: a deep guttural groan that sent shivers trickling through her, increasing her own pleasure with its heavy pulse.

He rolled away and, breathing heavily, lay with one arm flung across his eyes. Emily wriggled out of the remains of
her dress and, picking up the nearest bathrobe, disappeared into the
en suite
bathroom.

She showered and brushed her teeth, stalling for time. She hoped he’d be asleep by the time she came out. Her passionate reaction to him embarrassed her; she was sup-posed to hate him but he had only to touch her and she was aflame. It made her feel far too vulnerable, as if he had the upper hand and she was just a pawn in his game.

She came out of the
en suite
bathroom to find him sitting up against the pillows on her side of the bed, leafing through a book. He put it down as she approached the bed, his expression slightly mocking.

‘Washing all trace of my detestable presence away, Emily?’

Emily straightened her spine and met the satirical glitter in his eyes. ‘You’re on my side of the bed.’

‘Am I?’ He put his hands behind his head in a make-me-move pose.

‘You know you are.’ She stood at the end of the bed and glared at him. ‘You’re doing it deliberately to annoy me.’

‘Why don’t you come and push me back to where I belong?’ he challenged her. ‘It could be fun.’

‘You’ve had your fun. Now move over.’

‘Now, now, let’s be fair. You had your fun too.’ His mouth curled upwards in a sardonic smile. ‘I made sure of that.’

Emily felt the colour of her shame rise from the very soles of her feet to pool in her cheeks like fans of fire.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, my sweet,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, this chemistry we have together. Who knows? You might not even be bored after six months with me.’

‘I’d never survive that long. I’d kill myself.’

He laughed and she tore her eyes away from the ripple of muscle along his abdomen, the sheet he’d pulled over his legs doing little to disguise his nakedness.

‘So dramatic,’ he teased. ‘Come on, hop into bed and
get some sleep. You look like a child who’s been kept up too late—all eyes and pouty lips.’

She clenched her fists and, moving to the head of the bed, flicked the sheet back angrily. She lay down stiffly, turning her back on him, keeping herself as far away from the warmth and temptation of his long muscular body as possible.

She felt the brush of his fingers along the base of her spine and shivered.

‘Come closer,’ he said temptingly. ‘I want to kiss you goodnight.’

Emily tightened her resolve another notch, clamped her eyes shut and pretended not to hear him.

His hand stroked the smooth curve of her bottom and then his body shifted towards her in one movement, the hard wall of his stomach grazing her as he settled behind her like a set of spoons in a drawer. Her breathing quick-ened as she felt the probe of his arousal between her thighs, and his arms closed around her, making escape, even if she’d had the will to exercise it, impossible.

Even though she kept her back to him he was still able to bring her to the pinnacle of pleasure, with gasping groans of release that reverberated throughout her body as his rocked against hers. His own sounds of ecstasy soothed her pride; at least it wasn’t just she who was rendered helpless by the touch of his hands. She too had sent him to paradise, and with that thought comforting her she drifted off to sleep, still locked in his arms.

The next three weeks passed for Emily in a haze of lazy days and passion-filled nights. A kind of unspoken truce became established between them. Damien usually left for work before she got up, and when he returned in the evening she was dressed for dinner. Sometimes they ate in; on other nights they went out. She visited Rose every few days or so.

Rose wanted her to visit even more often but Emily
didn’t trust herself in case she accidentally let slip something about his aunt to Damien. The effort of keeping quiet about her clandestine relationship with Rose was taxing her already stretched nerves.

She did her best to remain civil around Damien, although by the end of the third week her temper was beginning to fray. She wasn’t used to so much time on her hands and her restlessness made her snap at him when he asked her what she had planned on Friday morning as he was leaving for work.

‘Nothing. A big fat nothing.’

He gave her a studied look as he deftly tied his tie. ‘Why don’t you come in and have lunch with me today?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll show you around the offices, introduce you to the staff.’

She lifted one shoulder half-heartedly.

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Call me before twelve. I’m with clients until then.’

‘I’ll see.’

‘As you wish.’ He stooped to drop a quick kiss on her pouting mouth. ‘Let me know what you decide. I’ve got to rush. Be good.’

She humphed and rolled over on her side, pulling the sheets back over her head.

After she heard his car leave she pushed the hair out of her eyes and swung her legs out of bed. That was when it hit her like a truck coming at full force down the highway. The nausea was so sudden and so vile she only just made it to the
en suite
bathroom before gasping out the meagre contents of her stomach. She clutched at the basin, glancing at her pale features in the mirror. Another wave hit her, making her lurch over the basin once more in desperation.

After a while it eased slightly, and she washed her face and returned to the bed to lie down until the light-headedness dissipated. She lay there in increasing panic. How could her body have betrayed her like this, falling pregnant without her permission? She wanted to blame
Damien but knew it was really her own fault. She shouldn’t have stopped taking the Pill in the first place. She’d just got lazy.

She dragged herself out of bed and back to the bathroom. She had to have it confirmed first—it could be a false alarm, she reassured herself vainly.

‘Oh, God!’ she cried at her reflection in the fogged mirror. ‘What am I going to do?’

Emily stared at the dipstick in her hand, waves of panic sweeping through her at the confirmation of the pregnancy she dreaded. She’d rushed to the pharmacy and bought a double testing kit and both of the tests told her the same truth. She was having a baby—Damien’s baby.

She wished she could tell somebody, somebody who would reassure her it was all going to work out, but there was no one. She thought of calling Rose but decided against it at the last minute. Her friendship with her was still developing; she didn’t want to jeopardise it by bur-dening her with problems that were largely insurmountable.

She’d have to face it alone—she didn’t have any other choice. It wasn’t as if she could tell Damien, at least not yet. Perhaps she could simply disappear from his life, pre-tend she’d found somebody else and move on. Her heart quaked at the thought of his reaction. He liked to be the one calling the shots; that much she had learned in the few short weeks they’d been married.

Emily caught a bus to Centennial Park and walked for two hours, thinking about her dilemma. The cooling shade of the old trees calmed her enough to make her realise she had to take better care of herself from now on. No more scanty meals and irregular exercise.

She checked her watch and, seeing it was close to twelve, wondered if she should take up Damien’s offer of lunch after all. She hadn’t thought to bring her mobile with her, nor did she have his number on her, but she knew where his office block was and decided to go there in person.

She wasn’t sure what made her stop at the flashing pedestrian signal across the street from his building. Normally she would have raced across, just like everyone else, weaving her way through the bustling crowd, but this time she didn’t.

She saw Damien first. He was outside the front entrance, bending down to speak through a car window to someone sitting in the driver’s seat of a sports car. Several horns tooted behind the shiny Mercedes and Emily watched in horror as Linda Janssen leaned out of the window to kiss him, her hand grasping his, holding it to the ridge of the car’s open window. A cab driver tailgated Linda’s car and Damien stepped back and waved her off with a warm smile.

Emily turned and sped in the opposite direction, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. She almost fell to her knees in her haste to get away before Damien looked across the street. She checked over her shoulder once and was relieved when a line of buses blocked the intersection, giving her a lengthy reprieve.

She stumbled on to the first bus that sidled to a stop beside her, not caring where it was going. She paid her fare and huddled in a seat next to an old gentleman who smelt of mothballs and whisky. She sat and willed herself not to be sick, all the time wondering how she was going to face Damien later that day.

The bus took her to Waringah Mall, where she spent the afternoon wandering aimlessly around the shops, filling in time with cups of tea or glasses of juice from the various cafés. She was sitting staring at the uneaten raisin toast in front of her when she felt a shadow pass over her.

‘Emily!’ Danny Margate pulled out the chair opposite. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I…’ Emily gaped at him in shock. ‘I’m…I’m shopping.’

Danny looked at the floor near her feet, noting the ab-sence of any parcels.

‘Not very successfully, I’d say.’

‘I’m not in the mood for buying today.’

‘How’s Damien? Keeping you busy?’

Emily didn’t care for his insolent tone. ‘He’s fine.’

‘You don’t seem very happy to see me,’ he observed. ‘Especially when I have something in my possession I’m sure you’ll want very badly.’

She watched him closely, trying to gauge his mood. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a diary,’ he said, picking up a slice of her abandoned raisin toast and biting into it.

‘Whose?’

He paused for effect. Emily felt like a trout being lured by a colourful but totally fake fly.

‘Rose’s.’

She stared at him incredulously. ‘You’d give me
Rose’s
diary?’

His smile didn’t quite reach his cold light-blue eyes. ‘For a price.’

‘Of course,’ she said cynically.

‘If you don’t want it I can offer it to someone else. I already have someone in mind.’

‘Who?’

‘Marsha Montford.’

Emily was familiar with the biographer’s work. Her last book had caused an even bigger scandal than her own. She felt sick at the thought of Damien and his aunt being subjected to the sort of ruthless tactics someone like Marsha employed to write a bestseller.

‘How much?’ she asked.

‘How much can you afford?’

Emily took her time replying. She didn’t want to commit herself, but neither did she want to give him free rein to destroy his brother and aunt in so despicable a fashion.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she hedged. ‘I’ll call you on Monday.’

His eyes glinted with triumph. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ He got to his feet and handed her a business card. ‘I’ve got a new apartment in Bondi. Come and see me there on
Monday afternoon, say two o’clock? We can finalise the terms then.’