Power of a Woman (20 page)

His silence had served only to goad her into saying more. She told him where she had seen him, and described the woman with him as Power of a Woman / 217

“blond, beautiful, but that goes without saying when you’re concerned. She looked older than you though. That
was
surprising.” Glaring at him, Margot had added, “Her face was so familiar. If only I could remember her name.”

He hoped to God she wouldn’t, because if she did, it would spell disaster. For himself. And others.

He remembered now how he had finished dressing without saying another word to her, and he had left silently, without so much as a good-bye. But good-bye it had been for him. The next day, not wanting to waste any time, he had told her it was over, finished, kaput. She simply hadn’t wanted to accept this decision on his part and that same week her harassment of him had begun.

The shrill ringing of the phone brought him upright with a start. Swinging his legs onto the floor, Gideon reached for it, glad that it had stopped the flow of his thoughts.

“Hello, darling,” she said before he even spoke.

“Lenore?” Gideon gripped the phone a little tighter, knowing it was her. He knew that voice so well.

“Of course. Are you all right?”

“Sort of…where are you?”

“In the country. It’s cold and gloomy up here in Yorkshire.”

“Should you be calling me? Is it safe?”

“Oh, yes. I’m alone.”

“Where are the children?”

“Here with me. What I meant was that—”

218 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“I know what you meant,” he said, cutting her off.

“God, I miss you, and it’s been only two days.”

“It’s the same for me.”

“I can’t bear to think that he’ll be there with you and—”

“Don’t, Gid. Don’t do this to yourself. It has to be like this…for the time being anyway.”

“I wish you were here,” he said in a low voice, picturing her in his mind’s eye, seeing her sweet face, the blond halo of hair, the misty gray eyes.

“So do I. All I want is to be in your arms, close to you, kissing you. I love it when you kiss me, darling. I always did when we were little. You were a good kisser then, but much better now that you’re grown up.” She laughed softly; it was a low, sexy laugh, and then she whispered, “I can feel your lips on mine, your tongue sliding into my mouth. Oh, Gideon, tell me what you want to do, how you want to make love to me.”

“I can’t,” he answered, his voice rasping with emotion.

“Why not?” she murmured, breathing softly into the phone.

“You’re exciting me too much.”

“I’m excited too, Gideon. Oh, God, I do so want to be with you, darling. In the biblical sense. And with you for always for the rest of my life.”

“Get a divorce, Lenore! Tell him about us.
Leave
him
.”

“You’re not the marrying kind, Gideon. You know it, I know. The world knows it.”

Power of a Woman / 219

“To hell with the world and what it knows. It knows nothing!” he exclaimed, and taking a deep breath, he said earnestly, “I love you. I’ve always loved you since we were children. I know that now.”

“And so have I. And I’ll love you till the day I die.”

“Don’t talk about dying. Let’s talk about living, about you living with me. Come and live with me in the New Year. Let’s start it right.”

“Gideon, I have children…one of them is your godchild, for heaven’s sake. How
could
I live with you under the circumstances?”

“Get a divorce,” he said again in a voice suddenly harsh.

“Gideon, I—”

“I want to marry you, for God’s sake, don’t you understand that?” he interrupted in a softer tone, and then he laughed quietly. “This is a hell of a way to propose to the woman you love, I think. Over the telephone. But here goes. Eleanor Elizabeth Jane Armstrong, will you marry me? Please.”

“As soon as possible, Gideon.” There was a tiny pause before she went on, “If only I were there now, darling, the lovely things I would do to you.

Mmmmm. Yummy. Do you know, you do taste very yummy indeed.”

“Don’t do this, darling; it’s too much for me to bear.”

“Sorry. Did you really mean it, Gid? About getting married?”

220 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

For a moment he did not respond, and then he said steadily, firmly, “Yes. I meant it, and for what it’s worth, this is the first time I’ve ever proposed.”

“That’s not true.”

“But it is.”

“No, you’ve proposed before.
To me
. When I was ten and you were eight. At the back of the stables at Aysgarth End. And I said yes.”

“And you’re saying yes again?”

“I just did. I said as soon as possible, didn’t I?”

“Will Malcolm divorce you?”

She was silent.

“Well, will he?”

“I hope so, Gideon. You know what he’s like, so stubborn and uncompromising. He knows our marriage has been over for a long time, but he won’t see that or accept it. And even though he doesn’t really care about me anymore, he doesn’t want anyone else to have me.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, no! That’d be like a red rag to a bull. He’s always grumbled about you, Gid, said you had a thing about me.”

“I do.”

“Thank God for that, since I have one about you.

Where are you going tonight?”

“The Mallinghams have asked me to their Christmas party.”

“Who’re you going with?”

“No one. I’m strictly stag from now on, Lenore.

Until I have you on my arm, my love.”

Power of a Woman / 221

“Christmas is going to be foul without you.” She sighed heavily. “Never mind, it’s a time for children, and they’ll make it reasonably bearable. I wish I weren’t so far away; I’d drive over to see you every day, Gideon darling.”

“I know you would, and Christmas is going to be lousy for me without you. When are you coming back to town?”

“Not until Sunday…the twenty-ninth.”

“Then I’ll see you the next day, won’t I?”

“Absolutely. Listen, I have an idea.” She lowered her tone and said in that sexy voice of hers that he loved, “Can you take the morning off?”

“Yes. But why?”

“I could come over at ten, and we could have breakfast together. An intimate little breakfast for two.”

“In bed,” he asserted.

She was suddenly laughing, and so was he, and they had another five minutes of conversation before they hung up, after repeating their undying love for each other umpteen times.

Gideon lay on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling in the darkened room, thinking of the things they had just said. He had asked her, no, told her, to leave her husband and get a divorce. And he had promised to marry her. And yet he did not feel nervous or panic-stricken that he had made the demand and the commitment. He wanted to marry her, and what he felt now at this moment was absolute certainty…certainty about his 222 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

emotions and about her. He had known Lenore Philips all his life; they had grown up together, and he had loved her ever since those days.

That was the reason he had been a bit of a womanizer all these years…because
she
was the one for him. She had married another man, had married Malcolm Armstrong when his back had been turned, and before he himself had understood how much he loved her.

Margot Saunders had gotten one thing right, he decided. He was impotent with her
because
of Lenore. She was the only woman he wanted to make love to ever again.

So, he had proposed. She had accepted. And oh, the blessed relief of it…of knowing at last what his life was all about.
Lenore
.

“I
AM PERFECTLY WELL, STEVIE, VERY MUCH IMPROVED, and thank you for asking,” Bruce Jardine said, looking across at her and smiling.

Stevie smiled back, and there was both warmth and affection in her voice when she asked, “Was it gout again? Has it been bothering you lately, Bruce?”

He nodded. “But fortunately my doctor put me on a new medication a few weeks ago, and miracle of miracles, it seems to have done the trick.”

She was about to ask him about the medicine, when there was a tap on the library door, and the butler entered carrying two glasses of sherry on a small tray. He offered one to Stevie.

“Thank you, Alan,” Stevie said, and once Bruce had taken his glass, she raised hers and said, “Merry Christmas, and here’s to your good health.”

224 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

“And yours, Stevie, and I wish
you
a very Merry Christmas, my dear.”

“Thank you.” Taking another sip, Stevie glanced at him surreptitiously over the rim of her glass, thinking how well he
did
look. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had arrived at the house in Wilton Crescent a few minutes before. After her conversation with Gilbert Drexel the other day, she had expected to be greeted by a wraith on the verge of expiring. Instead, Bruce looked extremely fit and healthy, and not in the least debilitated. Nor was he showing his eighty-two years. To her this was most unusual, since she had always thought he had not aged well, but perhaps she had been wrong after all.

A tall, slender man with severe, almost ascetic features, and silver hair, Bruce looked every inch the English gentleman and a member of the establish-ment.

That morning he was elegantly dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit, a pristine white shirt, and a dark blue silk tie patterned with white dots. As she continued to study him, she couldn’t help thinking that he seemed to have acquired a whole new lease on life. The last time she had seen him, only a scant few weeks earlier, he had appeared to be as transparent and brittle as glass.

As if he had just managed to read her thoughts, Bruce said, “I’ve been going to a new physician, Stevie, and he’s worked wonders for me, especially with the new medications he has

Power of a Woman / 225

prescribed for my various ailments. He also sent me to see a nutritionist, an American, and she has created a special diet for me, and put me on all kinds of vitamins and supplements.” He chuckled. “I take so many tablets these days, I’m surprised I don’t rattle when I walk.” Again he let out a deep-throated laugh before adding, “But her methods have shown excellent results, wouldn’t you say?”

“They have indeed, and I’m delighted to see you looking so much better. You seem so fit, Bruce.”

The phone suddenly rang and Bruce rose, excused himself, walked over to the desk, and lifted the receiver. “Yes, Alan?” There was a pause as he listened to the butler, then he said, “Oh, all right, put her through.”

As he stood there, speaking quietly to someone on the other end of the telephone, Stevie’s eyes rested on him briefly before she turned her head away and stared at the fire, thinking of all the years they had known each other. Thirty-one years, to be exact, since she was sixteen; she had grown up and matured with him and Alfreda.

It had not always been as tranquil between them as it was now. Warfare had been the order of the day for a number of years. But they had settled their differences, made their peace long ago, and she had forgiven the little cruelties and slights, the heartache he had caused her in the past. Although in her inner-most self she had not forgotten every one of them; indeed, some were

226 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

deeply embedded in her soul, and would be for always.

The early years of battling, being at loggerheads with each other, were but a memory now, and she was glad of that. As it had turned out, in the end Bruce had become a good friend, and she had come to trust him because, finally, she had understood that he was on her side. For her part, she had proved herself to be a Jardine through and through, and this had pleased him greatly. He trusted her, confided in her, relied on her.

Glancing around, Stevie decided that her redecor-ation of the library had vastly improved it, as she had known it would when she had undertaken the job for Bruce in the summer. Although she had retained the paneling that lined the walls and the bookshelves, she had had the wood stripped and refinished to a lighter tone, and this had made the room look larger. She had also disposed of the old, very worn Oriental carpet and heavy blue velvet draperies; in their place she had used an antique Aubusson rug, blue-and-yellow-striped silk draperies, and she had reupholstered the sofas and chairs in a lovely rose-colored cotton brocade. The finished effect pleased her; the library had lost its Victorian heaviness that smacked of the late Alfreda’s ponder-ous, uncompromising taste and the gloomy aspects created by the dark colors and outdated fabrics.

As her glance swung around the room approvingly, she noticed that one of the orchids in Power of a Woman / 227

the big planter on the console table had two wilted flowers. She made a mental note to have the planter put somewhere in the room where the light was better.

Bruce finished his phone conversation, hung up, and walked back to the fireplace. Seating himself opposite her, he said, “It’s very remiss of me not to congratulate you, Stevie, on the acquisition of the White Empress. An undoubted coup on your part, and I’m very proud of you, very proud indeed, as we all are at Jardine’s, in fact. I thought it was quite a feather in our cap to get it, and the interest it has created in Jardine’s is most extraordinary. It’s brought many new customers into the showroom.

By the way, you handled the media in a most mas-terful way, I thought, and the press coverage has been very positive.”

Startled by his words, Stevie exclaimed, “But you thought I paid too much for the diamond.”

“No, of course I didn’t,” he said with a laugh, looking at her oddly. “Actually, I believed the White Empress would fetch much more than it did. But whoever it was in the final bidding did us a great favor when they suddenly dropped out. That was a rather nice surprise, since the price immediately stabilized…for you. I read the report of the auction in
The Times
with a great deal of satisfaction, I can tell you.” There was a small pause, and he looked at her keenly, as he finished. “However, even if you had paid twelve million dollars for it, I would have approved.”