Kissed by Moonlight, page 2
“Get on with it,” she said, not wanting to fall into the trap of saying, “Where’s the gentleman?” knowing full well that a fitting answer to that would be waiting to trip off his lips. Now she came to think about it she’d always resented his ability to think faster than normal people. That trait, combined with a certain subtlety of wit, had given her many uncomfortable moments in the past.
“I’m offering you the means to escape the harassment of the press.”
“What means? And what’s in it for you, David? You never offer anything unless you’re assured of a good return.”
His indrawn breath was as audible as the narrowing of his eyelids was noticeable.
“You don’t like being reminded of how ruthless you are, do you, David?”
“I prefer the word astute.”
“Of course you would.”
Successful in all business undertakings, he seemed to run on a never-ending electric current, but she knew the real power behind him was ambition. She was frightened of ambition. Look what it had done to her father. He, too, had pursued success with grim determination, but it had turned around to snap back at him and had hounded him into his grave.
“Don’t you think I’m capable of doing a kindness without having an ulterior motive?”
“It would be most unlikely.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he drawled. “Even supposedly kind people only do good deeds because they think they’re securing a place in heaven for themselves.”
“That sounds more like the David I remember.”
“You’re not like the Petrina I remember, though. You’ve changed. The promise was always there, but I didn’t realize you’d grow into such a riveting beauty.”
He moved from his sitting position on the edge of the bed and stood up. He towered over her. Her jawline went rigid; she threw her head tautly back to look up at him, as though she dare not let him slip the net of her gaze.
His bright blue eyes were knowing, derisive, and full of rebuke. “All the changes aren’t for the better. You’ve grown cynical and suspicious. I liked the gullible child best.”
His patronizing tone irked her. Her soft brown-violet eyes took on the harsher color of smoke. With assumed arrogance, as though she were acting on someone else’s orders, she said, in reckless mimicry of his own derision, “You had your chance with her. You didn’t take it.”
“No, I didn’t.” His blue eyes were as piercing as a dagger. As she managed the strength not to look away, she thought she saw a flicker of something – regret, nostalgia, longing – shadow his gaze, but it was just as quickly swept away. His face was composed as he said, “You do some things in life that put others out of reach.”
She felt she should remember those words. Somewhere there was a clue that was begging to be recognized.
He added, in a low voice that was like the release of an inner thought, “You don’t know how close a thing it was, though.”
For a tantalizing moment she almost believed that her yesterday self, that gauche child, had touched some nerve of awareness in this experienced, wordly man. It was a beautiful, incandescent thought, but even as she held it so briefly it burned her so she had to let it go. The evidence of it remained as two dots of color in her cheeks.
“Will you please stop playing with me,” she cried out in anguish.
With the slip of her control, his was regained, almost as if the one was dependent on the other. It was a pattern that had been set long ago, for their relationship had never been an easy one. If one showed normal kindness or betrayed tenderness, the other met it with scorn and ridicule.
“Playing with you?” he mocked, with enough undercurrents in his tone to keep her cheeks rosy with embarrassment. “What an intriguing picture that conjures up.”
“You must work hard to be this hateful,” she said. “Such a polished performance can only come with hours of practice.” She swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “If you won’t get out of here, then I will. I’d rather battle it out with the reporters than stomach you for a moment longer.”
“Poor little Petrina,” he taunted, with laughter in his eyes. “I always did get under your skin. Incidentally, dignity in dishabille is impossible to achieve. Why don’t you –” He was obviously looking around for some garment to hand to her that was more fitting than the quilt, and for the first time he took in the disorder of the room. “Good heavens! Are you always this untidy?”
“Of course not. I had a throwing session, a tantrum, an indulgence you would never permit yourself.”
“No, I can’t see the profit in it,” he said in mild amusement, as though he knew he was offering her bait that she would find impossible to resist.
“The profit!” she scoffed before she realized she had been manipulated to say just that. “I hate you, David Palmer. Hate you ... hate ...”
“Not tears,” he said in disgust on seeing the liquid sparkle in her eyes.
She could have said, “Why not tears? After all, I’m grieving for my father,” but she would not beg for his sympathy. So she bit savagely on her lower lip until the pain blanched it white and she’d recovered from her lapse into self-pity.
“If I were as inhuman as you care to believe, I wouldn’t be here at all,” he said gravely.
“Why are you here?” Although she spat the words at him, her eyes were curious. After all, he still hadn’t told her how he could help her, as he had apparently come to do.
His regard was thoughtful. “Before I answer that, have you made any plans?”
In a threadlike voice that matched her lowered head, she said, “No, I’ve still to decide what to do.” She was instantly ashamed of that hint of fatigue, of her despairing weariness, and visibly lifted herself up by her chin, which again pointed at him in defiance. “Strange as it may seem to you, I’ve needed all my resources to get through the last few days.”
His nod of agreement confounded her. It was that, and not the prospect facing her, that put a wobble in her voice. “I shall have to get a job.”
“That does sound drastic,” he observed in cool amusement. “You’re not considering selling your life story to the press? Obviously that’s why you’re being persecuted by that battery of reporters. On the further assumption that each one is battling for exclusive rights, you could earn yourself a tidy sum.”
“Even you wouldn’t insult me by thinking that I might be tempted to accept, no matter how much money I was offered,” she said, devouring him in anger with her eyes.
“People do all manner of things when they’re in a corner.”
His contrasting cool sent her temper flaring even higher. “And you think I’m in a corner?”
“Aren’t you? How do you intend to set about earning your living? What did that expensive school equip you to do?”
In truth, she was forced to reply, “Very little, beyond putting on the social airs and graces. It was my father’s choice, not mine. And when he made it he couldn’t have foreseen a time when I’d need to earn my own living. I left as soon as I could.”
“To stay at home, I understand. You didn’t go out and get a job.”
“Do you think I didn’t want to? Somebody had to keep house for my father. I’d have been a lot happier training to do something useful. Perhaps it isn’t too late now, as soon as the dust has settled. I don’t fancy the notoriety of being pointed out as the daughter of a fallen idol. That’s in case you think I’m employing delaying tactics, putting off the evil day.”
“I don’t blame you for wanting to lie low until it’s all blown over, but I won’t stand by and see you climbing on my father’s back to do it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
His dark eyebrows went up in mild surprise that she needed it spelled out. “He hasn’t the financial strength to give you a piggyback ride.”
She chewed on her lip. “Did you know that your father has offered me a home?”
“I didn’t, but I guessed he might have done. He’s very fond of you.”
“It’s not a one-way thing. I’m fond of him. I’m already too indebted to him, though. I won’t sponge off him any longer than necessary, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
“It doesn’t seem to bother you.”
The challenge bewildered her, but she answered truthfully, “No, because he knows that if the position was reversed, he could rely on me for help.”
“That’s true. But would he let you help him? He’s a proud, stubborn man. I wanted to make up his losses three years ago, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
She felt that he’d said more about his father’s plight than he had meant to. Her opinion of David, the man, might be unfavorable, but she knew that he loved his father and that no man could have been a more devoted son. He’d fallen into the very human trap of being carried away by his own frustration because he wasn’t allowed to help. She didn’t want to believe what David seemed to hinting. After all, his brilliant brain and business acumen had rocketed him into an income bracket that must make his father’s modest earnings seem like a pittance in comparison. At the same time, she found herself giving David a long, thoughtful look.
“You said your father suffered a financial loss three years ago?” Her eyes traced the dark contours of his face, sliding along the powerful jawline to the uncompromising straightness of his mouth.
“Yes,” he said grudgingly.
Her head shifted to a speculative angle. “That would be around the time of my father’s first failure, when his plan to turn Chimera into a holiday haven crashed. A lot of small investors lost their entire savings.” A chill touched her heart. “Was your father one of them?”
He was on his guard now, and intended to stay tight-lipped on the subject.
She sighed in resignation. “I know from past experience that if you’ve made up your mind not to tell me, nothing I can say will make you. But you don’t have to say anything. Your silence has said it all for you.”
She looked down at her fingers in sad thought. She was sorry for those who had invested in good faith and lost their money; it grieved her to think that anyone with that sort of trust in her father’s abilities should lose by it. It was especially hurtful to know that dear Uncle Richard had been a victim. He would have been too loyal to pull out when so many others had.
She was aware of David’s eyes narrowing on her hair.
It was the color of pale copper with burnished highlights, and she was suddenly conscious of the tangling her pillow-pounding had achieved. She wished she’d had time to brush it into shiny obedience.
She wasn’t coy about her looks. She liked her neck, which was long and slender, a beautiful asset. But she disliked her cheeks, which were still roundly cushioned from childhood; likewise her mouth was full, but she didn’t mind that at all. She had good legs, quite long in proportion to her body, which she wished she’d had time to drape in something a little more seductive than this stupid quilt.
The wishing coincided with a sudden alarming awareness of David’s good looks. He was tall, leanly built but muscular, with the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen in a strong, suntanned face. His dark hair was crisp, undisciplined, and full of natural vigor. Like the man himself.
Would it have made any difference if his first peep at her hadn’t been over the pink frills of her crib? He would have been twelve at the time. Would she ever catch up on those twelve years? And if they’d met now for the first time, with no memories of the slippery pink infant naked in her bath or the tiresome child who wanted to tag along, would he see her in a different light?
Her mouth rounded on a small despairing sigh. Even if she “accidentally on purpose” let the quilt slip, his mind’s eye would still see the slippery pink infant and not the woman she was.
She drew a long, hard breath and would have linked her hands together for courage, but she needed them to clutch the quilt more tightly around her. Too much had happened in too short a time. Her father’s sudden death, his funeral, the hammering she was taking from the press, David’s unexpected reappearance, and the knowledge that Uncle Richard had lost money in her father’s failed venture. She couldn’t take much more; she was nearly over the top.
“All right, David, you’ve stalled long enough. Just what is the nature of this escape line you are offering me?”
“It’s in the nature of a proposal. I’m asking you to marry me.”
“You can’t be. It’s too unthinkable.”
“The idea of marriage? Or being married to me?” For once she was glad not to be granted the right of reply as he went on to say, “I see I’ve shocked you. It would shock my father a great deal more if I carried you off without marrying you.”
“But, Dav –”
“It’s all arranged. Pack for a warm climate. Don’t bother about the flat. I’ll leave instructions for it to be disposed of together with the furniture and whatever possessions you can’t take. Anything you can’t bear to part with, my father will store for you. The wedding will take place tomorrow; by evening you’ll be far away from it all. Any questions?”
She was silent; she had no idea what to say, how to react.
“Good. Get some sleep now, you need it. I’ll be back for you tomorrow, around noon.”
When he’d gone she climbed wearily back into bed. Her whole life had been turned upside down, but one thing remained constant. Her feeling for David had not changed. She could wish him at the edge of the earth for his overbearing manner and his supreme arrogance, but she still loved him.
Chapter Two
She wondered why she’d assumed that because it was all arranged in a hurry the ceremony would take place in a registry office and not in a church.
David came for her at midday, having badgered the authorities to obtain a special license and the services of a vicar, and pulled strings to get flight reservations in between giving orders for the flat and any remaining possessions to be disposed of so that she could walk out and start new. He’d even remembered to buy the ring.
“I must be insane to be going through with this,” she said, taking two steps to his one to keep up with his long stride. “I’m not sure that I will go through with it. Why are you doing this, David?”
“Don’t you know?” he inquired, his smile as evasive as his reply.
“Would I ask if I did? In my present circumstances I’m hardly value for money. What’s in it for you? What’s your angle?”
“Would you like it better if I had one?”
“I don’t know about that. It would make more sense.”
“Very well, I admit it. I’ve got an angle.”
She waited expectantly, but he didn’t elaborate. She sent him a soft sideways look through her lashes, which she knew would avail her nothing. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“No.” He softened sufficiently to add – or was it not softening at all but blatant teasing? – “I might tell you someday. If I decide you deserve to be told.”
“You’re an arrogant beast,” she said.
He only grinned sardonically in reply.
“It doesn’t seem real,” she protested. “I can’t believe this is my wedding day.”
“Like a dream?”
Her tongue flicked up to lick her lip in an unconsciously provocative way. “Nightmare, actually.”
She thought he looked very smart. He wore a quiet gray suit and a darker gray silk tie and a remarkable air of assurance.
She wondered if her own hurried choice of dress was appropriate. It couldn’t be the white wedding gown she’d always hoped to get married in, but she had gone for chastity in a simple parchment-colored day dress, leaving her arms bare but her throat demurely covered in a close-fitting bodice.
Uncle Richard was waiting for them on the steps of the church. “Will you honor my arm on the walk down the aisle, my child?” he asked in a voice that was choked with emotion and delight. Apparently he had been thrilled by news of the impending wedding and had chosen not to ask any potentially embarrassing questions.
“Indeed I will,” she said, reaching up to kiss his dear cheek.
David had already entered the church, presumably to alert the vicar, so they had these few private moments alone.
“I know about the money,” she said.
“How did you find out? David didn’t tell you.”
“Only very indirectly. I guessed.”
He sighed heavily. “In a way I’m glad you know. It was David’s own idea to accept responsibility for you. I would have paid your school fees, but, well, I made a bad investment.”
“Uncle Richard, it’s the bad investment I’m talking about.”
“You didn’t know about –”
“No. I didn’t know it was David who paid my school fees.”
“Seems I’ve blown it, haven’t I?”
“Yes, Uncle Richard,”
“Don’t let on to David, will you?”
“No, I promise not to give you away. I won’t be long,” she said, detaching herself from his impulsive hug. “There’s something ...”
She saw from his expression that he thought she’d changed her mind and was running away, so she made pantomime actions to indicate it wasn’t that. She thought he understood as she wriggled through the gap in the church wall and plunged into the tall grass of the field beyond.
Her fingers searched for the abundance of flowers she knew she would find and soon she had a wedding bouquet of buttercups and bluebells, honeysuckle and toadflax, columbines, oxeye daisies, and other field flowers. She secured her sweet-smelling posy in a border of wild pansies and tied them up with her handkerchief. Then she searched around for two wild roses, sparing the time to find perfect specimens. A bride had to have a bouquet, her bridegroom and his father had to have boutonnieres. Why, oh, why did it have to be David who had paid her school fees?
Without choir, organ, or congregation, she walked down the aisle on her future father-in-law’s arm in the vast but beautiful emptiness of the gray stone church toward her bridegroom.
She knew why brides wore full veils over their faces. It was to conceal such emotions as she was feeling now. Yet the half-light was kindly. What it couldn’t veil was the trembling of her fingers in the crook of the professor’s arm as he whispered hoarsely, “I wish your mother could have been here to see you. And your father.”
