Temporary Husband, page 8
Blake sat silent and motionless, his face blurred as she looked at him through her tears. When he didn't speak she turned rather blindly to open the door behind her.
In an instant he was across the room at her side. Taking hold of her shoulders he turned her round and lifted her face with one hand, looking down into her wet eyes.
'So now you know what it's all about, do you?' he asked softly. 'I wonder. If that's so, I've misjudged your Henri.'
He reached a hand to her hair and pulled her head towards him, bending slowly till he touched his lips to hers. His mouth was cool and dry, the pressure gentle and persuasive.
Kate stood indifferent in his hold, too exhausted to protest or pull away, tears of weariness and depression spilling down her cheeks to his lips. At the touch of her tears his hold tightened cruelly and he pulled her hard against him, his arms closing round her, his kiss deepening as he opened her lips wide to exact punishment.
She felt the heat rise in his body, and a quiver of response trembled through her, shocking her into awareness. Her mouth moved under his and she leaned towards him, a yielding lethargy in her body.
At her response his hand moved down her back, fingers caressing her spine while his lips began a slow sensual caress over hers. Kate shivered. The cold numb indifference she had experienced with Henri only minutes earlier flamed into life at Blake's touch. She urged her body closer, lifting her breasts against him and raising her hands to his head, fingers threading through the crisp thick hair.
Eyes closed she was dimly aware he had carried her over to the sofa, where he put her down and lay on top of her, his hard body embedding itself into hers. Shuddering with excitement, her mouth opened to his and she kissed him back compulsively, passionately. Her hands moved to his shoulders, fingers feeling for the smooth skin through the silk of his shirt, her body arching against the heavy weight of muscled hips and thighs.
Lying back, eyes closed, sensations rushed through her as his lips left hers to move down her throat searching for the roundness of her breasts. She felt his breath hot against her skin as he bent his lips to her nipples and buried his face in the softness of her skin.
She cried out as a flare of desire raced through her and shook her into sudden panic. Pulling her arms from his shoulders, she pushed her fists into his chest, her breath coming in short gasps. He wasn't expecting it and drew back instinctively as she dragged her legs from under him and was clear of the sofa in a flash of movement. But he was too quick for her. Before she could open the door he had her pinned against it, his hands either side of her, imprisoning her, barring her escape.
Her body trembling uncontrollably, her mouth dry with fear, Kate stared at him, mesmerised by the stormy darkness of his eyes and the mouth released from its firm control, revealing the full sensuality of the lips. She had always sensed she wouldn't be able to cope if Blake was ever roused to anger. But this was far worse than anything she could have imagined. He had released some wildness in her, some emotion she didn't understand and couldn't control. She had wanted him to go on touching her, exciting her and bringing her to some kind of surrender to his demands and her own desires.
But how was it possible for him to take her to such heights of passion, rousing needs and longings she had never dreamed she could feel? Was she going mad? This was Blake, not Henri. Her thoughts whirled incoherently as she continued to gaze at him, confusion in her shadowed eyes, the tear-drenched cheeks pale with shock.
And then he spoke, his breathing even, his voice harsh.
'So you've been making love with your Henri, have you?' he taunted, reminding her how this had started. 'Do you take me for a fool, a raw inexperienced boy who can't recognise outraged virginity?' He smiled mockingly, his head bent to her face, his breath against her mouth. 'So,' he murmured, his voice low and caressing, 'what did happen tonight? Did your Henri try it on? And this avalanche of emotion that erupts every time I touch you… does he enjoy that too?'
The crack sounded loud in the quiet room as her hand connected with his cheek. He didn't flinch or move away.
'I thought not.' His voice was now faintly amused. 'You've a long way to go, kitten.'
'You monster,' she breathed furiously, 'I hate you, Blake Templeton. I've never hated anyone the way I loathe you,' she stormed at him eyes flashing.
'I know.' He smiled, mocking her, his voice infuriatingly calm. 'I can feel it when I hold you in my arms, trembling with excitement.'
She lifted her hand again, but this time he caught it, hard fingers round her wrist. 'Not again I think,' he said coldly, and Kate watched his eyes harden, the smile leave his face. He released her and turned away.
'Perhaps there's something we should get straight,' he said calmly, sitting again at his desk. 'When I want a female body I don't have to resort to virgins. As for you,' he looked across at her, his face inscrutable, 'you're just beginning to discover your own sexuality… experimenting. And that's perfectly normal at your age, all part of growing up. I don't flatter myself it's anything personal. Any man would do who was around and reasonably experienced. But you've a long way to go before you find out what kind of man you want and what commitment you want to make.'
He picked up a small cigar and lit it slowly, inhaling deeply before he spoke again. 'Whatever you may have thought just now, I wouldn't have allowed the situation to get out of hand. I'll permit you to experiment with me, but only so far. Beyond that neither of us will go.' He glanced at her, the cigar held lightly in his fingers, his face blank and still. 'Is that clear?'
Kate stood stunned, the red colour creeping up her neck as the humiliation registered. Beneath all the arrogance the message was clear. I don't want you. You're a child in the nursery and I'll help you grow up. But don't imagine I feel anything for you. You're a stupid, emotional adolescent, stumbling along with no idea of your own feelings.
Dear God, could he be right? She put her head back, leaning heavily against the door. Well, she had wanted to know why he married her, and now she did know. As her husband he could make love to her occasionally… lightly, to ensure she didn't fall in love with anyone else. When he decided she was old enough or someone suitable came along, he would give her an annulment and graciously permit her to go. In the meantime she would be his prisoner with no life of her own, no friends, no Henri and no future of her own making, just the loneliness and emptiness of being his wife.
And for Blake the relationship was ideal… perfect. Free as before his marriage to go his own way, he could end an affair that bored him by reminding the lady that…after all, he was married.
In stunned disbelief she thought of her father. How could he have conceived anything so cold, so inhuman and cruel?
And what if she'd refused to marry Blake? Her mother said they would be penniless. But would Blake have left them to starve? And would she, herself, have minded making her own way? Other girls managed.
No, she had been weak and childish, vulnerable after her father's death, allowing her mother and Blake to persuade her. And Henri had sensed her weakness. And because of it he no longer wished to marry her.
Suddenly it seemed as though the day had been endless. She could hardly remember what she'd been like that morning, untroubled, unknowing.
'All this is not why I wanted a word with you tonight,' Blake said tonelessly. 'Tomorrow we start shooting in the studio. Please be ready.'
The heat was stifling and the lights on her hands and arms brought running rivulets of sweat into her make-up.
'Right.' Tony's voice rose above the hum of voices. 'Quiet, please. Going for a take.'
The shuffling of several dozen bodies hushed till the studio was totally silent. No one moved, and Kate felt as though everyone had stopped breathing.
'Camera.'
'Speed,' someone called. 'Slate 382 Take 3.'
'And action.' Blake's voice was low and even as he began to talk Kate through the scene. She was tense and tired. They'd been shooting for the past three days as though no life existed away from the endlessly demanding eye of the camera. She wondered how the actors and technicians could bear it week after week, the tension, the heat, the boredom between shots and the disjointed progress through the script.
'Relax your fingers… that's right. Now, slowly, bring up your right hand…' She went through it as they'd rehearsed. 'Keep the camera running,' Blake commanded. 'Now, Kate, just once more.' And finally the magic words from Blake: 'Cut and print.'
'Ease them off,' Archie called out and the lamps clicked off one by one as life returned to normal.
'Now, darling…' Blake put an arm round her shoulders and walked her out into the cool of early evening. They sat on the grass and he looked into her face, talking, concentrating, demanding her attention.
His 'darling' held nothing personal. He called everyone that, from actresses and hairdressers to the ravishing blonde continuity girl always at his side, gazing adoringly up into his face. All in all, Kate thought in dispassionate appraisal of his dark magnetic looks, he used everyone. She wondered if using people to get what he wanted on the screen had become so much a part of him that he couldn't stop doing it in his private life.
'Kate, are you listening?' he asked impatiently.
'I'm sorry.'
'Yes, well, there's not much time. And time costs money. We have to finish in the studio tonight. So do you think you could give me your attention for a few more minutes?' he drawled sarcastically.
'I'm tired,' she said evenly, 'and I'm not an actress.'
'I'm well aware of it,' he answered curtly.
'You wanted me to do this,' she commented tartly, 'you may remember I refused.'
He jumped to his feet in one lithe movement and walked away from her to stand staring out across the bay, and Kate wondered what he was thinking. When he came back a moment later she saw the lines of tiredness etched into his face. He bent down and took her hands, lifting her to her feet, holding her close and looking down into her eyes.
'Just one more,' he said quietly, 'I know how tired you are, but this is the last shot.' He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the mouth. 'Come,' he said, 'let's walk.'
Kate felt the tears prick her lids, her anger dissolving at the gentle caress. Holding hands they walked to the headland, the breeze cool against their faces, the sun muted, sinking slowly, throwing long black shadows across the rocks and into the bay below. Kate felt a sudden release, a strange uplifting happiness. For once Blake's mood and her own seemed in tune, the quiet beauty all round enveloping them both.
'I want you to destroy the bust,' Blake said softly.
'No… oh, no, I can't. Please don't ask me, Blake…'
'Let me finish, love,' he interrupted. 'Yesterday we tried it with Blanche on a dummy, and it didn't work. She doesn't know how to break up the clay. You do.' He turned to face her. 'Look at me,' he commanded, and she lifted her eyes to his face. 'Laura's been abandoned.' Blake's look was intent, no mockery now in his eyes.
'She feels the clay as though it's Jason's skin, his face, and she touches it as she's done in reality countless times when they've loved each other… achingly and with the intense emotion of her memories. Suddenly she realises it's only clay, and her love turns to hate. In agony at what she's lost, she takes her revenge—not on him because he's gone—but on the likeness of him under her fingers. She tears at the bust, her hands clawing as though she's raking his skin. Finally she picks up a chisel and destroys it… killing him.'
Blake's eyes were dark with emotion and Kate felt she was drowning in the feelings he exuded, caught up in the story he was telling. The story… Sharply she pulled herself together. It was only a story, but he was hypnotising her, simulating Laura's emotions as though they were his own. Unable to speak, she tore her eyes from his face as he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Bending his head to her mouth he kissed her savagely and deeply before he put her away from him and turned to walk swiftly back into the studio.
Bemused, her feelings in turmoil, she followed slowly. Inside she was taken over by technicians who touched up her make-up, pulled on the wig, looking at her critically and impersonally, smiling mechanically and making small talk at variance with their alert eyes and swiftly moving fingers, until at last she was ready.
Under the lights she looked at the finished portrait. To her tired eyes it began to dissolve. Instead of Earl's patrician head, she saw Blake's face in the clay.
Acutely aware of the silence round her, she leaned forward to the bust, her fingers tracing across the face, the brows, the broad forehead and down to the lips. Lovingly she traced their outline with light fingertips. Then she bent her head to the mouth, pressing her lips to his.
At the touch of the cold clay she became frantic, her fingers sinking into the clay, nails clawing as the truth penetrated. It wasn't Blake. It was a statue. Leaning back she looked at it, tears pouring down her face. Picking up a chisel she began to slash at the figure on the pedestal, cutting, destroying, her sobs choking her. Small moans escaped her as she slashed again and again, until the figure was reduced to a mound of clay and finally toppled with a resounding crash on to the floor.
There was a moment's complete and shattering silence as Kate came back to reality, blinking into the dazzling light, returning to life around her.
'Cut.' Blake's voice came softly. 'That's it.' From far away Kate heard the clapping and someone called out 'bravo', as she registered the compliment of being applauded by technicians. Blindly she turned to go, knowing suddenly what had happened to her, not wanting Blake to see… to guess. She pushed open the door and ran down to the house, leaving behind her voices questioning and concerned.
Blake caught up with her in the hall, his hands on her arms as he pulled her back against him.
'It's all right, little one, you were wonderful,' he murmured into her hair.
'Please, Blake, let me go. I'm tired,' she whispered and pulled away, suddenly terrified of his touch. She ran upstairs without looking back. In her bedroom, with the door locked, she flung herself on to the bed, digging her fingers into the silk cover, her face buried in the pillows as she tried to stifle the cries that tore at her throat, giving way to the anguish that rocked her. On and on she wept, till there was nothing left and she felt drained and empty.
Slowly she got up and walked unsteadily to the window, opening the shutters to the night air, her eyes unseeing on the black horizon.
Below everything was silent and still. The unit must have packed and gone. She only hoped Blake had gone with them. Blake.
Could it be true or had she imagined it? Could she have fallen in love with him? Or was it all part of the strange tortuous magic of his make-believe film world, a world she had shared with him so intimately in the past week?
During the day, working at his side, she had watched him, searching for the thoughts behind that smooth, suave public image. The heat and confinement with so many people in such a small space bred short tempers and brought tantrums from Blanche if Blake's attention strayed from her. But he never lost his cool or raised his voice.
At night when everyone had gone he sank into exhaustion, his face darkened into lines of fatigue, his body drained. And for an hour he sat, eyes closed, completely silent, regenerating his energy before he began the evening's work preparing for the following day's shots. And slowly Kate began to understand his need for privacy and seclusion.
She leaned forward out of the window. Immediately below on the terrace she could make out the glow of a cigar, a figure lying on a lounger. Blake.
Hurriedly she closed the shutters, stripping off her clothes and diving into bed. But her mind wouldn't let go, refusing her the sleep she craved. Memories and thoughts jostled in her head and under her closed lids. Her clock registered midnight when she heard his car. Briefly the headlights travelled across her ceiling before it roared away into the distance.
Fiona, she thought painfully, before she turned her face into the pillow and wept again, crying weakly until she finally drifted into sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kate sat on the bed, miserably conscious of her own indecision. From downstairs she could hear the party in progress, and still she wasn't sure if she could go through with it. The party had been a surprise that had awaited her at breakfast that morning.
Expecting an empty house as usual, she had been amazed to find Blake on the terrace. The table was laid festively with a cake, its eighteen candles lit, round it presents and post from London.
'Many happy returns.' Blake smiled for once without mockery. She blushed, her eyes on the crisp short-sleeved safari shirt, the soft dusting of black hairs on the tanned skin of his arms. As she stood uncertain, he pulled out a chair.
'Aren't you going to open everything?'
There was a card from Paris, some home-made chocolates from Annabelle and a glittering package from Blake. She looked at him rather shyly and he nodded encouragement.
'See if you like it. It's a birthday present and a thank you for the film. I'm grateful and appreciative,' he said roughly.
She flushed at his words and unwrapped the present. Inside the black velvet box was a three strand pearl choker necklace, the faintly pink glow of real pearls gleaming against the brilliant blue square sapphire in the centre.
'Oh, Blake, it's fabulous,' she breathed, 'just beautiful. Thank you.' She smiled up into his face.
'Glad you like it,' he commented casually and reached for his coffee. 'Tonight we're giving a party,' he announced next. 'It'll be your birthday party and the usual end of location "do" with the crew and some locals.'
'How lovely,' she sparkled.
'That's the first smile I've had out of you in weeks,' he observed drily, his eyes rather intent on her face. 'I've another present which I think you'll enjoy even more,' he went on quietly.
