Strange Adventure Page 8

  `But even you must see that we ought to wait—at least get to know each other before ...'

  `I fail to see why. What we need to know of each other can be learned as well after marriage as before.'

  `But isn't that how we do things in this country.' She was close to tears of desperation.

  `Another argument that fails to impress me.' His voice was ironic. 'Our marriages may be arranged, but they remain stable. The divorce rate in this country is soaring.'

  `You think you have an answer for everything, don't you?' she said, dully. 'But nothing you can say changes the fact that .I don't love you, and I never will.'

  `Never is a long time,' he said slowly. `How can you be so sure?'

  `Because I know myself,' she told him defiantly.

  'Do you, Lacey mou?' His smile mocked her. 'And if I tell you that you have emotions and feelings you are not even aware of yet, might you not be willing to concede that —ultimately—they might make a difference?'

  `No!' she flung at him. 'Besides, I might not be quite' as inexperienced as you seem to think.'

  His smile deepened. 'Any doubts I might have had on that score were satisfied when I held you in my arms,' he

  said coolly. 'It was a piquant contrast, believe me, the provocation of your dress and manner compared with the total innocence I found on your lips. If you had not been totally untouched, pethi mou, do you imagine I would have asked you to marry me?'

  She gasped. 'Are you saying that if I'd ... if I wasn't ...'

  'A virgin,' he supplied smoothly, his eyes lazily appreciating the heightened flush on her cheeks. 'Does it disturb you that I am sufficiently Greek to require chastity as a desirable attribute in my bride? When I said that knowing could best be learned after marriage I did not just mean discovering each other's tastes in food and furnishings, you know.'

  For a moment she stared at him incredulously, then she bent her head, covering her burning face with her hands.

  From what seemed a great distance, she heard his voice again. 'Consider your virginity as your dowry, Lacey mou. I ask for nothing more.'

  'Good.' She had to force the word from her tightened throat. 'Then you won't also expect my willing submission.'

  His eyebrows lifted lazily. 'Oh, that, my fierce angel, I think I can achieve for myself.'

  His fingers, warm and caressing, lifted the pale fall of her hair and touched the back of her neck in a long, slow whisper along her skin. And awoke in turn a quiver of response that curled along her spine and ignited every nerve ending in her body before, appalled at her own reaction, she could tear herself from his reach. She heard his laughter follow her up the stairs as she ran from him.

  There was a large tree overhanging the end of the drive and Lacey was grateful for its shelter from the slight chilly drizzle that was falling as she stood, waiting for Alan, her body huddled inside the warmth of her sheepskin coat. Her escape had been altogether easier than she had supposed. She had merely pleaded a headache soon after dinner.

  Beyond inquiring if she had anything to take for it, and expressing the hope that it would not develop into the 'flu that was currently sweeping through the village, Michelle had taken little interest, and Lacey was sure that her stepmother would not be sufficiently concerned to check on her

  later in the evening. That meant she was safe at least until breakfast-time.

  A slight shiver that had nothing to do with the penetrating cold of the wind ran through her body. She did not want to think about the following morning and what it would bring. More particularly she did not want to consider the night that was to precede it, but she realised reluctantly that it was something that had to be faced.

  In the week that had passed since she had fled from Troy Andreakis, she had had plenty of time to think—to plan the act that would place her beyond his reach quite inevitably, but she had not permitted herself to dwell too fully on the other consequences of her scheme.

  She wrapped her arms tightly across her breasts, trying to control the tremor of her senses. Alan was late. Oh, why didn't he come, before this introspection that threatened to possess her destroyed her courage, and sent her back to the house and the destiny she was trying so hard to elude?

  Surely he couldn't have changed his mind. He had openly expressed his doubts about what they were trying to do, but she thought she had managed to convince him that the urgency of her situation demanded drastic action. And he had said that he loved her, and-would do anything for her—even risk the wrath of both their families by this forced elopement. Perhaps he was hurt that she wanted to go away with him principally to avoid marriage with another man, rather than for himself alone. Yet he had said he would take her on any terms—unlike the Andreakis man whose uncompromising attitude was forcing her into the headlong flight. God, how she hated him! She wondered how that sensual arrogance of his would serve him, when he learned she had deliberately given the virginity he prized so highly to another man in order to escape him.

  And he would know it. That was why she and Alan had arranged to spend this particular night together, the night before Andreakis arrived to stay for the weekend, and find out her answer to his proposal of marriage, her father had warned her. He would know exactly what she thought of' him and his degrading offer—tomorrow.

  A drop of water found its way under her collar and ran down her back, and she blamed this for the sudden chill that seemed to grip her. After all, her knowledge of the basic facts of the physical relationship between men and women was adequate. It was her inexperience of the emotions that should accompany such a relationship that frightened her, she realised reluctantly, particularly after the revealing glimpse she had been afforded into the possibilities of her own feelings and desires. And this by a man she despised.

  She tried to comfort herself with the reflection that at least it would not be the terrifying Troy Andreakis who would be responsible for her initiation. The taunt he had flung at her on the stairs would never be made reality, she thought with a kind of fierce triumph.

  And she was fond of Alan—of course she was. They had been friends since childhood, and he was as familiar to her as a brother in many ways. Yet the role he was about to take in her life was the opposite of brotherly, she realised miserably. She supposed that she was experiencing bridal nerves—except that she was not going to be a bride, or at least, not at once.

  Lacey was only concerned with the immediate future, and putting herself once and for all beyond the reach of Troy Andreakis. Up to now she had resolutely ignored the questions in her own mind about what would happen when she and Alan returned to Kings Winston. She tried to still her conscience by insisting that perhaps her father would not be too angry. Alan's parents were not poor, after all, although the kind of wealth and position enjoyed by Andreakis was totally beyond their reach.

  Her confidence was bolstered too by the fact that strong hints of the Andreakis involvement in a rescue of Vernon–Carey had appeared in the financial pages of several leading newspapers in the past few days. Obviously he thought their bargain was sealed, and that her consent was simply a matter of form. It was doubtful whether he would back down from his agreement to help her father now, and risk the revelations that consequent publicity might bring. No

  man in his position would want the world to know that he had been made a fool of by a girl not yet eighteen.

  And ultimately, she supposed rather dully, her father would agree to her marriage with Alan, however little it might fit in with his plans. After all, and Lacey felt a sudden surge of heat flooding through her body at the thought, after tonight there might not just be Alan and herself to consider.

  As for Alan himself, he would never have cause to regret their relationship, she told herself resolutely. She would make him a good wife, and if there was a baby ... She bit her lip. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.

  It was incredible that only weeks ago she had been secure in the convent with little beyond her music to occupy her mind. Now she
was contemplating marriage and motherhood, without any real desire for either of them.

  She saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle and shrank further into the concealment of the hedge. But it was the Landrover with Alan at the wheel, and she picked up her small weekend case and stepped out to meet him, forcing a smile to her dry mouth.

  He stowed her case in the back of the vehicle and opened the door on the passenger side for her. He looked very sober, and unusually pale, she thought with a pang of real tenderness. Was she being altogether fair to expose him to this unwanted upheaval in his life? Alan, she knew, would have preferred a leisurely engagement with celebratory parties given by their respective families and congratulatory announcements in the papers and at the Hunt Ball to underline how lucky he considered himself to have won the girl he wanted. She was spoiling all those dreams for him.

  He climbed into the driving seat and slammed his door, not looking at her. For a moment, he sat quite still and then he said quietly, 'Lacey, are you sure you want to go through with this?'

  'Quite sure.' The firmness of the words belied the slight tremor in her voice and, shrugging, he leaned forward to release the handbrake. They were just moving forward when a car, its headlights full on, overtook them on the narrow road. Its horn blared in warning and Alan swore under his

  breath, pulling the wheel over until the Landrover scraped along the hedge.

  `That was close.' Lacey found she was trembling, as the other vehicle's tail lights disappeared into the darkness.

  `My fault,' Alan muttered. 'I—I didn't signal I was pulling out. It was a good job that chap had his wits about him.'

  `I hope it wasn't anyone we know,' Lacey said, the thought of recognition and discovery big in her mind, but Alan shook his head.

  'If it had been one of the neighbours, they would have stopped and given me a blasting,' he said.

  More in control of himself now, he re-started the Landrover and drove off. He seemed disinclined to chat as they wove their way through the dark and dripping lanes to the main road and Lacey was glad. As it was the swish of the tyres on the wet road, and the rhythmic click of the windscreen wipers, had an oddly soothing effect and she even began to feel drowsy.

  They drove through the village and turned north, heading for the major roads and the eventual motorway. The traffic began to get heavier and Lacey 'blinked sleepily at the approaching headlights and the dazzle on the road. She felt more relaxed now and the silence between Alan and herself was beginning to be embarrassing.

  `Where are we going to stay?' she asked, glad that it was dark and he could not see her instinctive blush.

  `I thought we would go up to the motel at the service centre. They'll be less likely to ask questions,' Alan said drily, and Lacey sat back again, feeling guilty at having put him in a situation where he had to use a deceit that was foreign to his nature.

  `I—I've brought you a ring,' he went on, after a pause. `It's only a signet ring, but I think it will fit your finger, and you can turn it round so that the signet part doesn't show before we go in.'

  Lacey was silent for a moment, then she said in a small voice, 'That was thoughtful of you, Alan.'

  He sighed impatiently. 'I don't suppose it will deceive anyone really. I'm bound to say or do something that will

  give us away. I'm just not used ...' He broke off abruptly and Lacey guessed he was embarrassed at not being able to assume the mantle of a man of the world for her sake. Dear Alan, she thought. It's so wrong to use him like this, but what else can I do?

  They drove in silence again after that and Lacey allowed her drowsiness to conquer her overwrought nerves and slept for a while. She awoke when a sudden swing of the vehicle threw her slightly against Alan and realised they were turning into a large car park.

  'Well, we're here,' Alan said gruffly. 'If you like to hang on, I'll go and fix everything up.'

  She nodded mutely and after a brief hesitation, he got out of the Landrover and walked away towards the large garishly lit building in front of them. It was everything Lacey most hated, all glass and concrete with neon lights flashing, yet it was somehow right. If Alan had taken her to some quiet country hotel, she would have felt even worse than she was feeling now, she realised.

  'I'm doing a sordid thing,' she thought. 'So how can I complain if the setting is sordid too?'

  He was a long time away and she was just beginning to get nervous, wondering whether the management were demanding to see their marriage certificate, when his large figure loomed out of the misty drizzle. He dropped a key attached to a large plastic tag into her lap.

  `We're on the second floor,' he said. 'The lift's right opposite the entrance so you won't have to face the reception desk. If you'd like to go on up, I'll put the Landrover away and bring up the cases.'

  The room was more pleasant than she had any right to expect, she thought, looking critically round at its oyster walls and the gay cherry-coloured "carpet and toning patterned curtains. She ayoided looking at the two single beds with their neat candlewick fitted bedspreads and went instead to investigate the small but scrupulously clean bathroom that opened off the bedroom.

  She took off her coat and hung it in the fitted wardrobe. There was an electric fire on the wall in addition to the central heating and she found a coin for the meter and

  switched it on. There was a knock on the door and she scrambled off her knees and went to open it. Alan came in carrying their cases and he gave a surprised whistle as he looked around their accommodation.

  Then he saw the beds and Lacey knew that he too was embarrassed. He gestured awkwardly.

  'Which one do you ...?'

  Flushing, she pointed at the nearest and he swung her case on to it, depositing his own on its twin.

  He went over and stood by the fire. 'How about something to eat?'

  Lacey realised that in spite of her nervousness she was quite hungry and she nodded, then looked at him in sudden alarm. 'But, Alan—the dining room. There might be someone we know down there.'

  'That's true.' He bit his lip. 'Perhaps we could eat up here. Would sandwiches and some coffee do?'

  'That would' be fine.' She moistened her lips, smiling faintly at him. 'I don't think I could manage a big meal, anyway.'

  Nor could I,' he admitted. 'I'll go down and see what I can arrange, shall I?'

  She was just about to point out the telephone on the table between the beds when she realised he was deliberately giving himself an excuse to get out of the room and give her some privacy.

  'Yes,' she smiled at him again, this time with real warmth. 'That would be wonderful. Thank you, Alan.'

  But the words sounded stilted even to her own ears and she knew she would have to do something to put their relationship on a more relaxed and even intimate footing.

  Forcing herself to sound natural, she said, 'Before you go, if you could just manage the hook at the back of my dress. It's a bit awkward to reach.'

  `Yes, of course.' He came across the room and she turned her back to him, bending her head a little so that he could reach it more easily. She could feel his hands shaking as he touched her and she wondered wryly which of them was the most nervous about the night to follow.

  But she knew at once when, the hook dealt with, his

  hands gripped her shoulders and turned her towards him. He was going to kiss her and she knew with a sudden deadly certainty that she did not want him to, and because of that certainty and the panic it aroused she made herself, respond with an ardour she had never been further from feeling, putting her arms around him and holding him close.

  'Gosh, Lacey!' He let her go at last and stepped backwards. He was smiling and there was something in that smile that suddenly transformed him from the Alan she had known for so long into a new and disconcerting stranger. 'I'd better go for that coffee. That is'—he reached for her again—'if you really want it.'

  `Yes, please.' She evaded his seeking hands, forcing a smile to her own lips. 'I really am hun
gry.'

  'So am I.' There was a jauntiness in his words she had never heard before as he went to the door. He smiled at her again. 'Don't take too long.'

  'No,' she said dry-mouthed.

  She was alone with this nightmare of her own creation. She had committed herself to spending the night with a boy whose desire she did not share, and she had to go through with it. Alan's kiss had told her that there was not the least chance he would allow her to sleep alone. She could not even expect it. She had offered herself to him, after all, and he was going to have to have to bear the main burden of the recriminations in the row that would follow their return, so he would feel entitled to the only reward she could give him.

  Perhaps everyone felt like this—the first time, she tried unavailingly to bolster her confidence, and a sob caught in her throat. Clenching her nails into the palms of her hands, she turned determinedly towards her case. Whatever she might feel, the fact remained that Alan would be back soon, and she would prefer to get ready in his absence.

  She clicked open the locks and took out her simple towelling bathrobes and matching mules, reaching for the new white broderie anglaise nightdress that should have lain underneath with her toilet bag. But it wasn't there. She shook the robe in case the nightdress had got tangled up

  in its folds, and groaned aloud. In her hurry, she must have left it behind on her bed at home.

  How could she have been such a fool? she thought desperately—and then, unbidden, came the realisation that this was the least of her worries, together with the unwelcome thought of Alan's probable reaction. Colouring furiously, she picked up her robe and slippers and went slowly to the bathroom.

  She was thankful to find the bedroom still empty when she returned. She looked in the dressing table mirror at the white, strained face of the girl who was supposed to be eagerly awaiting the return of her lover, and turned away with a shiver, vividly conscious of her body's nakedness under the soft towelling.