Research Into Marriage

Admittedly it was a little disconcerting to realise that on Friday she was going to have to face a stranger who might ultimately end up as her husband—and Friday was only two days away, but what was there to be gained by delaying? Daily Andrea grew more demanding, more frighteningly hysterical and emotional.

The scarlet Mercedes 380SL which had been her one extravagance on the fruits of her commercial success made light of the seventy miles from her home to Sutton Parva. The car was a childish indulgence which she knew she ought to have resisted, but which one part of her was stubbornly glad she had not. For one thing, it was extremely impractical having only two full seats and a very small back one, for another it guzzled petrol. But on a sunny day like today, with the soft top down and the scents of the countryside, not to mention the exhausts of other vehicles, freely available to her, she was unable totally to banish the faint thrill of pride that owning the vehicle gave her.

Having found the village she drove out of it again and stopped the car on a quiet country road to study her instructions and the map more carefully.

She didn’t want to be seen stopping in the village, where she would no doubt be remembered and perhaps gossiped about later, especially if … Illogically her mind shied away from the potential outcome of today’s meeting, and it was while she was mentally taking herself to task for this that the impatient blare of a car-horn reached her. Frowning, she swivelled round in her seat to see a tall dark man bearing angrily down on her from the ancient estate-car, parked only yards behind her.

A face which might otherwise have been described as handsome was screwed up in an expression of furious impatience, overlong thick black hair brushing the collar of a cotton checked shirt.

‘Sorry to interrupt Madam’s daydream,’ a harsh male voice gritted scornfully, ‘but you’re blocking the road, and have been for the last five minutes.’

Guiltily Jessica was aware of having been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she had been deaf to his arrival, but even so his impatient manner irritated her.

Coolly she let her eyes drift over his hard-boned face, noting the aggressive thrust of his jaw, and the dangerous flash of fire in his eyes.

He was breathing heavily, or rather almost snorting like an enraged bull, she thought in some amusement, noting the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the strain his rage was putting on the four out of half a dozen or so buttons that enclosed it.

‘Finished the inventory?’

The scorn in his voice should have embarrassed her, especially since she was not in the habit of staring so openly at any man, stranger or no. Lean hips tapered down to long legs, and aware that it was annoying him, she deliberately let her glance linger before saying demurely, ‘Er … it seems that your zip’s gone.’

There was a moment’s stunned pause, compounded of astounded silence on his part and unholy glee on her own. She wasn’t quite sure why, but it amused her intensely to see such an arrogantly male man so utterly confounded.

He looked down, swore briefly and then turned his back on her, while she fought against the bubbles of laughter threatening to escape from her throat. By the look of him if she dared to laugh he was quite capable of murdering her.

When he turned back to her, he was still furiously angry although he was obviously trying to control it.

‘My apologies,’ he said between gritted teeth. Very nice white teeth, Jessica noticed absently. ‘But I am in something of a rush, so if you could bring yourself to shift your car.’

A rush? Why? Had he been on the point of being discovered by some angry husband? She looked at him and saw two things reflected in his eyes. The first was that he had guessed what she was thinking and the second that he was absolutely furious about it.

Almost she was tempted to dither, just to see what effect it had on him, but wisdom persuaded her otherwise, and so neatly reversing the Mercedes right to the side of the road, she made room for him to pass, which he did crashing his gears awfully and sending up a cloud of dust, which descended on the Mercedes’ immaculate paintwork in tiny gritty particles.

She spent another five minutes studying her map and then realised guiltily that she was going to be late for the appointment. Luckily she found the house on her first attempt, momentarily appalled by the uncontrolled wilderness that passed as a garden, as she drove slowly up the drive and parked outside the front door. The drive continued round the side of the house and presumably to the back, but Jessica had no intention of trusting her precious car to the gaping holes she could see in the fragmented drive that lay beyond the front door.

She climbed out of the car without bothering to look in her mirror. Her hair was slightly tangled from the drive, and she had put make-up on before setting out, but apart from that she had made no other feminine concessions to what lay ahead. After all if this man wanted to marry her it would be for reasons other than her looks. Indeed it would have to be because one thing she intended to make very clear indeed was that this would be a marriage in name only.

A noticed pinned to the front door announced that the waiting room and surgery lay to the left of the door, and that all other callers were to press the bell.

Dutifully she did as instructed, and had to wait so long for her summons to be answered that she turned her back on the front door and instead surveyed the wild tangle of rhododendrons that lined the driveway, some of them dead, allowing a glimpse at the awesomely neglected lawns that lay beyond. It would take an army of devoted gardeners armed with scythes to cut down that lot, Jessica thought drily, looking in vain for the point where the lawn ended and what she imaged must be the herbaceous border began. Lupins gone frantically to seed and almost uniformly blue were the only flower she could actually recognise and she shuddered faintly when she contrasted the overgrown wilderness in front of her with the neatly ordered gardens surrounding her flat.

‘Yes?’

The harsh voice was uncomfortably familiar and decidedly unwelcoming, the shock in the blue eyes as she turned to face him hardly flattering.

‘God, it’s you!’

Shock gave way to amusement as she recognised the man who had accosted her so angrily earlier.

‘I suppose you’d better come in then.’

He was scowling horribly at her, close to, even taller than she had first thought.

She followed him inside, grimacing faintly to herself at the decidedly unfriendly grimness in his voice as he pushed open a door and said curtly, ‘In here.’

The room was a hodge-podge of unmatching furniture, most of it worthy only of firewood or a jumble sale from what she could see. Closing her eyes, Jessica tried not to think of her own carefully chosen decor and antiques.

‘So, you’re looking for a man.’

The openly derisory tone of his voice caused her eyes to narrow faintly. This antipathy was not what she had expected from his letter.

‘Oh no,’ she responded blandly, hiding her smile as he looked warily at her. ‘I can quite easily find a man,’ she told him truthfully. ‘What I’m looking for is a husband, and moreover one who is prepared to accept the restrictions I should want to place on such a relationship.’

If she had expected to provoke an adverse reaction by her provocative statement she would have been disappointed, Jessica admitted, watching him study her with the same thoroughness with which she had herself studied him so recently, although there was considerably less amusement in his eyes than there had been in hers, only a hard resentment which she recognised and wondered at. It was almost as though he didn’t want to marry her—her or anyone else—she acknowledged, as though in some way he was being forced. She frowned and looked at him, watching his eyes narrow as they saw the comprehension in hers.

‘That’s right,’ he said flatly. ‘None of this is my idea, it’s my sister’s. She’s the one who wrote to you, who brought you down here on this mad goose-chase.’

‘I see.’ Jessica studied him thoughtfully, half shocked by the swimming sense of let-down she was feeling. Good heavens, the man was rude, hostile and as patently the wrong type of material for the sort of marriage she wanted as it was possible for anyone to be, and yet she was feeling disappointed because he was making it so plain that he did not want her, or anyone else, as a wife.

Smiling calmly at him she made for the door. ‘Then there’s really nothing more to be said, is there?’ she said as she opened it.

‘Wait a minute.’

She herself was tall, but she had to look up to meet his eyes, half surprised by the strength in those lean hands as he pushed the door closed.

As he leaned over her she could smell the faint male tang of his sweat, and unconsciously she shifted her weight so that she could move back from it. She disliked the evidence of such male sexuality, and even more she disliked the fact that she should be aware of it, backing away as nervously as a highly strung horse.

‘What the devil?’

She watched his eyebrows draw together in a frown, his mouth indenting with irritation.

‘I wasn’t going to touch you.’

He said it in a way that left her in no doubt of his distaste of such an action, and irrationally his vehemence stung. Was she so unattractive then that a stranger was repelled by her?

‘Why are you looking for a husband?’

The abruptness of his question when she thought they had nothing left to say to one another made her stammer slightly and hesitate before replying, but she had nothing to hide, no reason not to tell him the truth, so she did so, briefly explaining her concern over her sister’s mental and physical state, as well as lightly touching on David’s irritating manner towards her, but not at this stage mentioning her book.

‘So, it’s for your sister’s sake, rather than any desire to get married, then, is it?’

Scorn touched her eyes shadowing them to dark gold. ‘I would hardly marry for any other reason,’ she told him bluntly. ‘Marriage in my view is a form of self-inflicted torment, which these days is no longer necessary. In the past the only reason women have needed to marry is that they haven’t had the freedom or the financial strength to make any other decision. Now it’s being proved that a woman doesn’t need a man to support her or her children. Why should she tie herself down in a relationship that almost always loads the dice in the man’s favour?’

His eyebrows shot up, his mouth hardening even further as he demanded harshly, ‘But what about those children, don’t they have the right to have two parents to care for them?’

Refusing to let herself get annoyed, Jessica took her time in replying. ‘Where they’ve been born into a marriage, yes, I agree that those children do need the support and care of both parents, but where a woman has elected to bear and raise her child on her own, then no.’

‘You’re aware that I have two children?’

He was still frowning and she said quietly, ‘Yes.’

‘And despite all you’ve just said you’d still be prepared to marry a man who had two dependent children—children moreover who are in need of considerable emotional support and attention?’

‘I’m the child of a broken marriage myself,’ Jessica told him slowly. ‘I’m also a trained psychologist.’ At any other time the amazement in his eyes would have amused her, but now she merely added, ‘I have already written two books on the various aspects of human relationships, and at present I’m working on a third. Initially when I read your … that is your sister’s letter, it struck me that I might be able to help your children.’

‘Very noble of you.’ He was practically sneering at her and suddenly she lost her temper, and said fiercely, ‘Look, I can see I’m wasting my time even trying to talk to you. I’ve explained to you why I want to get married, and I’ll go further and tell you that any marriage I do contract will not be with a man labouring under the burden of resentment and bitterness that you’re obviously carrying. What I want is a civilised relationship with someone who accepts marriage as a business arrangement from which both parties derive certain benefits and forgo certain others.’

‘Oh, really? And what would be the benefits you would be willing to forgo? Sharing your body with a lover because you’d have a husband to share it with instead?’

His tone was so deeply derisory that it was seconds before she could speak. When she did an angry flush lay across her cheekbones, her eyes deeply gold.

‘Certainly not,’ she told him crisply. ‘I have no lover, nor would I expect to find one in my husband. Far from it.’ She broke off, conscious that she had said too much, but to her surprise instead of taunting her further he was looking at her thoughtfully.

‘I see.’

Quite what he did see, Jessica did not know.

‘So you’re talking about a platonic marriage, then, one which presumably could be set aside by mutual arrangement when it was no longer viable.’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I had in mind,’ she agreed stiffly.

‘You realise that in my case, or rather in my sons’, it could be several years before any such marriage could be dissolved.’

She did, and that was something which had worried her considerably initially.

‘Yes, but provided you were prepared to allow me to continue with my career unhindered, our lives running side by side but separately, I would be quite willing to continue with the relationship for as long as was needful.’

‘That could be for quite a long time. You’re young, only twenty-six. What happens if you fall in love?’

He was watching her very carefully now and Jessica knew that much hung on her response to this question. It was ridiculous that she should have this strange desire to convince him that she was a suitable candidate for the position as his wife, but she refused to dwell on her feelings, merely saying coolly. ‘That will never happen. You see …’ she let her eyes meet his, gold tangling with blue, ‘I do not happen to believe in “falling in love”. It’s a euphemism, used at best to describe the emotional side of a strong physical desire for someone, and at worst as a crutch for the self-deluded.’

He looked at her for a long time and then said softly, ‘Tell me, have you ever had a lover?’

Jessica didn’t hesitate, knowing that she must convince him that it was not from any virginal fear of sex that she shrank from the commitment of marriage. Quite truthfully, she told him that she had and watched the way he controlled his reaction to her response, without adding that she had found it a singularly uninspiring experience and one which she had not bothered to repeat once that frail relationship had fizzled out, unable to survive the strain of their mutual disappointment in the physical expression of their desire.

Since then she had found it quite easy to rebuff any men who approached her sexually and privately she considered herself to be possessed of a rather low sex-drive, but that was not something she was going to impart to him. For one thing it was something it was not necessary for him to know, and for another … Mentally she dwelt on the sheer masculinity of the length and breadth of him and acknowledged that unlike hers, his physical experience was probably both vast and pleasurable.

It came as something of a shock therefore to hear him saying equably, ‘Well, I hope you don’t expect to find another in me. The one thing I don’t want from marriage is sex.’

It was obvious from the way he was looking at her that she had not managed to conceal her astonishment as well as she had thought.

‘And no, I don’t have a lover,’ he added harshly, ‘and neither do I want one. To put it bluntly, the effects of my wife’s death are such that I doubt if emotionally I am capable of making love. Well,’ he challenged, in the silence that had fallen, ‘do you still feel you want to marry me?’

‘Yes, provided I can get on with the children.’ How deeply he must have loved his wife! She was surprised to discover how unacceptable she found that knowledge.

It was not the answer she had intended to give at all, and she could hardly understand why she had given it. Plainly he was equally astonished. To cover up her own inner shock she added crisply, ‘Your sexual prowess or lack of it is of no interest to me. All I want from you is …’

‘The protection of my name as your husband. Yes, yes, you’ve already told me that.’

He really was the most exasperating, rude man. Jessica fumed on the point of whirling round and walking out on him, when they both heard the sound of a car outside.

She watched him stride over to the window, his lean body moving with a totally unexpected grace.

‘My sister,’ he told Jessica flatly. ‘She’s got the boys with her. Do you want to stay and meet them?’

Tacit acceptance of the role she might be going to play in their lives? Jessica didn’t know, but suddenly she no longer wanted to leave.

‘Too late, they’re on their way in.’

The door opened to admit a tall dark woman with strained blue eyes which brightened immediately she saw Jessica, although she was careful to pretend that she had no idea who she was or what she was doing here, Jessica noted, watching her.

‘You can stop the theatricals, Justine,’ the hard flat male voice instructed. ‘She knows it was all your idea.’

‘Honestly, Lyle.’ Impatience edged up under the wryly affectionate response.

So his name was Lyle. Unusual, but she quite liked it.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.