Authors: Jessica Steele
Poor Ellie, Perry couldn't help thinking. Ellie had set her heart on the reconciliation and must now be wondering what on earth Nash was playing at. Especially since last week, regardless of his work load, he had returned each night.
'I expect he is,' she answered, knowing that, pressure of work or not, the reason Nash wasn't putting in an appearance at Greenfields was because she was there. And that, she found, was something she just couldn't live with.
Straightaway after breakfast the next morning she asked Ellie where Bert was, and at her enquiring look, had to tell her, 'I wondered if he'd give me a lift to the station.'
'Oh, Perry,' cried Ellie, 'Nash will be home tonight, I feel sure.'
Perry was sure he wouldn't be, nor any time while she was still there. 'He won't,' she said with conviction, and saw Ellie's loyalty to Nash was being put under a great strain as clearly she only just bit back some disapproving remark about her master's cavalier behaviour.
'Don't go by train,' Ellie urged, her loyalty to Nash winning the day. 'I don't think you realise how ill you've been, and a train journey, bundling your case with you, will undo all the healing work of the past fortnight.'
About to say she felt returned to full health—which was true—for her sins, Perry couldn't resist the appeal of Ellie's persuasions as she quickly pressed.
'Look, Bert is going to London tomorrow. Why not go with him?' and, warming to the idea, 'Another day won't hurt, surely, and Bert can take you right to your door with your case.'
It sounded common sense, Perry thought, weakening. Her pride could still be salved without depriving herself of another day in Nash's home.
'All right,' she conceded, and saw Ellie was all smiles again as she told her Bert would be leaving at nine sharp, and she'd let him know to expect a passenger.
Perry spent the day taking a last look round, standing for long moments mentally photographing everything in her mind. Her heart sore that any future dealing she had with Nash would be dealt with through the auspices of her solicitor. His absence this week, without his cutting remark of having no room in his life for permanent arrangements, had shown that if she was ever to try and get on top of the love she had for him, then she had to make a clean break, go ahead with the divorce and sever that tie with him.
But as she came into the house from the rear about six that evening, her conviction that she would never see Nash again disintegrated into nothing. For there he was coming in through the front door, dark business suit, briefcase in hand, car coat flung carelessly over his arm, tall, virile, and her heart pumping wildly, so wonderful to see.
Controlling her lips, the smile that wanted to break out like a burst of sunlight, Perry looked anywhere but at him as she approached the foot of the stairs, arriving there at the same time as him:
'Hello, stranger,' she remarked, so casually that she had to think herself there must be some brilliant actress buried deep inside her somewhere.
Nash's hand on her shoulder stayed her when she would have started up the stairs. 'Miss me?' he enquired, his manner easy as he looked down into her face, checking to see if she had improved, she guessed.
'About the same as you've missed me, I should imagine,' she avoided the question. 'And in answer to your next query, I'm hale and hearty and...' her voice wavered as his arm came about her shoulders as he began to climb the stairs beside her, 'and ready to go back to work,' she managed to finish, knowing her breathlessness in mounting the stairs had nothing at all to do with the physical effort involved.
They had reached the top before Nash commented, 'You are, are you?'
She nodded, unable to resist a quick look at his face. 'I—we didn't think we'd see you before I left—I'm going home tomorrow.' She saw thunder in the way his look instantly darkened, and went on hurriedly, 'B-Bert's giving me a lift. S-so I'm glad you've come home. I shouldn't like to have gone without—without thanking you for all ...'
'You can thank me at dinner,' he bit abruptly, and left her standing.
Well! Stupefied, Perry stared after him, wondering how it was possible, after five days of longing to see him, that within the space of three minutes of doing just that he had her growing angry with him. Did he have to be so rude, so taciturn?
When Perry went down to dinner, ready to ignore him if he treated her so abruptly again, she discovered Nash was in a much more agreeable mood. 'Sherry?' he offered, his eyes on her in the brown velvet dress he had thought to pack for her. And handing her the small glass she had requested, 'May I be permitted to say how beautiful you are?'
Smitten by shyness suddenly, she couldn't handle the unexpected compliment. 'It's the dress that does it,' she said, and saw with pleasure going out of all proportion the way he smiled and shook his head as if to say her dress had nothing to do with it. He then told her how much he liked her dress, which again pleased her, making her glad he didn't think, as Trevor had done, that it made her appear remote. Then she heard him ask:
'But it isn't one you made yourself, is it?'
'I did,actually,' she said, and realised then that if she grew any more pleased at his remarks, he was very shortly going to guess how completely ready to melt she was from any kind word he tossed her way.
'How's business?' she enquired, swiftly turning the subject to matters that stood no chance of a comeback remark that would have her ready to let him walk all over her.
The corners of his mouth turned endearingly upwards. 'I should worry,' he said, his smile becoming a grin. 'With the wife I have the Corporation could fold tomorrow and I wouldn't have to wonder where my next shirt was coming from.'
The glow he caused in her by referring to her as his wife stayed with Perry as they went into the dining room. And with Nash being at his most charming, as second course followed first course, she became enchanted.
But it was when Ellie came in to serve the last course, looking moist-eyed at her as she observed how perfectly they were getting on, the harmonious atmosphere, that she shook Perry into realising the reconciliation Ellie thought Nash wanted, must from where she was standing look a certainty. It was then that Perry fell crashing back to earth.
'I'm pleased to see you're looking much better than you did a week ago,' Nash commented as Ellie closed the door on her way out.
'I'm completely recovered,' Perry answered, the glow in her gone leaving her feeling flat. She forced a bright smile. 'That's why after tomorrow you won't have to put up with me anymore. Thank you so much, Nash ...' she began to trot out.
'What's the sudden hurry to get back to London?'
His abrupt question, his chopping her off before she could finish, charm gone, had her knowing he didn't want her thanks, and. didn't like either that she was now well enough to make her own decisions.
'It's where I live,' she said, not wanting to argue with him, not now, not on her last night in his home. 'It's where I work.'
'You're not fit to go back to work,' he said shortly, astounding her, for only seconds ago he had been commenting on how well she was looking.
'Yes, I am,' she argued, for all an argument was the last thing she wanted.
'Is it because of Coleman you want to go back?' he asked harshly.
Trevor! What had he got to do with anything? Perry's lips firmed that Nash could think she still hankered after Trevor after what he had done.
'It's none of your business,', she snapped rudely, and saw straightaway as his eyes glinted that he didn't care a whole heap for her speaking to him that way.
'I'm making it my business,' he told her grimly. 'He isn't the man for you, so you can put all ideas of marrying him out of your head. I'm not divorcing you, so you can ...'
'You're
not divorcing
me!'
Suddenly there was spirit firing up in her. Spirit given a boost by the pain of knowing Nash didn't want her himself—didn't want her, yet thought he had an entitlement to discard or approve any man who did. The pain in her knew no rationalisation as, on her feet, her voice rising—either that or break down and weep at the rejection she felt—she yelled:
' You
don't hold the option!' And in her hurt not above throwing in a red herring, 'With Trevor and his mother knowing about my marriage I have no need to worry about any publicity ensuing from our divorce!'
She broke off as his eyes glittered dangerously, then backed to the door as he too stood. She knew tears weren't very far away and, afraid he might hold her there, yanked open the door and, in defiance before tears, delivered her parting salvo.
'I'm not waiting for you to divorce me, Nash Devereux. I shall see my solicitor about an annulment on Monday!'
She had been weeping on and off for a full five minutes when the sound of male footsteps halting outside her bedroom door had the tears promptly ceasing.
Hastily she brushed the dampness from her eyes, then stared fascinated, her heart thumping crazily, as the door handle turned. She watched, her eyes going wide, as Nash stepped into her room.
'What...' was all she managed to choke, her thoughts chaotic at the purposeful way he closed the door behind him.
'You've been crying,' were the first words he spoke. And as he came nearer Perry had to fight as hard as she could against the vulnerability she was feeling.
'I can cry if I w-want to.'
'Why should you want to?' There was a tenderness in his tone, and when she couldn't or wouldn't answer, he leaned forward and placed a kiss that was a caress on both her eyes.
'Nash, I ...' she tried, for already her bones were traitorously ready to melt. She tried with all she had left to get herself together, and asked, hoping for a coldness that just wasn't there, 'What do you want, Nash?'
'I don't want you to cry anymore,' he said softly, his hands coming to her shoulders, imperceptibly drawing her closer. Lightly his mouth came to whisper a kiss across hers, firing in her that same old instant response. 'Your eyes are too beautiful to know the sadness of tears,' he said gently, and there was there in his voice a sensitivity to her distress that when he went to kiss her lightly again, Perry found herself meeting him halfway.
'Nash.' She whispered his name without knowing why, but felt no panic as lightly once more he kissed her.
Reason told her she had no need to panic. Nash had always been ruled by his head. He kissed her again, and wanting, needing his kisses, she couldn't help but listen to the voice that urged why shouldn't she have them. He wouldn't let it go too far, she could be certain of that. Hadn't she had proof of that in the past?
'My beautiful Perry,' he breathed, his face not smiling as his eyes devoured her face, his glance going from her mouth to her eyes and to her lips again.
Arid it was then she gave herself up to the heady delight of his kisses, knowing that at whatever point he chose to break off his lovemaking she would have this rapturous feeling he aroused to remember—for break off he would.
In the circle of his arms she stood returning his kisses without reservation, hungry to be held by him, to be kissed, to kiss back. His hands caressed her, but as she knew he wouldn't, he made no move to take her nearer to the bed. Minutes of giving and taking slipped by in his arms as he awakened a need in her for more, yet more.
But colour flooded her face when his hands came to her zip and her dress fell to the floor. Her eyes met his, and she knew he had observed her flushed cheeks, when with his mouth curving softly, he asked:
'Would you feel better if I put out the light?'
Perry nodded, feeling cold in the moments he was away, and then hot all over, when he had her in his arms once more, to find he had shed his jacket.
His hands pressed her to him, her thin covering no covering at all with their bodies so close. 'Oh, Nash,' she cried, when he undid her bra and disposed of it, his hands coming to cup her breasts, his lips on the hardened crowns making her clutch on to him.
And it was then, when she heard Nash groan too, that, as she was half delirious from his lovemaking, the thought fluttered in that perhaps he did not intend leaving.
She did not want him to leave as once more he pressed her to him, her love-swollen breasts meeting his warm hair-roughened chest, having no idea when he had removed his shirt; it was then something inside her wanted to hold back.
'Nash!' she gasped, only to realise he was able to cope with this last-minute backing away.
'It's all right, my love,' he gentled her, that "my love" enough to have her all his again. 'It's natural for you to be scared the first time—just trust me.'
She did trust him. 'Oh, Nash, Nash!' she cried, comprehending only that he understood, no thought given that it didn't sound as though his hard-headed reason was going to get a hearing.
When he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, taking his arms from her briefly, Perry knew only a fevered longing to have his arms about her again.
'My love,' he breathed, then he was lying with her, was naked, and so understanding of her shyness, she was able to deny him nothing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PERRY slept late, then stirred in her sleep, remembrance filtering through as she surfaced and was suddenly wide awake. With a half-smile on her lips she turned tentatively—and her smile died. Nash wasn't there.
For several unnumbered minutes she was happy. Even without Nash beside her. her heart raced excitedly as she recalled that beautiful togetherness they had shared, the way he had overcome her shyness, succeeded so gently, so unhurriedly in drawing from her a passion new to her.
They were sublime minutes for her, recapturing how without words she had given over her love. And then the gentle smile of remembrance began to fade, edged out by insecure wonderings of—had it been so marvellous for Nash too?
Insecurity grew, nurtured by memory of the beautiful, sophisticated women she had seen photographed with him. Women who knew what it was all about. And with that insecurity crept in the question—why? '
Why had Nash lost his head last night? Why, when previously that cold clinical logic of his had stopped him? Last night she had looked very little different from that first time at her flat. She had even been wearing the same dress. Insecurity, doubt, mingled with her own logic, cold too in the light of day. And the unwanted thought could not be avoided—had he lost his head at all?
A sickness invaded her, and suddenly she was out of bed, bathing, dressing, all in record time, as she tried to evade her thoughts. But unwanted thoughts followed every action.
There was no way of evading them. No way she could avoid remembering the way she had rushed from the dining room in fear Nash would see her in tears. But her thinking had been clear when she had told him she was going to see about an annulment on Monday.
Feeling winded, just as though she had received a body blow as the nightmare thought struck forcibly home, Perry clutched at her stomach. Had he deliberately made love to her in order to take away any chance of her getting that annulment?
Nash was a man who liked to make the decisions, she knew that. And she saw then, too late, that she had angered him by saying she was going to see about an annulment on Monday.
A dry choking, sound left her as she realised that what last night had been all about was that Nash objected to being dictated to by a woman. It had been the simplest thing in the world to take from her the chance of getting the marriage annulment she had so defiantly let him know she considered her right!
Not wanting to believe he had cold-bloodedly, deliberately set about making love to her, she sank down on the bed, a cynicism entering her heart as she wondered what made her think she was different from any of the dozens of women he must have known.
Dispiritedly, but now coldly angry, she eventually left her room ready with a few short sharp words should Nash wander out of his study.
'Morning, Perry.'
She turned to see Ellie coming from the kitchen area. 'Morning, Ellie,' from somewhere near the bottom of her boots she drummed up a smile.
'Lovely day again,' Ellie said cheerfully, 'Ready for breakfast?'
The thought of breakfast made Perry's stomach heave. 'Just coffee,' she answered, And because the question wouldn't stay down, 'Nash has had his breakfast, I suppose?'
'Ate heartily,' Ellie said with her usual smile. 'You've just missed him.'
'He's—er—-gone out?'
Perry didn't know how she kept her face from crumpling, her last hope that she had got it all wrong dying, as Ellie confirmed he had. It just showed how much he cared.
'Gone clay pigeon shooting, I expect. He does occasionally when he's home Saturdays. He ...'
But Perry had heard enough. 'Bert hasn't gone yet, has he?' she asked, taking a speedy look at her watch to see it said a quarter past nine.
Ellie's look was suspicious as she told her, 'He's later than he meant to be—he's just getting the car out...' Perry headed for the stairs in a hurry, Ellie's, 'What...' following her.
'Tell him to hang on for me,' she called back and, not waiting to hear what Ellie had to say in answer to that, charged up to her room, collected the case she had packed yesterday, ignoring the brown velvet dress Nash had draped over a chair—she would never wear it again, Ellie could throw it away for all she cared—and was running downstairs terrified in case Ellie had not asked Bert to wait.
She found both Bert and Ellie in the rear courtyard, Ellie looking so worried and disturbed that Perry put her arms round the housekeeper's wiry frame and hugged her. 'Goodbye, Ellie,' she said, and didn't dare look at her as she clambered into the car in case she relayed to Nash she had looked on the verge of tears.
'What shall I tell Nash?' Ellie's bewildered-sounding voice reached her.
'He won't expect me to be here when he gets back,' she told her, and was hard pressed not to break down at the truth of that as Bert, already later than he had meant to be, set the A40 in motion.
How could she have stayed, she wondered, knowing hurt as it did, she was taking the only way open to her? Nash hadn't asked her to stay when she had told him she was leaving; he would expect her to be gone when he came back from his clay pigeon shooting. A fine fool she would have made of herself had she stayed! She could imagine the surprise on his face, the 'I thought you were going with Bert this morning' look. What would she have felt like then —the dejection she felt now added to? Her pride would have never again surfaced.
'You never did get round to explaining the intricacies of model railways, Bert,' she said, turning to him, needing to get away and quickly from her thoughts, and for most of the drive had Bert eulogising on his favourite subject.
They were nearly in London when one of the tyres punctured, a circumstance he hadn't allowed time for as he got the spare from the boot. Aware that he had been over fifteen minutes later setting off than he had intended and was anxious not to be late in picking up his friend, Perry waited only until they were on their way again to tell him:
'No need to take me to my door, Bert, it's too far out of your way.'
And when he wouldn't hear of it she insisted that she could easily get a taxi. But she still had to work on him for another ten minutes before he finally gave in.
Once she had waved goodbye, wishing Bert a good time at his exhibition, she was in no hurry to get to her flat. Her suitcase was a nuisance, of course, but what was there to hurry home for? She had today and tomorrow to get through before she went to work on Monday—two days of probably sitting in her flat with only herself and thoughts she didn't want for company.
She walked around until she found a cafe, spending pensive moments over coffee; then another coffee. Then a feeling of being stifled by her thoughts had her going outside, but still not wanting to go home. It was a real effort of will not to weep right there on the pavement as the thought' struck that she didn't want to return to her flat because it didn't seem like home any more. Greenfields, where Nash was, was home.
In between resting her case she walked on, trying to come to terms with her empty future. She knew then that she was solving nothing by not wanting to return to her flat. She had some material there, she remembered, trying to turn her thoughts into other channels, so she could spend the weekend making something up. Never less enthusiastic, she had the luck at that moment to see a cruising taxi with its flag up.
Sitting unhappily in the back of the cab, she composed herself to greet Mrs Foster. She would be pleased to see her, Perry knew that. And she'd have to look pleased to be back—but she wasn't. Yet she hadn't any choice.
'Here we are, love.'
Settling with the driver, Perry turned to hoist up her case from where he had set it down on the pavement. Then she blinked, and for one crazy moment thought she had gone off her head. For that was Nash's car parked outside Mrs Foster's, she was sure of it!
But it couldn't be—he was off clay pigeon shooting somewhere! Don't be ridiculous, she steadied her palpitating heart. She didn't know his car number and there must be half a dozen cars that looked like his.
She inserted her key in the front door, her heart resuming its dull beat. Was this how it was going to be? she wondered, turning to close the door. Everywhere she went something to remind her of him? She sighed. Better tap on Mrs Foster's door before she went up.
A sound of movement behind her told her a tap on Mrs Foster's door wasn't necessary. She turned, a smile ready for her landlady, then her smile froze, her heart turned giddy again. It wasn't Mrs Foster who stood there tall and straight. It was Nash!!
'You're clay pigeon shooting,' she gasped idiotically. Then all that lay between them scattered all thought as a furious blush stained every visible part of her, memories crowding in, of his kisses tender on her skin, of not so long ago lying naked in his arms.
She saw the smile that came to him as he observed her scarlet colour, but she found relief from embarrassment in hearing Mrs Foster limping to her door, and was glad of somewhere else to look.
'Hello, Perry love,' Mrs Foster greeted her from her doorway. 'Oh, you do look better. You were such a poorly-looking girl when Mr Devereux took you away.
Perry went over to her, hoping her colour was more normal as she greeted her landlady, ignoring the clamour in her heart region, the one thought only going round in her brain—What in heaven's name was Nash doing here?
Then she heard him too speaking to her landlady, charm and sincerity there as he thanked her for the coffee she must have given him, adding to her disbelieving ears:
'We'll call in and see you before we go.'
We
go! Wide-eyed, she stared at him, but without looking at her he had his hand beneath her elbow and was urging her towards the stairs.
Stubbornly she refused to budge. 'What's ...' going on, she would have said had she the chance.
'Come on, darling,' he said smoothly, 'we don't want to keep Mrs Foster standing about, do we?'
Darling! Utterly confused, Perry turned to Mrs Foster for guidance. 'I'll see you when you come down,' Mrs Foster told her, and mysteriously, 'I'm going to miss you, Perry.' Then she started to retreat inside her own apartments, leaving Perry open-mouthed. And whether she liked it or not she found she was being propelled up the stairs, her feet moving despite her determination not to budge an inch.
When they reached her flat the door being ajar told her Nash had borrowed the spare key from her landlady. That in itself was sufficient cheek. But when reluctantly she went into her sitting room, she was staggered to see her spare suitcase and numerous cardboard boxes had been packed with all her personal possessions.
'What...' she gasped, turning to a steady-eyed Nash, anger flaring that it looked as though she was being evicted, and it just had to have something to do with him. 'What the hell is going on?'
It had been expecting too much to expect the Nash Devereux she knew to ever look ashamed. He didn't now, as casually, or so it seemed to her, he leaned up against the doorway and remarked:
'I thought it might save time if I started your packing for you.'
'Packing!'
'I'd like to get back to Greenfields in time for lunch if we can.' And as cool as you like, 'Ellie said she would prepare something extra special for you.'
'Look here, Nash Devereux,' Perry exploded, beginning to see a chink of light, 'I'm going nowhere with you, Greenfields or—or anywhere else!' God, didn't he know how he was hurting her? One night in bed with her and he fancied keeping it up for a week or two, not much longer, she would bet on it. Anger spurted again. 'And...and I think you're the vilest creature imaginable that you know so little of me you think I would be agreeable to such an arrangement!'
That shook him, she thought with satisfaction. She could see it had in the way he straightened from the door, that casual look leaving him. She even thought he had lost a little of his colour.
'You mean you're—not agreeable? His voice had a hoarse ring to it, but she wasn't fooled. He might desire her now—for a short while—she reminded herself, feeling a weakness of wanting to be in his arms, but not for very long.
'No, I am not' she said shortly, ignoring an inner voice that tried to tell her she was mad to think of forgoing a
few weeks of love with him. 'And—I think it's despicable of you to suggest such a thing!' Anger started to fade as another moment of wanting to give in took her, and she knew then she had to fight him all the way, oppose him, for if she didn't she might find herself giving in. Weakness was controlled, anger she needed there again to help her. 'You've got the wrong girl, Nash,' she said heatedly. 'Last—last night I let—let you get to me. But,' her voice that had gone shaky, strengthened, 'But you know better than most that I've never gone in for—temporary arrangements.' She saw his brow clear, and wanted to hit him as his mouth began to curve as the words, 'I don't intend starting now,' left her.
'Who told you it would be a temporary arrangement?' he had the nerve to ask.
Open-mouthed, in no way believing he had suddenly decided to change his life style, Perry reminded him. 'You did. That afternoon—evening, after Elvira Newman phoned. You said then ...'
She didn't need to remind him, he had instant recall.
'I've said a lot of things,' he told her, coming away from the door, his approach having her backing away, afraid of that magic in his touch. 'Too many damn things, in my fight against the power of you.'
'Power of me?'
She stood rooted as he neared her, felt that thrilling tingle shoot through her when he took hold of her by her upper arms. 'You've known from that first evening, the evening we came here after dining out, that I desired you.'
Yes, she knew that. It had been a mutual desiring, she hadn't been able to stop herself anyway. 'But not enough to have you ignoring that cold logic you have in your brain that told you you would mess up the divorce if you heeded that desire,' she said, pulling out of his grip and backing away again while she still could.
This time Nash didn't follow her, but stood watching her as he admitted the truth of what she was saying. 'I can't deny it,' he agreed. 'Marriage was something I'd avoided like the plague—a proper marriage, that is—so I got out.'