Authors: Margaret Pargeter
Smarting under his contemptuous remarks, Emma retorted tersely, 'What's to stop you saying you'd been the one to change your mind?'
'Lies of that kind are almost always found out,' he replied.
Desperately she suggested next. 'You must know a lot of beautiful women who'd be only too wiling to marry you—for any reason whatsoever.'
'Several,' he agreed, without batting an arrogant eyelid,
'but if I were to marry one of them Blanche would eventualy get over the fact that through her own foolishness she lost herself a milionaire. You, my dear Emma, as her cousin, will prove a constant reminder. Plain women can be draped in furs and jewels, all the outward trappings of success, just as easily as beautiful ones. And even though she might seldom see you she won't find it possible to forget.'
'Aren't you rather cutting off your nose to spite your face?' Emma argued helplessly. 'Don't forget you'll have to live with me, not Blanche. Rather than grinding her teeth in anger, she might just as easily finish-up pitying you for being tied to an unattractive wife.'
'Don't worry,' he snapped, 'it won't be for long. Just as long as it takes to realy hurt.'
And who would suffer most, Emma wondered dismaly, in the meantime? Worry gnawed holes in her stomach as she viewed with apprehension the lengths to which a man might be prepared to go to avenge his wounded pride. Of course Rick Conway loved Blanche and that must be hurting too, but she doubted if love was the most important emotion behind the force that seemed to be driving him.
'Aren't you forgetting something?' She stared up at him mutinously. 'For all you despise me, you need me to help carry out your awful plans, and I refuse!'
'No, you won't,' he said roughly. 'Not unless you're more of a fool than I take you to be. You'll be able to laugh at your ex-lover and get away from here. Not only that, you'll be able to lead a life of luxurious idleness for at least a year—
and without the embarrassment of a husband invading your bedroom, demanding his rights. The lack of sex, of course, is the one thing that might realy worry you, but I'm sure there'll be compensations. You'll find it a small price to pay for what I'm prepared to give you otherwise.'
'You're insulting!' Emma cried, every inch of her body burning beneath his acrimonious tongue.
'I can afford to be,' he assured her indifferently. 'Why not try thinking of Oliver's face when he hears you've captured an even bigger fish than he is? It might help.'
'I still won't…'
Rick cut her off coldly, his dark face aloof, as though he had had more than enough of what he clearly considered her senseless protesting. 'I have a couple of cals to make. While I'm busy, why not go and fix us some coffee and think things over? I'm sure you'll come round to seeing things my way in a very short time.'
He might have been planning a business deal. Completely incredulous, Emma turned without another word and went into the kitchen. After starting the coffee she slumped down at the table. That, of course, was exactly what he was planning, a business deal, but did he realise completely what he was doing? He was bound to be suffering from some degree of shock, and shock could make people react in the most peculiar ways. He must have loved Blanche a lot.
An odd ache began in Emma's heart when she considered that, but she wasn't sure if it was for herself or Rick? Blanche deserved to suffer—Rick was right in this respect. What he didn't seem to understand was that revenge had a funny way of rebounding on those who carried it out. She had a very uneasy feeling that, in the end, she might be the one to suffer most if she agreed to marry Rick and went to Paris with him.
If that had been all it might have been bad enough, but afterwards there would be his family to face. Blanche had never talked of Rick's family, so Emma knew nothing about them, but she did know that families could be very intuitive about each other. What was to stop Rick's relatives from finding out about his bogus marriage and making her a target for their subsequent scorn and amusement?
for their subsequent scorn and amusement?
And what, she forced herself to ask, with an odd little quiver, if the awareness she already felt for him turned into something deeper? She might hate him, but this peculiar emotion she felt seemed stronger than hate or anything else.
When he had grasped her shoulders a few minutes ago he had hurt, but she had also felt a sensation running through her, akin to the blaze of a newly lighted fire.
While some vague, shivering premonition of danger warned her to run while she still had the chance, it was fear of another kind that finaly decided Emma to do as Rick asked. When Blanche returned and discovered what had happened she would be furious, to say the least. And if Emma stayed she had no doubt the other girl would make her life intolerable. Then, if she had to leave the farm without money, a career or a home, where would she go? What would happen to her? What hope would she have of ever finding another job? Whereas, if she was to marry Rick, hadn't he more or less promised he would see her well provided for? He might divorce her, but he wouldn't see her destitute. Marriage would at least give her time to look around and to make plans for the future.
Her mind made up uneasily at last, Emma still remained uncertain about several things, one of which she considered important. She was convinced Rick mustn't know Rex Oliver had never been her lover. If Rick was to suspect she was marrying him just to escape being here when Blanche returned, then he might change his mind. And suddenly Emma's fear of Blanche was strangely greater than her fear of him. If he were to learn that she was innocent of all he accused her of, he would probably tell her to forget the whole thing. Then where would she be? Surely a marriage in name only, for one short year, would be a small price to pay for a fresh start?
Having reached a decision, Emma stuck to it resolutely, and to her surprise was able to face Rick a few minutes later with remarkable composure.
It caused her some chagrin, after all her painful soul-searching, that he appeared to have taken her capitulation for granted. He accepted her wilingness to marry him as casualy as he drank the two cups of black coffee she made him.
'Go upstairs and pack your things,' he said, his face expressionless. 'We leave at once.'
'At once?' she gasped, almost spiling her own coffee, which she suddenly didn't want. 'I—I can't leave right away, Rick. I'll have to speak to Jim first. Then there's the house.'
'I'll go and see Jim while you're packing,' he said curtly.
'Go on.'
still she hesitated. 'I'm not sure that Jim can manage on his own.' Anxiously she met Rick's eyes, 'It's crazy to think I can just walk out!'
'Jim wil—and you can,' Rick replied tightly. 'We had quite a chat, Jim and I, over your cow and calf last week.
You have very little livestock and your spring crops are all in.
It won't be beyond him to manage until your aunt returns to make other arrangements.'
'If you say so,' Emma whispered, wondering why she was giving in so weakly, when her conscience was protesting so strongly. His mention of Hilda and Blanche couldn't have anything to do with it.
Rushing upstairs as though the devil himself was after her, she was trying to find something suitable for London when she glanced up to find Rick leaning against the bedroom door, watching her. He hadn't been long, and she almost jumped with fright.
'Get out!' she exclaimed, reacting to his presence with instinctive alarm. 'We aren't married yet.'
Cooly his eyes mocked her flushed cheeks. 'Don't flatter yourself that I came for anything—or ever wil, not from you.'
Her lips trembled against his unexpected hardness. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, her face hotter than ever, 'I didn't mean… I mean, I won't expect…'
'I'm glad you understand,' he stared at her insolently. 'I thought I'd made that very clear, but perhaps I'd better refresh your memory. It is only in public that I'll ask you to endure being near me—for appearances' sake.'
'While, in private, you ignore me?' she choked, unable to understand why she should feel so bleak about it.
'Oh, I might not ignore you altogether,' he rejoined derisively. 'I don't imagine I could love you, but I do believe I might enjoy schooling you. A little tough handling might be good for you at that. It might help straighten you out while you're still young enough to be reformed. Like your cousin, you've obviously inherited a twisted character from somewhere.'
Apprehensively Emma's thoughts leaped to her father.
Rick must never find out that his business had failed when he'd tried to take a short cut by cheating somebody. At least so Hilda had said. When, with what must have been coincidence, Rick asked sharply what her father's employment had been, she muttered something about him being out of work when he'd died.
As if the paleness of her face warned him against probing further, Rick straightened abruptly from the door. 'I don't want to hear any more. Just close your case and I'll take it to the car while you dress.'
'I'm afraid I haven't much,' she indicated uncertainly to the few shabby articles of clothing the case contained, which was all she had. 'I've two photographs, though, of my parents,'
she showed him the parcel, neatly wrapped in newspaper, tied with string. 'Please,' her eyes were huge and anxious, 'I have to keep them.'
'I'm not a monster,' he assured her impatiently. 'Take what you like.' Removing them from her tightly protective clasp, he almost flung them on top of her clothes, snapping the case shut himself. 'Now get a move on,' he commanded curtly, viewing her trembling figure grimly. 'I won't tell you again. If you aren't down in five minutes I'll leave without you.'
Emma never could decide whether he had realy been giving her a chance to change her mind or not. She dressed swiftly, obeying him weakly. It made her contemptuous of herself,, all the way to London, that she hadn't been able to find the courage to defy him and stay.
Once in the city, she was amazed at how quickly Rick got things done. He was so decisive and competent she didn't think she would ever be able to keep up with him. After arranging for them to stay at a luxurious and disquiet hotel, he took her to a fashionable boutique and bought her some new clothes.
When she hissed a protest when the saleswoman's back was turned, he merely looked bored. 'You need something for dinner tonight, and to get married in. What you're wearing at the moment wouldn't flatter a tramp.'
'Oh, I hate you!' she cried.
'It's no use trying to look like a wounded gazele,' he jeered. 'I suppose you're so shabby because you couldn't bear to bring the things you wore when you went out with Oliver?'
Startled, she glanced at him, nervously moving her Head.
This, she realised too late, he took for acquiescence. But, as she sought belatedly to correct the assumption, it occurred to her that she couldn't. Not if she wanted her secret to remain safe. If Rick knew she had no other clothes he would immediately become suspicious—and, because of his astuteness, that need only be a short step to his guessing the true state of affairs between herself and Rex Oliver.
Without another murmur she chose two outfits, and when she tried them on she fancied Rick was surprised at her good taste. The small hairdressing salon which Rick found next enhanced her image a little more. Her hair, when she emerged, looked a lot better than it had done when she went in, and she purchased some moisture cream for her neglected skin. Perhaps in Paris or Barbados she might have time to consult someone who could advise her properly about it.
Working out on the farm in all weathers hadn't seemed to improve its appearance.
She passed her wedding day in a kind of vague daze, finding nothing in the brief ceremony to convince her she was realy getting married. From the time she rose in the morning to the moment when she and Rick entered the impressive foyer of the hotel on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris, she felt she couldn't be certain she wasn't dreaming. Curiously, if she was nervous it wasn't of Rick. He had been a remote stranger since they left the farm. In everything he had done, from the buying of her dresses to her engagement and wedding rings, he had kept his distance. As she stood beside him, repeating the vows which changed her status, in an incredibly few minutes, from Miss Emma Davis to Mrs Richard Conway, he had seemed more distant than ever. Her hand had trembled when he lifted it to slip the gold wedding ring on her long, slender finger. She feared her lips had trembled, too, when his mouth had touched them swiftly in a brief, formal kiss.
Apart from this she had had no great difficulty in controling her feelings. She was even beginning to believe in her own impassivity until the doors of their splendidly furnished suite closed behind them and she and Rick were alone.
Trying to pretend an interest in the beautiful room, rather than stare at her tal, handsome bridegroom, Emma started to hear him say, 'I've ordered dinner up here. I don't think we'll confront Blanche and Rex until tomorrow.'
Emma gasped, turning to him quickly, her eyes widening at the smoothness of his tones. 'You—you don't intend knocking Rex down, do you? Hurting him?'
Harshly he laughed at her obvious anxiety. 'No, my dear child, I won't go as far as that. You need have no great fear for your lover.'
Unhappily Emma lowered her head, wishing she could tell him the truth, now they were married. Of course she couldn't, since it might only make things worse for Blanche than they were already. Emma was still confused by a mixed-up desire to protect her cousin. Then weren't there her own personal reasons for marrying Rick? She was using him as a means of escape, she reminded herself, which wasn't very admirable either.
Weakly, as a means of distraction, she pounced on something else. 'I wish you wouldn't refer to me as a child, Rick.'
'Nineteen!' Too late she realised his wilingness to return to a subject which had drawn several muttered curses earlier.
'God!' his hands gripped her slender shoulders painfuly, his breath cold on her face, 'If we hadn't been in a register office, I think I would have canceled the whole thing. Nineteen to my thirty-five!' Hardening, his eyes glittered down on her.