The Veranchetti Marriage Read online

  “Old-fashioned word, that, and not very practical. You’ve got a kid to think of. Pretty soon he’s going to be asking more questions and learning to enjoy his luxury stays with your ex more than he likes coming home.”

  “Leave it,” she begged, looking away. “I’m sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  At that point, Willard’s hired Mercedes drew up outside. Steven took off, leaving Kerry to deal with him. A small, bespectacled man, he strolled silently through the showroom as usual before making his selections and negotiating prices with her. He never stayed long. He was taciturn for an antiques dealer. He had been coming to them for more than two years, and she didn’t believe they had ever exchanged a word of anything that could be deemed personal conversation. It was one of the reasons Steven disliked him.

  “There’s just something phoney about the guy,” he had said once. “He never talks. It’s just in, out and off for another month.”

  “He’s very businesslike,” she had argued. “He doesn’t need to make it a social call.”

  Today she was grateful for the dealer’s undemanding brevity. As soon as he had gone she went out to the rear courtyard and got into Steven’s vintage MG. During the drive to her parents’ home, she looked back ruefully over the past four years.

  She had come home to the vicarage from Florence. She had been shellshocked. Until Alex had walked out of that hospital she had still nurtured desperate hopes of a last-ditch reconciliation. Her parents had been appalled by the news that she was getting a divorce for, over the six months of their separation in Florence, Kerry had continued to write home as if there was nothing wrong. When she did arrive back there had been enough trouble without a confession of infidelity. She had not had the courage to tell them in the state she was in then.

  And four months later her father had had a heart attack. Nobody had blamed her, but the shock of her divorce had certainly played its part. It was inconceivable that she now dredge up the murky truth. It was too late and too dangerous. It should have been done four years ago. But would her parents ever have spoken to her again?

  Had they turned on her too, she really couldn’t have coped at all. As it was, she had been under severe strain. For everybody’s sake she had decided to move out and embrace independence. An enormous amount of money had accumulated in her bank account. Alex’s money, paid monthly. She could have turned herself into a very merry divorcee. Instead she had withdrawn a comparatively small part of it and bought into a partnership with Steven. She had withdrawn the rest and returned it to Alex’s lawyers with the information that she required no further payments. Several letters had followed, trying to persuade her into accepting the allowance. She had stood firm. Living as Alex’s dependent was something she could not do, as the guilty partner. Thinking back, she realised that her obstinacy had probably antagonised Alex more, but that had not been her motivation.

  The cottage was rented and furnished mostly from the contents of the vicarage attic. Despite her hard work and her appeals to Steven to be more professional, her income had never reached the level she had expected. Steven had needed a partner to stay solvent. He had happily handed over the reins of decision-making to her within the first months. Unfortunately the leopard had not changed his own spots. He still took what money he liked from the takings and lived rent-free in the flat above the shop. In short, Steven quietly went his own way much more comfortably than Kerry ever did.

  Her mother was baking when she arrived. The spacious kitchen was full of the aromatic scent of fresh bread. Ellen Taylor had her daughter’s build, but her hair was pure white. As Kerry came through the back door, she turned to study her anxiously. “How are you?”

  “I’ve a slight headache still…that’s all.” Aware that she sounded stilted, Kerry went on to say, “Where’s Nicky?”

  “Out in the greenhouse with your father. Did Alex visit you last night?” Ellen prompted in a tone of eager expectancy.

  Kerry nodded and turned away to remove her coat. Here, in this quiet house, her morning confrontation with Alex seemed unreal. She suppressed a shiver. She couldn’t tell them the truth. It might kill her father. His rigid moral principles would come into direct opposition with his love for his youngest child. But she had no hope that Alex would withdraw his threat.

  Alex was fighting for a worthwhile prize. Possession of his son. And Alex was very bitter. Nicky was more important to him than his ex-father-in-law’s health. In any case, he blamed Kerry for the whole situation. The original sin had not been his but hers. As far as Alex was concerned, she had got herself into this.

  “He came here straight from the hospital. I’ve never seen Alex so shaken,” her mother confided. “Of course, you could both have been killed and he realised that. He loves Nicky very much, Kerry.”

  Her face set. “I accept that.”

  Her mother cleared her throat awkwardly. “Nor would I say that he was indifferent to you. Vickie said we were being silly, but sometimes a crisis can bring people together again.”

  A day earlier, Kerry would have laughed like a hyena at that suggestion. Alex could have come here and wept crocodile tears had she died. She had the sensation that Alex would not feel that she had paid her dues until she slipped this mortal coil. Her eyelids gritted with moisture. The man she had once loved would not have employed blackmail tactics. What was she holding off on the glad tidings for? The minute Alex had laid down his demands she had tasted defeat. Alex could yank her back. Alex could do just about anything he wanted to do, because he had her trapped.

  “And,” Ellen hesitated, “he hasn’t remarried. He told your father that he didn’t believe in divorce…”

  He believed in the institution fast enough when he had an adulterous wife, she reflected bitterly. But the grim and pointless retort remained unspoken.

  “He wants me back.” An edged laugh that was no laugh at all punctuated her abrupt announcement. “He wants Nicky, and he can’t have one of us without the other,” she gibed helplessly.

  A pulsating silence had fallen. She glanced up warily. Her mother had stopped listening after the first crucial statement. She looked peculiar, her mouth wide, both brows raised in amazement. “He wants you back?” she echoed, recovering fast, and she was off in an Olympic sprint to the back door to call, “John!” down the garden so that her father could share in this wonderful news.

  Evidently Ellen could not even imagine Kerry turning any such offer down. In common with Alex, her parents believed that Nicky came first. They had implied more than once that Kerry had walked out on Alex in na;auive and selfish haste.

  “You did say yes…” Ellen had her handkerchief out now and she was fiddling with it nervously, the unmentionable possibility of refusal belatedly occurring to her.

  “Could you picture Alex allowing me to say no?” Kerry quipped tautly, weighted down by double duplicity.

  A beatific smile spread her mother’s face and the tears came. “It’ll have to be a register office…” she was lamenting as her husband came through the door.

  The die was cast from that moment. John Taylor was not a very worldly man. He gazed at his younger daughter much as if the prodigal had finally made it back to the fold, and then settled down in an armchair by the Aga with an air of dazed and quiet pleasure.

  “You were too young at eighteen,” he sighed. “I warned Alex at the time, but he wouldn’t listen. It will be different this time.”

  On the brink of hysteria, Kerry stood there, undeni[chably the spectre at a long-awaited feast, and alone in the trap of fevered and negative emotions. All she could feel was a mixture of fear and fury and disbelief. If somebody had told her yesterday that she would be marrying Alex again, she would have had them committed to protective care. But it really was happening, and all because of a stupid accident. If he hadn’t seen her, if he hadn’t spoken to her parents, if he hadn’t endured the shocked realisation that Nicky might have died yesterday…none of this would be happening.

  As soon
as she could, she escaped. It was very difficult. They wanted her to stay. They wanted details. They seemed to be labouring under the impression that Alex had been so shattered by the sight of her in a hospital bed that he had flung his famed cool to the four winds and demanded that she marry him again because he could not live without her.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” Ellen declared as she saw her back out to Steven’s car. “Nicky needs the two of you. Everything else will come all right. You’ll see.”

  She drove off with a sickly smile. The tangled web of deceit seemed only to be getting thicker. She had explained about the party and, as Alex had forecast, they were more than happy to oblige. She hadn’t got to take Nicky home at all.

  “For goodness’ sake, you’ll have so much to do,” her mother had protested. “Packing, sorting out business matters with Steven, getting ready for the party…you really ought to go to the hairdresser…”

  Packing. The word had struck horror into her bones. What was she supposed to do about Steven? He couldn’t afford to buy her out. Furthermore, who could tell what might lie ahead? But her logic advised her that, if she left Alex in the future, he would ensure that she did not take Nicky. In other words, marrying Alex a second time would be a one-way ticket, unless he changed his mind.

  Steven laughed like a drain when she told him, and then said, “Fess up, you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

  She sighed, “No, I’m not.”

  “Come on, Kerry. Look at yourself. You don’t look like an ex about to happily remarry her ex-husband. You loathe him!” he argued in exasperation. “What the heck is going on?”

  She could not answer his question. What would be the point in dredging it all up? It wouldn’t change anything. She assured him that she would remain a silent partner.

  He shook his blond head. “You can’t leave me in the lurch. I can’t manage without you. Who’s going to run the showroom?”

  “You’ll have to bring someone in. On the other hand,” she suggested gently, “Barbara once intimated an interest in the business if she could find a niche…”

  “A niche?” he echoed in dismay, flushing, so that she knew that Barbara had dropped the same hints to him.

  “Why not here, when I’m gone? She’s a great organiser. I’m sure she could learn the ropes in no time. I did,” Kerry pointed out, ignoring his total absence of enthusiasm.

  “We get on better as we are,” he muttered, looking hunted. “It’s more stimulating this way.”

  When she finally reached home, she was exhausted. Steven had moaned and groaned until he had outrun her patience. He would have to learn to depend on himself again. Indeed, Kerry’s removal from the scene might work to the long-suffering Barbara’s advantage. Steven was likely to be very lonely.

  She made a sandwich which she nibbled at without great appetite. She tried to phone her sister, but Vickie was out. She kept on trying to picture herself walking cold into Veranchetti Industries tomorrow. Her skin came up goose-flesh at the prospect, and her pride revolted at the humiliation underwritten in surrender.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KERRY wished the receptionist would stop staring avidly at her. From the instant she had entered the building she had been aware of the ripple of curious eyes following in her wake. She wondered how many recognised her as Alex’s ex-wife. The presence of a security man by her side had raised comment, by granting her a highly misleading air of importance.

  “Mrs Veranchetti?” the top-floor receptionist had carolled in surprise. She had looked Kerry up and down, pricing her winter coat and boots, her attention lingering on the luxuriant fall of her hair. She could undoubtedly have accurately enumerated Kerry’s freckles by the time Alex got round to seeing her.

  His secretary came to show her the way. Alex’s office was as she remembered. It was all sunlight and modernity, at glaring odds with the untamed darkness of its inhabitant. He rose from behind his desk, flashing her a brilliant smile. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting,” he murmured, presumably for his departing secretary’s benefit.

  Kerry studied him nervously, her colour high. “Now what?”

  He held out an assured brown hand. “Come here…” he urged softly.

  She stayed where she was, glued to the carpet. A treacherous, relentless awareness of him was quivering through her in response to the burning brush of his lion-gold eyes. Desire and satisfaction mingled there in heady combination. Trembling, she tilted her chin. “You can force me to come here and you can force me to marry you, but that’s all you can force.”

  “Is it?” Alex strolled forward fluidly. Long fingers began smoothly to unbutton her coat, then he pushed it down slowly from her shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor.

  “Stop it…for God’s sake, stop it!” she pleaded, for the tension in the air sizzled over her raw nerves.

  “Don’t challenge me, then.” His hand touched her hair and brushed against her cheek. “And stop behaving as if you are afraid of me. I don’t like it. I’ve never hurt you.”

  Sometimes a physical blow could almost be kinder. She nearly told him that. As he had stripped that coat from her she had had the ridiculous suspicion that he planned to continue with the dress underneath. Now he drew her inexorably closer into the shelter and heat of his tall, powerful body.

  “Alex…don’t,” she implored.

  Her slight figure was alternately rigid and shrinking from the torment of his proximity. Something raw and blazing illuminated his narrowed gaze. His dark head bent and he brought his mouth down fiercely upon hers, forcing her soft lips to part for the thrusting invasion of his tongue. It was no gentle or patient reintroduction to his lovemaking. It was shockingly, shatteringly sexual.

  His hand settled at the base of her spine, pressing her against his hard, muscled thighs. Heat coursed through her in a debilitating wave. The potency of his masculine arousal was no less overwhelming than the angry hunger of his kiss. A muffled whimper escaped low in her throat. An unbearable, completely unexpected tide of need was wreaking havoc with her sensation starved body. Excitement tore through her in a stormy passage, her mouth opening instinctively for his, her head falling back as his fingers wound into the tangle of her hair. His other hand was wandering at will over her tautening curves, cupping her breast, roaming over the firm swell of her hips in confident reacquaintance. The onslaught seduced her utterly. It had been too long since she had known Alex’s touch—indeed, any man’s touch. All the heat of desire which had once made her writhe against him in helpless need was controlling her now.

  He suddenly loosed her swollen mouth and lifted his dark head. “I could take you now…here, if I wanted.” His fingers slid in derisive retreat from her. “You have the soul of a wanton, cara. It betrays you when you least desire it to. Even with me, whom you profess to hate, you are eager.”

  Kerry fell back from him, shaking like a leaf. Her nipples were tight, aching buds beneath her clothes. An ache was spreading within her, an ache she wretchedly acknowledged as a bodily cry for fulfilment. She had never hated herself as she did at that moment for surrendering to Alex when his sole intent had been to demonstrate his contempt. But she’d been woefully unprepared to discover that Alex’s lovemaking still drove her crazy, regardless of all common sense. Once Alex had treated her as if she was a precious, fragile creature who might break if roughly handled. What she had lost, what she had destroyed returned to haunt her.

  “I have made arrangements.” Thickly lashed golden eyes rested inscrutably on her hot cheeks and evasive gaze. “We will be married within the week. When you appear in my company tonight we will be announcing to the curious that we are together again. I ordered a selection of clothes to be delivered to the apartment. You will wear the blue evening gown tonight. I won’t be back for dinner, so you’ll be dining alone.”

  She should have guessed that he would take care of the clothing problem. Her wardrobe no longer contained couture garments. Bitterness assailed her that she should
be as helpless in his hands as a child’s toy.

  “Sit down.” He indicated the chair and lounged back against his tidy desk. “I have taken a precaution against any future desire you might have to conclude this marriage, too. You will sign a legal, binding contract, agreeing that you give Nicky into my custody if we should part again in the future.”

  “You can’t ask that of me!” she exclaimed in horror.

  “I am not asking, I am demanding,” Alex contradicted with sibilant softness. “If you conduct yourself as a normal married woman and mother you will have nothing to fear from that contract.”

  She searched his harshly set features suspiciously. “You’re planning to do this to take Nicky from me altogether,” she accused. “You want to make my life so miserable that I’ll want to leave.”

  His jawline hardened. “I would not do that to my son. It is natural that there should be storms between us now. But in time those will disappear. If you behave yourself, I have not the smallest intention of making your life a misery,” he parried with a curled lip, as if the very suggestion of such behaviour upon his part was an insult.

  “I’ll be wretched anyway,” she mumbled, on the brink of angry, cornered tears.

  “Why should you be?” Alex demanded in a tone reminiscent of a whiplash. “You will have a beautiful home, your son, plenty of money, and all for what price? It is I who sacrifice pride in taking you back!”

  “How the mighty have fallen…”

  “Dio, don’t taunt me!” Alex slashed back savagely but quietly. “You will sign that contract. You will sell out of your partnership with Glenn. We will make a fresh beginning.”

  Had she not had the memory of his loathing for her yesterday, she might have been taken in by this more civilised picture of a reconciliation for Nicky’s sake. “I can’t sell out and I won’t.”

  “We’ll talk about that some other time,” he dismissed impatiently.

  She took a deep breath. “Where are you planning for us to live?”

  “I have not yet decided.”