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Authors: Margaret Pargeter
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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.
'Why didn't you tell me?'
'You said someone had.'
His hands tightened in angry frustration. Bleakly he studied her hot face, as though seeing the very young lines of it for the first time. 'Either Blanche or Rex hinted that you were well over twenty.'
'Wel, does it matter?' Emma asked duly. 'Ours isn't meant to be a real marriage, after al.'
A frown cut deeply across his broad forehead, compressing his sensuous mouth. 'Other people will believe it is.'
'You still aren't old enough to be my father,' she smiled faintly. 'Plenty of girls are married at my age, and to slightly older men.'
'Perhaps,' he shrugged, without committing himself. 'In our case it won't be for long.'
Releasing her abruptly, he thrust his hands in his pockets and turned away. Emma turned away, too, as she noticed the tautness of his strong thighs under the tightening cloth. Her breath caught, making her stumble as she fled to the window and stared blindly out. Her heart steadied a little as she watched a light breeze dancing through the tender green
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.
'Why didn't you tell me?'
'You said someone had.'
His hands tightened in angry frustration. Bleakly he studied her hot face, as though seeing the very young lines of it for the first time. 'Either Blanche or Rex hinted that you were well over twenty.'
'Wel, does it matter?' Emma asked duly. 'Ours isn't meant to be a real marriage, after al.'
A frown cut deeply across his broad forehead, compressing his sensuous mouth. 'Other people will believe it is.'
'You still aren't old enough to be my father,' she smiled faintly. 'Plenty of girls are married at my age, and to slightly older men.'
'Perhaps,' he shrugged, without committing himself. 'In our case it won't be for long.'
Releasing her abruptly, he thrust his hands in his pockets and turned away. Emma turned away, too, as she noticed the tautness of his strong thighs under the tightening cloth. Her breath caught, making her stumble as she fled to the window and stared blindly out. Her heart steadied a little as she watched a light breeze dancing through the tender green
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