Second Best Husband Part 11

It had unfortunately needed altering, but the girl had promised her that.i.t would be ready in plenty of time. She was due to go for a fitting theweek before the wedding. Her mother was determinedly trying to feed herup, telling her that she must not lose any more weight, otherwise itwouldn't fit.

The strain was telling on both of them. There had been several occasionswhen she had caught Stuart watching her almost broodingly.

She had longed to ask him if he was having second thoughts and yet atthe same time had been afraid to do so. What if he said he was? She tried to tell herself that if he asked to be released from their agreement it would probably be for the best; mat it was not after all asthough their emotions were involved; that he had every right to changehis mind; and yet the thought of his doing so caused her such fear andpain.

Had Anna's taunts traumatised her so much that she now expected anddreaded rejection in any form? Had it made her feel so vulnerable, soinsecure as a woman?

Her head was pounding and she felt slightly sick. She stared at the VDUand found she was unable to focus properly on it. She hadn't beensleeping well.

There was so much to do, not just here in the office but with thearrangements for the wedding, with the work on the house, which Stuarthad brought forward because he felt that, while the house wascomfortable enough as it was for a bachelor, she, as a woman, neededmore comfort, more luxury.

She had tried to protest, telling him that it was not necessary for himto go to such lengths, but he had overruled her, and for the last threeweeks the house had been filled with the noisy clatter of workmenbrought in to repair the plaster work in the small sitting-room, and toredecorate it, and to do the same in the large panelled room that wasthe master bedroom, and the bathroom ad joining it.

Originally, she recognized, those two adjoining rooms must have been hisand hers' bedrooms, and she had been half tempted to ask him if in thecirc.u.mstances he might not prefer to revert to their traditional usage.

Today the workmen had left early. The repaired plaster work needed todry out before the re deco- radon could start.

She had spent the last few evenings poring over a variety of books andcatalogues, searching for authentic period room ill.u.s.trations to giveher some guidelines on which to choose the decor and furnis.h.i.+ngs of thenewly repaired rooms.

She had already mentioned wistfully to Stuart that the bedroom with itsfine panelling and huge renovated fireplace called out for an equallylarge oak four-poster bed, but she had seen the cost of such beds in thecatalogues she had obtained, and they ran into thousands rather thanhundreds of pounds, and that was without the heavy damask curtains, theantique crewelwork covers, the ex pensive Turkey rugs, and the otherfurniture the room would need to bring it properly to life.

Much as she loved the house and was looking forward to living init, shehad to admit that things would have been considerably simpler if it hadjust been a comfortably sized modern house they were furnis.h.i.+ng.

Stuart had suggested that it might be best if she avoided going near theupstairs rooms while the men were working on them, because of the dangerof damaged falling plaster, and she had taken his hint and kept well outof their way.

The pounding in her head increased. She still had work to finish but theafternoon sun pouring in through the window was making her feel sick anddizzy. Perhaps if she went home and took a couple of tablets theheadache might clear, enabling her to come back and finish her work earlyin the evening when the sun would no longer be s.h.i.+ning in through thisparticular window.

With a faint sigh of exasperation for her own weakness, she got up andcollected her things.

Luckily when she got home she discovered that her parents were out,enabling her to take acouple of tablets and go straight upstairs to bed.

Much as she loved them both, this was one occasion on which the lastthing she wanted was company. and the second last was to discuss thewedding.

When she woke up she could tell from the coolness of her room that shehad been asleep for several hours. She moved cautiously and thenacknowledged with relief that her headache had gone.

She got up, stripped off her clothes, and showered quickly beforeredressing, this time more casually, in clean underwear topped by a pairof faded old jeans and a chunky cotton-knit sweater with a design inpastels on a white background which her sister had bought for herbirthday the previous summer.

When she went downstairs her parents were watching television. Hermother made to get up, but she stopped her.

" Sorry I missed supper," she apologised.

" I had the most awful headache, so I came home early and went straightto bed. I've got to go back, though. I've got some work I must finish."

" I'll make you a drink first, and something to eat," her motherannounced, starting to get up, but Sara shook her head.

" Oh, no; you won't. You stay right where you are. I'll make us all adrink and I'll have a quick snack, but it's gone eight now, and I've atleast a couple of hours' work left."

" Will you wait for Stuart to get back?" her mother asked her.

" I might, although he said it would be very late." At the back of hermind lay the knowledge that Margaret had been right to urge her to talkto Stuart about her fears, and her conversation with her friend hadhighlighted a point she herself had not previously considered: that being that Stuart might feel that, in not being honest and open withhim in the first place, she had placed an additional burden on the wrongside of the scales weighing out the success or otherwise of theirmarriage.

The rear of the house was in darkness as she drove up to it, the securitylights coming on as she parked her car. She got out and unlocked theback door with the keys Stuart had given her, switching on the lights a.s.she made her way to the study.

She had just settled herself down and switched on the computer terminalwhen she thought she heard a noise coming from upstairs.

She froze, switching off the machine, her ears straining as shelistened, but now she could hear nothing.

Telling herself she must be imagining things, she was about to switch onthe machine again and start work, when she decided instead that it mightbe as well to go upstairs and check. And besides, now that the workmenhad finished it would surely be safe for her to look inside the rooms onwhich they had been working.

Inwardly acknowledging that the noise she thought she had heard wasprobably just an excuse to exorcise her curiosity, she headed for thestairs.

Ifshe had heard anything, she decided as she walked up them, it mustsimply have been the house settling down for the night, because shecould hear nothing now.

She had used the back stairs, remembering Stuart's wry comment that itwas going to cost afortune to carpet the place, walking quickly alongthe broad gallery off which opened the main bed rooms.

The gallery overlooked the formal gardens to what had originally beenthe front of the house, but was now the side.

It had small paned cas.e.m.e.nt windows which were bowed in places, thegla.s.s thick, and, like the leading, original. Beneath the windows werewindow-seats, where presumably the ladies of the house, weary ofpromenading along the gallery, could sit to stare down into the gardensbelow.

The polished floorboards were the original oak: wide, and dusty from the toing and froings of the workmen, but oncepolished.

Sara smiled wryly to herself; already she was becoming very much thehousewife, the chate laine, although she had no illusions about thesacrifices both in money and in time that such a house would demand.

Ultimately, though, it would be worthwhile. She smiled to herself,wondering how she would cope with the hazard of small tricycles beingpedalled up and down her polished floors on wet days, and she was stillsmiling as she pushed open the door to the main bedroom.

" Sara..."

She froze as Stuart said her name, staring at him in shockedastonishment.

He was kneeling on the floor beside the most beautifully carved oaktester bed she had ever seen, meticulously rubbing wax into thecarvings.

" Stuart! I had no idea... I thought you were still out. I was workingdownstairs. I heard a noise..."

She was gabbling, she recognised, as she struggled with a mingled senseof shock and guilt.

" I managed to get back earlier than I antic.i.p.ated."

" But I didn't see the Land Rover."

" No. It developed a small problem with the petrol pump so I dropped itoff at the garage and got them to give me a lift back. You say you cameback to work?" He was frowning.

" Yes. I left early this afternoon. I had a head ache, but there wa.s.something I wanted to finish."

" That makes two of us," he commented, as he stood up and stretched.

Helplessly she followed the movement, hearing the faint crack of hismuscles, watching the way the soft fabric of his worn denim s.h.i.+rtmoulded itself to his body. There was an ache in the pit of her stomach;a tension in her body that made her muscles tremble slightly.

She felt dizzy, confused by her own feelings. her own desires.

" The bed," she said huskily.

" It's beautiful, but they're so expensive..."

" This one wasn't," he told her mildly.

" At least not in terms of money. I admit there've been occasions overthe past three weeks when I have wondered if I'd bitten off more than Icould chew. Generally around one o'clock in the morning."

He said it so drily that it was several seconds before she realised whathe meant.

" You... you made it," she exclaimed in awe.

" But how?"

" Remember the wood you saw outside?"

She nodded, and then said," But the carving... it's so intricate, so..."

She moved closer to the bed, reaching out to touch one of the panels,

unable to resist stroking her fingers over its surface. Stuart had carveda frieze of trees and flowers on the base and head boards, and theoutside of the wooden over- canopy was carved in a traditional form ofrelief- work.

" Stuart, it's beautiful," she told him shakily.

" You weren't supposed to see it, at least not yet," he told her severely.

" It was supposed to be my wedding present for you."

" You did this for met She turned from the bed to look at him. For some

reason she felt shockingly close to tears, her emotions far too close to the surface.

She could feel the tears filling her eyes, blur ring her vision.

She started to look away but it was too late. Stuart was coming towards her, exclaiming curtly," Sara... what is it? What's wrong Have you changed your mind? Would you...?"

She shook her head.

" No, not that..."

" But something's wrong," he insisted.

" Not wrong," she denied, shaking her head.

" It's just..."

Her hand touched the mattress. The bed was high and took two deep

mattresses. Lying inside, it would be like being on a very private, very secret island, she reflected.

" It's just that what?" Stuart pressed.

He was, she realised, still standing very close to her. So close that when she turned her head she could feel the warmth of his breath brus.h.i.+ng her skin.

" Is it this that bothers you, Sara?" he asked her quietly, his hand joining her son the mattress. She focused on their hands; symbolically they were separate. apart. his hard and tanned, his nails clean and short, hers smaller, paler, her nails free of colour but somehow undeniably feminine and delicate in a way she hadn't noticed before.

Certainly they were nothing like Anna's hands with their long polished nails, just as Stuart's weren't like lan's with their careful manicure and buffed sheen. Ian was a vain man. an almost effeminate man in some

ways perhaps.

" Are you worrying that when you share this bed with me it will be apoor subst.i.tute for what you had with him? Because--' " No. No. It'snothing like that," she denied frantically, and then when he stopped andwaited she blurted out," There never was anything like that between meand Ian. In fact."

She paused, and then before she could change her mind she rushed ahead,telling him with defiant anguish," In fact, there hasn't been anythinglike that with... with anyone..."

She couldn't bear to look at him. The tears were really blurring hereyes now. She tried to blink them away and focus on the bed. She was,she discovered with detached curiosity, actually physically trembung.

She felt Stuart's hand on her hair, his touch somehow soothing,comforting, warming her chilled tense muscles, even though her throatstill ached with the effort of suppressing her tears.

His hand slid to her jaw, cupping her face, turning her towards him.

But she still couldn't bring herself to look at him, even though sheknew he was watching her.

" And you're afraid," he asked her gently, gesturing towards the bed ashe added quietly," Afraid of all that this represents, because it isunknown, unfamiliar."

He seemed so calm, so understanding. so. so comforting.

She nodded and gulped.

" Yes." Heavens, she was behaving like a complete fool. If he stillwanted to marry her after this. He was silent for so long that shestarted to tremble again. His hand was still cupping her face. Now histhumb stroked her skin almost absently and then he said softly," Therereally isn't anything to fear.

I promise you it's all going to be all right."