Conditional Surrender Page 14

  Then someone knocked heavily on the door. 'I'll get it!' Kate very nearly ran straight past Greg, but was caught at the last moment by a heavy arm reaching around her waist and jerking her off her feet into much too close contact with her husband.

  `Alissa? Would you mind answering the door, please?' Greg asked politely, before slanting a mildly enquiring look down at his wife's miserably resigned face. 'Your daughter has a few things to explain to me. Don't you, Kate?'

  At least he didn't seem so angry any more, Kate saw as she peeped at him from under her lashes, and she felt a little courage seep back into her. She had only meant to annoy him a little bit, but once she had thrown out the bed, everything else seemed to snowball on her, until nothing remained of the original design in the bedroom. She had expected a certain amount of anger, but certainly not the rage she had felt hitting her in waves as he looked at her and Terry.

  And anyway, why should he be angry before he's even discovered what I've done? Her brows drew together in a frown as she pondered on that question, but her mother had meanwhile opened the door.

  `Er—Katherine? It's the man from the Salvation Army.'

  `Oh, lord!' Greg's iron grip tightened even further. Kate bit her lip again, and tried to prise his fingers loose. 'This is turning into a French farce!' she muttered in despair, and gave up the idea of getting away. She turned her head in Terry's direction, absently noting the way that Marie was sitting drinking her tea with every sign of enjoyment. 'Terry? Would you help the man with the—urn—' a glance at Greg's

  face did nothing to help her vocal cords work properly, . . bed, please?' she managed to croak.

  `Right!' Terry, released at last from his frozen state, attempted a facsimile of his normal friendly grin. I'll—er—do that.'

  Alissa inched her way around Greg's back, doing her best to stay out of his range of vision, and sat beside Marie. They all watched in silence as Terry and the man from the Salvation Army carried the bed from where it had been stored in the spare bedroom out of the apartment.

  Kate, still imprisoned in Greg's hold, turned and addressed the knot in his tie.

  'Would you—er—like some tea? It's fresh.'

  `No. What I would like . . .' he stopped, his lips thinning as Terry sauntered back in. 'What I would like is the reason the four of you .. .' apparently he noticed at that moment Marie's quietly obvious enjoyment of the proceedings, and corrected himself . . the three of you look so guilty.'

  A strangled sort of groan made its way out of Kate's mouth as Marie stood and declared it was time she and Alissa were on their way home. 'Our menfolk will be wondering where we've got to.' She divided the beam of her smile equally between them and looked pointedly at Terry.

  'Ali, yes. Right! I'll—er—give you both a lift, shall I?'

  `Why, thank you, Terence,' Alissa accepted. 'See you soon, I hope, Gregory. I'm so sorry we have to dash off like this.'

  They were gone before Kate could form words of protest, but their indecently hasty departure lit a spark of defiance in her.

  `Miserable cowards!' she muttered as Greg at last allowed her feet to touch the ground. His hands moved absently up and down her spine, setting up a small spate of electric shocks throughout her system.

  `You appear to have been abandoned to your fate, my lovely wife. Do I get that explanation now?'

  Kate rested her head against his chest for a moment, savouring the feel of his arms around her. Such moments were rare, hugs and caresses were not part of their normal daily life.

  `I think it would be easier to show you,' she said flatly, forcing herself to move away. She took his hand, not noticing his instinctive withdrawal amidst the rest of the turmoil chasing around her brain, and led him to the bedroom.

  It was a long time before he spoke. Rather than try to read his expression, Kate followed his glance around the room.

  The coldly stark white walls were now a warmer beige with deepening shades of brown highlighting the surrounds. The thick shagpile carpet was now a deep mahogany instead of pure white—a ridiculous colour for a carpet, Kate had always thought. The curtains she had sewn so diligently and resentfully that morning, and the new duvet cover, were a mass of swirling shades of green. The flimsy ultra-modern furniture had also been replaced by much more substantial shining mahogany. It gave, Kate thought, a more homey feel to the place.

  `You don't like it, do you?' Her face fell at Greg's tightly controlled expression. 'Well, that's too bad! I have to live here too. And I can't stand . . .' Her voice trailed off as Greg started to pull the cord which closed the curtains.

  `You did all this yourself?'

  She gave a jerky nod. 'Well, Mom helped with the actual decorating. Marie and Terry came today to help finish off.'

  `Mmm. It's very—you, somehow,' he said quietly, his gaze roaming her tense figure. 'Warm, solid—permanent. There's just one thing missing.'

  `I—What's that?' she whispered, hardly daring to believe that he understood and accepted the message she had attempted to convey in the way she had decorated their room. Her breath stilled when he smiled at her and held out a compelling hand.

  `Why, the christening of the bed, of course!'

  Kate was surprised the next morning around noon by Terry dropping in unannounced.

  `What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be propping up a bar somewhere?'

  The timeless ritual of Sunday lunchtime had been reinstated now that her father was working again, and that

  should have meant Terry and Callum indulging in one hour's steady drinking, followed by her mother's famous roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

  Terry scowled at her.

  `Yes, I should. I—er—left my tool kit behind.' He gave a furtive glance around the room. 'Where is he?' he mouthed.

  `He's gone to see Sam.' Kate glanced at her watch. `Actually, he should have been back before now.'

  It took Kate little time to discover the real reason behind Terry's unexpected visit.

  `What do you mean—you wanted to check everything was OK?' she asked after settling him down with one of the cans of beer left from the previous day.

  `Well, I thought there might have been repercussions . . He lifted an ironic brow at Kate's self-conscious blush, and grinned. 'Mmm, so you've tamed him after all, eh?'

  `Huh! That'll be the day!' Kate declared with a little more vehemence than Terry's joking tone warranted. She felt strangely jumpy today, maybe because of Greg's unpredictable reaction to her attempt to annoy him. He had not raised the subject again—even when she deliberately intimated that the lounge was the next item on her agenda. Was he at last beginning to accept her as his wife?

  `You are happy with Greg, aren't you, princess?' Terry asked, concerned at her uncharacteristic cynicism.

  `I don't think . .

  `OK, OK!' he held up his hands. 'I know it's none of my business. But I have to say, I was a bit concerned when you first announced your marriage plans. He just didn't seem to be your type.' He smiled a little self-consciously. 'I mean, I know you would never marry for anything other than love—but I kind of got the impression . . . princess?'

  When Kate first realised the track Terry's questions were taking, she had schooled her features to show nothing of the remaining bitterness she felt at Greg's manipulation of circumstances. But Terry's words struck a deep chord and she was struck by a lightning bolt of sure instinctive knowledge.

  Greg would never have used that contract she had signed

  against her family. Oh, he might have used it to force her to serve the stated two years as his assistant, but he would certainly never punish her family for something she had done. It simply was not his way of doing business. Why had she not seen that before?

  It was as if she wanted an excuse to surrender to him .. . Oh, no! It surely could not be . . .?

  `Princess?'

  `I . . . Oh, excuse me!' she mumbled thankfully as the telephone rang. She jumped up with alacrity to answer it, steadying herself at the s
ound of the cool disembodied voice at the other end of the line.

  `Am I speaking to Mrs Courtney?'

  `Yes . . . Who . . .?'

  `Alexandria Hospital here, Mrs Courtney. Your husband has been involved in an accident. It's not serious,' was the hasty assurance, 'but he did ask that I contact you to allay any worry about his late arrival home.'

  `I'll be right there.'

  `Oh, he did say not to . .

  Kate did not hear any more. She replaced the receiver with a shaking hand and turned, white-faced, back to Terry.

  `Greg's been involved in an accident. I have to go to the hospital.'

  `I'll take you.'

  `There's no need ..

  `Princess, you're shaking like a leaf! I doubt you could even open the car door, let alone drive.'

  The gentle caring in his voice was Kate's undoing. The tears, once started, could not be stopped.

  `It's all right, baby. Ssh! He'll be OK. He's tough as old boots, is Greg.' Tenderly he rocked her limp body against his chest, crooning words of comfort in her ear, until some colour returned to her wan face. 'You love him an awful lot, don't you?'

  `Do birds fly?' Her lips twisted in weary mockery. `Incredible, isn't it? All this time and I never knew . .

  `Princess?' Terry touched a hand to her wet cheek, brushing away her tears. 'I don't understand . . .?'

  `It's a long story, Terry.' Finally Kate managed to pull herself together and searched for her handbag and jacket. `One I don't really understand myself.'

  All the warring emotions she had ever felt towards her enigma of a husband had crystallised at the sound of that briskly impersonal voice on the telephone.

  So she was now completely defenceless. She was fathoms deep in love with Greg—had probably been in love with him from the very beginning. All those stupid lectures she had given herself had been a waste of time. Analysing something as basic as love, for heaven's sake! And all along she must have been aware, as Terry had said, that she could marry for no other reason than love. What other reason could there be?

  She gave Terry a few details of her marriage on the way to the hospital. Her raw emotional state needed an outlet before she saw Greg. She was just as likely to fling herself into his arms declaring her love for all the world to hear—and she could imagine his reaction to that! But even knowing Terry was probably the safest person she could confide in, she drew a veil over most of it.

  `You're wrong, Kate,' Terry told her firmly. 'Greg does care—enough to be insanely jealous of me, anyway.'

  `What?' Her astonishment was most unflattering, as his wounded look told her.

  `What do you imagine he thought yesterday, seeing us coming out of your bedroom—and looking guilty as hell?'

  That gave her pause for thought. She had thought it strange that he should be so angry before he had discovered how she had disobeyed his instructions to leave the apartment alone. But to think that she and Terry . .! The idea was ludicrous. It would be almost incestuous to think of Terry as her lover.

  `Well, we could always put it to the test,' Terry offered—bravely, when one remembered his panic the previous day.

  `No, Terry.' Kate remained unconvinced. 'I may not know the best way to reach Greg, but I'm certain that isn't it.' She pondered a moment. 'I think the only way to play this is straight.'

  `Ah,' he nodded thoughtfully, then threw her a laconically amused grin. 'The direct approach behind his back! I get it.'

  Kate laughed, grateful for his unflagging support, then she sobered, analysing what he had said.

  `The direct approach behind his back'—hadn't that been what she had been doing since their return from honeymoon?

  Kate knew now that it was. She had pretended she enjoyed annoying him, when really all she wanted was a reaction. Even a plate-throwing stand-up fight would have been preferable to the lowering of his brows and the stoic silence he was so good at maintaining. Normally Kate would have gone to great lengths to ensure a peaceful existence.

  What was more, she realised with a lightening of her spirits, yesterday's fiasco had reaped results. Yesterday was the first time Greg had made love to her during the day since their honeymoon—long, beautiful, urgent love. And he had held her afterwards . . . not for long, admittedly, but it was more than before . . . Or was it merely the result of three days' abstinence?

  `Wake up, Kate. We're here!'

  Terry tracked Greg down to a curtained-off cubicle in the casualty department. Kate's heart nearly stopped beating at the sight of an incredibly fit-looking Greg calmly buttoning up his shirt as he sat glowering at them from the treatment couch.

  `You're all right!' Kate accused him, ridiculously angry after the initial spurt of overwhelming relief. Greg gave a sardonic smile on noticing Terry fade discreetly away.

  `As you see. Sorry if that upsets you.'

  If possible, Kate went even paler than when she had first heard the news of his accident. She had just discovered she loved this man with the cold dispassionate eyes, and the thin lips which could wreak havoc on her senses even as he uttered such callous remarks

  She bit her lip hard in an effort to stop the flow of further tears, though her earlier breakdown was still very much in evidence, as Greg had just noticed. He muttered angrily, raking his fingers through his already dishevelled hair.

  `I'm sorry, Kate, that was unnecessary.'

  `Since when has that ever stopped you?' she returned bitterly, unable to conceal the hurt in her wide green eyes.

  `Now, now, princess. No upsetting the hero of the hour!' Kate swirled around as Terry re-entered the cubicle.

  `Shut up, Terry!' Greg ordered angrily.

  `What do you mean?' Kate asked at the same time. Terry glanced at Greg, drawing enjoyment from his new partner's discomfort.

  `I've just been regaled with your husband's exploits by a wide-eyed nurse out there. I do believe you've got them all in a dither, Greg.'

  Kate stamped her foot in frustration. Will someone please tell me what's going on?'

  `Nothing for you to concern yourself with,' Greg told her coldly.

  `I see.' The colour flooded back into her face, showing up the angrily hurt sparkle in her eyes. 'Then as you're so obviously fit and well, I'll leave you to Terry's ministrations. I'll go home and put the insurance policies away!'

  Greg's shout of laughter hit her as she pulled the curtain shut and stumbled headlong into the path of a burly middle-aged policeman.

  `Ah, you wouldn't, by any chance, be Mrs Courtney, would you?' he asked after assuring himself that she had come to no harm.

  `Yes—What . . .?'

  The policeman handed her the keys to the Mercedes. 'I locked it up for him just as he asked. It's in a side street, just off the Solihull bypass. Oh, and if you could tell him the old lady's all right—a bit of shaken, of course, but . .

  `Old lady?' Kate repeated parrot-fashion.

  `Ah,' the policeman nodded understandably. 'One of our more modest heroes, eh?'

  Kate blinked. 'I assumed he was involved in an accident?'

  `Incident, more like, miss. Could have been very nasty too, without your husband lending a hand, that is. He saw a mob of youths harassing an old lady. They grabbed her handbag, but your husband gave chase. Only one of the mob pulled a knife on him. That's when he twisted his knee—turned a bit

  too sharpish, like. But he got the bag back—and two of those young yobbos,' he finished with evident satisfaction. 'If you'll tell him we'll be in touch if we need him in court, then.'

  `Yes, of course.' Kate summoned a shakily polite smile. `Thank you.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  WAS THERE any better way to make a man fall in love than to yell at him like a fishwife? Kate asked herself the question repeatedly as she went in search of a wheelchair to transport Greg to the car. The moment the policeman had mentioned Greg's injury, she was forced to recall the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, the lines of strain around his mouth. Her anger dissolved completely
at the thought of Greg—in pain.

  He glared with disgust at the wheelchair she pushed into the cubicle five minutes later, but sank wearily into it without voicing a protest.

  `Terry, can you drop me of at Greg's car?'

  `Sure. That's what I'm here for. Kate was in no fit state to drive when she got the call.'

  Greg held Terry's direct stare without a trace of emotion. `Thank you,' he acknowledged eventually, and Kate hurriedly gave him the policeman's message. 'Remind me to get the woman's address. I'll send her some flowers or something.'

  Kate met his hard challenging look with a sweet smile., 'It's already taken care of,' she assured him.

  Getting Greg into Terry's car was a painful procedure Kate refused point-blank to repeat when Terry drew up behind the abandoned Mercedes. Greg's very failure to protest was enough to tell her he was in pain. She knew he disliked having to ask favours even of such a good friend as Sam. Kate had no hesitation.

  She followed Terry's car at a more sedate pace, grateful for the opportunity to gather her wits in blessed solitude.

  Greg's ability to hurt her seemed to have increased a hundredfold with her newly discovered vulnerability to him. Was she going to have to stay angry with him for the rest of her life to ward off the pain he could cause her? Or would she

  learn to accept it as part and parcel of loving him?

  For her sanity's sake, she knew she would have to go on as before—just simply being herself. She was no actress. She had never known the need to hide her feelings. And why should she? she thought with a spurt of belligerence. She had a right to them.

  But one thing was certain. She must hold back the words... for now at least.

  She was put to the test the moment she entered the apartment. Terry had already left, and Greg was sitting back on the long settee, wincing with the effort of straightening his leg.

  `Well, Kate, aren't you going to come and soothe my fevered brow?'

  The sardonic inflection in his tone stabbed her to the quick. She straightened her shoulders in an automatic attempt to ward him off.