Substitute Bride (10 page)

'Weren't you?' he shrugged, so totaly disbelieving that she was convinced he was being deliberately unkind and getting some sadistic pleasure from it.

They were met by a car driven by a coloured Barbadian caled Belasco, who greeted Rick as Boss but appeared much more interested in Emma.

'New missus, boss?' he asked.

'Yes,' Rick introduced them and Emma smiled, feeling a little happier than she had done since Rick's cruel remarks.

Surprisingly Belasco appeared to be looking at her with approval and she sensed she had at least made one friend.

They traveled north, towards Speightstown, where Rick informed her briefly most of the sugar plantations were to be found. To Emma the countryside was beautiful, with orchards of lemon and orange trees along with avocadoes and bananas and hosts of others she failed to recognise. She would liked to have asked Rick about some of the things she saw but dared not risk another rebuff like the one she had suffered at the airport. Then she had felt hurt tears stinging the back of her eyes and she guessed how scathing his remarks would be if she gave in to them and broke down completely.

Turning her eyes from the enticing views on either side, she caught sight of Belasco's curious face in the driving mirror. It wasn't until then that it suddenly struck her that Rick's people would surely be expecting him to bring home a beautiful bride. If Belasco could look surprised by her plainness, how much more so would Rick's family be?

Emma's face was visibly paler as she stepped out of the car in front of a wonderful old colonial-style mansion. 'Is—is this all yours?' she breathed, in an agonised whisper.

'Just one of those things you'll have to try to get used to.'

His voice was curt, but his eyes were a little kinder as he understood she wasn't used to living in a house like this. He had to spoil it all by adding derisively, 'It's much easier to become addicted to wealth than poverty. Just as long as you remember you only have a year.'

'It—it isn't your wealth,' she dismissed that, for hadn't she discovered it was perfectly possible to live without it, 'and you don't need to keep on repeating that I only have a year

—I heard the first time and I don't want any longer. It's what your family are going to think.'

'Meaning?'

'They'll be expecting someone quite different from me.

Someone beautiful.'

'Wel, work on it,' he drawled carelessly. 'You never know what you might achieve. A lot of lovely women look far from pretty first thing in the morning.'

How did he know? Unhappily Emma stared at him, but obviously thinking she was still thinking of his family, Rick sighed shortly. 'They aren't ogres, you know, and a plain girl might just happen to be more acceptable than a beautiful one, women being what they are.'

'You obviously being an authority?' she was stung to retort.

'I've known plenty,' he admitted dryly.

Plenty who would have been only too wiling to become Mrs Rick Conway, she guessed, with sudden insight, her unhappiness curiously deepening.

Leaving Belasco unloading their luggage they went into the house. Emma folowed Rick silently as she saw he was clearly impatient with the conversation they had been having and had no intention of discussing the matter further. As they entered the impressive hal, a woman and a girl came out of one of the rooms and crossed the cool tiled floor towards them.

'Rick darling!' the woman exclaimed, 'we didn't look for you as soon as this.

Bending, he kissed the woman's smoothly made up cheek lightly, then the girl's in the same manner, before he caught Emma's hand, drawing her forward.

'This is Emma,' he said cooly. 'Emma, meet my stepmother and my stepsister Gail.' He didn't explain why he had returned sooner than he had apparently intended.

Emma was very aware of Rita's appraising eyebrows, her speculative stare. 'Forgive me, Rick, but I thought it was Blanche.'

'So it was, but I changed my mind and married her cousin instead,' he said, as though there was nothing out the ordinary in such a statement. Drawing Emma nearer, he tightened his arm around her waist. 'I hope you'll do your best to make Emma feel at home.'

Or else, his enigmatic expression seemed to say, but in such an impersonal way that Emma knew it would be unwise to feel comforted.

Rita gave little away either. 'Have you had dinner?' she asked, in the manner of a woman who clearly needed time to think things over.

'Shal I ring?' asked Gail, obviously finding it impossible to evoke any interest in Rick's surprisingly quiet little wife and looking for a means of escape.

'No,' said Rick, 'we ate on the plane. Perhaps a snack, but we can have it later.'

'I'll arrange it,' Rita smiled, like someone who considered the opposition didn't stand a chance.

Indifferently Rick nodded. Without letting go of Emma he guided her upstairs, but once in the spacious bedroom which was to be hers, he let go of her abruptly.

'All right?' he asked, and when she said yes, he exclaimed coldly, 'We have communicating rooms, for appearances'

sake. The usual door in between which naturaly I won't use.

You can have the bathroom, I'll use one of those on the corridor.'

Which ensured her complete privacy but meant she wouldn't be seeing him after they retired. He spoke so politely he might have been passing the time of day with a stranger, or an unwelcome guest.

'Are you disappointed?' he read her bewildered face, jeering at her unconscious thoughts.

'No. Why should I be?' Emma forced herself to ask cooly.

His dark brows rose, frankly cynical. 'You didn't imagine I was planning to amuse myself with Oliver's cast-offs, did you? If I've occasionaly kissed you, don't jump to the wrong conclusions. You can, I admit, provoke me. Your mouth is very kissable, if nothing else.'

'How do you mean—nothing else?' Emma stared at him mutinously.

'I mean, it's not so innocent. You've been around.'

Seeing red at his insolence, she exclaimed, 'I suppose none of the women you've been out with have been around?

Do you demand written evidence of a spotless character?'

'You little brat,' his eyes smouldered, 'I don't need that kind of evidence. A man can usualy tel. And while I might have taken other women out, this is the first time I've ever married one of them.'

'You aren't congratulating yourself, though,' Emma choked. 'Only your temper drove you to marry me.'

'Too true,' he grated tersely. 'Now I wish to hell I hadn't.

I should have offered other things, like Oliver did with you and Blanche. We could have gone to Paris without being married.'

'At least,' Emma cried, 'Rex is rarely a hypocrite!'

Swiftly he grasped her arm, his fingers steel-like and hurting. 'You'll apologise for that,' his face was suddenly taut with fury. 'I don't take insults from either men or women.

Apologise or else!'

He looked so arrogant she quite believed the warning in his voice was no idle threat. All the same, she continued to defy him. 'I won't,' she said, 'because it's the truth.'

'If you don't,' he murmured suavely, 'I know how to make you change your tune. The bed, for instance, is only two feet away.'

'You wouldn't dare!' she breathed, her face paling, then flooding with colour as she visualised exactly how he would punish her there. It made her tremble even to think of it. An apology might be infinitely preferable to that. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, tearing her eyes away from his darkly handsome face.

'That's better,' he said succinctly.

'I—I hate you,' she whispered, the taste in her mouth so bitter she felt sick.

'Don't be too sure of it,' he drawled mockingly, turning from her abruptly. 'I'll see you downstairs in half an hour,' he added.

As the door closed behind him, Emma colapsed on the bed. Feeling unbelievably exhausted, she alowed salty tears to overflow and scald her cold cheeks. Forcibly, she had to remind herself that she had no one but herself to blame for the poor opinion Rick had of her. But it still hurt to know that it was only because he believed her a low creature to be despised that she was here. If she gave in to her deepening desire to tell him the truth, he would send her home. True, he had married her as much to salve his own pride as anything else. Yet she suspected he wouldn't alow that to deter him from what he might consider his duty if he were to learn she was innocent of most of the crimes he thought her guilty of.

Suddenly, as a wave of homesickness engulfed her, she was tempted to go to him and confess everything. Sadly she found herself yearning for the familiar green fields, the rain and the grey English skies. Nostalgicaly she even thought of Daisy's large brown eyes searching for the girl who had always looked after her so gently. As Emma sat thinking about the farm her tears flowed faster. It pained her that she hadn't been able to say a proper goodbye. On top of this was the worry of not knowing how Hilda and old Jim were managing without her. Blanche was unlikely to be of much help. Besides, her mood would be far from co-operative by the time she got home.

Sighing, Emma scrubbed the tears from her face before stepping out of her clothes to get under the shower. It was no use worrying now, but she wished the last few days hadn't happened so quickly. If she had been given time to consider sensibly just what she had been about to embark on, she doubted if she would have been here tonight.

Half an hour later, neatly dressed in a light print dress, she met Rick's family again, and this time Gail's brother. A good-looking, rather brash young man of twenty-five, he brightened when he caught sight of Emma.

'Thank heavens!' he grinned as Rick, a watchful step behind Emma, introduced her. 'I wasn't looking forward to meeting Rick's model girl—they're too liable to scream at one hair out of place, but I do feel I might get to like you.'

If Emma was rather startled by his somewhat tactless approach, Rick ignored it. 'Get Emma a drink, Ben,' he said,

'and one for me. I'm glad you managed to make it.'

Rita was speaking to a servant, Gail was fishing through a pile of cassettes. Seemingly unperturbed by his stepbrother's sarcasm, Ben poured them all drinks and returned. He passed Emma hers, his eyes still studying her.

'She has a rather old-fashioned look, like her name. Sort of chaste…'

'There's nothing old-fashioned about my wife,' Rick replied sardonicaly, 'but don't go making her worse than she is.'

While Emma flushed unhappily at what seemed a veiled insult, another servant entered with a laden troley.

'I thought, if it was only a snack you wanted, you might as well have it here.' Rita, dismissing the servants, smiled charmingly at Rick, who nodded his assent.

Rita, still attractive at sixty, turned, her face sobering coldly as she glanced at Emma. 'If you sat over there, my dear, you might manage your drink better.'

Emma gave a start, having almost forgotten she was holding anything. She was dismayed to find the greeny liquid, whatever it was, trickling over her hand as the glass tilted. 'I

—I'm sorry,' she faltered, her eyes wide with distress.

'Perhaps you had too much on the plane?' Gail quipped with a malicious giggle.

'Yes—No. I don't realy think so…' Emma stammered, wondering miserably why Rick made no attempt to help her.

He actualy looked as though he enjoyed seeing her being got at.

'Sit down, can't you,' he said impatiently, giving the impression he would support Rita rather than his wife.

Meekly Emma did as she was told. Rita, busy dispensing coffee, spoke again, with audacious sharpness. 'I hope you're going to fit in, my dear. There are a lot of parties and that kind of thing—a lot of social life on the island. Otherwise you're going to be very bored.'

Almost as if she were a stranger and must remain one.

Confused, Emma stared into Rita's icy eyes, again wondering why Rick didn't come to her rescue. Rita was making it quite clear she had no intention of handing over the reins of the household, certainly not into the hands of an incompetent teenager.

A flicker of devilment in Emma prompted her to say smoothly, 'I'm not all that fond of parties. I expect,'

deliberately she alowed her eyes to travel round, 'I'll find more important things to occupy my time here.'

Rita's thin mouth tightened. 'Rick likes his household managed properly and I'm used to his ways.'

About to reassert herself more strongly, Emma suddenly subsided. Why bother? Wasn't she only Rick's wife for a year? He wouldn't want her even pretending to be mistress here. The best thing she could do was to leave it all to Rita, who apparently had every intention of carrying on as usual.

Then, when she went, it would just be as if a faint breeze had come and gone.

'You do like meeting people, I suppose?' Rita, like all bulies, trampled even harder when her victim made no further protest.

Emma said carefuly, 'Of course.'

'She won't be meeting many for a while.' Rick spoke at last, and firmly.

Emma winced, strangely having more regard for his opinion than for Rita's. He must think she wouldn't know how to conduct herself in front of his fine friends.

'I did promise Veronica you would be at the party she's giving tomorrow night, Rick,' Rita frowned. 'She was so persistent I hardly liked to refuse.'

'She doesn't waste much time,' Ben said dryly.

His mother ignored him as she went on speaking to Rick.

'She had heard you were coming back, and you know how it is with her.'

'Sometimes it's almost too obvious.' Rick's face hardened and Emma thought he was going to say more. Instead, he shrugged. 'This once we might oblige, but I have too much to catch up on to waste time over too many social functions.'

Rita said thoughtfuly, 'You don't usualy say no to a party, when you're at home, especialy Veronica's.'

That Rita was doing her best to ignore Rick's marriage stood out a mile, and Emma winced. Who was this mysterious Veronica, whom Rita apparently favoured more than herself?

'Rick was saying, 'I want to go over the whole estate as soon as possible.'