A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘I feel—sick,’ Emma improvised. ‘Faint.’
‘Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s too late, old girl,’ Frank muttered. Dolly Mosten was descending upon them, a cloud of yellow chiffon and canary diamonds, her flaming red hair a fiery nimbus around her superb but vacuous face. And in her wake was the Australian major they had seen at the Ritz. So that’s it! Frank thought. His eyes were teasing as he looked at Emma and said pointedly, ‘He won’t bite.’
Emma did not have a chance to reply. Dolly was greeting them warmly and making the introductions, her famous bubbling voice ringing with laughter, her theatrical vivaciousness enveloping them in an intimacy Emma found curiously distasteful. She averted her head to avoid the major, who loomed up in front of her, all too predatory. Emma felt cornered, and then she found her hand being tightly grasped by a much larger, stronger one. Emma was in a quandary and she stared down at the fine black hairs spreckling that hand, almost afraid to raise her head.
‘I’m most delighted to meet you, Mrs Lowther. It is an undeniable pleasure and one I did not anticipate experiencing quite so soon, although, to be frank, I had determined to make your acquaintance. How fortuitous for us both that I stopped by Dolly’s tonight,’ the resonant voice drawled, the faint Australian twang hardly discernible.
Why, the impertinent and conceited devil, Emma thought, embarrassment and discomfiture she had experienced at the Ritz flaring within her again. She had the overwhelming desire to slap his face, but her innate good manners prevented her. Instead, she lifted her head and finally looked up into that face staring with such intensity at hers. Her mouth parted. No words came out. She blinked, conscious of the roguish expression in those stunning eyes, the sardonic smile as he waited for her response.
Emma felt the insistent pressure of Frank’s hand on her back and then to her horror, and before she could stop herself, she said coldly, ‘I understand you are an Australian, Major McGill. I hope the deplorable manners you so patently displayed earlier this evening are not typical of your nationality, but merely spring from your own lack of upbringing. Otherwise your fellow countrymen will find a frosty reception in this country, where women are treated with respect. This is not the Outback, Major.’
Dolly gasped. Frank cried, ‘Emma, you are being ungracious!’
But Major McGill was apparently amused. He threw back his head and roared with laughter, and he held on to her hand all that more firmly, so that Emma winced.
Emma turned to Dolly. ‘Forgive me, Dolly. I don’t mean to be discourteous to you. Please excuse me. I must leave. I feel perfectly dreadful. Something definitely disagreed with me at dinner.’ She endeavoured to extract her hand, but the major had tightened his grip like a vice.
The major said, ‘Touché, Mrs Lowther. I deserved that, I do believe.’ Paul bent forward, lowered his head, and offered his right cheek to Emma. ‘Want to slap it and get it over with?’
Flushing, Emma took a step backwards. The major immediately pulled her forward into the group again. He said, ‘I think I had better take Mrs Lowther for a glass of champagne. And I hope I will be able to convince her that even colonials are civilized.’ He tucked Emma’s arm through his in a proprietary way. Emma tried to disentangle her arm, but he instantly clamped his free hand over it and shook his head slowly. ‘Come along, Mrs Lowther,’ he said commandingly. She saw that his eyes were irreverent and taunting, and she loathed him more than ever.
‘Do excuse us,’ Paul said to Dolly and Frank, obviously well pleased with himself as he swept her away.
‘A little champagne will cool you off,’ Paul said, bowing elaborately to a couple he knew but without slowing his pace.
‘You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink,’ Emma hissed, her blood boiling
‘Even the most stubborn and temperamental fillies eventually get thirsty, Mrs Lowther,’ he said in a low voice, his eyes roving over her boldly. ‘Depending, of course, when they last quenched their thirst. You look positively parched to me.’
His words, appearing innocent enough on the surface, were full of innuendo and the unconcealed desire flickering in his eyes was revealing of his thoughts and his intentions. Emma’s cheeks were scarlet as they walked across the floor, and to her considerable irritation she discovered she was acutely aware of Paul McGill’s physical proximity—of his fingers biting into hers, of his arm brushing so intimately against her bare shoulder. He was taller and broader than she had realized at the Ritz, and he seemed to overpower her. He exuded a sheathed strength, an earthy and domineering masculinity that disturbed her. The room swam before her eyes and she was overcome by faintness. A peculiar tingling sensation invaded her entire body and her heart quickened, beating so rapidly underneath the green velvet she thought it was about to burst. She was flustered and unnerved. It’s only anger, she told her self, and she truly believed this was the real cause of her sudden distress.
Dolly’s drawing room appeared to Emma to have tripled in size and she thought the long stretch of chartreuse carpet would never come to an end. ‘Please, I would like to sit down,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Over there. You can go and find a waiter—’
‘Oh no, not on your life! You’re not going to escape quite so easily,’ Paul cried.
‘Where are you taking me?’
Paul stopped in his tracks and swung her to face him. He peered down at her, his violet eyes filled with speculation. ‘Well now, I’m not quite sure. There are hundreds of interesting possibilities and alternatives—’ Observing the chilly expression on her face, he laughed that bantering laugh and remarked softly, ‘Don’t look so terrified. I’m not going to abscond with you. I merely wanted to get you away from your brother and Dolly.’ He scanned the room and inclined his head to the left. ‘Over there perhaps, near the potted palm. That seems a likely place for us. A quiet and secluded spot.’
Emma attempted to break free from him. ‘Please let me go.’
‘Never.’
He manoeuvred her into the corner with great adeptness. Emma realized, and with mounting dismay, that there was now no opportunity for immediate flight, and she also acknowledged that she owed it to Frank to stay at Dolly’s for a respectable interval. She sat down on the sofa, relieved to be released from the major’s grip, and grudgingly took the glass of champagne which he whisked off the tray as the waiter glided past.
But she had no intention of pandering to this arrogant devil of a man, nor would she spare his feelings, and so she said icily, ‘I suppose this rough and masterful technique you adopt is successful with most women, Major.’
Paul nodded and crossed his legs nonchalantly. ‘Generally speaking, I would say,’ he said lazily. He looked her over with an insolence that brought a deep flush to her chest and neck.
‘Let me assure you it won’t be with me!’ Emma exclaimed, her face haughty. ‘I am different from most women.’
‘I am aware of that,’ he admitted, the roguish glint still lingering in his eyes. ‘In fact, I do believe I detected that characteristic in you at once. I think that’s what attracted me to you, apart from your staggering looks.’ He grinned. ‘You are seemingly staggeringly blunt as well, Mrs Lowther. And strong-minded and sassy to boot. Yes, very different, I would say. Fire and ice perhaps?’
‘All ice, Major,’ Emma parried.
‘Ice can melt, you know.’
‘It can also be very dangerous. People have been known to have fatal accidents with ice,’ Emma snapped.
‘Danger has always attracted me, Mrs Lowther. I find it exciting. Challenging. It brings out all my masculine instincts.’
Emma threw him a scathing look, turned away contemptuously, and glanced around the room, her eyes seeking Frank. This man elicited an immediate and direct response from her, and one that both infuriated and baffled her. With his monumental egotism, his astonishing appearance, his swaggering self-assurance, and his flippant tongue, he was quite unlike any man she had ever met. And no man had ever had the temerity to be so brash
Paul leaned back in the chair, his eyes reflective as he studied Emma’s exquisite profile, and he marvelled at his incredible luck in meeting her quite by accident this very night. He thought: She is very different. An original. She must belong to me. I won’t rest until I have her for myself. All of her. Not only her body but her heart and her mind as well. He was shaken to his very core, for no woman had evoked such a violent reaction in him before. Paul McGill, at thirty-six, was lusty, adventurous, worldly, and charismatic, with a down-to-earth sexuality that cut across class lines to awaken a fervent response in all women. Shopgirls and upper-class ladies equally found him irresistible and, consequently, his conquests had been all too easy, and so numerous he had long ago lost count of his romantic entanglements. His approach, until this precise moment in his life, had been based on a ‘take me or leave me’ attitude. Women fell over themselves to take him, and with an eagerness that was almost indecent, before he sauntered out of their lives, the rakish grin intact, his heart untouched.
For all that, and despite the debonair and hedonistic stance he struck, Paul McGill was intelligent and possessed shrewdness and psychological insight. Much smarter than he pretended to be, he now recognized, with a sudden flash of clarity, that Emma was a wholly different proposition. She was not going to succumb to his brash charm or his potent virility. This was a woman to be conquered only through understanding, honesty, and subtle strategy. Ruefully admitting he was antagonizing her unnecessarily with his raillery, he decided to change his tactics and cease his baiting of her at once.
He leaned forward and said, ‘Let’s stop this silly bantering. We’re spoiling it.’
‘Spoiling what?’ Emma asked snappishly.
‘Our first meeting. Our first evening together.’
‘And our last!’
Paul brought his face closer to hers. ‘I like a woman with spirit. Mrs Lowther. I presume Mr Lowther has the same preference.’
Taken by surprise, Emma gaped at him. What a blundering imbecile he is, she thought with irritation. Her stare was glacial. ‘I am a widow, Major McGill. My husband was killed eighteen months ago. In the Somme offensive.’
Oh, my God, Paul thought. He said quickly, ‘Please forgive me. I am so terribly sorry. I had no idea. I am a thoughtless fool.’ He swore under his breath and sat very still. Emma was silent and unresponsive.
Paul now said, ‘It was very tactless of me. One should be more careful in wartime. I am truly sorry. I hope you will also accept my apologies for my appalling behaviour at the Ritz. It was quite unforgivable.’
Emma heard the sincerity in his voice, detected sympathy in his eyes, saw that the mocking expression had been wiped off his face, and she was amazed at the radical change in his manner.
‘Will you accept my apology?’
‘Yes,’ Emma murmured.
Frank joined them and handed a walking stick to Paul. ‘Dolly asked me to give you this.’ He turned to Emma. ‘How are you feeling? Better, I hope.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Emma said. ‘I am sorry, Frank, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
‘Look here, Frank, it was all my fault,’ Paul cut in. ‘Let’s forget the incident, shall we?’
‘Of course, Paul.’ He grinned at them and strolled off to join a well-known politician holding court at the far end of the room.
Emma was eyeing the walking stick. Paul said, ‘I’m wounded. But you probably didn’t notice the limp.’ There was a sheepish look in his eyes as he said, ‘I have to admit I was trying my hardest to conceal it when we walked across the room.’
‘You succeeded very well.’ Emma found herself smiling at him and she discovered this small admission of pride on his part induced her to revise her opinion of him. She knew all about self-esteem, and she softened a fraction. She leaned back against the sofa feeling more relaxed. With that grin he looked like the eternal little boy. ‘I hope your wound is not too painful, or serious,’ she remarked softly.
‘No, not at all. In fact, I’ll be going back to France shortly.’ Paul regarded her thoughtfully, his face serious. He was aware he had gained ground with her, but he hesitated before saying, ‘I’m on leave for a few more weeks. Would it be possible for us to meet again? I know you think I’m some sort of scoundrel, but I’m not, really. I have no excuse for my ghastly display at the Ritz, other than to confess I was bowled over by your beauty. Still, I should not have caused you discomfort. Can we lunch tomorrow so that I can make amends?’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I promise I’ll behave—like an officer and a gentleman and not a scallywag from the Outback.’
‘I have a luncheon engagement,’ Emma said.
‘Is it terribly important? Couldn’t you break it?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s with Frank and I don’t see him very often. He would be disappointed.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ Paul’s face lit up. ‘I don’t want to seem forward, but could I join you? May I invite you both to be my guests?’ He smiled engagingly. ‘After all, you would be chaperoned with your brother present.’
Emma smiled. He was quite transparent. ‘I would have to ask Frank. I’m not sure how he would feel.’
To Paul’s annoyance Dolly sailed up to them and he stood up, offering her his chair. She declined and said, ‘I see you two have recovered from your little contretemps.’ Her eyes swept over Emma and settled on Paul. ‘How is the wounded warrior? I do hope you’re enjoying yourself, darling. We must keep our valiant soldiers happy, mustn’t we?’ She patted his arm playfully. ‘I can see you’re in good hands. I presume I shall see you at your father’s luncheon party tomorrow.’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I have a long-standing appointment. With destiny.’
‘Destiny?’ Dolly’s brow puckered in puzzlement. ‘I don’t think I know her.’
Paul kept his face absolutely straight. ‘I don’t believe you do, Dolly.’
Dolly shrugged. ‘One can’t be acquainted with everyone in London, I suppose. Do excuse me. I must circulate, my darlings.’
Paul leaned closer to Emma, his face sober. ‘I am, aren’t I?’
‘You are what?’
‘Lunching with destiny.’
She looked up at him and smiled, that unique smile that illuminated her face with incandescent radiance. ‘I thought you were lunching with Frank and me,’ she said.
Frank said, ‘Why are you doing this, Emma?’
‘Doing what, dear?’
‘You know exactly what I mean. Leaving London so unexpectedly.’
‘I only intended to stay in town for a few days. I’ve been here two weeks. I have to go back to Yorkshire.’
‘I never thought I would see my sister running away.’
‘I’m not running away.’
‘Yes, you are. It’s Paul McGill, isn’t it?’
Emma looked at him and bit her lip. She sighed. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘I guessed as much. But I still don’t understand why you are rushing off.’
‘Because he’s getting to be a nuisance and, anyway, I don’t particularly like him.’
‘Emma! How can you say that! If you don’t like him, why have you spent so much time with him? Every night, as far as I can gather. The theatre, dinners, parties, and luncheons, too. I’ve hardly seen you alone, and I must say you have certainly given the impression you are mesmerized by him.’
‘That’s not true, Frank Harte!’
Frank shook his head and looked out of the taxi window. He brought his eyes back to Emma. After a moment’s reflection he said, ‘He’s fallen for you like a ton of bricks.’
‘Oh, phooey!’
‘Yes, he has. I can tell. Everyone who sees the two
‘Frank, will you please leave me alone.’
‘Give me a good reason why you don’t want to see him any more.’
‘Because he’s too charming, too handsome, too fascinating. And too much—for me to handle. Besides—’ She broke off, her voice faltering.
‘Besides what?’
‘I’m afraid I’ll get more involved if I stay.’
‘I knew it! But surely you mean fall in love with him, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper.
Frank took her hand. ‘Does he know you’re leaving?’
‘No. There’s a note for him at the Ritz. He’ll get it tonight when he comes to collect me.’
‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to the poor chap.’
‘It was the only thing to do. Now, darling, please shut up about Paul McGill. And tell the taxi driver to hurry. I’ll miss my train.’
FORTY-FIVE
Calculating of brain though she was, Emma could be impulsive of heart and especially when her deepest emotions were involved, and she had acted on impulse the day she had returned with such abruptness to Yorkshire. Recognizing that she was falling under the spell of the magnetic Paul McGill, she had fled, propelled by panic and fear.
Long ago, Emma had come to the conclusion that she was unlucky where men were concerned. They either hurt her or she hurt them. Her relationships had never been balanced. She doubted that she could ever inflict pain on the self-assured Paul McGill, but he was a terrible threat to her. Contentment with her life, such as it was at this moment, was at stake. She could not afford to risk emotional upheaval. Only in business was she prepared to gamble.
But now, after two days, she was beginning to feel perplexed by his total silence. Aren’t you also a little disappointed? a small voice nudged at the back of her mind, and she smiled wryly, her eyes straying to the telephone. Perhaps you are, but you’re also relieved, she said inwardly, and looked down at the latest report from the Emeremm Company. Almost immediately her attention wandered again, her thoughts returning to Paul.