AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If only he knew, Katy thought bitterly. But wait a minute! He had given her the perfect excuse. If she could plead illness perhaps she might just be able to wangle a weekend on her own. 'I'm tired, I guess. We have rather been living it up lately,' she said flatly.
'I have just the cure.' Jake smiled down at her as he ushered her out of the lift and into the apartment. 'How do a few days' complete rest and relaxation in a magnificent hotel set high in the Swiss Alps appeal?'
'What?' It was the last thing she needed.
'Let me explain, Katy. Ever since I was an undergraduate at Oxford a group of us have spent the first weekend in December at the same Swiss resort, the same hotel, for the first skiing holiday of the season. Over the years the numbers have fluctuated somewhat, as people married, had kids, and divorced, but usually there are about a dozen. Not everyone skis, so you could rest, relax, and join in the apres-ski. So what do you say?'
Katy collapsed on to the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. He looked so eager, a boyish grin curving his sensuous mouth. At any other time she might have en
joyed what he'd suggested, but not now.
'I don't ski, and I don't want to. You go, and I'll visit Dad for a few days. Having Mrs Thomas fuss over me will be a definite improvement on your housekeeper Mrs Charles frowning her disapproval from morn to night.'
Jake sat down beside her, and took her small hand in his. 'It is within your power to change Mrs Charles's attitude,' he said coldly, his good manner gone. With his thumb he rubbed the third finger of her left hand. 'You could wear the ring I gave you, but you chose not to.' He dropped her hand and stood up.
Katy sighed, and stared searchingly up at him. He was a complete enigma to her. She couldn't understand his attitude at all. He looked so aloof, withdrawn; she watched as he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a large measure of whisky. His back was towards her, and she noted the tension in his broad shoulders, but then tension was the norm in their relationship, she thought sadly.
'Maybe you're right, Katy; I can't begrudge you a visit with your father, and a few days' skiing will do me good.' He turned around and raised his glass to her in a mock salute. 'A short break, hmm?'
A wary smile curved her full lips. She couldn't believe her luck. With Jake gone she could nip over to Paris for the birthday party and be back before he knew. She would have to square it with her father, but that was no problem.
Her smile broadened; she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 'Pour me a small martini, please. Be careful on the slopes, Jake,' she teased. 'I seem to remember you breaking a leg once...' The first time they had kissed... God, but she'd been naive then.
Their eyes met and Katy knew he was remembering the same thing.
'Actually that was the second time I had broken my leg,' he informed her with a grin, his good humour returning. His brown eyes darkened as he placed his glass down on the table, and in two strides he was standing over her, her request for a drink obviously forgotten.
She quivered in anticipation. She knew that look in his eyes so well. He reached down and tilted her head back with one strong hand. 'But it was by far the most memorable occasion, Katy,' he purred as he bent over her, his lips brushing hers in a rare gentle kiss.
She sighed; she was powerless to resist him and her slender arms curved around his neck. Jake swung her up against his broad chest and carried her into the bedroom...
Katy let herself into the apartment the following afternoon and walked wearily to the bedroom she shared with Jake. She threw her bag on the bed and kicked off her shoes.
She shivered; the place seemed cold and empty—a wry smile twisted her full lips—probably because it was... Jake had left for Switzerland some hours earlier, and with the master gone Mrs Charles had grudgingly told Katy she was off for the weekend.
Katy had been delighted—everything was working out to perfection. She had called the airline and was booked on the evening flight to Paris. Calls to her father and Claude had completed her arrangements, but that had been this morning.
Now she sat down on the dressing-stool and stared with lacklustre eyes at her pale, frowning reflection. A visit to the local family planning clinic to renew her prescription had ended in disaster. She was pregnant.
Was there no end to her stupidity? she asked herself.
Jake had, after their first night, sarcastically suggested that of course she was protected and she had confirmed his opinion as befitted her sophisticated image. What a laugh! Hotfoot that morning she had visited the clinic and received a prescription for the Pill. Unfortunately, it seemed, she was too late; the damage had already been done, as today's visit had confirmed.
Katy rested her elbows on the table, her head drooped, her hands covering her face; for long moments she sat, breathing deeply, holding back the tears. What a mess! What a God-awful mess! Then slowly the tears forced their way through her tightly closed eyes. She had been living on the edge for too long, working hard, playing the sophisticated mistress, hiding her real emotions, and this latest blow was the last straw. Her shoulders shook as she gave in to a great paroxysm of weeping.
Crying for herself, for her unborn child, she sobbed as though her heart was breaking, and perhaps it was. She loved Jake and it was tearing her apart. Lying in his arms, lost in passion, she had to guard her tongue in case she let slip the words. In her saner moments she told herself she hated him, he was the rat who had slept with her own stepmother, but nothing seemed to make any difference. One touch of his hand and she was lost.
Her tears slowly ebbed and she raised her head. She had the horrible conviction that the real source of her grief was the fact that, now she was pregnant, she saw little alternative but to leave Jake. She had told herself for weeks that she had made a deal with Jake and she had to stick with it. But deep down a small voice whispered, Excuses, excuses.
Jake's deal with her father had been completed for ages. Jake could not possibly renege on it—the money had changed hands. Katy could if she wanted walk out any time, and there was not a damn thing Jake could do about it. The trouble was her own innate honesty forced her to admit that she didn't want to leave Jake, but now she had no option she couldn't bear the thought of his marrying her just because she had foolishly got pregnant.
'Abortion' was an emotive word. Katy was neither for or against it. She had always held the opinion it was the woman's sole right to choose, but for herself she knew it was a non-starter. There was no way she could abort Jake's child. A despairing sigh escaped her. What could she do? There was not just herself to consider. What about her father? At last they were friends. How could she deprive him of his grandchild? Running away again was not the answer.
Abruptly she stood up. Let me get away and think, relax in Paris with friends. No sooner had the thought entered her head than she was moving. A quick shower was followed by a careful application of make-up, slightly more than usual to hide the signs of her crying jag.
She dressed in the white wool suit Jake had taken such an aversion to, and, hastily packing a small suitcase with enough clothes to last her until Sunday plus the parcel containing the soft cuddly toy, her god-daughter's present, she called a cab.
When the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport Katy sighed with relief, a new enthusiasm lighting her rather sombre features. She strode confidently through the Arrivals lounge, a tall, blonde, elegant young woman, who turned more than a few male heads.
