A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

would no longer be waiting for her, would never again be waiting for her.

The thought brought unexpected moisture to her eyes as she lay in Anthony’s arms. Quickly she sniffed them back but the sounds brought him awake, made him look at her.

‘Something wrong, darling?’

‘No, nothing, love, I just thought of James, that’s all, and…’

She broke off. She hadn’t meant to say that. Rather she’d wanted to refer to her earlier thought of how wonderful it was lying here with no need to leap up and run off; so wonderful that she’d suddenly felt overwhelmed. It would have had him instantly pulling her to him to begin making love to her. Instead he held his body back from her to gaze at her from his pillow.

‘That’s all behind you, darling. You have me now. Remember that.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘OK then,’ he said, and moving his hand beneath her neck, drew her to him, his other hand already caressing her naked breasts, and as their lips met, the hand moved slowly down to her thighs to nestle between her legs and, as she sighed, tightly grasped her there. She gasped in her need of him.

Suddenly he released her, sat up and slewed his legs over the side of the bed, his back to her as he opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet and she knew instantly what he was about.

Waiting for him was an unbearable chasm just as it had been last night while he took precautions to safeguard her from harm.

He’d put that second sheath in the cabinet drawer ready for this morning, thinking of her protection of course, but all she wanted to do was to grab his shoulder, turn him back to her, tell him that it didn’t matter if she did conceive; that it was what she wanted – to have his child, she a mother at last, cementing their union of love. If it happened today, they’d still be married in time to keep tongues from wagging. The child would be legitimate, all she had ever wanted, and it would be Anthony’s – hers and Anthony’s. All these years of yearning, at last she would be happy instead of having to tell herself she was; genuinely happy in her own right an end to all these years of knowing that happiness had always been only an illusion for her.

‘Darling,’ she whispered as he turned back to her, ‘let’s not bother using anything.’

She hated the things: harsh, sturdy rubber seeming to rasp against her tender flesh, no feeling of him except for those couple of times last year when carried away in a few moments of madness they had forgone such precautions. The result had been overriding fear of abortion, only to suffer anyway as the fetus decided to rid itself of her nevertheless, it not even formed enough to be recognizable as a human child.

He paused in moving to kiss her. He drew back. ‘Sweetheart, we need to be careful.’

She too drew back. ‘Why?’

‘Because we don’t want to spoil the opportunity we have now for freedom and fun.’

‘But a baby would make our marriage just perfect.’

It caught her that he’d ignored her mention of marriage, ploughing on with all thought of making love put aside for the moment.

‘Why on God’s earth would you want to saddle yourself with a baby just when we’re free at last to do exactly as we please – going out and about, parties, theatre, meet people that matter, socialize till the cows come home, travel anywhere we please, abroad, to America if you want?’

How could she explain to him how she felt? The baby that had been taken from her sprang into her mind, as it did occasionally out of the blue, but whenever it did, she would inevitably see that likeness to the man who’d taken advantage of her innocence and her longing for the child would fade instantly. What she wanted was Anthony’s child, one who’d resemble him in every way and upon whom she’d pour her affection.

‘I want us to have something of a good time together before we start to settle down,’ he was saying. ‘And I know you do too. You’ve had so little of it with James around.’

‘James was good to me,’ she said sharply in his defence.

‘Of course he was. But any fun you had, it was you who’d arrange it – those parties of yours, he seldom took part. Even when we were together you always had to rush away. Now you’re free and we can live it up a little, our whole life in front of us. The two of us, we’ll take London society by storm.’

She didn’t want to take London by storm! Or maybe she did. Wasn’t this what she had dreamed about for years – the two of them, he tall and suave in evening suit; she on his arm, slim and glamorous, her evening dress the latest fashion, flat silhouette, sleeveless, frilled skirt, low hip line, hem slanting to one side; her hair short, fair and wavy, held by a beaded bandeau. They would dance the night away, kicking up their heels, enjoying cocktails and champagne with friends, the centre of attention.

She knew she was attractive, drew all eyes even when with James at those boring business dinners, and at the grand parties and soirées she’d once thrown before he became ill; even as far back as that girl from that horrible boarding house – she’d forgotten her name – and those friends of hers, she was the one the young men glanced at first, their gaze unwavering even as she stood back, uncertain and aloof.

Now she was poised, self-assured, always beautifully dressed, and on Anthony’s arm they would take London society by storm. The world was at her feet – at last.

‘Let’s just live a little first,’ he murmured against her ear. ‘We have plenty of time to start a family. What d’you say, my sweet?’

His breath moved over her hair, tickled her cheek seductively, his