Man-Hater

He was gone before she could speak, leaving her dry-eyed, her heart pounding with fear, her body aching with tension and the bruises and scratches Colin had inflicted upon it.

Frigid, frigid, frigid—the word danced jerkily through her mind as she lay there, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to properly comprehend. She heard the door slam as Colin left the house—going where—to Pat, who wasn’t an iceberg, who wouldn’t make him freeze? And then what? Would he come back and carry out his threat? Could she endure it if he did? Rape was an ugly word for an ugly deed, but that was what it would be if Colin consummated their marriage.

She was still lying there in the darkness when she heard the doorbell. She let it peal, until she realised that it wasn’t going to stop. It had to be Colin, and she dressed slowly, hoping he would go away, but he didn’t.

She unlocked the door, noticing that a false dawn was pearling the sky. She must have been lying there half-conscious for several hours, but it had seemed like only minutes since he left.

‘Mrs Langdon?’ She peered up at the policeman standing on the doorstep. ‘May I come in for a second?’

Somehow he had done and he was inside and asking where the kitchen was, saying something about a nice cup of tea. Kelly’s numbed mind couldn’t follow what he was saying, only that he was using a soothing tone, the sort one used on frightened animals—or children. Slowly, what he was saying sank in.

‘Now, come and sit down,’ he said gently, his own manner awkward and compassionate.

‘He wouldn’t have felt a thing,’ he told her. ‘Killed straight off…’ He didn’t add that his sergeant had said—and so he deserved to be, driving like a maniac on the wrong side of the road, with too much drink inside him.

Colin was dead! Why didn’t she feel something? Anything? She couldn’t. All she felt was numb. She watched the young policeman with a curious sense of detachment. He seemed more concerned than her. He drank the tea he had made quickly and asked her if she had any family.

She shook her head and heard herself saying clearly, ‘It’s all right, I shall be perfectly all right. Please don’t worry…’

‘Rum do,’ the constable told the sergeant at the station later. ‘Didn’t so much as turn a hair.’

‘Takes all sorts,’ the sergeant commented, ‘and news like that takes ’em all in different ways. Don’t worry about it too much, lad,’ he comforted the younger man—it was only his second ‘fatal’ and it was always hard to have to be the one to break the news.

ALONE IN THE HUGE Victorian house, Kelly’s own emotion was one of thankfulness. Of relief. Her love for Colin had gone, destroyed by the discovery that he had simply been using her. Her body ached from his cruelty, and her mind felt blunted and bruised. All she wanted to do was sleep. But there was one thing she must never do, and that was that she must never again be foolish enough to allow any man to deceive her as Colin had done. She must remember always that she was rich, that she was undesirable apart from her money and that she must always, always be on her guard. Always…

‘ALWAYS…’ With a start, Kelly realised that she had said the word aloud. Grimacing, she shrugged. She had come a long way from the girl she had been at eighteen. She was, after all, eight years older, eight years wiser. She glanced down at her hand where Colin’s rings still glittered.

She wore them as a reminder; just as she used her married name. Since Colin’s death she had learned that she was attractive to men, but she had never stopped wondering cynically why, and she thought she knew the answer. Those who were married simply wanted a few brief hours of escapism and thought they could use her body to achieve it, and those who weren’t wanted to secure their future through her wealth and weren’t averse to making love to her if by doing so they could achieve that object. She despised them all with equal fervour.

‘A man-hater,’ one of them had once called her, but didn’t she have good reason to be? And hadn’t Jeremy just confirmed that she was right?

CHAPTER TWO

SHE worried about the weekend when she should have been thinking about her work. There had been something in Jeremy’s manner which suggested that he might be contemplating forcing the issue. A visit to her bedroom uninvited, perhaps? It had happened before—albeit not with Jeremy. And if she refused the invitation, how would Sue feel? Sue who had lost her longed-for baby before it was even born.

Kelly fretted over the problem for most of the day and left the office feeling jaded and tense.

She was half-way down a tube escalator when the advertisement caught her eye: ‘Need a companion? An escort?’ it asked. ‘Phone us—we can provide either, male or female—to accompany you to that special function which you simply can’t attend alone.’

Was it genuine, or was she being naïve? What was the matter with her? she asked herself as she hurried on to the tube. Surely she wasn’t considering hiring an escort? But why not? It would be one way of keeping Jeremy at bay; and without the complications taking any other escort with her might involve. She had many male acquaintances, but there wasn’t one of them who wouldn’t leap immediately to the wrong conclusion if she suggested they spend the weekend with her.

She toyed with the idea all evening, alternately dismissing and re-assessing it. It was ridiculous, farcical, but wasn’t it also the ideal solution? There was nothing to be lost in simply making enquiries.

She dug out a telephone directory and searched through it. The agency had a surprisingly good address, a fairly new office block that Kelly knew quite well. She had contemplated taking a suite in it herself until she had received the offer from the insurance company for her present offices. Chewing her lip, she contemplated her alternatives. She could either go alone to Sue’s and risk being proved right about Jeremy’s attentions, or she could try and avert any unpleasantness by making enquiries at the agency and, if everything went well, employing one of their staff to accompany her.

Simple! So why should she be so wary and full of doubt? Was it because the idea of actually paying someone to accompany her smacked of a lack of femininity and—even worse—an admission that she could only attract male attention by paying for it? What did it matter? No one other than herself and the agency need know. Her motives were quite legitimate, and surely it was worth sinking her pride if it meant saving Sue pain and herself possible embarrassment. She had nothing to lose by simply calling at the agency and enquiring, had she?

As luck would have it, she had an appointment that took her in the vicinity of the agency’s offices. She emerged on to the pavement from the impressively externally-mirrored building that housed the latest addition to their client list, sufficiently buoyed up with the success of obtaining a new and prestigious client to pluck up the courage to cross the busy street and walk purposefully into the marble foyer of the building opposite. There was no commissionaire in evidence, but a quick glance at the nameplates by the lift confirmed that the agency was on the third floor. Feeling considerably more nervous than she had done at her previous interview, Kelly waited for the lift, smoothing the skirt of her new Jaeger suit anxiously. The suit wasn’t something she would normally have chosen. Maisie, her assistant, had persuaded her into it for the meeting this morning. In a rich amethyst velvet, the skirt fell in soft gathers from a neat waistband. The jacket was faintly mediaeval, with a cropped close-fitting collarless bodice and slim slightly puffed sleeves, quilted with gold thread.

She was wearing a new blouse with it, cream silk with a large collar worn outside the jacket, and an amethyst velvet ribbon tied in a bow at her throat.

Somehow the outfit made her look faintly vulnerable rather than efficient; it even seemed to rob her chignon of something of its normal formality. Wisps of hair had escaped to curl round her temples, and Kelly toyed nervously with her pearl earrings as she sent the lift to the third floor.

She saw the entrance to the agency the moment she stepped out of the lift. The door to the foyer was open and there was a man with his back to her bending over a desk.

He straightened up as she knocked and walked in, turning to study her with lazy appreciation. Much to her chagrin, Kelly felt herself flushing with anger as his glance slid potently over the length of her legs in the sheer amethyst stockings that matched her outfit, pausing almost thoughtfully before moving upwards, assessing the slenderness of her waist encased in a broad suede belt, the full curves of her breasts beneath the velvet jacket, coming to rest with amused comprehension on her taut and angrily flushed face.

‘My apologies,’ he drawled in a voice that, Kelly told herself unpleasantly, sounded like all the very worst television commercials, and was very obviously less than sincere.

‘Don’t apologise if you don’t mean it,’ she snapped. ‘Insulting me once was enough!’

‘Oh? And how did I do that?’ The husky voice hadn’t changed, but Kelly had the disconcerting feeling that somehow she had angered him.

‘By looking at me as though I were a piece of merchandise you were considering buying. That was your first insult,’ Kelly told him scathingly. ‘Your second was expecting me to be deceived by your less-than-sincere apology.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t apologising for looking,’ she was told softly. ‘What I was apologising for was embarrassing you.’

‘Embarrassing me!’ Kelly stared at him in fury. Did he actually think she had been embarrassed by his insulting scrutiny? ‘You didn’t embarrass me in the slightest,’ she told him coldly, ‘you merely annoyed me. How would men like it if women stared at them as though…’

‘As though they were pieces of merchandise they were considering buying?’ he quoted mockingly. ‘I don’t know what brings you here, Miss…’

‘Mrs Langdon,’ Kelly supplied for him coldly, watching his eyes narrow as he glanced at her left hand as though seeking confirmation of her statement. ‘I’m here for the very simple reason that I wish to avail myself of the services of this agency,’ she went on tautly. Now that she was here, confronting this arrogant specimen of manhood, she was beginning to have grave doubts about her intentions.

‘The agency?’ He glanced at the door, frowned, tapping thoughtfully on the desk, while he subjected her to a provokingly intense study. ‘You mean the escort agency, I take it?’

‘Is there any other?’ Kelly snapped, her patience worn thin by his manner and his scrutiny. He was completely unlike the species of male she had grown accustomed to over the years; they, well primed as to her reputation and her wealth, were normally either obsequious or respectful; sometimes flirtatious, but never, never did they regard her with the cool disdain of this man, whose grey eyes seemed to take her apart muscle by muscle, assessing each and every part of her as he did so. His hair was dark and brushed the collar of his jacket—too long, she thought scornfully, but doubtless there were some women who found him attractive. As far as she was concerned, he was far too chocolate-boxy to appeal; he looked like one of the actors one saw on television, driving lorries and eating bars of chocolate, or performing death-defying acts on skis to deliver them. Some of her contempt showed in the withering glance she gave him, determined not to let his manner overset her.

‘Umm…you’re attractive enough, I suppose,’ he ventured calmly, ‘but I scarcely think your manner is likely to win you friends or influence people. If you really want a job I would suggest that…’

‘I want a job?’ Kelly broke in furiously, two hectic spots of colour burning in her preciously pale face. ‘I haven’t come here for a job, I’ve come here for an escort!’

‘An escort?’ If he was as stunned as he had sounded, he covered it up very quickly. ‘I see, and just what sort of escort do you require, Mrs Langdon?’ he asked smoothly, sitting down in the leather chair behind the desk, and pulling open a drawer. ‘You must understand that this is a highly reputable agency, we don’t…’

Kelly’s furious gasp reached him as he straightened up, staring coldly at her. ‘You’re a married woman,’ he pointed out.

‘I’m a widow,’ Kelly contradicted him, ‘and I want to see the manager.’ She threw the last comment at him through gritted teeth.

‘By all means,’ he agreed suavely, ‘but you’ll have to come back next week. He’s on holiday at the moment.’

Next week! That would be far too late!

‘Look, suppose you tell me your requirements… Do you need an escort for some official function?’

‘Not exactly,’ Kelly replied hesitantly, strangely reluctant to admit to this infuriating man exactly what she did want.

‘I see. Well, perhaps if you were to tell me exactly what you do want…’ He removed what looked like an application form from the desk and bent his head over it. His hair was thick and dark and possessed a glossy, healthy sheen, Kelly noticed absently. Why on earth had she come here? She longed to turn tail and run out, but simply didn’t dare. His face was perfectly composed and polite, and yet Kelly had the suspicion that inwardly he was laughing at her. Well, let him laugh, she thought angrily, she didn’t care what he thought.

Quickly she told him an edited version of her story.