The Marriage Bed. Helen Bianchin

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СКАЧАТЬ a smile and dismissed it lightly. ‘Old ghosts.’

      ‘Want to go back to the table?’

      ‘You think I need to conserve my strength?’ she queried solemnly as he led her to the edge of the dance floor.

      ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday.’

      She shot him a sparkling smile. ‘An hour of morning decadence before enjoying a late breakfast on the terrace?’

      ‘Early-morning decadence, breakfast on the terrace, followed by a drive to the airport.’

      ‘We’re escaping?’ Gabbi looked at him with due reverence. ‘Alone? Where? No, don’t tell me. Someone might overhear.’

      ‘Witch,’ he murmured close to her ear.

      Dessert was served as they resumed their seats, followed by coffee and after-dinner mints.

      Annaliese drifted onto the dance floor with Aaron, then paused and posed for a vigilant photographer.

      ‘May I?’

      Gabbi glanced at Dominic and rose to her feet. Benedict broke his conversation with James and cast her a quick smile.

      ‘Benedict is selective with men who want to partner his wife.’

      Gabbi cast Dominic a startled glance as he led her towards the dance floor and pulled her gently into his arms.

      ‘Don’t you believe me?’

      How did she respond to that? Her light, amused laugh seemed relatively noncommittal.

      They circled the floor, twice, then Dominic stepped to one side as Aaron and Annaliese suggested an exchange in partners.

      Gabbi smiled as she moved into Aaron’s clasp, then winced as he pulled her close. Too close.

      ‘Watch my show?’ The query was smooth, and she felt reluctant to enter the game he expected every female to play.

      ‘No, I don’t.’ She tried to sound vaguely regretful, but it didn’t quite come off.

      ‘You don’t watch television?’

      The temptation to take him down was difficult to resist. ‘Of course. Mainly news and documentaries.’

      ‘You’re a brain.’

      Gabbi wasn’t sure it was a compliment. ‘We all have one.’

      ‘In my business you have to look after the body. It’s the visual thing, you know? Nutrition, gym, beauty therapist, manicurist, hair stylist. Waxing’s the worst.’

      ‘Painful,’ she agreed.

      ‘Oh, yeah,’ he conceded with a realistic shudder. ‘I’m jetting out to LA next week. Been offered a part in a film. Could be the big break.’

      She attempted enthusiasm. ‘Good luck.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Mind if I cut in?’

      Gabbi heard the quiet, drawling tone and detected the faint edge to her husband’s voice.

      ‘Sure.’ Aaron relinquished her without argument.

      ‘You interrupted an interesting conversation,’ she said mildly as Benedict drew her close.

      ‘Define interesting.’

      ‘Waxing body hair. His.’

      ‘Up front and personal, hmm?’

      She stifled a bubble of laughter. ‘Oh, yeah,’ she agreed in wicked imitation.

      As they circled the floor she wondered how he would react if she said she hungered to feel his skin next to her own, his mouth in possession of hers in the slow dance towards sexual fulfilment.

      ‘Darling Gabrielle. Isn’t it about time I danced with my brother-in-law?’

      No. And he isn’t. At least, not technically. However, the words stayed locked in her throat as she graciously acknowledged Annaliese and moved into Dominic’s arms.

      ‘I was outfoxed,’ Dominic murmured, and Gabbi offered a philosophical smile. ‘Want me to complete a round of the floor, intervene and switch partners?’

      ‘No, but thanks anyway.’

      A few minutes later there was a break in the music and they returned to the table.

      Gabbi collected her evening bag and with a murmured excuse she moved towards the foyer with the intention of freshening her make-up in an adjacent powder room.

      There was a queue, and it was some time before she was able to find free space at the mirror to effect repairs.

      A number of people had escaped the ballroom to smoke in the adjoining foyer, and Gabbi exchanged a greeting with one guest, then another, before turning to re-enter the ballroom.

      ‘Ah, there you are, darling.’ Annaliese projected a high-voltage smile. ‘I was sent on a rescue mission.’

      ‘By whom?’

      Annaliese’s eyes widened in artful surprise. ‘Why, Benedict. Who else?’

      ‘An absence of ten minutes hardly constitutes theneed for a search party,’ Gabbi said evenly.

      Annaliese examined the perfection of her manicured nails.

      ‘Benedict likes to guard his possessions.’

      Attack was the best form of defence, yet Gabbi opted for a tactical sidestep. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’

      ‘What, precisely?’

      ‘Being regarded as an expensive ornament in a wealthy man’s collection.’

      This could get nasty without any effort at all. ‘A trophy wife?’ Gabbi arched one eyebrow and proffered a winsome smile. ‘Did it ever occur to you to examine the reverse situation? In Benedict I have an attentive husband who indulges my slightest whim.’ She ticked off the advantages one by one. ‘He’s attractive, socially eminent and he’s good in bed.’ She allowed the smile to widen. ‘I consider I made the perfect choice.’

      A flash of fury was clearly evident before Annaliese managed to conquer it. ‘You seem a little peaky, darling. Pre-menstrual tension?’

      ‘Sibling aggravation,’ Gabbi corrected her, resisting the temptation to add more fuel to her stepsister’s fire. ‘Shall we return to the ballroom?’

      ‘I intend to use the powder room.’

      ‘In that case...’ She paused, and effected a faint lift of her shoulder. ‘See you back at the table.’

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