THE WAR BRIDE CLUB (20 page)

      Alice waited for the other toilet to flush before she let herself out. Then she washed her hands and took one last look at her complexion.
 

      
Guilty
. She looked guilty. But she did look attractive, too. More so than she’d felt since arriving here.
 

      Alice hurried back down the hall, then stopped. The office had completely emptied out now, except for two men in suits who were standing talking to her boss.
 

      Matthew seemed to sense her presence. He turned and smiled, before waving at her to join them.
 

      Part of her was relieved, but a lot of her was disappointed. She’d hoped that it was her he wanted to see. That there was no meeting at all.

       Now she just felt a fool for bothering with her appearance.
 

They’d been talking for an hour. Alice had diligently been taking notes, but her hand was starting to cramp. And now they’d stopped talking purely business and were chatting.
 

      She had no formal training, so she didn’t know if she should excuse herself, keep writing, or sit back and smile politely as they spoke.
 

      “Well gents, I think it’s time we called it a day.”

      Finally. Alice set her pen on the table and folded her hands in her lap, waiting to be dismissed.
 

      “How about a drink?” one of the men suggested. His ruddy face and portly belly made Alice think he was probably always first to suggest alcohol or food. “A drink or two at the Club?”

      Alice hadn’t heard of
the club
before. She guessed it was a place for wealthy men to socialize, given the businessmen before her. It was probably full of beautiful woman, which made her feel stupid all over again for trying to impress her boss.
 

      She watched as Matthew nodded. “Good idea. How about you two head over there and I’ll catch you up shortly? I just need to make a few phone calls.”

      The man stood, hands on his stomach. “No need, we’ll wait.”

      Alice stood too. Then wondered if she should have stayed seated.
 

      “Don’t let me hold you up,” insisted Matthew, walking around the table to slap each man on the back. “I’ll see you there before you’ve downed your first whisky.”

      That made them all laugh.
 

      Alice stood still. She wasn’t much enjoying the leery looks she was receiving from either of his clients. She hoped they’d leave now instead of hanging around while she readied herself to go home.
 

      And she was feeling rejected. Matthew hadn’t so much as glanced at her the entire meeting, except to clarify a matter he wanted her to take down.
 

      “See you there, then,” he said.
 

      She watched as he escorted them out. Alice bent to gather her notes and Matthew’s belongings. She moved back into the adjoining room, placing his things on his desk.
 

      “Sorry to keep you so long.”

      Alice turned at his voice. Matthew was behind her, his hand hovering over the door handle.
 

      She gulped. He was closing the door.
 

      They were alone, no one else was in the office, and he was slowly but surely shutting the door.
 

      “Ah, I didn’t mind at all,” she managed.
 

      He smiled. Like a fox with a hen within its sights. His lips parted, showing his white teeth, and she wondered if he was actually going to pounce upon her.
 

      “Your husband must be wondering where you are.”

      Alice shook her head. “I doubt he’ll even notice I’m late.”

      That made him laugh. He stepped toward her, his movement predatory.
 

      “I find that hard to believe.”

      Alice wanted to reply but couldn’t. She’d stuttered over her last words, now she was mute.
 

      Matthew stopped a few feet away. Close enough to make her blush, to make her eyes flit across his, but far enough away that he wasn’t making an advance.
 

      Yet.
 

      “They’ll be expecting me shortly,” he told her.

      She swallowed again. It was like a stone had lodged itself in her throat and she couldn’t push it down.
 

      “I’ll, ah, let you make that phone call then.”

      He moved even closer. Now he was in her space. Staring down at her. The heat from his body reaching out to her.
 

      “There’s no phone call, Alice.”

      Her heart pounded so fast it frightened her.
 

      The meeting might have been real, but his excuse for staying behind had been phoney.
Deliberate.
 

      Alice closed her eyes as his hand moved toward her face. She felt his fingertips graze her cheek, before stopping at her mouth.
 

      “Alice?”

      She opened her eyes and found his trained on hers. She looked at his neatly clipped moustache, his lips, then back up to his eyes again.
 

      “I’m going to kiss you,” he told her.
 

      She nodded. She couldn’t speak.
 

      Matthew’s mouth pressed against hers. His moustache tickled her, his soft lips sweeping back and forth across hers.
 

      Then he stopped. Alice moaned. She couldn’t help it. Why was he stopping?
 

      “We’re both married, you realize that, don’t you?”

      She nodded again. It was the only response she was capable of. His deep, husky voice did something to her senses, not to mention his touch.
 

      This time he spoke low, directly into her ear.
 

      “This is just for now. Just for here. You understand that, Alice, don’t you?”

      She didn’t care. She should, but she didn’t.
 

      This time when she nodded he took her and forcefully bent her over the desk. His lips crushed hers, his tongue made her legs buckle, hard body straining against hers. She held on to him, desperate, like she’d never be able to get enough of him, no matter how hard she tried.
 

      It was the best kiss of her life.
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RAIN tapped on the roof with as much precision as a drummer in a marching band. But Madeline didn’t care.
 

      It could snow, hail, or howl with wind. So long as she was here, in her own home, and not with her in-laws, she was happy.
 

      She was exhausted from working every day, but she’d rather be exhausted from working where she was appreciated than being on the farm. At least she was being paid. And soon, once they received Roy’s first pay check, she would have money enough of her own to start saving.
 

      
For the baby, or for her fare home
. So long as she had an emergency fund to fall back on, for whatever reason, she’d feel more secure.
 

      Roy hated working at the grocery store - unloading boxes and carting produce, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that they hardly had a penny to rub together, that they had only a bed, an old sofa and an upside down wooden grocery crate as a coffee table. That they had only one pot and a few mismatched plates and cups.
 

      All she cared about was that they weren’t on the farm any longer. That she was never going to have to even visit again if she didn’t want to.
 

      Roy was glum, often depressed and dull, but it was worth it. Surely he would come around to the idea soon. If he’d wanted to stay on the farm that badly, if he cared that much about it, why had he lied to her before they’d married? Why had he even wanted to marry her in the first place?

      They were questions she couldn’t answer. Questions that continued to circle in her mind, but they were fading.
 

      The only thing that wasn’t fading was her stomach. It was still small, but it now had a slightly rounded edge to it. A hint of a curve where before it had been flat, or maybe she’d just been eating more than usual.
 

      Next month she would go to the doctor. For now, she just wanted to enjoy having a place of her own, her job, and the fact that she wasn’t feeling such a deep dislike for her husband any longer.
 

      She heard a shuffle at the door.
Roy.
 

      What would he be doing home early? She’d had the day off, in lieu of the overtime she’d done for Lauren earlier in the week. But Roy should have a few hours more away from home.
 

      She listened to the noise of him jangling his keys on the porch, but she didn’t go to open it. Instead she went back into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Ordinarily, or at least when her father had arrived home from work, either she or her sister had poured him a drink. Usually a small brandy, to help him unwind, but Madeline didn’t have enough money yet for the privilege of alcohol. Besides, she hadn’t noticed Roy or his family drink a drop since she’d arrived.
 

      “Madeline?”

      She turned at the sound of her name. He hadn’t called out to her like that since before they were married.
 

      “Madeline?”

      “In here,” she called back.
       

      Her husband appeared. He held a modest bunch of flowers in one hand.
 

      “Oh my, are they for me?” she asked.
 

      Roy smiled at her and set them on the bench.
 

      “Sure are.”

      She didn’t want to point out that they couldn’t afford them. He’d bought them now, so what good was moaning going to do?

      “We don’t have a vase but a glass will suffice,” she told him, smiling before turning away and taking their only not-chipped glass from the cabinet.
 

      “I was promoted today.”

      She spun around.
Promoted
? He’d only had the job two weeks. “Promoted?”

      He grinned at her as she picked up the flowers and put them in the glass.
 

      “The produce manager had a heart attack this morning at work. Can you believe it?”

      The man had been pretty old, so she didn’t find that so unbelievable. The fact they’d chosen Roy for the promotion so quick was a different story. And as manager?
 

      “They just asked you? Like that?”

      “Yep.”

      Madeline poured them coffee and walked both cups into the tiny lounge.
 

      “Does it mean more pay?”

      “More money, same hours, more responsibility.”

      “That’s great, Roy. I’m really very proud of you.” She smiled politely at him, as if talking to a colleague instead of to a man who was her husband. A man whose bed she shared every night. “And thank you for the flowers.”

      “I got to thinking, Mads.” He looked down at his coffee cup, then back at her. As if he were shy. “When we were in England, I had so many dreams. So many hopes. I thought we’d be so happy. Then I realized I hadn’t ever even bought you flowers before. What kind of husband does that make me?”

      His words touched her. Things had been different between them back then, but it wasn’t she who had changed. It was he who had pretended to be something he wasn’t.
 

      “I’m sorry, Madeline. I wanted you to marry me, and I thought if I told you the truth you wouldn’t be interested.”

      She swallowed the emotion choking in her throat. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t have been interested in him. But he was right. She never would have considered leaving her family to trade for this. Not if he’d said she’d be going to a farm house with no indoor lavatory and only a tiny room to themselves, with no intention of ever moving to a new house, or renting somewhere, for just them. And certainly not if he’d said how much his family would resent a foreign wife, or how they would want to work her to the bone like she was a slave.
 

      “Can we try to make it work, Madeline? Really try?” he asked.
 

      She smiled at him. The first real, genuine smile she had wanted to send his way since she’d arrived.
 

      “I hope so, Roy. I really hope so.”

      Since the day she’d made up her mind that it was either they moved out or she went home to England, she’d refused him night after night. Unlike when they were first married and he’d as good as demanded his right to her body, now she was in charge. Maybe it was time she stopped resisting him, stopped pushing him away.