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'We could work it off skating,' she retorted. 'Don't you see, it would have one big advantage, it could be annulled at any time if we found it didn't work.'

'So you want an arrangement whereby we have one eye on the back door before we have even opened the front one?' His narrow eyes were alight with blue flame. 'Are you made of flesh and blood, Sonya Vincent, or are you still a sleeping adolescent? I thought I had woken you up, but it seems you require another dose of the same treatment.'

Sonya shrank back against the sofa; she was tired and overwrought and felt quite unequal to dealing with the storm she had provoked.

'Please ...' she whispered, but Sven pulled her roughly into his arms, saying: 'You told me on the ice that you were all mine and I could do with you what I would.'

'Well, only figuratively ...' she began, while her heart beat wildly. He laughed shortly.

'Figuratively be damned! I am going to take you at your word. I have listened to a load of nonsense tonight while I tried to be considerate. Now we will do things my way.'

She yielded—she could not help herself under his practised caresses. A slow dark tide of desire crept upwards from the depths of her being and submerged her. His kisses were hard and demanding, his constricting hold painful, but she was too lost in sensation to resent anything he did. She felt his heart thudding above her own, and his muscular thighs pressing against her; his habitual self-restraint had erupted, re
leasing a volcanic flood of passion. He dropped her down on the couch, and bent over her, pulling at the fastenings of her dress; then suddenly he restrained himself. He stood up abruptly, breathing fast.

'Why did you stop?' Sonya asked naively. She wanted him to go on kissing her all night. With all her feelings aroused, she had no need to think. Marital intimacies were no longer to be feared, they were desirable.

'Because I do not want to seduce you in your father's house, with him incapacitated,' he told her. 'I have some scruples, you see, but,' he smiled mischievously. 'I think I have convinced you of the impracticality of a marriage of convenience.'

She laughed and blushed.

He took her hands in his and stroked them gently; she hid her face against his shoulder.

'I love you, Sven, and this time I haven't had any wine.'

'Then go on loving me and do not suddenly freeze up again.'

She was chilled; she had expected a more ardent response to her declaration. Sven was oddly stingy with love words. Since none seemed forthcoming, she asked:

'When is it to be?'

A flash of surprise crossed his face; he had not expected such instantaneous acceptance.

'As soon as possible, I should think. There is nothing to wait for, is there, and your father will be pleased.'

'Yes, you hatched this up between you, didn't you?' she said resentfully.

'We did not hatch anything, as you put it. Naturally I advised him of my intentions and he approved.'

'Always so correct,' she sighed. 'I suppose it's the Swede in you.'

He hesitated, seemed about to say something, then changed his mind.

'Perhaps,' he agreed. 'You do not want a big wedding, do you? It would be too much of a strain on your father, and if the press got wind of it, they would make it a jamboree.'

Sonya knew that was so. Sven was something of a celebrity and their recent success together would leave them wide open to publicity. Regretfully she dismissed the vision of herself in a white dress and veiled, and said bravely:

'I would like it to be as quiet as possible. Getting married is a very private thing, don't you think? And I haven't any near relations to ask—what about yours?'

'Only Ingrid would be interested, and it is too far for her to come, so there need only be you and I and a couple of witnesses.'

'As you say.' She leaned against him filled with contentment. She need make no more decisions. Sven would take all her small troubles upon his broad shoulders. From henceforth she would be guided and directed by him. She forgot that she had begun to resent her father's domination, nor did she reflect that she was exchanging one master for another, whom she might come to still more strongly resent. The doubts and reluctance which she had experienced before she came downstairs had flown. She really was in love with Sven—such rapturous response to his lovemaking could only be prompted by love. She had no knowledge of the subtleties of feeling and desire which were far removed from what for want of a better definition is termed 'the real thing.' After all, her parents' romance had been the result of a skating partnership and her father regretted her mother until this day. She said suddenly:

'Would you mind if I had a baby, Sven?'

'Not at all, if you will wait until after the Olympics.'

That of course came first with him, but would he ever release her from the tyranny of the ice? She reminded him:

'Mummy had me.'

'I think I should like a daughter like you.'

But he spoke as if he were placating a child. She looked up at his lean, handsome face, which had assumed his usual slightly mocking expression. Surely this was his cue for a declaration? He had said in derision that he adored her, and she had declared that she did not believe him. What she wanted now was a sincere pronouncement of three simple words. 'I love you.'

He did not say them, and she was too proud to prompt him. Instead he passed on to practical matters. Where were they going to live?

'I can't leave Daddy,' she said at once. 'Oh, I know I may have to,' at his quick frown, 'when we go to sports meetings abroad, but not permanently.'

'Then is there any reason why I should not move in here? You have plenty of room and then I should be at hand if ... something happened.'

She knew he meant if her father died and in that circumstance she would need his care and comfort and his help with the business arrangements, but his suggestion had a hint of the proverbial lodger hanging up his hat which was vaguely distasteful. They had not discussed finance, that would be between him and her father. But she noticed he had mentioned the Olympics, so it would seem he had given up the idea of turning professional to make an income. There was no need for him to do so, except his own pride, but she had respected him for that and regretted its apparent disappearance.

'That's a good idea.' She looked round the room that had been something of a prison. She would have liked her own home, something more modern, but that would have to wait until ... 'Unless we postpone our marriage,' she concluded.

'No, Sonya,' Sven said firmly. 'I am not prepared to wait. I know I shall have to combat your father complex, but I can do that best by being on the spot.'

'You wouldn't want to come between me and Daddy?' she cried in alarm.

'I certainly would not, but you must learn that a husband comes first. He will understand that.'

'I suppose so.'

He grinned wickedly. 'You had better make sure of me while you can. There are others waiting to pick me up.'

'Thomasina,' she said with a gleam of malice.

'I am beset on all sides.' Then he became serious. 'I would like you to know that, in spite of all your suspicions, I have never slept with Tom. Please believe me.'

'Yes, Sven, I do,' she assured him. 'And since you're so honest, I have a confession to make.'

'Not that you have a yen for young Derek?' he cried in mock alarm.

'Nothing like that. I don't really like skating.'

But he did not take her seriously. 'You are feeling tired,' he told her. 'There are times when I wonder why I go on with it myself. When the International is over, we will have a long holiday, go to Sweden perhaps. It is a beautiful country in the summertime.'

Absently he stroked her hair, but he did not realise the big difference between them—he was dedicated to the sport and she very definitely was not. She began to fear it as a rival.

'I hate the skating,' she cried vehemently, 'it makes you inhuman.'

Whereat he began to laugh, telling her she was losing her sense of proportion. 'The prospect of marriage has diverted your thoughts, but it was my skating expertise which brought us together, so do not abuse it.'

And will keep us together, Sonya thought, and should I through some accident be unable to skate, what then? But it was a morbid idea, and she dismissed it hastily.

When he said he must go, she clung to him crying:

'Sven, Sven, don't ever let me down, I couldn't bear it!'

'You are being foolish,' he admonished her. 'There is no question of that.'

Not quite the way she would have liked him to put it, but she forgot to be critical as she surrendered to the ecstasy she found in his arms. All her inhibitions had been swept away, and she kissed him with fervour, moulding her body to his, until he pushed her away with an unsteady laugh.

'Let me go, little temptress, or all my good resolutions will be broken. You will not have long to wait.'

He left her in a turmoil of emotions in which exhilaration was mingled with dismay. She was plunged into a vortex of new sensations and had committed herself to a man she half feared even while she believed she loved him. At least her father would be delighted since he had advocated this marriage to Sven. The thought brought comfort. If Eliot with his wide experience judged Sven to be a worthy man he could not be at fault. He would not be willing to give his only child to a man he did not trust, and at least life with Sven would never be dull.

'But why,' Sonya asked her reflection in her mirror, when after whispering her news to a sleepy parent she sought her own room, 'can't he say he loves me?'

An oversight perhaps, he did not realise he had not, but it was one no woman could appreciate.

Sonya
was married to Sven Petersen two weeks later at the local church. Sven had advocated a register office, but Sonya wanted to be married in church and he assented. Present were her father, the Mathesons, Jan van Goort and a dried-up individual called Mr Foster who was the family solicitor. Eliot for reasons of his own had invited him. They did not tell anyone at the club and Jan was sworn to silence. Sonya shrank from telling Derek, for she knew he had not a very high opinion of Sven and she feared he would voice the misgivings which she was trying to stifle. During the waiting time she cut her practice as low as she dared. Anyone following an athletic pursuit, including dancing or skating, with the intention of appearing in public, must put in at least one hour's work a day. Jan, being in the know, was considerate, but Sven said :

'Van Goort and I have every sympathy with the emotions of a prospective bride, so we are being indulgent, but when it is over, you must apply yourself wholeheartedly to your training.'

His well shaped mouth set sternly and Sonya felt this was the first crack of the whip. He would allow no slacking once they were wed. Because of the skating and her father's indifferent health they would not have a honeymoon. Sven talked about a holiday in Sweden when the International was over, but until then they could not afford to let up.

The wedding was in the afternoon so that Eliot could rest during the morning, but he asked Jan to give Sonya away.

'I'll not go clumping up the aisle with my two sticks,' he declared, 'like a bad fairy at a christening.'

He was already seated in his pew when Jan led Sonya up the aisle. She had left her fur coat in the car. and appeared in a simple two-piece suit in pastel blue with a blue turban on her head confining her curls in an endeavour to make herself look older, but she had never felt more juvenile since she was a child.

Sven waited before the altar, immaculate in a grey suit. He had arranged for music and a few flowers. It was the best he could provide since Sonya had been deprived of the fine show which most young girls secretly dream about. Eliot had said nothing was to be stinted and grieved that he could not give his daughter a spectacular wedding, but there was no time and he too did not want publicity.

The officiating cleric, an old man, made an error, evidently having difficulty with Sven's unfamiliar name. It came out as:

'I, Steve, take thee, Sonya ...'

Sven courteously repeated it, but what Sonya said was inaudible. She did not take in very much of what was happening, her whole being was concentrated on the elegant stranger beside her, who was incredibly being made into her husband. She did what she was told, signed where she was shown, moving like a sleepwalker.

'You are very pale, my love,' Sven said to her as he led her down the aisle of the nearly empty church to the strains of the Wedding March from the organ.

'It's cold,' she returned, and shivered.

'Churches often are.' It was a hint that she would have done better to follow his inclination for a different venue. He had called her 'my love', but without any warmth. He had not even kissed her.

They went back to the house for refreshments and drinks. Jan, the Mathesons and Mr Foster solemnly drank their healths. Then when it transpired that Jan had come by taxi, Sven insisted upon running him home. Sonya had noticed Sven's disparaging glance at the heavy furnishings of the dining room, and he seemed to find the atmosphere of the old house oppressive, and be glad to escape with Jan. Then two strange men arrived and Eliot said he had business to transact with them and Mr Foster. The quartet went off into the office, in spite of Sonya's protests. Why did he have to do business on her wedding day, and overtire himself? The Mathesons were preparing a special dinner for them which he must attend. But he refused to listen to her.

Feeling neglected and not a little peeved, Sonya took Tessa for a short walk. When she came back she found Sven had not returned and she went upstairs to the bedroom she was to share with him. It was the guest room and had been little used. It looked out at the front of the house, while her father's room next to it had a view of the garden at the side. It was furnished with a large double bed and old-fashioned wardrobe, bureau and dressing table. Matheson had brought up Sven's cases but not yet unpacked them, and she proceeded to do so, and felt a thrill at the intimacy of putting his belongings next to hers. At the bottom of the
first case she came upon a folder full of papers. She lifted it out and his passport which had been included in it fell out on to the floor. With surprise she saw it was a British one; the rest of the papers were to do with rules, etc., for pairs entering for the International. She put the folder on a chair and picked up the passport and, her curiosity aroused, opened it. The name of the bearer was given as Steve Peterson spelled with an O and his national status that of a British subject. She turned the page and Sven's familiar features met her eye. It was indubitably his, the date of birth was correct and he had been born at St Albans in Hertfordshire. Sonya stared at it, puzzled. Apparently Sven was not Swedish at all, but surely he and his sister had been acclaimed as a Swedish pair? She never read the sports news and had taken no interest in his subsequent career until she had met him. It seemed she had been the victim of a gigantic fraud.