Research Into Marriage. PENNY JORDAN

up, his mouth hardening even further as he demanded harshly, ‘But what about those children, don’t they have the right to have two parents to care for them?’

      Refusing to let herself get annoyed, Jessica took her time in replying. ‘Where they’ve been born into a marriage, yes, I agree that those children do need the support and care of both parents, but where a woman has elected to bear and raise her child on her own, then no.’

      ‘You’re aware that I have two children?’

      He was still frowning and she said quietly, ‘Yes.’

      ‘And despite all you’ve just said you’d still be prepared to marry a man who had two dependent children—children moreover who are in need of considerable emotional support and attention?’

      ‘I’m the child of a broken marriage myself,’ Jessica told him slowly. ‘I’m also a trained psychologist.’ At any other time the amazement in his eyes would have amused her, but now she merely added, ‘I have already written two books on the various aspects of human relationships, and at present I’m working on a third. Initially when I read your … that is your sister’s letter, it struck me that I might be able to help your children.’

      ‘Very noble of you.’ He was practically sneering at her and suddenly she lost her temper, and said fiercely, ‘Look, I can see I’m wasting my time even trying to talk to you. I’ve explained to you why I want to get married, and I’ll go further and tell you that any marriage I do contract will not be with a man labouring under the burden of resentment and bitterness that you’re obviously carrying. What I want is a civilised relationship with someone who accepts marriage as a business arrangement from which both parties derive certain benefits and forgo certain others.’

      ‘Oh, really? And what would be the benefits you would be willing to forgo? Sharing your body with a lover because you’d have a husband to share it with instead?’

      His tone was so deeply derisory that it was seconds before she could speak. When she did an angry flush lay across her cheekbones, her eyes deeply gold.

      ‘Certainly not,’ she told him crisply. ‘I have no lover, nor would I expect to find one in my husband. Far from it.’ She broke off, conscious that she had said too much, but to her surprise instead of taunting her further he was looking at her thoughtfully.

      ‘I see.’

      Quite what he did see, Jessica did not know.

      ‘So you’re talking about a platonic marriage, then, one which presumably could be set aside by mutual arrangement when it was no longer viable.’

      ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I had in mind,’ she agreed stiffly.

      ‘You realise that in my case, or rather in my sons’, it could be several years before any such marriage could be dissolved.’

      She did, and that was something which had worried her considerably initially.

      ‘Yes, but provided you were prepared to allow me to continue with my career unhindered, our lives running side by side but separately, I would be quite willing to continue with the relationship for as long as was needful.’

      ‘That could be for quite a long time. You’re young, only twenty-six. What happens if you fall in love?’

      He was watching her very carefully now and Jessica knew that much hung on her response to this question. It was ridiculous that she should have this strange desire to convince him that she was a suitable candidate for the position as his wife, but she refused to dwell on her feelings, merely saying coolly. ‘That will never happen. You see …’ she let her eyes meet his, gold tangling with blue, ‘I do not happen to believe in “falling in love”. It’s a euphemism, used at best to describe the emotional side of a strong physical desire for someone, and at worst as a crutch for the self-deluded.’

      He looked at her for a long time and then said softly, ‘Tell me, have you ever had a lover?’

      Jessica didn’t hesitate, knowing that she must convince him that it was not from any virginal fear of sex that she shrank from the commitment of marriage. Quite truthfully, she told him that she had and watched the way he controlled his reaction to her response, without adding that she had found it a singularly uninspiring experience and one which she had not bothered to repeat once that frail relationship had fizzled out, unable to survive the strain of their mutual disappointment in the physical expression of their desire.

      Since then she had found it quite easy to rebuff any men who approached her sexually and privately she considered herself to be possessed of a rather low sex-drive, but that was not something she was going to impart to him. For one thing it was something it was not necessary for him to know, and for another … Mentally she dwelt on the sheer masculinity of the length and breadth of him and acknowledged that unlike hers, his physical experience was probably both vast and pleasurable.

      It came as something of a shock therefore to hear him saying equably, ‘Well, I hope you don’t expect to find another in me. The one thing I don’t want from marriage is sex.’

      It was obvious from the way he was looking at her that she had not managed to conceal her astonishment as well as she had thought.

      ‘And no, I don’t have a lover,’ he added harshly, ‘and neither do I want one. To put it bluntly, the effects of my wife’s death are such that I doubt if emotionally I am capable of making love. Well,’ he challenged, in the silence that had fallen, ‘do you still feel you want to marry me?’

      ‘Yes, provided I can get on with the children.’ How deeply he must have loved his wife! She was surprised to discover how unacceptable she found that knowledge.

      It was not the answer she had intended to give at all, and she could hardly understand why she had given it. Plainly he was equally astonished. To cover up her own inner shock she added crisply, ‘Your sexual prowess or lack of it is of no interest to me. All I want from you is …’

      ‘The protection of my name as your husband. Yes, yes, you’ve already told me that.’

      He really was the most exasperating, rude man. Jessica fumed on the point of whirling round and walking out on him, when they both heard the sound of a car outside.

      She watched him stride over to the window, his lean body moving with a totally unexpected grace.

      ‘My sister,’ he told Jessica flatly. ‘She’s got the boys with her. Do you want to stay and meet them?’

      Tacit acceptance of the role she might be going to play in their lives? Jessica didn’t know, but suddenly she no longer wanted to leave.

      ‘Too late, they’re on their way in.’

      The door opened to admit a tall dark woman with strained blue eyes which brightened immediately she saw Jessica, although she was careful to pretend that she had no idea who she was or what she was doing here, Jessica noted, watching her.

      ‘You can stop the theatricals, Justine,’ the hard flat male voice instructed. ‘She knows it was all your idea.’

      ‘Honestly, Lyle.’ Impatience edged up under the wryly affectionate response.

      So his name was Lyle. Unusual, but she quite liked it.