Helen Bianchin

The Marriage Bed


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      ‘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.’

      The minor victory was sweet, but she entertained no doubt that the war was far from over. However, a weekend away would provide a welcome break from the battlefield. The thought was enough to lighten her expression and bring a smile to her lips.

      Benedict was deep in conversation with Dominic, Aaron and Monique were conducting animated small talk and James seemed content being an observer. Gabbi took the vacant seat beside her father.

      ‘Would you like some more coffee?’

      She shook her head. ‘You could ask me to dance.’

      A smile slanted his mouth. ‘Dear, sweet Gabbi. I’m honoured.’ He rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’

      ‘Enjoying yourself?’

      Gabbi considered his question as they circled the dance floor, and opted to counter it. ‘Are you?’

      ‘Monique assures me such occasions are a social advantage.’

      ‘I suspect she considers you need a welcome break from wheeling and dealing,’ she teased lightly, and incurred his soft laughter.

      ‘More likely a woman’s ploy to justify spending a small fortune on a new gown and half the day being pampered by a beautician and hairdresser.’

      ‘Which men are content to allow, in the knowledge that said social occasions provide equal opportunity for proposing or cementing a business deal.’

      He spared her a thoughtful glance. ‘Do I detect a note of cynicism?’

      ‘Perhaps.’

      ‘Benedict adores you.’

      She could accept respect and affection, but wasn’t adore a little over the top? Fortunately with James there was no need to perpetuate the myth. ‘He’s very good to me.’

      ‘I would never have sanctioned the marriage if I hadn’t been convinced that he would take care of you.’

      The music wound down for a break between numbers, and Gabbi preceded her father to their table.

      Annaliese had taken an empty seat next to Benedict, Monique was conversing with Dominic and Aaron was nowhere in sight. Musical chairs, Gabbi decided with a touch of black humour as she slid into a vacant one.

      Guests were slowly beginning to dissipate. In half an hour the bar would close and the DJ would shut down for the night Any time soon they could begin drifting towards the foyer, take the lift to the main entrance and have the doorman summon their car.

      Benedict lifted his head at that moment and cast her a searching glance, raised one eyebrow a fraction, then smoothly extricated himself from Annaliese’s clutches. Literally, as the scarlet-tipped fingers of one hand trailed a persuasive path down the fabric sheathing his forearm, followed by a coy smile and an upward sweep of mascaraed eyelashes in a deliberate attempt at flirtation.

      Gabbi tried to assure herself that it didn’t matter. But it did.

      She smiled graciously all the way to the main entrance, completed the air-kiss routine with Monique and Annaliese, brushed lips over her father’s cheek, bade Dominic and Aaron goodnight, then slipped into the passenger seat of the Bentley.

      Benedict eased the car towards the busy main street, paused until he gained clear passage into the flow of traffic then quickly increased speed.

      Gabbi leaned her head back and focused her attention on the view of the city. Bright flashing neon signs and illuminated shop windows soon gave way to inner-city suburban streets and shuttered windows, some dark, others showing a glimmer of muted electricity. And, as they began to ascend the New South Head road, they gained a view of the harbour, its waters darkened by night and tipped with ribbons of reflected light.

      ‘You’re very quiet.’

      She turned her head and examined Benedict’s shadowed profile. ‘I was enjoying the peaceful silence after several hours of music and noisy chatter.’ It was true, but she doubted he was fooled by her explanation. ‘If there’s something you want to discuss...’ She trailed off, and gave a slight shrug.

      ‘Annaliese.’

      No doubt about it, he aimed straight for the main target. But two could play at that game.

      The Bentley turned into their street, slowed as they reached the electronically controlled gates guarding their property, swept along the curved driveway and came to a halt inside the garage.

      Gabbi released the seat belt, unfastened the door-clasp and slid out of the car, aware that Benedict was mirroring her actions. He attended to the house alarm and followed her indoors, keyed in the re-set code then drew her into the lounge.

      ‘Would you like a drink?’

      She looked at him carefully, and chose a light-hearted response. ‘Champagne.’

      He crossed to the bar, removed a bottle from the fridge, opened it, filled two flutes then retraced his steps.

      Gabbi took one flute and raised it in a silent salute, then sipped the contents. ‘What particular aspect of my stepsister’s character do you want to discuss?’

      She could read nothing in his expression, and she had no idea whether he intended to damn her with faint praise or offer