chapter 27. Her decision.
1106 Words
for six weeks Ursula pored over the newspapers,
searching for any notice, however small, to indicate
that William had returned to Greece, He was mentioned several times, but it was always to say that he
was flying here or there for a conterence, and a day or so later she would read that he had returned to London. Why was he staying in England? He had never before remained for so long, always returning
to his island at the first opportunity. She had no contact with Charles, so she couldn't ask him for any information, not that she would have anyway.
She didn't want to know about William , she told herself
fiercely time and again, but that didn't ease the ache in her heart that kept her lying awake night after night and turned food to ashes in her mouth.
She lost weight, her already slim figure becoming fragile.
Instead of recovering, she was in danger of going into a Victorian decline, she told herself mockingly, but no amount of willpower could make her swallow more than a bite or two of food at any
meal.
Long walks with Samantha and the gamboling puppies for company tired her out but did not reduce her to the state of exhaustion that she needed in
order to sleep.
After a while she began to feel
haunted Everything reminded her of William,
though nothing was the same as it had been in London. She heard his voice, she remembered his devouring kisses, his fierce possessiveness. Perhaps
he hadn't loved her, but he had certainly wantedher;
he had been quite blatant about his desire.
Had he expected her to return to him? Was that why he was still in London? The thought was heady,
but she knew that nothing had changed, He would take her on his terms, or not at all.
Still she lingered at the cottage, walking every day down to the beach, where the vacationers romped and children went into ecstatic fits over the five fat,
prancing puppies. They had been weaned now, and mindful of their increasing size she gave them away
one by one to the adoring children. Then there was only Samantha left with her, and the days trickled slowly past.
Then, one morning, she looked at herself in the mirror as she was braiding her hair, really looked at herself, and was stunned at what she saw.
Had she really allowed Prince William to turn her into this pale, fragile creature with huge, dark-circled eyes? What was wrong with her? She loved him, yes in spite of everything he had said to her, she still loved him, but she wasn't so weak in spirit that she would let him destroy her!
She began to realize that it solved nothing to hide away here in Cornwall. She wasn't getting over him,
If anything, she was being eaten alive by the need to see him, to touch him
Suddenly her chin lifted as an idea came to her.
She still loved him, she could not rid hersell of that,
but it was no longer the pure, innocent love that she had offered him the first time.
Bitter fires had scorched her heart.
For the burned remmains of that
Sweetness, physical love might be enough . perhaps in his arms she might find that all of her love had been burned out and she would be free. And
not-if she found that in spite of everything she continued to love him-in the years to come, when he was married to his pure, chaste little Elena, she
would have the memories and knowledge of his passion, passion such as Elena would never know.
Then she realized that when she became his mistress he would know that no other man had ever touched her. What would he think? Would he apolo-
gize, beg her forgiveness? The thought left her Curiously unmoved, except for the bitterly humorous
thought that the only way she could prove her virtue to him was by losing it. The situation was ironic, and
she wondered if William would appreciate the humor
of it when he knew.
Without consciously admitting it, her mind was made up. She would accept William on his terms,
give up her respectability and chastity for the physical gratification that he could give her. But she would not let him support her: she would keep her
independence and her pride, and when he married his pure little Greek girl, she would walk away and ever see him again. She would be his mistress, but
she would not be a party to a******y.
So she packed her clothing and closed up the cottage, put Samantha in the car and began the long drive back to London. The first thing she did was call
Charles and tell him that she had returned, assuring
him that she was fine. He had to go out of town that afternoon or he would have come Over, and she was glad that their meeting was postponed .
If Charles saw her now, so thin and wan, he would know that something was dreadfully wrong,
That same problem worried her the next morning as she dressed. She couldn't get up the courage to
call William ; he might tell her that he was no longer interested, and she felt that she had to see him again
even if he turned her down to her face. She would go to his office, be very calm and nonchalant about it-but could she carry it off when she looked so very
fragile?
She used her makeup carefully, applying slightly more blusher than she normally used and taking extra care with her eyes. Her hair would have to be left down to hide the thin lines of her neck and
soften the fleshless contours of her cheekbones.
When she dressed, she chose a floaty dress in a soft peach color, and was satisfied when she looked in the
mirror. Nothing could quite disguise how delicate she had become, but she looked far from haggard.
As she drove to ConTech, she remembered the first time she had made this drive to meet William .
She had been rushed, irritable, and not at all pleased. Now she was going to offer him what she
had never thought to offer any man, the use and enjoyment of her body without benefit of marriage, and the only comfort she could find was that her
body was all he would have. She had offered him her heart once, and he had scorned it. Never again Would she give him the chance to hurt her like that.
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