His Untamed Innocent (13 page)

But she faltered when she caught sight of the pair of gold wedding-rings lying on the cushion in front of them instead of just the single band she’d been expecting.

I thought it would be hypocritical to get married in church, she thought numbly. Yet now he does this.
This…

Her hand was shaking as Jake took the smaller ring, sliding it on to her finger. When it was her turn, she fumbled it, and his hand closed on hers, guiding her, pushing the gold band firmly over his knuckle and into place.

He looked down into her stormy eyes, his smile faintly crooked, then he bent and kissed her lightly and sensuously on the mouth.

It was over in an instant, but Marin felt the pressure of his lips curling in her bones and singing through her bloodstream.

Then, as she stood half-dazed, she heard laughter and applause and Barbara was hurrying forward, dabbing at her eyes, with Elizabeth, serene in lavender at her side, wanting to be the first to offer their own kisses and congratulations.

And throughout it all, Marin stood forcing herself to smile, while the words, ‘What have I done? Oh God, what have I done?’ whispered through her brain.

And they continued to prey on her mind while she picked at the magnificent poached salmon and accompanying array of salads Mrs Connell had prepared for the celebration lunch. She sipped at the half glass of champagne, which was all she was allowed, and listened to Derek’s affectionate praise for her as he welcomed Jake to the family and proposed the health of the bride and groom. She tried not to notice the concern in Lynne’s eyes, and Elizabeth Radley-Smith’s faint frown.

It’s a rite of passage, she told herself. A formality, like Jake saying just now how beautiful I looked today, and asking them all to drink to his wonderful wife. It’s the done thing, and it will soon be over.

Lynne and Mike were the first to depart, then Elizabeth came to say goodbye. ‘Although it should really be
au revoir.
’ She paused. ‘Sadie and the staff have gone into overdrive, making sure everything is perfection for your homecoming.’ She added quietly, ‘You’re arriving on a wave of goodwill, Marin.’

Not I, thought Marin, but this tiny thing, barely a squiggle inside me. That’s what really matters to everyone, and to Jake most of all, or this wedding would never have happened.

Barbara was tearful when the car arrived to take them to the airport. ‘As soon as it’s safe for you to fly, you’re both coming out to stay; Jake’s promised me. I’m so happy for you, darling,’ she added huskily. ‘It may have been rather quick, but I know you’re in safe hands.’

‘I wish I was coming to see you off.’

‘Well, Jake’s doing it for you.’ Her mother paused. ‘Besides, you’re looking a little tired, my love. Why not have a nice rest while you wait for him to come home?’

An excellent notion, Marin thought drily, but impossible to carry out. She was too much on edge.

It was very quiet now. Mrs Connell had probably finished restoring the place to its usual pristine condition as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place there. And maybe it hadn’t. Perhaps all today represented was a signature on a dotted line.

Look at it like that, she told herself. And deal with it.

The sudden rap on her door lifted her, startled, on to an elbow. Before she could speak, the door opened and Jake walked in, carrying a bowl of flowers—the cream roses, flushed with pink at their hearts, that he’d given her to carry at the ceremony.

‘Jean thought you might like to have these,’ he said without preamble. ‘And she’ll wrap the stems in damp cotton-wool tomorrow, if you want to take them with you.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s—good of her. They’re lovely.’

He set the bowl down on the dressing table and lifted the folds of pink lawn from the stool, letting them drift through his fingers. He said quietly, ‘And so was this. You took my breath away.’

She was desperately conscious that she was wearing little more than a layer of silk. She said hurriedly, ‘It wasn’t really my choice—rather too Jane Austen.’

His brows lifted. ‘You have a problem with Jane Austen?’ he asked with faint amusement.

‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘In normal circumstances.’ She paused. ‘Did Mummy and Derek get away all right?’

‘Their flight was absolutely on time.’

‘It was very kind of you to go with them, and to have them stay here.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ Jake returned. ‘Derek’s a great bloke, and your mother’s a honey.’

‘And she seems to like you too.’ Marin bit her lip. ‘Which will make it all the harder for her when she realises that this marriage is a total fraud.’

‘On the contrary, it was legally contracted before witnesses.’ He held up his hand where the ring gleamed. ‘Want extra proof?’

‘An empty gesture,’ she dismissed curtly.

‘No,’ he said. ‘More a public statement that I’m off the market.’ He added mockingly, ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You didn’t.’

He shrugged. ‘Then call it a whim.’

‘And something else that you may live to regret.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ His mouth twisting, he dropped the dress back on the stool. ‘Now, may we call a temporary truce and discuss supper? And, before you tell me you’re not hungry, I saw how little you ate at lunch.’ He paused. ‘So, put something on and I’ll make some scrambled eggs.’

‘
You
will?’ she queried incredulously.

‘Why not?’

‘I—I didn’t know you could cook,’ she returned lamely.

‘Something else I picked up at university, where I was famous for my curried beetroot. However, I’m making the offer to feed you because Jean has made a tactical and tactful withdrawal for the rest of the day, leaving us quite alone to enjoy our wedding night.’

He paused, studying her reflectively, making her aware all over again of how little she was wearing. ‘She probably thinks it’s time my patience was rewarded.’

Her throat tightened. ‘I hope that isn’t a viewpoint you share.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Sadly, it is not.’ The mockery was back in his voice, soft, insidious. ‘So supper is quite safe, darling. You will not form part of the meal.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we say twenty minutes?’

He’d just started to beat the eggs when she arrived in the kitchen, punctual to the minute. He turned, his face expressionless as he surveyed the neutral sand-colour trousers and shirt she’d changed into.

Well, what was he expecting? she asked herself defensively. A black lace negligee?

‘Do you want to eat here or in the dining room?’

‘Here, I suppose,’ Marin said, remembering ten days of stilted conversations across the other room’s over-large table.

‘As the lesser of two evils, by the sound of it.’ Jake poured the eggs into a pan. ‘You’ll find cutlery and mats in that unit over there—second drawer.’

The eggs were perfect, served with rolls of crisply grilled bacon and a mound of buttered toast, and Marin discovered she was hungry after all.

‘That was wonderful,’ she told him when she’d eaten every scrap. ‘You really can cook.’ She gave him a mischievous look. ‘But I’d rather not sample your curried beetroot.’

He grinned back at her. ‘Nor would I, not again. It’s a miracle I survived.

‘I’ve also made coffee,’ he went on as he put their plates in the dishwasher. ‘Will you have some with me, or shall I fix you Ma’s peppermint concoction?’

‘I’ll make myself some tea,’ she said quickly. ‘And take it to my room.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Have it here. I want to talk to you.’

‘Talk about what?’

‘I think marriage might qualify as a major topic.’ Jake dropped a tea bag into a beaker and added boiling water, before pouring his own coffee. ‘Don’t you?’

Marin stared down at the cork mat in front of her. ‘I think we’ve said all that’s necessary already.’

‘Then you wouldn’t be prepared to reconsider the terms of our agreement?’ he asked as he brought the drinks to the table.

She stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’

He resumed his seat, looked down at his coffee. He said slowly, ‘It’s really quite simple. I want you to sleep with me tonight.’

‘No.’ Heart hammering unevenly, she pushed her beaker away, spilling some of the tea. ‘No, of course not.’

His brows lifted. ‘You speak with great conviction.’

‘Because that’s how I feel,’ she said hoarsely. ‘You have no right to ask that.’

‘Then give me that right,’ Jake said urgently. ‘Darling, you’re my wife, and we should at least try to make something of our life together.’ He reached for her hand, which she snatched away. ‘Come to bed with me and just let me hold you. I won’t ask for more than that, I promise.’

‘You think I’d believe any promise of yours—now?’ She got to her feet, trembling. ‘Yes, I made a fool of myself with you once, but that’s over. As you agreed.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I have your baby. In return, you leave me alone. That will never change. It can’t.’

‘Marin,’ he said. ‘Whatever regrets we had afterwards, we were happy together that night. I believe I could make you happy again—if you’d let me try.’

‘Then keep to our agreement,’ she said. ‘And I’ll be jubilant. But I won’t sleep with you tonight or any other. I—I couldn’t bear it.’

His chair scraped noisily across the tiles as he pushed it back from the table and rose. She flinched and saw the bitterness in his face turn to shock, and then a great weariness.

He said, ‘Oh God, do you think—do you honestly imagine—that I’d…force you?’ He shook his head. ‘I simply hoped we might salvage something from this mess. Give this ludicrous marriage a chance. So I asked you a question. Now I’ve had my answer, and that’s the end of it.’

He paused, the blue eyes cold. ‘All the same, maybe you’d be wiser to take your tea to your room.’

He went on flatly, ‘I’ll be here tomorrow at midday to take you to Harborne. And you’ll have the master suite there entirely to yourself. When I visit, I’ll use my old room. That should put enough distance between us to reassure you.’

He added curtly, ‘Now, goodnight.’

Marin left the beaker where it was and fled.

The bedroom ceiling hadn’t changed much in the half-hour she’d been absent, she thought as she lay staring up at it once again.

No cracks had suddenly appeared in its smooth surface, threatening to bring the whole thing crashing down around her.

No, it was her life that lay in that kind of ruin, and she had brought it entirely on herself.

Oh God, she thought, shivering. Just for a moment, when we were laughing together in the kitchen, it felt so close, so right, like that other night all over again. And if he’d taken me in his arms then I’d have gone with him, given him anything—everything—that he asked.

But I need him to give in return. Because sex, however wonderful, can never be a substitute for the love I want from him. That I can’t live without.

Let me hold you…

She turned over, burying her flushed face in the pillow, remembering what it was like to lie wrapped in his arms. To feel the strength of bone and muscle under her cheek, and breathe the scent of his skin.

There hasn’t been a night, she thought with anguish, when I haven’t remembered—haven’t longed for him.

So why did I turn him away? Why couldn’t I simply accept what was on offer and allow myself a little warmth to balance against all the chill to come? To armour me against the loneliness, when eventually he turns to someone else.

And, even if it’s merely kindness again rather than passion, isn’t that better than nothing, which is all I have now?

In a drawer she found a white silk-chiffon nightdress, still unworn, that Lynne had persuaded her to buy for Queens Barton.

She slipped it over her head, feeling the caress of the delicate fabric as it slid down her body.

In the shadows of the room, she looked as insubstantial as a ghost. But she was warm, living flesh and blood. A bride—a woman going to the man she loved.

Everywhere was in darkness as she went barefoot out into the passage, making her way to the room at the end.

She wouldn’t say anything, she thought. She’d just slide into bed beside him, letting her presence speak for her. Offering him her willing surrender.

As she opened his door and slipped inside, she wondered if he’d be awake, finding sleep as elusive as she had herself.

The curtains were apart and the glow of the city lights outside illumined the room, revealing without mercy to her stunned gaze that the wide bed was empty, its covers undisturbed.

Telling her silently that the man who’d become her husband only that morning was spending his wedding night elsewhere—in all probability not alone.

And that their marriage was over even before it had begun.

Chapter Twelve

‘O
F COURSE THERE’S
going to be a party,’ Elizabeth Radley-Smith declared firmly. ‘Everyone in the locality is dying to meet you.’

‘I’m not exactly a party person.’ Marin bit her lip. ‘Besides, is it really a good idea—under the circumstances?’

‘You are Jake’s wife,’ Elizabeth returned. ‘That’s the only circumstance that matters.’ She paused. ‘Is he coming down this weekend?’

‘No,’ Marin said. ‘Apparently not.’

‘Indeed?’ Her mother-in-law’s tone was austere. ‘And what reason did he give this time?’

‘I didn’t actually speak to him. His new PA called to give me the message.’
And I’m beginning to hate the sound of her voice.

Watching Elizabeth begin to frown, Marin went on, impro-vising hastily. ‘Lynne told me last week that the company is frantically busy. And Jake knows that I’m being well lookedafter.’ She made herself smile. ‘Spoiled rotten, in fact.’

‘Except that it should be Jake himself doing the spoiling,’ Elizabeth returned drily.

I’m sure he is, thought Marin. Only somewhere else and with someone else.

But I can’t let myself think about that or I might start to cry, and I only do that alone in bed at night.

Since her arrival at Harborne a month ago, she could count on the fingers of one hand the times that Jake had joined her there. His visits were generally concerned with estate business and lasted no more than overnight.

Nights that he spent well away from her in the bedroom he’d occupied since boyhood. Just as he’d said he would.

And, even if she’d ever been alone with him long enough to have the private conversation he seemed so anxious to avoid, what could she possibly have said? She couldn’t think of a single question where she could risk hearing the answer.

Such as, ‘Where did you go the night we were married?’

If there’d ever been a moment to ask, then maybe it was the following morning while they’d been driving down here. But, from the moment they’d come face to face, his aloof and devastating politeness had kept her silent. Warned her to remain so.

I turned him away, she thought. So, what did I expect—a vow of celibacy?

Elizabeth was speaking again. ‘It would have been so much better if the two of you had gone off together after the wedding. Of course, it couldn’t have been a honeymoon in the usual sense,’ she added with faint embarrassment. ‘But you might have been able to come to terms with the situation and each other. Maybe found a basis for friendship, at least.’

Friendship, Marin thought painfully. Could I have settled for that? Could I have taught myself to see him walk into a room, hear his voice and feel only mild pleasure instead of that joyous, agonised lift of the heart?

If he’d only been less kind and more cruel that first and only night—if he’d stepped back and told me it wasn’t going to happen—yes, it would have hurt. Terribly. But I’d have recovered in time and got on with my life instead of being left to face a lifetime of regret, being with him and without him at the same time.

And obliged always to wonder…

Aloud, she said, striving for lightness, ‘It’s probably as well we didn’t. I wouldn’t have been very good company, being sick every day. I just hope it stops soon, and preferably this week, because I really need to go up to London.’

‘Are you sure you feel up to that?’ Elizabeth scrutinised her searchingly. ‘You’re looking rather too pale for my liking. When is your next doctor’s appointment?’

‘In a week’s time,’ Marin said. ‘She wants to discuss booking me into the Martingdale Clinic for the birth. And I’m fine,’ she added.
Apart, that is, from a severe case of unrequited love.
‘But I have to talk to the letting agents handling my flat. They wrote this morning to say my tenants have decided to go their separate ways, and are asking to do a deal over the remainder of the lease.’

And I’m the last person in the world to want them penalised for being unhappy.

She added, ‘But I think my real decision is whether to re-let or sell up.’

‘Then why don’t I drive you up tomorrow?’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘I have some shopping to do, and we can meet for lunch later. The Casa Romagna, say, at one.’

Kindness clearly ran in the family, Marin thought wryly. Jake’s mother was trying so hard to behave as if she had a real daughter-in-law that it would be churlish not to meet her halfway.

‘I’d love that,’ she said. ‘But do you think we’ll get a table? It’s become incredibly popular since it won that award.’

‘Oh, there are ways and means,’ Elizabeth returned casually. ‘So, shall I pick you up at nine-thirty?’

‘It’s a date,’ said Marin.

When she was alone, she began her daily wander, the self-imposed ritual of moving slowly from room to room, running a hand over a favourite piece of furniture, adjusting the fall of a curtain, rearranging a cushion, gathering up the fallen petals of a flower, making it all her own, telling herself she belonged here and it was hers to care for in a way she’d never been tempted to do in Chelsea.

Sheer delusion on her part, of course. It was Jake’s house and she was here purely on sufferance, keeping it in trust for the next generation.

She’d wondered how it would be with Elizabeth living so close, but even though the older woman came up most days to exercise her elderly gelding, Mr Gritty, she made these visits totally unobtrusive and was scrupulous about not dropping into the house uninvited.

Yet, in spite of the intrinsic awkwardness of their situation, there were plenty of invitations, because Marin enjoyed her company.

I meant to show her the paint cards for the nursery, she thought ruefully, only she sidetracked me over this damned party. But it can’t be held without a host, so all Jake has to do is find the projected dates inconvenient and the whole idea will simply die the death.

The redecoration of the master suite was also becoming an issue, with books of fabric samples arriving almost daily at Sadie’s behest.

The only trouble was the colour she liked best was a warm gold, almost identical to what was already there.

And Sadie’s going to tell me it will fade just as badly, she told herself wryly. But isn’t that a small sacrifice to make in order to go on waking up in a room full of sunlight? Even if this time I’m alone there with just my memories.

But she didn’t feel particularly sunlit when she woke the next morning. She’d spent a restless night, and must have ended up lying awkwardly, because she had a niggling ache in her back.

For a moment she was tempted to call the London trip off and simply phone the agents. On the other hand, there’d be stuff to sign and Elizabeth’s offer meant she didn’t have to struggle with trains and the underground, while lunch at a top restaurant was appealing too. Besides, exercise might cure her niggle, she decided, easing herself off the mattress.

So she put on a plain mocha-coloured shift dress with matching low-heeled sandals, and was waiting, smiling resolutely, when the car drew up.

She did a little desultory but enjoyable window-shopping before making her way to the estate agency. An hour later she’d released her former tenants from any further obligations and agreed to put the flat on the market, spurred on by the information that potential buyers were already waiting to view.

Another bit of my life being dismantled, she thought as she hailed a cab to take her to Casa Romagna.

It was already frantically busy when she arrived ten minutes ahead of time, but a corner table was waiting, and the still mineral-water she asked for arrived almost at once.

The pain in her back hadn’t vanished, as she’d hoped. If anything, it seemed to have become slightly worse, she realised, testing it with a cautious hand. But maybe Elizabeth would have something mildly analgesic in her bag that she could take.

She wasn’t a great one for celebrity watching, but in a place like this it was almost irresistible, she decided, spotting in a ten-yard radius a well-known television presenter and the girl who’d won the award for best supporting-actress at the last Oscars.

Although if anyone looks at me, she thought, they’ll be wondering ‘Who the hell is that?’

Only to hear a woman’s voice drawl, ‘Well, if it isn’t little Miss Wade herself.’

She glanced up with a sinking heart to see Diana Halsay standing beside the table.

‘Except you’re now Mrs Radley-Smith,’ Diana went on, her mouth curling. ‘And up the stick as well. Although I understand that wasn’t the actual order of events.

‘I was terribly upset not to be invited to the wedding, but I quite see why Jake preferred to keep it quiet.’

Marin put her glass down very carefully, feeling sick again. If I throw up, she thought, please God let it be all over her Jimmy Choos.

She said quietly, ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Halsay.’

Diana’s smile widened, became catlike. ‘I hope you continue to think so. Because this really is the most amazing coincidence, finding you here today, when I’d heard that Jake had arranged to have you buried alive in the country and go his own merry way.

‘You see,’ she went on, ‘I’ve just been talking about you to a former acquaintance of yours who simply can’t wait to meet you again. You may remember I mentioned a friend who’d been doing up her house in the south of France? Well, here she is.’

She turned her head. ‘Adela, darling, do come and say hello to the unblushing bride.’

No!
The word seemed to explode in Marin’s head. No, this can’t be happening to me. It can’t…

But Adela Mason was already sauntering towards them, immaculate in a fuschia-pink dress set off by a long, violet scarf.

‘Well, well,’ she said unpleasantly. ‘You’ve certainly landed in clover, you treacherous little bitch. Diana tells me you’ve got your hooks into a millionaire, and that you’ve even managed to con him into marrying you to give your bastard a name.’

She hadn’t bothered to lower her voice, and Marin could see heads turning at adjoining tables, looks being exchanged.

She had to say something, do something, she knew, but her skin felt clammy and the pain in her back was hurting her badly now, making it difficult to think of anything else, let alone speak.

‘I hope the glamorous husband didn’t insist on a pre-nuptial agreement,’ Adela continued. ‘Because he may not be pleased to learn that you’re featuring in my divorce action. A starring role, no less. So you could find yourself out in the cold—big time. You, and your baby.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, Greg and I are finished, and I’m blaming you, Marin Wade. You went after him, and you had him. And I’m going to make sure that your husband and everyone else knows what a dirty little slut you really are.’

Jake said quietly, ‘Naturally, I’d be fascinated to hear what you have to say, but maybe you should start by telling me who you are.’

He was standing just a few feet away, his eyes glittering like blue ice, his mouth a grim line. Behind him was Elizabeth, her face appalled.

Adela swung towards him. ‘My name is Mason,’ she announced, raising her voice even higher. ‘And a while ago I had the misfortune to employ this little tart as a typist. I thought
sex
was a word she couldn’t even spell, until I found her rolling round naked with my soon-to-be ex-husband.

‘No doubt she gave you the same treatment.’ Her smile was contemptuous. ‘Made you think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, then jumped your bones. God, men can be so stupid.

‘But it’s not too late to wise up, even now. Spend some of your money having a DNA test done on the brat she’s carrying. Find out who its real father is.’

Marin got to her feet. She was dimly aware of a crash as her chair fell over, of the faces all around studying her, avid, astonished. But, most of all, she saw Jake standing as if carved out of stone, all the colour draining from his face, looking at her with real horror in his eyes.

She wanted to defend herself, to tell him that everything Adela Mason had said was a vicious lie. That their baby was his and no one else’s.

Instead, she heard herself say, ‘Air—please, I need air.’ Then the floor tilted and she felt something hit her head as she slid down into the pain-streaked darkness.

There was a bright light, but it wasn’t the sun streaming through the curtains in her bedroom. It was too stark, too clinical for that.

And somewhere a voice was saying, ‘Mrs Radley-Smith, wake up, dear.’

Her eyelids felt as if they had leaden weights attached but she forced them open obediently.

‘That’s better.’ A strange woman was looking down at her, taking her wrist and checking the pulse.

But it didn’t feel better.

Everything was white—the walls, the sheet that covered her, even the tunic and top the stranger was wearing. All white.

‘Where am I?’ Her voice was a croak.

‘The Martingdale Clinic, dear.’

‘No,’ Marin said. ‘That can’t be right. That’s next week. I’m sure it is.’

‘Well, we’re looking after you now instead.’ The voice was professional and reassuring. ‘So, lie quietly while I fetch the doctor to talk to you.’

She came back with a young man, curly haired and bespectacled.

He pulled forward a chair and sat down. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked quietly.

‘My—head hurts.’

‘I expect it does. You gave it quite a nasty crack when you fainted. That’s why we’re keeping you with us until we can be sure there’s no concussion.’

‘But it was my back that was aching,’ she protested, adding slowly, ‘Although that seems to have stopped now.’

‘Yes.’

There was something about the way he said it that told her the truth.

She said, her voice a whisper, ‘It was the baby, wasn’t it? I’ve lost my baby.’

‘I’m so very sorry. But please believe there was nothing to be done, even if you’d seen a doctor as soon as the pain started.’ He paused. ‘It’s just one of those sad, unavoidable things, I’m afraid, and more common in these early months than you’d ever believe.

‘It’s no consolation, I know,’ he added. ‘But we’ve carried out the necessary procedures and it was all completely straightforward. You’ll soon be as right as rain again.’