Marriage at a Distance (10 page)

Gabriel’s face was expressionless. ‘We’re still married, Jo.’ He paused. ‘And I don’t want you to be hurt.’

For a moment Joanna stared at him, stunned. He could still say that, after everything that had happened between them? After the humiliation of letting her see that he didn’t want her—that their marriage was a trap from which he couldn’t wait to escape? After staying away for two years without contact of any kind?

Not to mention the even greater misery of knowing she was going to be replaced by her own stepmother.

She took a deep breath. She said thickly, ‘I don’t know which I despise most, Gabriel. Your arrogance or your hypocrisy.’

His head went back as if she’d struck him, but when he spoke his voice was level. In control. ‘Well, you won’t have to endure either of them for much longer. I talked to Henry Fortescue tonight, and we worked out a deal for you.’

‘What kind of a deal?’

‘I’ve agreed to pay you myself the yearly sum that Lionel specified in his bequest. And an additional sum for maintenance. The arrangement can commence as soon as you wish.’ He paused. ‘I’m afraid I can’t include Larkspur Cottage—or not immediately, anyway.’

‘No,’ she said, her lips suddenly numb. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Henry’s going to draw up the necessary paperwork,’ he went on. ‘When it’s completed, and signed, you’ll be a free woman.’

‘And the divorce?’

‘I’ve told Henry to set that in train too.’ His glance was a challenge. ‘Satisfied?’

She bit her lip. ‘This is very—generous of you.’

‘On the contrary. I’m as anxious to be rid of this situation as you are.’

She said slowly, ‘I—appreciate that. I hope we can—part friends.’

‘Now who’s being a hypocrite?’ His voice lashed at her. ‘We’ve come a hell of a way from friendship, Joanna.’

‘Why are you so angry?’ She stared at him. ‘You—we’ve both got what we wanted.’

He said slowly, ‘Because anger is a much easier emotion to deal with than some of the alternatives I’m experiencing right now.’

The room seemed to have shrunk suddenly, the walls closing in on her. Although Gabriel hadn’t taken a step, she felt him near to her. So near that if she put out a hand she could touch him. Could feel the warm silk of his skin under her hands. The clean, male scent of him, at once achingly familiar and terrifyingly alien, seemed to fill her nose and mouth, so that she breathed him, absorbed the essence of him into her inmost being.

Her breasts pushed against the cling of the velvet, her hardening nipples excited by the delicate friction. Under the flowing skirt her legs were weak, the secret female core of her burning, molten.

His eyes were pools of gold, glowing like the eyes of a sleek jungle cat watching its prey.

Except that she could turn and run away right now, and he would not follow.

Only she would not run—this time.

She could sense the tension in him—the arousal—because she shared it.

Instinct drove her. Her voice was low, husky. ‘Tell me about them, these emotions of yours.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘You might not want to know.’

Her smile, faint, oblique, challenged him. ‘Try me.’

He said softly, ‘Is curiosity an emotion, Joanna, or a deadly sin? Because I’d die to know if you’re wearing anything under that pretty green gown of yours.’

She moved a shoulder almost diffidently. ‘Not a thing.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Now, how long would it take, do you think, to undo all those little buttons?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’ Her hand went to the top one, released it from its loop. ‘Do you want to time me?’

A ghost of a laugh shook him. ‘No—just to watch.’

She didn’t hurry. She watched him in turn—the flare in his eyes, the sudden heat spreading along his cheekbones. She heard his intake of breath as the edges of the pliant velvet fell apart.

For the first time in their life together she was revealing herself to him, and the power of it made her almost dizzy.

She shrugged the gown from her shoulders, held it for a moment, bunched round her hips, then let it fall completely.

The silence in the room—the stillness—was charged, pulsating.

Then Gabriel moved, covering the space between them in two strides, sinking on his knees before her, putting his cheek then his mouth against the flatness of her belly in an act that seemed like worship.

He said, with a kind of desperation, ‘Oh, God—do you know—have you any idea how truly beautiful you are?’

She put out her hand, touched the springing darkness of his hair.

He drew her gently downwards so that she was kneeling in front of him. As he kissed her her lips parted for him in longing and surrender. His hands were stroking her, feathering down her spine, moulding every slight, graceful curve, and she felt her body arch towards him in blind delight. He cupped her breasts in his palms, bending his head to kiss them, to caress the eager rosy peaks with his tongue, making her sigh with pleasure. With need. One sensation seemed to blur into the next, so that she hardly knew when he lifted her to her feet, and into his arms, to carry her to the bed.

Through half-closed eyes she watched him strip off his trousers, but when his hands went to the band of his briefs, she stopped him.

‘Let me do that,’ she whispered.

He lay beside her as she gently freed him from that last constraint, his head pillowed on his folded arms, the lambent tawny eyes devouring her.

‘I should have mentioned,’ he said lazily, watching the direction of her own widening gaze. ‘That other emotion was lust. Definitely a deadly sin.’

‘Somehow I guessed.’ She touched him shyly, her fingers tracing the power of his virility until he gasped and rolled towards her, imprisoning her under one muscular thigh.

‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up at him, stricken. ‘Did—did I do something wrong?’

Gabriel laughed softly. ‘Quite the opposite. You were doing everything right, but I don’t want to lose all my control just yet.’

He began to kiss her slowly, deeply, sensuously, his tongue grazing hers. His hands caressed her blossoming breasts, teasing the tumescent nipples into a pleasure that bordered on pain.

His mouth suckled her. His hands caressed her, exploring every curve and plane, inventing new sensations, making every inch of her come alive, each nerve-ending sing.

She pressed herself against him, gasping, her lips busy with small, frantic kisses against his skin.

His fingers discovered the delicate flesh of her inner thigh, lingered there, moved on her sweetly and rhythmically, making the breath catch in her throat.

She heard a small, strained voice she barely recognised as her own say, ‘Oh—there. Please—there.’

Every nerve-ending, every atom of her being was concentrated on that tiny point of feeling he was revealing to her.

Her head turned from side to side on the pillow, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her hands gripped his shoulders, trying to draw him down to her. Into her.

‘Gabriel.’ His name was a plea. ‘Oh, God—
Gabriel
…’

‘No.’ He breathed the word against her skin. ‘No, darling—not yet. This is for you—only for you.’

She was poised for ever on the edge of some vortex. She could hear herself whimpering. Then pleasure imploded in her, her body clenching deliriously in wave after wave of piercing sweetness.

Reality returned slowly, and with it a sense of well-being—of completion that she’d never experienced before.

She opened her eyes. Gabriel was sitting beside her, one leg drawn up and his forehead resting on his bent knee. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his back, and she put out a languorous hand and touched it.

He jumped, as if she’d used her nails.

She said with a new shyness, ‘Gabriel—darling…?’

‘Yes, my sweet?’ The endearment, and the smile which accompanied it, seemed almost perfunctory.

For a moment she felt chilled, but told herself it was sheer imagination.

She said, ‘I—I didn’t know it could be like that.’

‘Didn’t you?’ His smile was almost mocking. ‘Well, I suppose I have been rather remiss in the past where your sexual education was concerned.’ He picked up her hand and dropped a careless kiss on the palm. ‘But you’re an apt pupil, darling.’

She hadn’t imagined a thing. Suddenly she was shivering.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘This little crash course in female response that we’ve just enjoyed.’

‘Is that what it was?’ Her mind didn’t seem to be working properly. Nothing made any sense. ‘
All
it was?’

‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you weren’t disappointed.’

It hurt to breathe. ‘No—but I—I thought we were going to make love.’

‘That wouldn’t be very wise—under the circumstances.’ The tawny eyes glittered at her. ‘Besides,’ he added, shrugging, ‘we’d need to practise safe sex, and unfortunately I’m not equipped for it tonight.’

She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. ‘You make it sound so—clinical.’

‘Experiments usually are. But I’m glad this one was so successful.’

‘Are you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said lightly. ‘After all, I can’t have you going to some stranger without knowing what turns you on.’

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure your pride wouldn’t allow that.’ She looked down at him, her brows lifting. ‘I see it’s replaced lust as the current deadly sin.’

He yawned. ‘And will soon be overtaken by sloth, I fear. Do you want to stay here, or would you prefer to go back to your own room?’

She kept her voice steady. ‘Thank you, I’d rather sleep in my own bed.’

She slid to the floor and walked to where her velvet housecoat lay in a crumpled heap, aware all the time of his eyes watching her.

She pulled the garment on, her hands clumsy as she huddled it round her, and started for the door.

From some far distance she thought she heard him say her name, but she didn’t even falter.

Pride, she thought as she got outside, wasn’t just a deadly sin. Sometimes it was all there was to cling to, in the wreckage of your hopes and dreams.

Head bent, she walked quickly down the passage. She had just reached her own door when something—some sound—some movement—attracted her attention.

Cynthia was standing at the head of the stairs, staring at her, an unpleasant smile twisting her lips.

She said, ‘Well, well, Joanna. I hope you haven’t been making a fool of yourself, my pet.’

Without speaking, Joanna went into her room.

And sometimes, she thought wretchedly, as she closed the door and leaned back against its panels, even pride was taken away from you.

She stood where she was for a long time, staring across the room at the reflection in her mirror. It was someone she didn’t recognise at all—a stranger, half-naked, with dishevelled hair, and tears pouring endlessly down her white face.

I
T WAS
nearly dawn before Joanna finally fell into a restless sleep. She simply lay there, staring into the darkness, her eyes tearless at last, and burning, trying to make sense of what had happened but failing utterly.

Gabriel had wanted her. There was no question about that. Nor had he made any attempt to hide it. But then, suddenly, he had no longer wanted her, and she’d been dismissed from his bed—and from his life.

A situation with which she was all too familiar. And yet she’d still allowed it to happen.

It’s all my own fault, she thought, pressing a fist to her mouth as her whole body cringed in pain. I asked for it—talking about divorce one minute and throwing myself at him the next.

She supposed that he’d remembered, just in time, that he was committed to Cynthia now. That he intended to make the relationship work.

I should have been the one to remember. The one to step back, she told herself. I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Now I have to live with the consequences.

Starting this very morning, she realised, hugging herself defensively.

She wanted to stay in this bed, with the covers pulled over her head, but what remnants of pride that still remained wouldn’t allow her to take the coward’s way out.

Pride made her shower and dress and go downstairs with her head high and every line of her body a challenge. But, to her unspoken relief, she had the dining room to herself.

Perhaps this morning Cynthia had kept Gabriel with her, to make amends for last night’s minor transgression.

But she couldn’t think about that, she told herself, as she drank orange juice and coffee, and crumbled some of the freshly made toast that Grace insisted on bringing.

She would think about the new life ahead of her. The freedom which had been placed so unexpectedly within her grasp and which only she would know was an illusion.

When the world was your oyster, it was strange how small and bleak it suddenly became.

Everything she wanted in life was here under this roof, and she had to detach herself and walk away. Wasn’t it the mandrake plant that was said to scream when pulled up by its roots?

I hope I have more dignity than that when the time comes, she thought. But I don’t guarantee a thing.

When she’d finished her pretence at breakfast, she went to the stables, where Sadie was mucking out, her face glum.

‘What’s the matter?’ Joanna fetched Minnie’s tack and began to saddle up.

Sadie did not meet her enquiring gaze. ‘Jimmy and I were in the Royal Oak last night,’ she mumbled at last. ‘And everyone was talking, Jo. Saying what’s going to happen here. Made me feel quite sick.’

Joanna braced herself. ‘I presume they were talking about Mr Verne—our divorce…’

Sadie looked aghast. ‘No, no one mentioned… Oh, Jo, it isn’t true—surely? Not that on top of everything else?’

Minnie shook her head and moved restively, as if aware that her mistress was not concentrating on the job in hand. Joanna quieted her with a soothing word and a hand on her glossy neck.

She kept her voice cool and level. ‘I thought it would have been obvious the way things were going. Tongues have certainly been wagging in Westroe.’

‘Then that must be why Mr Gabriel’s decided to sell up and move,’ Sadie said miserably.

‘Sell up?’ Joanna echoed in disbelief. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Gabriel would never sell the Manor.’

Sadie looked at her mournfully. ‘That’s what they’re all saying, Jo. It’s those Furnival Hotels people again—the ones who wanted Mr Lionel to sell to them a couple of years back.’

‘Yes, but he saw them off.’ Joanna fastened Minnie’s girth with hands that were shaking. ‘Told them he wasn’t interested and never would be.’

‘But he’s not here any more,’ Sadie said unanswerably. ‘And it stands to reason that Mr Gabriel doesn’t feel the same way about the place, or he wouldn’t have stayed away all that time. And if there’s going to be a divorce too…’ There was a short, heavy silence. ‘They reckon he’s going to sell out to Furnivals and move back to London. I was sure you knew all about it.’

‘I’m clearly not as well-informed as the Royal Oak.’ Joanna tried to find a grain of humour in the situation and failed. The ground seemed to be shaking under her feet. ‘Who’s the industrial spy?’

Sadie bit her lip, looking evasive, and Joanna suddenly remembered that Debbie Macintosh, the landlord’s daughter, worked in Henry Fortescue’s office.

She said, rather grimly, ‘On second thoughts, I’d rather not know.’

She began to lead Minnie over to the mounting block, and heard Nutkin whicker softly as they passed.

What would happen to the horses? she wondered with anguish. And they were the least of it. There was Grace and her husband, Sadie, and the rest of the people who worked on the estate. All part of a safe, secure world shortly to be blown out of the water.

The dogs, she thought numbly. I could at least keep the dogs. Cynthia’s never liked them, and they’d hate the city.

But I can’t leave it there. Maybe—somehow—I can talk to Gabriel—convince him not to do this. Make him see this is his birthright—his inheritance—and he has a duty to it.

Only he wouldn’t listen. Perhaps he’d intended this all along. Casting off the old shackles for his new life—his new wife. Making any sacrifice she wanted.

And, let’s face it, Cynthia would rather queen it in London and New York than play Lady of the Manor. It was probably all her idea.

And the fact that Gabriel had been prepared to listen only proved how much he loved her.

Joanna swung herself up into the saddle, looking down at Sadie’s bent head as she tightened Minnie’s girth.

Sadie said forlornly, ‘Do you think the hotel people will keep the stables on?’

‘I don’t know,’ Joanna said gently. ‘But please remember this is only a rumour. It may never happen.’

‘They were saying the Furnival people are coming down soon to talk over a deal.’

Joanna patted Minnie’s neck. ‘And I say Debbie had better learn to be more discreet if she wants to keep her job,’ she returned drily, and rode out of the yard leaving Sadie gaping after her.

It was a grey morning, but milder than it had been, and Joanna turned Minnie’s head towards the hill.

When she reached the Hermitage she dismounted, tethered Minnie to a stump of tree, and sat down on a fallen rock.

Below her, the house looked as it always did, as if it had evolved naturally out of the landscape. As she’d imagined it would always look, whether or not she was here to look after it.

The Furnival chain had produced grandiose plans for its development, she remembered unhappily. Tennis courts, a health spa and swimming pool. Lionel had heard them out in silence, then dismissed them with icy finality. She’d thought that would be the end of it.

But I should have known they wouldn’t give up so easily, she told herself bitterly, wondering just how soon after Lionel’s death they’d made their move. But they’d regard that as business—just another deal. And perhaps that was how Gabriel saw it too. After all, he was just as ruthless. He wouldn’t let sentiment stand in his way either. Or the transient desire of a moment.

When she had come up here to say goodbye the previous afternoon, it had been on a purely personal basis. She would leave, but the Manor would endure. She had not foreseen—how could she?—just how all-encompassing that farewell might be.

At least, she thought sombrely, she would never be tempted to return.

Minnie, grazing quietly, lifted her head and whinnied sharply. Joanna, startled, turned her head and saw Paul Gordon standing a few yards away.

She got slowly to her feet and stood watching him, her head thrown slightly back, her gaze cool and unwelcoming. He wasn’t dressed for open country, she thought critically, observing his tight-fitting denim jeans, his black leather jacket and the cream silk scarf wound round his throat.

He, however, seemed perfectly pleased with himself, and totally unabashed. ‘I was hoping I’d run into you.’

Joanna pushed her hands into her pockets. ‘The pleasure is entirely yours.’

‘How unkind,’ he said lightly, ‘when I did my best to show you a good time.’ He paused. ‘However, I accept that I allowed my ardour to get the better of me, and I want to apologise.’

‘Ardour?’ Joanna’s brows lifted.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You’re a very lovely, clearly neglected girl. You surely can’t blame me for trying?’

No, Joanna thought. Not if I believed you. But I didn’t get the impression you were carried away by overwhelming passion. On the contrary, the whole situation seemed strangely orchestrated. But, then, what do I know?

She shrugged. ‘Let’s just agree we both made a mistake and forget about it. The chances are we shan’t meet again, anyway.’

His smile was ingratiating. ‘But I wouldn’t want us to quarrel.’

‘That’s hardly likely.’ Joanna lifted her chin. ‘We don’t know each other well enough.’

‘That could change.’

‘Not,’ she said, ‘in my lifetime.’

He laughed. ‘Cold little devil, aren’t you? No wonder the handsome husband prefers to warm himself at a different fire.’

Even as the jibe went home Joanna, wincing inwardly, saw movement on the hill behind him. A gleaming chestnut gelding was picking his way towards them across the tussocky grass, his rider sitting easily in the saddle. Her heart missed a beat.

For a moment the thought that Gabriel might have guessed where she’d gone and followed played crazily in her mind. But it was as quickly discarded. His appearance on the hill was just a coincidence, but one that she could use to her own advantage. She was damned if she was going to leave him with an image of her depressed, lonely and isolated. She would try a little orchestration of her own.

Deliberately, Joanna walked to where Paul Gordon was standing, running a hand lightly up his arm to his shoulder.

She dropped her voice to a throaty drawl. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Maybe that’s what I need too.’

She saw suspicion in his face, warring with his natural egotism, but self-love won. For a very long moment, which made her soul writhe, Joanna endured the touch of his mouth on hers.

As she freed herself and stepped back she saw Gabriel go past at the canter, his face dark and hard, as if carved from obsidian, the amber eyes not sparing them a glance.

Paul Gordon saw him too. The gratified smirk vanished and his brows snapped together. ‘What the hell…?’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Joanna said kindly. She went over to Minnie and released the rein.

His eyes narrowed unpleasantly. ‘I do believe you were using me, you little bitch. And I don’t like that.’

‘You mean you’d much rather believe you were irresistible?’ Joanna swung herself up into the saddle, shaking her head as she looked down into his angry face. ‘Not to me, I’m afraid.’

He reached up to grab for her rein, but Minnie threw up her head and sidled away from him.

‘Or to dogs and horses, apparently,’ Joanna said, clicking her tongue reprovingly at the muttered piece of filth he directed at her.

‘I’ll make you sorry for this.’ His tone was venomous.

‘I think not.’ Joanna said coldly. ‘Because I already deeply regret becoming even marginally involved with you.’

She turned Minnie, and rode off in the opposite direction to that which Gabriel had taken.

She didn’t look back, but she was aware of Paul Gordon’s furious gaze boring into her back as she departed.

Sylvia and Charles had been fully justified in their reservations about him, she thought, urging Minnie to a canter when they reached level ground. Under the mask of charm, Paul Gordon was a nasty piece of work.

In spite of her troubled thoughts, she found she was enjoying her ride. There were signs of spring all around her—evidence of a new beginning which she should maybe see as an omen for her own life. Which could help her clarify the direction she should take.

Down in one of the hollows, where a small stream pushed its way between rocks, she found a cluster of primroses, and picked a few to push into her buttonhole while Minnie drank from the cold rush of water.

Joanna watched her fondly. Min had been the first horse she’d ever ridden, sure-footed and dependable even then, and she was good for plenty of years in the future, providing she found a good home.

And it’s up to me to see that she does, she told herself with renewed determination. So, when I get back, I’ll set the wheels in motion—about this, and a few other things as well. Think positive.

As she guided Minnie back up the slope the mare’s ears went forward, and she whinnied eagerly.

‘What’s the matter?’ Joanna held her firmly. ‘What have you heard?’

As she reached the crest she saw the reason for Minnie’s excitement. Gabriel was waiting for them in the middle of the track, his face enigmatic under the peak of his hard hat.

‘Good morning.’ His tone was cool and formal.

‘Good morning,’ Joanna returned. She felt a wave of betraying colour rise in her face and bent forward to adjust one of Minnie’s straps to hide it. ‘I—I thought you’d gone the other way.’

‘I came round in a circle.’ His gaze strayed to the pale yellow blossoms in her buttonhole. ‘I guessed you’d come here. It was always one of your favourite places.’

Which he knew, she thought, because he himself had shown it to her, back in the old, innocent days when he’d been not merely her angel but her god. A very long time ago.

‘I’m sorry if I spoiled your tryst earlier,’ he went on.

‘Please don’t apologise,’ Joanna said coolly. ‘I’m sure there’ll be others.’

‘As you say.’ Nutkin danced a little and was swiftly controlled. ‘Maybe next time you should choose a less obvious place.’

‘Probably,’ she said. ‘But then I haven’t your experience in these matters. Perhaps I could come to you for some tips.’

His face was like stone. ‘I don’t recommend it.’ He paused. ‘But do me one favour, Joanna. Delay the consummation of your fling until after the divorce.’

Joanna lifted her chin. ‘For what reason?’

‘A very practical one. You could become pregnant, and if you were still technically my wife, it could throw up all kinds of problems.’