Marriage Under Suspicion (13 page)

the fridge testified. There were a few eggs, some yoghurt, milk and the remains of the

carton of cream they'd used in their coffee. And, of course, three bottles of champagne—

the only other staple she was never without, Kate thought affectionately as she extracted

the cream.

She refilled the jug, then carried the tray through to the living room. As she shouldered

her way into the room, she saw Louie and Ryan standing together by the window, close

but not touching.

He was talking to her softly and urgently as she stared up at him, her face suddenly naked

and vulnerable in a way Kate had never seen before.

Both of them, she realised, too absorbed to even be aware of her motionless presence in

the doorway.

She wanted to say, Hi—remember me? Something cheerful and normal that would cut

the tension that filled the room. That would turn their attention—her husband—her

friend—back to her. But no words would come.

The scent of the coffee drifted up to her, and she knew that she would never be able to

smell coffee again without remembering this moment. But without quite knowing why.

She made herself walk forward and put the tray on the table, and the chink of the

crockery brought Ryan's head sharply round.

'Fresh supplies,' she announced with deliberate cheerfulness. 'Come and get it.'

'You were quick.' Louie was smiling but there were bright flags of colour flying in her

cheeks, a sure sign of inner disturbance. As if she and Ryan had been having a row about

something...

They sat round the table, as they'd done so many times, to dissect the evening that had

just passed, but somehow it was different this time. The laughter seemed to ring hollow,

and there were too many silences.

Only the tension stayed the same. Kate felt it grate like emery against her senses.

For a moment, the breath caught in her throat, then she launched herself gamely into

speech, enthusing hectically about all the work which had come flooding in lately,

describing some of the clients, along with their foibles, and their more unrealistic

demands. Making them sound fun as well as funny.

'And the really great thing is that many of them have come on recommendation,' Kate

added, with a smile that made her lips ache. 'Our fame must be spreading. At this rate

we'll soon be taking bookings into the millennium.'

Ryan stirred some cream into his coffee. 'My congratulations.' His tone was meditative.

'You've achieved the goal of the Nineties. You're now a completely independent woman.'

She stared at him, aware that his mouth was set almost grimly. 'You—you make it sound

like a life sentence.'

'I'm not sure it isn't,' Louie said unexpectedly.

Kate tried to laugh, and failed. 'You're joking, surely. We're a success. Going from

strength to strength.'

'In order to achieve what?'

Kate hesitated. 'Well—our place in the market. Financial security.'

'Oh, really?' Louie sounded bitter. 'I just hope we think it's worth it.' She caught Kate's

incredulous glance and shrugged defensively. 'I'm sorry, love. That doesn't apply to you.

You have an alternative.'

'I do?' Kate was floundering.

'I think she means me,' Ryan said very gently. 'Our marriage.'

'Oh.' Kate felt suddenly numb. 'Oh, yes, of course.'

'Of course,' Ryan echoed softly and mockingly. 'And on that note, my sweet, shall we

return to the marital home, and let Louie get some rest?'

From her corner of the taxi, Kate said uncertainly, 'Did you and Louie have a fight?'

'What makes you think that?' The dark figure in the opposite corner was very still.

'Things just seemed—awkward back there.' An understatement if ever there was one.

He was silent for a moment. 'Perhaps it was just that kind of evening.'

She said, 'So, are you going to tell me about it?'

'I think you already know.' His tone was dry.

'You mean, she was telling you about her other man?' Kate couldn't keep the surprise out

of her voice. 'What she's planning to do?'

'That came into it.'

'But why should she talk to you about it?'

'Why not? You did, after all.'

'But that's different,' Kate said lamely, after a pause. 'You're my husband. I tell you

everything.'

'Do you, darling? How flattering.'

'And don't joke. This isn't funny.'

'I never thought it was.' There was a sudden harshness in his voice. 'I gather you've been

advising her to follow her heart's desire, and to hell with the consequences.'

'Not exactly.'

'I'm relieved to hear it.'

She gasped. 'I like that. You were the one who said that if he'd been unfaithful the

marriage was probably rocky anyway.'

'But I don't necessarily advocate Louie giving it an extra shove either,' Ryan came back to

her grittily. 'You shouldn't have interfered, Kate.'

'And how do you describe your own intervention?' she demanded bitterly. 'A spot of

homespun brotherly advice?'

'Not far off,' he said tersely. 'I told her to be careful. To make very sure this was what she

really wanted. Because the consequences could be catastrophic'

'You have wisdom beyond your years.'

'What makes me think you don't mean that?' He paused. 'Not that it matters. Because the

one who needs wisdom is Louie.'

'She'll do the right thing,' Kate said confidently.

'I hope you'll still think so in the days to come,' Ryan said shortly, and relapsed into

silence.

Kate huddled into her corner, her mind engaged on the now familiar treadmill of

disturbing thoughts. Ryan's shift of ground over Louie's confidences had surprised her,

but in many ways it was the least of her worries.

She should be devoting all her attention to bridging the ever-increasing distance between

them. She certainly couldn't afford to fall out with him over a problem that had no direct

bearing on either of them.

They rode up in the lift without a word, but as Kate walked ahead of him into the

apartment she said, 'Ryan, I—I don't want us to quarrel.'

'We can't always be in agreement, Katie.' His voice was gentle.

'But these days we always seem to be at odds.' She dropped her jacket on to a sofa, and

wheeled to face him. 'You must feel that.'

'I certainly think a few days apart could be salutary.' Ryan discarded his own jacket, and

loosened his tie.

'A few days,' she echoed bitterly. 'We've been apart for weeks already. Or haven't you

noticed?'

He said quietly, 'Yes, I've noticed.'

'But you don't do anything about it.' Kate took a step towards him. 'There was a time

when you'd have asked me to go to Yorkshire with you.'

'I thought you were snowed under with work. That's the message from this evening.' He

gave her a level look. 'And you've never invited me to accompany you on any of your

own weekends away.'

'That's rather different,' she protested. 'I'm always there in an official capacity.'

'Whereas I, of course, am travelling north for my health.' His tone was ironic.

She said wearily, 'I didn't mean that. I know you're the guest of honour—the visiting

lecturer.' She tried to smile. 'I could bask in your reflected glory.'

He shook his head. 'Not this time, Katie.'

Her mouth was dry. Her heart seemed to be pulsing unevenly. But she lifted her chin in

challenge. 'You really don't want me, do you?'

His brows lifted. 'Is that what you think? Because you couldn't be more wrong.' He came

to her in two quick strides, his hands strong and urgent on her body as he pulled her

towards him. 'All night, I've been watching you,' he muttered. 'Thinking about you, and

what I'd do once we were alone.'

He kissed her heatedly, demandingly, his lips parting hers with the familiarity of

possession, bending her backwards over his arm so that his lips could caress the long line

of her throat, while one hand reached down to tug open the sash that fastened her dress.

As the yielding fabric fell apart, Ryan looked down at her, the breath rasping in his throat

as he caught sight of the scraps of black silk that clothed her—the camisole cut starkly

low over her breasts, the high-legged panties that barely concealed her sex, the lace-

topped stockings.

'God.' The word was torn from him almost in anguish. 'Do you know—have you the least

bloody idea how beautiful you are? How completely and utterly desirable?'

His hands took her hips, pulling her against his body, against the strength and force of his

erection, as the unwanted dress fell to the floor.

His hand twisted in her hair as he brought her mouth to his again. His tongue sought hers,

his teeth grazing the softness of her lower lip.

Kate was rocked—off-balance, emotionally as well as physically, as she responded to his

kisses. After the days and nights of virtual estrangement, this sudden onslaught on her

senses was almost too powerful. She felt overwhelmed—carried away on some

uncontrollable tide of feeling—her whole body in tumult.

The breath caught in her throat as Ryan pushed away the narrow straps of the camisole to

seek the offered enticement of her breasts, his hands cupping her, moulding the delicate

flesh, making her nipples harden to aching delight under the play of his fingers.

His mouth was on the pulse below her ear, the curve of her shoulder. Her head fell back

helplessly against his supporting arm as he began to caress her breasts with his lips, his

tongue a subtle flame inciting the swollen peaks to new raptures.

His hand slid down over her stomach to find the dampened silk covering the sweet

molten core of her. To explore with one questing fingertip the full scalding heat of her

arousal.

Kate felt her body shudder in primeval response. She opened herself blindly to the

exquisite pleasure of his caress, thrusting herself, gasping, against his hand.

Her hands moved on him in their turn, dragging his clothing apart. A button ripped from

his shirt, and went spinning to the floor. She was clumsy with his zip, but at last she

succeeded, fingers closing round him, stroking him, every movement a silent, almost

desperate importunity for the ultimate fulfilment that she craved.

When he began to lower her to the rug, she sank beneath him, boneless, mindless.

Oblivious to everything but the sensations he was engendering. To her own delirious

reply.

He peeled away the scraps of black silk, leaving her naked except for the stockings,

which formed an erotic contrast to her creamy flesh. And she helped him shed his own

clothes, eager to feel his hair-roughened skin against her own.

The musky masculine fragrance of him filled her nose and mouth. So familiar and, at the

same time, so mysterious. So infinitely precious.

Kate laid her mouth against his shoulder, tasting his skin. Her fingertips caressed his

back, tracing the line of fine hair which marked his spine, relishing the strength of bone

and play of muscle. Feathering her hands over the flat male buttocks, and the long hard

flanks.

Ryan was kissing her body, marking a lazy trail between her breasts, down to the hollow

of her navel. And further, making her body arch in voluptuous delight as his tongue

teased and lured her.

'Ryan.' Her voice sounded small—strangled—as she pulled his head away from her. She

was so near, and she wanted him inside her in the usual pattern of their lovemaking—

joining her on the path to their mutual pleasure.

'Wait.' He smiled at her, and lowered his head again. She felt the warmth of his breath

against the delicate skin of her inner thigh. 'Give yourself.' His voice was low, husky.

'Come for me.'

She wanted to protest, but it was too late. All the wicked, beautiful things he was doing to

her were coalescing into one ecstatic spiral of feeling. She gave a cry of sheer

abandonment as her whole being shuddered to the deep pulsation of her climax.

When the world steadied itself, there were tears on her face, and he dried them with the

sleeve of his torn shirt. Kate tried to say something, but he laid a silencing finger on her

parted lips.

He began to kiss her again, very gently, just brushing her forehead, her eyelids, her

cheekbones and her lips with his mouth, while his hand stroked her throat, her breasts, the

curve of her elbow, and the back of her knee.

And deep within she sensed the first stirrings of renewed excitement.

She whispered, 'Shall we go to bed?'

'Later.'

'It—it's too soon for me.'

'It won't be.'

His caresses were becoming more deliberately sensual. More adventurous. But when she

tried to follow his lead, pleasure him in turn with her hands and lips, Ryan shook his

head, capturing her wrists, and holding them above her head.