The Failed Marriage
Carole Mortimer
Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites - and find new ones! - in this fabulous collection…Back in her husband’s bed…?A year ago, Joanna Radcliffe denied her husband access to her bed and her body—the pain of losing their little baby too much for their fragile, fledgling relationship to survive. Now Joshua is offering her an out: a year away with someone else!Yet the fire between them has never truly been extinguished and Joanna can’t resist spending one last night with her husband. Could rekindling their desire—on the eve of her departure—reignite the passion that existed before their marriage failed?
The Failed Marriage
Carole Mortimer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u62da69e5-a955-5213-9973-e9681b469d74)
Title Page (#u55e6166d-18a6-5f21-bfb1-f1c73f7b86b7)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u284efc99-b017-54ac-a8be-9dd73e8294b1)
‘WE’RE really interested in running a series of these books,’ the man sitting across the desk from Joanna told her. ‘If you can write others as good as this first one.’
Joanna shrugged. ‘I’m not sure that I can.’
The man’s smile of confidence seemed to say he was used to dealing with temperamental authors—and that he was usually the victor. He was a man of middle age, his kindly exterior belied by the sharpness of his icy blue eyes, a sense of purpose about him that told the young woman seated across the desk from him that he could be a very shrewd businessman.
Joanna had never been to a publishers before, and the image of a sterilely white and chrome-painted office, modern in the extreme, had given way to a cluttered room that looked more like a lawyer’s office, with manuscripts and books littering the desk-top.
She had guessed when she received the written summons to see James Colnbrook that there had been a favourable reaction to the children’s book she had submitted to him several months ago about a playful boxer dog called Billy. But a series of books could be quite cut of the question.
‘I’m not sure I have the time to write any more,’ she told him smoothly. ‘It’s taken me months just to sit down and write this one.’
‘And sometimes it takes years, even when you have all the time in the world,’ he dismissed easily, obviously not taking her objections seriously. ‘But I’m sure you can do it, Miss Radcliffe,’ he encouraged softly.
She met his gaze with steady blue eyes, a coldness coming over her. ‘Mrs,’ she corrected abruptly. ‘Mrs Radcliffe.’
She could see James Colnbrook mentally reassessing the situation, knew that with her cap of blonde curls, gaminly attractive face, and small slender body, she didn’t look old enough to be married, not even the obviously expensive clothes she wore, the black silk blouse and fitted black skirt adding the maturity expected of a married woman. But she was married, very much so. At twenty-three years of age she was locked in a marriage that meant nothing to her, as she felt sure it meant nothing to her husband.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’ James Colnbrook was smiling once again, having correctly assessed the expensive engagement ring and diamond-studded wedding band he had just noticed for the first time on the slender finger as having cost a small fortune.
Joanna shrugged. ‘It isn’t important, is it?’
‘No. No, of course not,’ he dismissed lightly, noticing more and more about her as the meeting progressed. When Joanna Radcliffe had walked into his office half an hour ago he had placed her as a career woman, someone with the style and elegance of an executive secretary, possibly an executive herself. Now he noticed the vulnerability that hadn’t been there until her marriage was mentioned, the cool detachment in steady blue eyes, the almost wistful twist to her mouth, her body so thin she looked almost boyish. And lastly he noticed the pain etched into a face too young and beautiful to have known the agony that had put the fine lines beside her nose and mouth. Joanna Radcliffe was a woman who had known deep misery in her young life, and while she seemed to have survived it, it had not been unscathed. ‘Does your husband mind the idea of your working?’ James Colnbrook gave a forced laugh, feeling compassion for a woman he barely knew, and as his reputation as one of the toughest bastards in publishing hadn’t been undeserved it was a strange and alien emotion for him. It made him feel uncomfortable. ‘Some men have their macho image to protect,’ he mocked.
She seemed to stiffen. ‘Joshua has no reason to worry about his macho image,’ came the cool reply. ‘It’s perfectly intact.’
Joshua Radcliffe—the name meant something to him. And yet he was sure he didn’t know the man personally. ‘So he won’t mind if you spend several hours a day working?’ he spoke absently, still puzzling over where he had heard the name Joshua Radcliffe before. And it had been lately too.
‘When I said I may not have the time to write further books I didn’t mean my husband would object,’ this time her voice was even icier, ‘I simply meant I wouldn’t have the time. I don’t really see what my husband has to do with any of this, Mr Colnbrook. Either you want to publish the book or you don’t, regardless of whether or not there’ll be others.’
‘Oh, we do,’ he said swiftly, then cursed himself for revealing too much. The mad escapades of a lunatic dog made a good book, and it would probably sell well, but he had to admit that Joanna Radcliffe intrigued him more—more than any other woman he had ever met.
She was obviously a young woman of breeding, her coolly detached tones acquired through private schooling, the casual clothes she wore most probably having the same designer label his wife’s did. Only they would never look this good on Moira! Joanna Radcliffe wasn’t the usual type of female author he had in his office, he realised that now. She looked as if she should be spending her time at tea-parties and socially select events, arranging charities, idling the hours away while her husband went out and earned the money, even the mention of the word a vulgarity to her. But Joanna Radcliffe gave the impression of being a very self-possessed young lady, of having only contempt for such useless activities. James’s curiosity about her grew by the minute.
‘Yes, we would like to publish the book, Mrs Radcliffe,’ he was cool himself now. ‘But we do like to know a little about our authors.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ He was beginning to wonder which one was the publisher and which the budding author! ‘We usually like to put a little section about the author on the back of our books,’ he explained.
She had begun shaking her head before he had even finished. ‘I don’t want that,’ she informd him haughtily. ‘And the book will not be published under my real name.’
‘Not under—Why?’ he frowned his surprise. Most people longed to have their name on the front of a book, although not everyone was blessed with a name as acceptable as this woman’s, as he had once had to explain to one Agnes Snotty!
Cool blue eyes looked at him steadily. ‘I would just prefer it that way.’
‘But—–’ he stopped as he saw the light of determination in her eyes. ‘Okay,’ he sighed, ‘I’m sure we can come up with something else you like, but I—–’ Joshua Radcliffe! Of course, it had come to him now.
He looked at the woman sitting opposite him with new eyes. Surely this young woman couldn’t be married to that Joshua Radcliffe? The man was a Harley Street specialist, an expensive one at that—and he should know, he had paid the bill for Moira’s operation not too long ago! But the man must be years older than Joanna Radcliffe. Not that James had ever met the man, Moira having dealt with all the details herself, he being one of those people who couldn’t stand doctors or anything to do with them. He had been given hell by his wife because he had only been able to force himself to visit her at the clinic twice in all the time she was there.
But the mere fact that the man was in Harley Street meant he had to be in his thirties or forties at least. Maybe the man had a son with the same name that this woman was married to?
Joanna was aware of none of James Colbrook’s curiosity about her, glancing at the gold watch on her slender wrist, picking up her clutch bag, her nails painted the same deep red as her lip-gloss. ‘I’m afraid I have a luncheon appointment,’ she told him smoothly. ‘I have to go.’
‘Oh, but I usually take new authors out for lunch—–’
‘I’m sorry,’ she stood up, the high heels on her black sandals adding to her diminutive height, ‘but I do have to go. I wouldn’t want to be late for my appointment.’
James Colnbrook stood up too, a look of exasperation on his still handsome face. Tall and dark, with an air of distinction he obviously cultivated, he wasn’t a man accustomed to being dismissed by women, especially women as beautiful as Joanna Radcliffe.
But Joanna knew enough of tall distinguished men not to be impressed. After all, she was married to one.
‘When am I going to see you again?’ James demanded.
‘Perhaps your secretary could call me,’ she dismissed, already at the door.
‘But—–’
‘I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Mr Colnbrook. And I’ll give the idea of writing more books some thought. Goodbye.’ She left with her head held high, not seeing James Colnbrook sink dazedly back into his chair, shaking his head in bewilderment.
Joanna nodded coolly to the secretary on the way out, easily stopping a passing taxi once she was outside to take her to the restaurant where she was lunching with her mother. No one looking at her could have guessed at the thoughts going through her beautiful head.
She was going to have a book published! She, Joanna Proctor Radcliffe, had written a children’s book good enough to be published! After years of feeling as if she were no more than Joshua’s wife, she was at last able to claim she had done something without his help or influence. Not that there would be much money in her writing, James Colnbrook had already warned her, but just to have some sort of independence, if only an intellectual one, was something to her. And she didn’t need the money; she was married to a rich man, was rich in her own right from a legacy left to her by her grandmother several years ago. No, this feeling of accomplishment was what she needed, what she craved.
Her mother was already seated at their table when Joanna hurried into the restaurant, several minutes late despite her hasty departure from the publisher’s office. And her mother made no secret of her dislike of unpunctuality; just her look of disapproval was enough to dispel some of Joanna’s inner elation.
‘Sorry I’m late, Mother.’ She glided into the seat opposite the other woman, accepting with a smile the sherry the waiter placed in front of her, her preferences being well known in this particular restaurant.
‘That’s all right, Joanna.’ Her mother’s voice was sharp; she was an older version of Joanna, her hair kept the same glowing blonde as her daughter’s by a gifted hairdresser she frequented, her face and body still beautiful in her forty-fifth year.
Joanna flushed at the lack of sincerity in her mother’s voice, feeling, as she always did in her presence, like the gauche schoolgirl she had once been and not a woman who had been married for five years. ‘I was delayed at the publishers’.’ She sipped the sherry, dry, just as she liked it.
The two women made a startling pair as they sat together, looking more like sisters than mother and daughter. Cora did everything cosmetically possible to maintain her youth, while Joanna had a maturity beyond her years.
‘What did he say?’ Her mother’s query was made out of politeness. Joanna refused to show any hurt caused by her mother’s obvious lack of interest, not expecting any gold medals from anyone in her family for anything she did. Her father was a prominent banker, her mother his accomplished hostess, and Joshua—well, Joshua was a success at whatever he did. Her minor achievement would be unimportant to them all. Only she would know of the new inner pride in herself.
She shrugged coolly, accepting the menu placed in front of her. ‘They’re going to publish it.’
‘Really?’ her mother’s eyes widened. ‘It’s about a collie or something, isn’t it?’ she said vaguely.
‘A boxer,’ Joanna corrected flatly, wondering why she tortured herself with these weekly luncheons with her mother. She always ended up being hurt by her mother’s indifference to anything that happened in her life; it would have been more sensible just to have gone to the monthly Sunday visits with Joshua the only time she ever saw her father. Both her parents lived such hectic lives that they didn’t really have the time for her. They never had done; she had accepted that very early in her life. Her marriage to Joshua had been her one redeeming feature as far as they were concerned, although in the beginning even that had been heralded as a disaster. ‘Like Billy,’ she added softly.
‘Really, Joanna,’ her mother snapped. ‘The dog has been dead for years!’
‘Maybe. But I loved him.’ When she was a child her father had impulsively bought her a boxer. He had forgotten her birthday one year, and had seen the puppy in a pet-shop window on his way home, going in to buy it without considering the fact that his wife might not approve. Joanna had loved the puppy from the first, and despite shrill protests from her mother had somehow persuaded her father to let her keep him. Billy had chewed any and everything in sight, from the furniture to her mother’s shoes, and it was after finding half a dozen expensive pairs of the latter chewed beyond repair that Billy had been banished to the garden and kitchen only. Not that he seemed to mind, enjoying chasing butterflies in the summer, and falling asleep in the warmth of the kitchen in the winter. And Joanna had made no complaints either, just being relieved to be able to keep the dog.
Billy had been her constant companion for nine years, until a mad excited dash into the road after a car had caused his sudden death. She had never forgotten him, or the unselfish love he gave her, and the character of Billy Boxer was based on him and the endearing—and often mischievous—things he did.
Her mother gave her order for lunch, waiting while Joanna did the same before speaking again. ‘You mean a publisher is actually willing to pay you money to write about a pest of a dog?’ she derided in her haughty voice.
‘Yes,’ Joanna bit out resentfully.
‘I don’t know what the world is coming to,’ Cora shook her head. ‘What does Joshua think of all this?’
Joanna’s mouth firmed angrily, and she looked nothing like the composed young woman who had left James Colnbrook’s office half an hour earlier. ‘He hasn’t said a lot about it,’ she mumbled.
‘I should think not! A man of his reputation and standing having a wife who writes children’s stories!’
Joanna stiffened. ‘I didn’t say he disapproved of it, Mother, we just haven’t discussed it very much.’ They didn’t discuss anything any more, they were barely civil to each other!
Her mother opened her mouth to say something, then stopped as the waiter began to serve their meal, the avocado pear deliciously ripe, the prawns nestling in its well pink and juicy.
‘You were saying, Mother?’ she prompted after the first mouthwatering spoonful.
She received an irritated look. ‘Not while we’re eating, Joanna. We’ll talk later.’
Joanna ate her meal with unhurried grace, her wrists small and delicate, her hands long and slender, seeming weighed down by the rings on her wedding finger.
The coffee stage of their meal came round soon enough, and she prepared herself for more lectures on the inadvisability of having a career when her husband was such an important man, when he needed a wife to perform all the social graces for him. She had heard it all before, in fact she had become sick of hearing it over the years. Billy Boxer might not be everyone’s idea of a great achievement, but it was the one thing she could truly call her own, the one thing that didn’t belong to Joshua or that he hadn’t given her.
‘… and so I was just wondering how he is.’
She blinked, her mother’s beautiful face and the sound of the other people talking in the restaurant fading back into her consciousness again. ‘How who is?’ she frowned.
‘Joshua, of course. I realise you’re excited about your book, Joanna, but do listen! Your father and I missed Joshua at lunch last Sunday, I wondered how he is.’
Joanna shrugged. ‘I told you, he had to go back to the clinic last Sunday. He sent his apologies.’
Her mother frowned. ‘He seems to be—working rather a lot lately.’
‘Joshua has always worked hard, you know that.’
‘But he seems to be working extra hard the last few months.’
Joanna looked at her mother’s expectant expression, sighing deeply. ‘If you have something to say, Mother, then say it. I don’t feel like playing games.’
Her mother looked irritated. ‘Are you happy with Joshua, Joanna?’
She looked away. ‘Of course.’
‘I know that at first your father and I didn’t approve of your marriage—–’
‘Approve?’ Joanna echoed scathingly. ‘As I remember, you objected very strongly—until you knew exactly who he was.’
‘That isn’t true!’ her mother protested indignantly. ‘I never doubted that Joshua was somebody. He’s just so much older than you. None of us were sure you were mature enough for marriage, but in the circumstances…’
‘Just tell me what you have to say, Mother,’ Joanna interrupted tautly, knowing her mother too well to be deceived by this show of concern for her welfare.
‘Well, I’ve heard—–’
‘Yes?’ she prompted tensely as her mother hesitated.
‘It may only be gossip—–’
‘Mother!’
‘There’s talk that Joshua may not be spending all his time away from home working! There, I’ve said it now.’ Cora sounded quite shaken. ‘I feel so much better now that I’ve just said it. And it could only be talk—you know how Jackie Simms loves to gossip. I don’t—–’
Joanna had stopped listening, lost in her own thoughts once again. Her mother might feel better for having dropped this bombshell, but it certainly didn’t have the same effect on her. She and Joshua had had their problems over the years, but she had never in all the time of their marriage suspected there could be another woman in his life. Of course Joshua was a sensual man, and she—–
‘—and I’ve always told you that Angela Hailey is too pretty to be a mere secretary and receptionist to any man, let alone one as attractive as Joshua,’ her mother continued.
‘Angela Hailey?’ That part of her mother’s conversation pierced her tortuous thoughts. ‘Are you saying she’s the woman involved?’ she frowned.
‘According to Jackie,’ her mother nodded. ‘Of course she can’t always be right, but she usually is,’ she added petulantly. ‘And Angela is a lovely woman.’
A mental picture of the beautiful redhead came to mind, her eyes a deep flashing green, her figure shown to advantage in the styled clothes she always wore, her hair long and straight to her shoulders. She had been Joshua’s receptionist and secretary for the last seven years now, and Joanna had met her lots of times—and their dislike was mutual. Angela made no attempt to hide her contempt of Joanna whenever they were alone, although she was always coolly polite in front of Joshua. Joanna had always felt it wiser to ignore the other woman’s antagonism, but this had only seemed to anger her more. Yes, she could see Angela Hailey as Joshua’s mistress, knowing the other woman would revel in such a role. And Joshua had a weakness for redheads—hadn’t he been with one when she had first seen him?
She shrugged now. ‘There’s always talk about a man like Joshua. Half of his women patients would like to claim an affair with him, and the other half want to mother him. If I listened to, or believed, half the gossip of affairs between Joshua and other women I’d be a nervous wreck!’
Once again her mother looked irritated. ‘And no one could ever accuse you of having bad nerves, could they, Joanna?’ she snapped. ‘You’re so cool it’s unbelievable. Joshua could be having a roaring affair with Angela Hailey and you would simply sit back and deny it!’
Joanna met her mother’s exasperated gaze with steady blue eyes. ‘Would you rather I said it was true?’
‘If it is, yes!’
She sighed. ‘I think Joshua is the one you should be asking, not me. Don’t they say the wife is always the last to know?’ she added dryly.
‘Don’t you care?’ her mother snapped.
‘Of course I care,’ she bit out, her eyes flashing. ‘Joshua is my husband. But he isn’t likely to tell me whether or not he’s having an affair with Angela, even if I were to ask him—which I’m not going to do,’ she added firmly.
‘You trust him that much?’
No, she cared that little! If there was another woman in Joshua’s life, even if it was Angela Hailey, then she didn’t care! ‘We’re married,’ she said flatly. ‘I have no reason to think that will ever change. If it does,’ her voice was brittle now, ‘you can be sure I’ll let you be the first to know, so that you can tell Jackie Simms some first-hand gossip for a change!’
‘Joanna, don’t be flippant—–’
‘How am I supposed to act?’ she rasped. ‘You’ve just told me the biggest gossip in town believes that my husband is being unfaithful to me. Should I shout and scream? Would that make you happy?’
Her mother looked about them selfconsciously as Joanna’s voice rose over the last. ‘I’m thinking of your happiness,’ her tone was low. ‘That’s why I’ve told you about Joshua. Lots of men—stray. Why, even your father—But that’s another story,’ she hastily dismissed at Joanna’s sudden look of interest. ‘But if you know what’s going on then you have a chance to stop it.’
Did she want to? Did it really bother her that much any more what Joshua did? She knew the answer to that only too well. And her mother would be deeply dismayed if she knew of her real feelings for Joshua.
‘I have to go, Mother.’ She picked up the bill. ‘I believe it’s my turn,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ll see you next week as usual,’ and she stood up.
‘Joanna—–’
‘Yes?’ She looked down at her mother, seeming much older than her twenty-three years.
‘Just—Remember what I’ve told you!’ Cora looked worried by Joanna’s attitude. ‘Joshua is a man of—experience, sophistication.’ She frowned. ‘Don’t blame him too much if this does turn out to be true. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a fleeting affair. Oh, and congratulations on the book,’ she added absently.
‘Thank you, Mother,’ Joanna said dryly, knowing how much of an afterthought the good wishes had been.
She took another taxi home, to the house she shared with Joshua in Belgravia, although perhaps shared was too intimate a description; they both just happened to eat and sleep there, they hadn’t shared anything worthwhile in a long time.
The elegant house had been run very efficiently by Joshua’s housekeeper before they were married, and Mrs Barnaby continued to do so now, her presence unobtrusive and very ordered, never a jar or hiccup in the routine of the household. Breakfast was always at eight o’clock, lunch always at one, and dinner always at seven-thirty sharp. The house was always spotlessly clean, everything at Joanna’s fingertips day and night—and she hated it, from the brass handles on the doors to the crystal chandelier in the lounge. It wasn’t a home, it was a hotel, a very beautiful hotel, but no less impersonal.
She nodded coolly to the maid as she opened the door for her, glancing idly at the mail that had been left on the hall table, the heady scent of the carnations in the vase there pleasant to the senses. Most of the letters were for Joshua, as usual, but there was just one letter for her, an invitation to dinner from one of Joshua’s medical colleagues. She left this with the other mail, knowing it would be Joshua’s decision whether or not they went. They probably would.
‘Any messages, Mrs Barnaby?’ she asked the housekeeper as she came through from the kitchen with a pot of tea.
‘Just from Mr Radcliffe,’ the woman informed her without emotion, her rigid nature reflected in her appearance, from the tight bun of hair at her nape to her no-nonsense shoes. ‘He said to tell you he’d be home for dinner at seven as usual.’
‘Thank you,’ Joanna nodded, pouring herself a cup of the tea. ‘I’ll take this upstairs with me,’ she nodded dismissal, ignoring the other woman’s look of disapproval. She had become impervious to those looks over the years, knowing the housekeeper didn’t approve of drinks being taken upstairs.
Her bedroom was evidence of Joanna’s own self-indulgence, a beautiful boudoir in white and pink lace, even the four-poster bed having white lace curtains that could be drawn at night. As a child she had always dreamt of a room like this, and while her parents had always given her everything money could buy, they had considered such a room ridiculous. When they were first married Joshua had been inclined to satisfy this whim of hers, but had insisted that the adjoining bathroom and his own bedroom on the other side of this remain free of feminine frills.
Separate bedrooms. Joanna had hardly been able to believe it when they were first married, but Joshua’s claim about not disturbing her if by some unlikely occurrence he should happen to be called out to the clinic during the night had seemed a valid one. Now she was glad they didn’t share a room; she couldn’t have borne to share a bed with him all night, every night.
Her mother’s suggestion of an affair between Joshua and his receptionist/secretary at the fashionable consultancy he ran in Harley Street didn’t seem so unlikely when she considered the amount of time he spent there, an image of the ultra-elegant consulting-room and lounge coming to mind as a scene for the affair. No, it didn’t seem so impossible, but Joanna deplored Joshua’s choice of mistress, knew that any number of women would have been willing to have an affair with him.
She heard the quiet throb of the white Rolls-Royce at the front of the house at exactly seven o’clock, checking her appearance in the full-length mirror as she heard the deep sound of Joshua’s voice as he greeted the housekeeper downstairs. There would have been a time when she herself would have run down the stairs to greet him, but those days were long gone.
They always dressed for dinner, and she had chosen to wear a black gown caught across one shoulder, leaving the other shoulder and arm bare, a gold slave bracelet pushed up on to the completely bare arm. The gown moulded to the slender curves of her body, once again high-heeled sandals adding to her diminutive height. Her make-up was perfect, her hair loose blonde curls that clung to her head, her expression coolly composed as she went down to the lounge to wait for Joshua to join her.
She was sipping her sherry when he came into the lounge fifteen minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower he had just taken. Joanna was able to look at him objectively, to see how the black evening suit fitted the broadness of his shoulders, the trousers tailored to the lean length of his legs.
At thirty-seven Joshua was still probably the most handsome man she had ever seen, his hair dark and thick, tinged with grey at the temples, his eyes a deep piercing grey, his nose long and straight, his mouth a thin uncompromising line, the firmness of the jaw telling of the authority that came as a second nature to him.
The grey eyes were hooded now, almost expressionless as he looked down at her. ‘Congratulations.’ His voice was low and controlled, almost as expressionless as his eyes.
Looking at him now Joanna could see that he too had changed since their marriage five years ago, that there was hardly a trace left of the man she had first met and been instantly attracted to. Deep lines of cynicism were now grooved beside his mouth, and she could see the years hadn’t dealt kindly with him. Could it be that Joshua was as dissatisfied with their marriage as she was? His affair with Angela seemed to say he was.
‘Your mother telephoned me,’ he explained at her silence, moving to sit in the chair across from her. ‘She told me about the book. You must be very proud.’ He sipped his whisky.
‘Yes,’ she nodded.
The grey eyes narrowed, fine lines fanning out from their corners. ‘She also seemed concerned about you.’
Her shoulders stiffened at her mother’s underhand method of interfering. ‘I can’t imagine why,’ she dismissed coldly.
‘You are looking pale—–’
‘That’s because I’m hungry!’ She stood up, determinedly putting an end to the conversation. ‘Shall we go through to dinner?’
‘Of course,’ he nodded abruptly, and stood up too, at least a foot taller than she was.
In that moment Joanna wondered where all the charm and laughter had gone from his handsome face, noticing that his muscled body was leaner too, that his cheeks were almost hollow beneath the healthy tan, his long hands still strong and dependable, although they too looked leaner. Yes, Joshua was far from happy in this marriage too.
Their conversation was slow and impersonal through dinner, as it usually was, Joshua asking her a little about the book; but her abrupt replies were not encouraging. Joshua refused wine with his meal and also a brandy afterwards, and Joanna knew what that meant.
‘I have to go back to the clinic for a few hours,’ he told her as he replaced his empty coffee cup on the tray.
‘Yes.’ She had known what was coming.
He seemed to hesitate. ‘What will you do?’
‘Have an early night. Read a book.’ She shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about me, I have plenty to do.’
He was frowning darkly. ‘But I do worry about you, Joanna. You must get very lonely here on your own in the evenings when I go back to work…?’
No,’ she told him coolly. ‘I find ways of occupying my time.’
‘I’ll go and change, then.’ He turned abruptly, going up to his bedroom.
Joanna dismissed the housekeeper for the night once she had come in to remove the coffee tray, and went slowly up to her own room. She could hear Joshua in the adjoining bathroom, and suddenly the idea of a long soak beneath scented bubbles seemed very appealing. She undressed to don her silk robe, sitting down in front of the dressing-table to cleanse off her make-up.
She heard Joshua leave the bathroom a few minutes later and so she went through herself. Everything had been left as neat and tidy as usual, not even the toothpaste tube out of place, squeezed meticulously from the bottom.
She ran the water into the deep sunken bath before searching through the bathroom cabinet. The wide cuff of her robe caught the top of a medicine bottle, unbalancing it, and Joanna watched as it fell, almost in slow motion it seemed, to shatter on the floor.
The adjoining bathroom door was instantly flung open, and Joshua took in the situation at a glance. He was dressed for work now in one of his superbly tailored three-piece suits, grey tonight, with a white silk shirt. ‘Don’t move,’ he instructed tautly.
But his warning came too late. His unwarranted presence here when she was dressed in only a robe caused an involuntary reaction in her, and she stepped backwards, straight on to the glass, gasping her pain as a piece pierced the sole of her foot.
‘Stand still!’ Joshua rasped as she would have moved once again, crunching across the glass in his shoes to swing her up into his arms and carry her through to her bedroom.
Joanna froze at his physical contact with him, lying stiffly in his arms, beginning to breathe again only when he had placed her on the bed and moved down to examine her foot. If he were aware of her aversion to his touch he gave no sign of it, treating her as impersonally as he would any other patient.
‘It doesn’t look too bad,’ he straightened. ‘I’ll just get something to clean it.’ He went back into the bathroom, turning off the bath-taps as he did so.
Joanna took this few moments to collect her thoughts together, to try and gauge her reaction to being touched by Joshua after all this time. She didn’t have one, not revulsion, and certainly not excitement. It had been as if she were being touched by a stranger, and not the man she had shared her most intimate moments with, not the man she had once loved so much. Where had all that love gone?—because it certainly had gone!
She could look at Joshua now and see all the things she hadn’t seen in the beginning, the coldness in his eyes, the lack of emotion in his handsome face, the flashes of hardness she often felt in his actions. Yes, she could see it all now, now that it was five years too late.
He was back in her bedroom now, bending over her foot. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured at her gasp, the jagged- looking piece of glass now in his hand, a wad of gauze stopping the flow of blood. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked softly as he bandaged the foot after cleaning it.
‘Not too badly,’ she shrugged off the digging pain she could still feel. ‘Aren’t I lucky my husband is a doctor? she added lightly.
Joshua looked up with a heavy frown, searching her face for signs of the sarcasm evident in her voice. ‘Yes,’ he answered abruptly, his mouth tight, finishing off the bandage before straightening. ‘That should be all right now, but the bath is out, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s only a question of keeping my foot out of the water—isn’t it?’ she said sharply.
He shrugged. ‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll still have my bath—thank you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Go ahead. I’ll just go and clean up the mess in the—–’
‘I’ll do it.’ Joanna flushed, and swung her legs to the floor, pulling her robe hurriedly together as it parted slightly to reveal her nakedness.
Joshua turned away uninterestedly. ‘Please let me do it,’ he said hardly. ‘I wouldn’t like there to be any more accidents.’
Her eyes flashed her resentment of his patronishing tone. ‘Do it, then,’ she dismissed curtly.
With a coldly assessing glance in her direction he went into the bathroom, leaving Joanna seething. Anyone would think she had knocked the damned bottle over on purpose!
‘All done.’ He was back within minutes. ‘What were you doing in that side of the cabinet anyway?’ he asked mildly.
‘Looking for something,’ she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. They each had their own side of the spacious bathroom cabinet, and she was as aware as he that she had knocked the bottle from his side.
Joshua didn’t move, dominating the room with his height and breadth. ‘What?’
‘Just something,’ she snapped. ‘Look, I couldn’t find what I was looking for in my side, so I wondered if Mrs Barnaby had put it back in your side this morning when she tidied up,’ she defended as he still seemed to be waiting for his answer. ‘It was as simple as that. Anyway, I’ve remembered now that I threw the empty packet away yesterday.’ The colour in her cheeks seemed to be a permanent fixture, heightening Joshua’s curiosity, she felt sure.
Heavens, it was months since they had talked as much as this—and she wished they weren’t talking now!
‘What was it?’ he asked softly. ‘Perhaps I have some I can let you have.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Tell me and maybe—–’
‘No!’
His eyes narrowed at her uncontrollable outburst. ‘What was it, Joanna?’ His tone was inflexible, demanding an answer this time.
Her head went back in anger, her expression resentful. ‘What do you think it was?’
‘I have no idea.’ He spoke deceptively low, the hard determination of his jaw belying that tone. ‘Tell me.’
It was a command, not a request, and Joanna knew it. If only she hadn’t upset that medicine bottle!
‘It wasn’t drugs, was it, Joanna?’ he rasped at her continued silence.
‘Drugs?’ she repeated astoundedly, her eyes wide with indignation at the suggestion.
‘You’ve been very withdrawn lately—–’
‘Not because I’m some sort of pill-popper!’ She was outraged even at the thought of it.
Joshua sighed. ‘I didn’t mean those sort of drugs. I know you weren’t sleeping well several months ago, I wondered if you were still taking something to help you sleep.’
‘And then something to help me wake up again, and something else to give me a little energy, and then—–’
‘That will do, Joanna!’ he told her coldly, only the erratic pulse in his jaw telling of his own rising anger. ‘I wasn’t implying that at all. I simply wondered if you were taking the sleeping tablets the doctor gave you.’
‘No, I’m not. But I was looking for some pills,’ she met his gaze with defiant challenge. ‘My birth-control pills!’
For a moment he looked stunned, then his expression became as deadpan as usual. ‘You’re still taking those?’ he bit out.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
She gasped. ‘Because—Well, because we’re married. And—–’
‘And we haven’t slept together in months,’ he derided with bitterness, walking to the bedroom door in long strides. ‘Or is it years?’ he muttered as he left the room.
Joanna fell back against the pillows with an anguished groan, relieved that Joshua hadn’t pursued the subject any further.
It wasn’t years since they had made love, but it was almost a year since Joshua had even wanted to try to make love to her!
CHAPTER TWO (#u284efc99-b017-54ac-a8be-9dd73e8294b1)
POOR Joshua, he should never have had a wife like her; he would probably never have even considered it if she hadn’t pursued him so relentlessly, would probably never even have noticed her if she hadn’t made sure he had.
The holiday in Canada with her parents had been part of a few months’ holiday together before she went to finishing school in Switzerland during the summer, her mother insisting that she had to learn to ski before she went there, sure that all the other girls would be able to do so and Joanna would feel the odd one out.
So while her mother and father spent the days with another couple they had befriended at the ski complex in Banff, Joanna spent her days travelling up to the nearby Mount Norquay learning to ski on the nursery slopes.
The first few days were great fun, spent with a family of five, two teenage girls, a boy, and their parents as they too attempted to find their feet in the skis that seemed to have a life of their own. They all had a hilarious time, and it wasn’t until her parents asked how she was getting on that Joanna realised she should get down to some serious lessons.
After that her progression was very rapid, and after the first week she was more than ready to progress from the real beginners’ slopes to the longer more interesting runs.
Her speedy grasp of the sport might have had something to do with the rather handsome instructor she had, the two of them often meeting in the cafeteria for lunch even after she didn’t need his teaching any more.
And then she had seen Joshua, had watched in admiration as the figure in the dark blue ski-suit manoeuvred the most difficult run of all with an ease that still made her look very much the amateur. When the skier had reached the bottom of the run he slowed to a halt inches in front of a laughing redhead, his own austere features breaking into a smile as his arm went casually about the woman’s shoulders with a familiarity that spoke of several days’ acquaintance at least.
Joanna’s attention left the smiling woman to return to that handsome face, taking in everything about the man as he removed the woollen hat that had been keeping him warm, his hair long and dark, his eyes so light a grey they looked almost silver. He moved on his skis as if he had been born on them, kissing the redhead lightly on the mouth before taking the chair-lift back up to the top once again. The woman moved to sit on one of the bench seats outside the cafeteria, her bright red ski-suit obviously just for show as she preferred to spend hours just watching the tall dark man.
And he was worth watching; he became almost an obsession for Joanna. To her amazement, and pleasure, he turned out to have a cabin in the same complex as her parents’, and so she saw him often. Not that he noticed her. When he wasn’t skiing he was wrapped in the arms of the redhead, and Joanna felt her chagrin grow as a second week passed and all she could do was gaze at him from afar.
Then one day the redhead wasn’t waiting at the bottom of the run for him! The first day Joanna saw him at the ski-run on his own she thought perhaps the redhead had decided to spend the day in Banff for a change, but when she didn’t put in an appearance for three days in a row Joanna knew the other woman had left, that it had only been a holiday romance after all and not a cosy getaway for two in Canada.
As far as she was concerned it was the ideal opportunity for her to make him aware of her, something she hadn’t so far achieved, for all that she had tried to.
And it wasn’t so easy now either. He spent all of his days on the most experienced ski-slopes, the ones that she hadn’t progressed to yet, disappearing completely in the evenings, making Joanna wonder if he had found yet another lady to share his nights. Unless, like her, he was so exhausted by the physical exertion of a day’s skiing that he preferred to go to bed early, alone. She had got over her first initial aching body but still found the pure mountain air made her sleepy in the evenings.
Her parents felt no such inhibitions, spending most of their evenings out at dinner in one of the local restaurants with the other couple, and Joanna’s interest quickened one morning as they all lingered over breakfast, listening intently as her mother mentioned the man she herself had become so interested in. It had to be him, she hadn’t seen another man here who fitted that description!
‘Who is that fascinating man I occasionally catch a glimpse of in Banff?’ her mother asked her father. ‘The tall handsome man sitting alone in the restaurant last night.’
‘In the restaurant?’ Joanna echoed sharply, her disappointment acute that she had once again chosen to spend the evening alone in the luxury two-bedroomed cabin her parents were renting for their stay here. ‘Was he?’
Her mother, looking very attractive in a light blue cashmere jumper and perfectly matched in colour trousers, gave her a sharp look. ‘What do you know about him, darling?’
‘Nothing.’ She flushed, looking very young with her hair secured at her nape, her face completely bare of make-up, already dressed for another day’s skiing. ‘I’ve just seen him about the town too.’
Her father shrugged, a man several years older than than her mother, often giving the appearance of being slightly bemused by his beautiful wife at times. He had prematurely grey hair, was of medium height, retaining the lean masculinity of his youth. ‘I have no idea who he is. Does it really matter, Cora?’
She looked irritated by his lack of curiosity. ‘I suppose not,’ she stood up. ‘Although I do think you could show some interest.’ She lit a cigarette. ‘He’s English, you know.’
‘So are several other people here,’ he shrugged.
‘But he’s staying right here at the complex,’ his wife snapped.
‘Then ask the manager who he is,’ Joanna’s father dismissed.
‘I will not!’ her mother said indignantly.
Joanna left before she could hear her mother’s outraged reply, knowing she wouldn’t stand for her husband’s uninterested attitude towards the stranger any longer. Well, Joanna had decided that today he was going to stop being a stranger to her!
She took her skis and boots up to Mount Norquay as usual, her mother insisting that she couldn’t possibly use the rental gear available, that she must have all her own equipment, even though the whole thing had cost a complete fortune. But money had never bothered her parents, and Joanna had grown up knowing she could have anything she wanted. And now she wanted a tall dark stranger with enigmatic grey eyes that could be silver with amusement and like a storm-tossed sea in anger. She had seen the latter once when one of the young skiers came hurtling down the slope so fast he had lost control and almost ploughed down a young child in his way, only just managing to avoid her at the last moment by falling down. The man with the storm-tossed eyes had verbally ripped into the teenager, the young boy’s ears burning red at the justification of the reprimand.
But today Joanna was determined the eyes should be silver, with laughter, for her. She had never been denied anything before, and she had never waited so long for anything before either.
She could hardly believe her luck when she reached the ski area and saw the man was also in the locker-room putting on his boots. And they were completely alone. It was all turning out so beautifully!
She saw him glance over at her, but his interest wasn’t held in any way as he once again concentrated on his task. She would make him notice her! And luckily she had just the way.
‘Oh damn,’ she muttered loudly as she put on her own boots. ‘Now what am I going to do?’ She spoke as if to herself, but made sure she was loud enough to be heard by the man. She could see him moving towards her out of the corner of her eye, and was amazed at how easily he could move in the restrictive boots, always feeling ungainly in them herself until she had her skis on. But he suffered no such inhibitions, he moved easily and smoothly. Joanna looked up as if surprised to see him there. ‘Oh, hello, I thought I was alone,’ she smiled at him warmly.
He didn’t smile back. ‘Anything I can do to help?’ His voice was deep and husky, and as her mother had said, he was English.
She straightened, overwhelmed by the sexual magnetism of him now that she was this close to him, realising that he was older than she had thought, must be in his early thirties at least, that he smelt of tangy cologne and sandalwood soap. ‘I—–’ she wet her lips nervously. ‘One of the straps on my boot has broken. Do you happen to have a spare?’ She ignored the spare straps that were burning a hole in the side of her carryall.
‘I think so, yes,’ he nodded, going back to his own bag and coming back with a blue strap. ‘Will this do?’ He held it out to her.
‘I’m sure it will,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘Would you mind putting it on for me?’
Dark brows rose beneath the blue woollen hat, but he made no demur, bending down to fit the strap easily, clipping the clasp into place. ‘All right?’
‘Er—Could you tighten it a little for me?’ As he bent forward so did she, her long blonde hair softly brushing the hardness of his cheek.
He glanced up at her, his eyes silvery grey. ‘Would you mind…?’ He brushed her hair away.
Joanna sat back, sighing her chagrin, trying another approach. ‘I’ve watched you ski,’ she told him with breathless admiration. ‘You’re very good.’
‘Thank you. Better?’ He sat back on his heels, the blue insolated suit fitting tautly to his muscular body.
She blinked. ‘Better…? Oh—oh yes,’ she blushed, making a show of testing the comfort of the boot. ‘Thank you.’
He nodded and stood up. ‘Then if you’ll excuse me…’
‘Of course.’ Once again she smiled, her eyes almost the colour of violets. ‘And thank you once again, Mr—–?’
‘Radcliffe,’ he drawled. ‘Joshua Radcliffe.’
‘Joanna Proctor,’ she returned invitingly, looking at him beneath lowered lashes.
‘Miss Proctor,’ he acknowledged curtly, and instantly left the locker-room.
So much for getting him to notice her! Oh, he had noticed her, all right, and just as soon dismissed her, she thought indignantly. Well, Joshua Radcliffe was about to find out that she only became all the more determined when something was constantly denied her.
But he seemed equally determined to ignore her, barely acknowledging her cheery greeting and hand-waves if they should ‘happen’ to meet. The day she stopped him to return the strap was the day he couldn’t just walk away from her.
It was lunchtime, and the cafeteria was crowded as Joanna pushed her way through to the vacant seat next to Joshua, hardly able to believe her luck as she glanced round the room. He had almost finished his coffee and sandwich, but she hurried to the seat before he could leave.
‘May I?’ She looked down at him expectantly, knowing the light blue ski suit she wore showed off the slenderness of her figure and deepened the colour of her eyes.
His shrug wasn’t encouraging. ‘I think it’s a question of sit where you can today.’
Not very encouraging at all. And she was very conscious of the other couple sitting at the table as she put her fruit yoghurt and coffee on the table before disposing of the tray, smiling as she sat down next to Joshua Racliffe. ‘I’m glad I ran into you today,’ she told him breathlessly.
Puzzlement flickered briefly in the dark grey eyes, one brow raised in query. ‘You are?’
Her confidence wavered for a moment, although she quickly recovered. ‘Yes. I have a new strap for you.’ She had been walking about with the strap zipped in her pocket for days in the hope that she would be able to use just such an occasion to sit and talk to him.
‘New strap?’ he frowned.
‘Yes, I—–’ The man didn’t even remember her, there was not a flicker of recognition in the stormy depths of his eyes! She reached up a hand to release her hair from the restrictive hat, its honey blondeness cascading down her back. ‘I’m Joanna Proctor, we met in the locker-room the other day,’ she prompted as he still looked puzzled. Well, no one had ever accused her of being defeatist!
‘Ah yes, Miss Proctor.’ His words were obviously spoken out of politeness, still no recognition in his expression.
She didn’t know what to say now, and was glad of the diversion of the other couple leaving to shield her dented ego. Luckily the lunchtime rush was over now, so she had Joshua to herself. But he appeared to be getting ready to leave too, picking up his gloves and ski-goggles.
‘I have a new strap for you here.’ She unzipped her pocket and handed it to him. ‘I bought it in town.’
He made no effort to take it. ‘There was really no need—–’
‘Of course there was,’ she insisted softly. ‘You were kind enough to lend me one of yours, the least I can do is replace it with a new one.’
He shrugged. ‘If you insist.’ He took the strap and pushed it carelessly into his pocket.
‘Oh, I do,’ she nodded eagerly. ‘Er—could I buy you another cup of coffee?’ she asked desperately as he seemed about to get up and leave.
He froze in the action of standing, looking down at her slowly. ‘Are you in the habit of buying strange men coffee?’ His voice was icy.
She laughed nervously, ‘No, I’m not in the habit of doing it,’ and here was a man who obviously didn’t appreciate the feminine prerogative of making the first move. Or did she mean moves—so far she seemed to have done all the chasing. And the man was making it very difficult for her to catch him. ‘And I wouldn’t call you strange,’ she added mischievously.
The eyes flickered silver, although his expression remained stern. ‘How old are you?’ he rasped.
‘How old—–?’ She was taken aback by the question.
‘Yes,’ he bit out grimly. ‘How old?’
Joanna tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘Er—twenty,’ she lied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.
For a moment he said nothing, then his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. ‘And I suppose you’ve been tempting men since you were in your cradle?’ he mused.
He was actually flirting with her! ‘Not exactly,’ she grinned.
All humour left him, leaving his face more austere than usual. ‘That’s probably because you haven’t left it yet!’ And with this abrupt comment he left her.
How could he do that to her, how could he flirt with her one second and treat her like a child the next! Well, it wasn’t fair, and she was far from beaten yet.
He didn’t put in an appearance for the next three days. The first day she didn’t worry too much—after all, he didn’t have to spend all his time skiing. But by the third day she began to suspect that he had left Banff, and Canada, to go back to wherever he came from. She cursed herself for not taking better advantage of her chances, knowing she would never again meet a man as fascinating as Joshua Radcliffe.
She moped about the cabin for the next two days, losing interest in the holiday that to many would be the highlight of a lifetime, no longer wishing to ski now that the possibility of seeing Joshua was gone. But finally it was her parents’ promptings that persuaded her to go back to Mount Norquay, utterly bored by Greg’s attempts to flirt with her, no longer interested in the ski-instructor when she had known the effect of a real man.
And then she saw a familiar navy-blue-clad figure skiing easily down from the top of the mountain—she would recognise that lithe figure anywhere. Joshua hadn’t left after all! Suddenly the day took on a new glow, even Greg’s conversation seeming interesting, although she was relieved when he excused himself to take his next class. Joshua was still here, and this time she didn’t intend to let him disappear, possibly for good, without making some sort of impression on him.
The tangled mess of arms, poles, legs, and skis wasn’t quite what she had in mind, but it achieved its objective!
She had watched Joshua go up in the chair-lift once again and had tried to time her descent from one of the small slopes to coincide with the time he too reached the bottom. Unfortunately she spent so much time watching how well he skied that she forgot her own control, suddenly realising she was heading straight for him. It was too late to do more than close her eyes and hope there would be no broken bones.
They met with a crunch of bodies, the force of it knocking all the breath from Joanna’s body, leaving her lying on the ground gasping, her legs and skis completely entangled with Joshua’s as he lay panting beside her.
He straggled to sit up, brushing the powdered snow from his goggles, finally removing them altogether to look down at her. ‘Joanna!’ he bit out gruffly. ‘Are you all right?’ His eyes narrowed as she didn’t move.
Her eyes flickered open and she felt slightly dazed, although the fact that he had remembered her name did a lot to help her feel better. ‘I—–’ She seemed to be having trouble talking, completely winded by the fall.
He bent over her now, concern etched into his pale face. ‘Are you hurt?’ he repeated in a rasping voice.
Was she hurt? She tentatively moved all her limbs, feeling not the slightest twinge, although she knew from experience that she would probably be bruised and aching tomorrow. But if she told Joshua she was all right now would he just get up and leave? She daren’t risk it.
She grimaced. ‘My wrist hurts.’
His gaze instantly moved down her body. ‘Which one?’
Joanna held up her right arm. ‘This one.’
‘Hm,’ his mouth was tight. ‘Well, you haven’t broken it, or you wouldn’t be able to move it that freely.’
Mistake number one! She adopted what she hoped was a pained expression. ‘It does hurt quite a lot, though, Joshua.’ She saw his face darken at her casual use of his name. Well, she was damned if she would call him Mr Radcliffe!
‘Probably just a sprain,’ he mumbled, bending down to free himself from his ski, the other one having come loose as he fell and was lying several feet away.
‘Just a sprain?’ she repeated indignantly.
The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile. ‘I’m sure it doesn’t feel trivial to you, but when I had visions of a broken leg at least, a sprained wrist seems quite mild by comparison.’
‘Well, I’m glad about that!’ She struggled to sit up without the use of her right hand, determined to carry out the pretence now that she had started it.
‘No, you aren’t,’ he smiled. ‘But I hope you’ll forgive me for what must seem like callousness. I just didn’t intend going home from here leaving a string of broken bodies behind me.’
Only broken hearts, she thought dreamily. She had fallen under his spell once again as he smiled at her, wouldn’t have cared if she had broken her leg, not if he came to the hospital to visit her. But she hadn’t broken anything, she knew that, even the hurt wrist was just an excuse to stop him getting up and walking away from her.
‘Here, let me.’ He moved to her aid as she struggled to unclasp her skis, the lock proving too stiff for her, his hand lightly brushing hers as he took over the task, although he seemed unaware of the almost electric shock that surged through her. ‘There,’ he straightened. ‘Now let’s see if you can stand up. Then I think we’d better move from here, we seem to be in the way,’ he said dryly as yet another skier manoeuvred past them.
With the aid of his arm about her waist Joanna was able to get unsteadily to her feel, more sure than ever that she was going to feel the bruising tomorrow. And the hardness of Joshua’s body as he pressed her to his side didn’t help the shaking of her legs or the racing of her pulse-rate.
‘I’ll drive you back to the cabins,’ he told her when they had reached the car park, Joshua somehow managing to keep an arm about her waist and carry their skis and poles in the other—and doing it with ease too! ‘I have a rental car,’ he explained as he leant the poles and skis against the side of the TransAm while he unlocked the passenger door for her, seeing her seated before attaching the skis to the roof-rack, putting their boots and poles in the boot.
She had seen the gold-coloured car with the brown eagle transfer across its bonnet about the complex, but she hadn’t realised it was being driven by this man. ‘My mother and father are renting a station wagon,’ she told him as he got in beside her.
‘So you’re here with your parents,’ he murmured. ‘I wondered.’
‘You did?’ she gasped.
He nodded. ‘They don’t ski?’
‘Oh yes, they do. But not very often,’ she confirmed his next unasked question. ‘I didn’t see you about at the beginning of the week.’ She made the statement into a question.
‘That’s because I wasn’t,’ he drawled.
‘Oh?’ she persisted, wondering if he had spent the time with a woman.
He sighed. ‘I went up to Sunshine for a few days,’ he named the other ski area at Banff.
Relief flooded through her. ‘Any good?’
‘Very. But a little more crowded than Norquay.’
He helped her out of the car once they reached the cabins, and Joanna didn’t feel it necessary to tell him it was her wrist that was injured, not her leg. She enjoyed having him touch her too much!
But when he took her to his own cabin she felt some of her brash self-confidence leave her. She dated a lot when she was at home, but they were usually boys, friends of the family; she had certainly never gone home alone with any of them!
The cabin had the same luxurious layout as the one. she was sharing with her parents, the large open-plan lounge and kitchen area, the beautiful stone fireplace in the lounge showing evidence of its recent use, although both the kitchen and lounge were very tidy. She knew there was a bathroom and two bedrooms leading off this, although Joshua took her straight into the lounge, inviting her to sit down on the sofa while he looked at her wrist.
Long sensitive fingers probed her loosely held wrist. ‘There’s no swelling,’ he seemed to speak almost to himself. ‘And I can’t feel any damage. But I’ll bandage it up anyway,’ he offered as he saw her mutinous expression. ‘It can’t do any harm.’ He straightened. ‘And it may do some good. I won’t be a minute.’
Joanna took advantage of his absence to slip out of her ski-suit, her soft wool jumper in the same blue as her eyes and the close-fitting denims she wore beneath the suit warm enough in the centrally heated cabin.
Joshua had removed his own ski-suit when he joined her a few minutes later, the black cords and thick black sweater giving him a satanic look, his warm virility tangible in the confines of the room Joanna’s pulse fluttered nervously.
He bandaged her wrist with quick decisive movements, his head bent as he concentrated on the task.
Joanna watched him without interruption, feeling the excitement surge through her. As if her pulse had leapt beneath his fingertips he looked up at her, his eyes narrowing as she blushed, her hair once again released to cascade down her back. ‘Er—very professional,’ she felt compelled to say something, looking down at the perfectly bandaged wrist to bide the flare of desire she felt sure must be in her eyes.
‘It should be,’ he drawled. ‘I’m a doctor.’
‘Oh,’ trust her! ‘Where in England do you practise?’ she asked interestedly.
He looked up at her unblinkingly. ‘Why do you want to know?’
She swallowed hard, knowing by the hardness in his eyes that she was being too obvious again. ‘I just—wondered,’ she said lamely. ‘It must be an interesting profession.’
‘It is,’ he nodded abruptly, securing the bandage. ‘And I have a practice in London.’
London. Well, at least they lived in the same city! Although she would be leaving for Switzerland at the end of the summer. Still, that was months away. She had his name and the fact that he worked in London. There couldn’t be that many Dr Joshua Radcliffes in town.
He looked up at her once again. ‘How does it feel?’
‘It—–? Oh—fine.’ She blushed as she realised he was talking about the bandage. ‘Your patients must feel very safe with you,’ she added softly, meeting his gaze in challenge.
He was still down on his haunches in front of her. ‘And you?’ he prompted huskily. ‘Do you feel—safe with me?’
Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden warmth in his eyes. ‘No.’
‘No?’ He quirked dark brows mockingly.
Delicate colour warmed her cheeks at the way he was deliberately tormenting her, her mouth tightening defiantly. He wouldn’t be amused by her, he wouldn’t! ‘No,’ she said determinedly, bending her head to put her mouth against his.
Because of the precariousness of his position the assault knocked him off balance, his hands coming out to grasp her arms, both of them tumbling to the floor, the deep-pile carpet and thick rug in front of the fireplace cushioning their fall.
Joshua raised his head, his eyes glittering like a storm-tossed sea as he glared down at her. ‘Why, you little—–!’ His mouth ground down on hers in anger,
determined to hurt her.
She had never been kissed with such intimacy before, her mouth parting beneath Joshua’s as he probed her lips, ravaging and raping her mouth as she lay stunned in his arms, her inexperience shocked by his sexual attack on her body, his hands beneath the thickness of her jumper now, laying claim to one taut breast, tantalising the nipple with sure fingertips.
‘No!’ He finally thrust her away from him, breathing heavily as he stood up, the tautness of his thighs telling of his own arousal. He turned away as he saw her gaze on him, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I think you’d better leave.’
‘But—–’
‘Joanna!’ he warned icily, his back still towards her as he shudderingly brought his body back under control. ‘Just go. Now.’
She scrambled to her feet, collecting up her clothes before going to the door. She gave one last longing look in his direction before quietly leaving.
But she was adult enough to realise that his anger had mainly been directed at himself, for his response to her. Her own body ached from her pleasure in his rough caresses, and she was determined that she would know that desire again.
Joanna’s thoughts came agonisingly back to the present as she heard the slamming of the Rolls’ door outside, knowing that Joshua was home. The clock at her bedside told her it was almost eleven. Joshua was later than he usually was, her own time since his departure being spent reliving the time they had met and she had fallen in love. Because she had fallen in love, during that first kiss.
She got to her feet now, hobbling into the bathroom to empty the cold scented water she had forgotten she had run as she became lost in thoughts of the past.
She was in bed reading a magazine when she heard Joshua coming up the stairs, knowing he must have seen the light on in her room, her windows facing the front of the house. Her face was a polite mask as his knock sounded on her bedroom door, and he entered immediately afterwards.
He looked even more tired than he had earlier tonight, sharpening Joanna’s suspicion as to the reason for the tiredness, although she didn’t ever remember lovemaking tiring him in the past.
He didn’t make the curt goodnight at the door as he usually did, and Joanna stiffened as he came in to sit on the side of her bed. ‘How is your foot now?’ he enquired softly.
She put her magazine down, her hands clasping together to stop their trembling. This situation reminded her too much of the time she had pretended injury to her wrist, swallowing hard as she remembered the way he had kissed her then. ‘It’s fine,’ she dismissed, just wanting him to leave.
‘Sure?’ he frowned, looking all of his thirty-seven years.
‘Yes!’ Her tone was sharp with tension.
His eyes took on the look of a storm-tossed sea as he continued to look at her, his breathing suddenly ragged. She had learnt during their married life together that it wasn’t only anger that made his eyes go that colour, that physical desire produced the same effect. It was the latter he was feeling now.
He confirmed her suspicions as he groaned low in his throat. ‘God, Joanna, I—–’
‘No!’ She recoiled away from him even as his hands tightened on her arms.
‘Yes, Joanna,’ he bit out grimly. ‘Tonight it has to be yes!’
His mouth claimed hers, parting her lips as he bent her to his will, kissing her with an intimacy she thought forgotten. His hands moved feveredly over her body from her hip to her breast, lingering over the latter, tracing the outline of the nipple through the silk of her nightgown, pushing the strap of the gown down as his mouth moved to claim her bare breast.
‘No!’ she looked up at him with wild eyes. ‘I don’t want to!’ She pushed his hands away from her.
Joshua was breathing heavily as he raised his head, refusing to be pushed off as he pinned her down to the bed. ‘You never do,’ he ground out. ‘But I do,’ he told her fiercely.
Her eyes glittered her rejection of him. ‘Then go and see your little receptionist. But don’t come to me!’
His eyes narrowed as he slowly moved up and away from her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he rasped.
Her mouth twisted, she pulled herself up the pillow now that the danger had passed, straightening the bedclothes about her with a calm she was far from feeling. It was a long time since she and Joshua had discussed anything on such a personal level, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it yet.
‘Joanna!’ he prompted hardly at her silence.
She sighed, her head back defiantly. ‘You know exactly what I mean, Joshua, so let’s not play games. If you choose to have an affair with your receptionist then that’s your business, but don’t come to me after you’ve been with her.’
‘I’ve been working—–’
‘I think the whole of London is aware of the “work” you’ve been doing in the evenings lately,’ she said contemptuously.
He breathed angrily, his mouth tight. ‘In other words, your mother has been listening to one of her cronies again,’ he derided harshly. ‘No wonder she was concerned about you! When will you learn not to listen to gossip, Joanna?’
She flushed at the rebuke. ‘This wasn’t gossip, and you know it. And my mother actually defended you,’ she told him angrily. ‘She thinks a man is entitled to “stray”, as long as his wife finds out in time and puts a stop to it,’ she added disgustedly.
‘But you don’t want to do that, do you, Joanna?’ he taunted hardly. ‘Because if you did that you would have to share a bed with me yourself.’
‘Does this mean you admit to having an affair with Angela Hailey?’
‘I admit nothing—but I’m not denying it either,’ he added softly, too softly. ‘Does that give you an excuse to keep denying me access to your bed, and your body?’
‘I don’t need an excuse!’ she snapped, two bright spots of colour in her cheeks.
‘No,’ he agreed heavily, beginning to pace the room. ‘I realise that.’ He stopped his pacing to glare down at her. ‘Just why the hell did you marry me, Joanna?’ he asked wearily.
She looked down at her hands. ‘You know why,’ she mumbled.
‘Tell me!’ he ordered tightly.
Her head went back at the aggression in his tone, throwing back the bedclothes to stand up, her body tense with anger as she faced him across the room. ‘Because I was eighteen, terrified, and carrying your child!’
CHAPTER THREE (#u284efc99-b017-54ac-a8be-9dd73e8294b1)
AS she watched him his face became a shuttered mask, all emotion erased, his eyes the only part of him that showed he hadn’t turned to stone, fires leaping and dying amidst the stormy sea.
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