Last Chance Marriage. Rosemary Gibson

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СКАЧАТЬ Depositing his tool box and the pane of glass on the floor, Joshua’s eyes dropped thoughtfully back to the sink unit.

      ‘William was a gamekeeper until he retired.’ Clemency’s own eyes returned to the package. Oh, heavens, it hadn’t moved had it? No, that was definitely her imagination. ‘And I suppose he still has, um, contacts in that line.’ She had never enquired too closely about the source of her presents. ‘It’s usually fish, like today. But sometimes it’s a rabbit or even a pheasant.’ Her large, expressive eyes darkened unhappily. ‘William just assumes that I can...prepare them.’ She paused and confessed in a guilty rush, ‘I know it’s dreadful but I bury them at the bottom of the garden.’

      ‘In the dead of night so no one can see you?’ The corners of his mouth twitching, Joshua turned his attention to the back door.

      ‘It’s not funny,’ Clemency reproved, but she grinned back at him and then sighed. ‘I should have been honest with William right from the start.’ Leaning back against the sink unit, she watched as Joshua deftly inserted the new pane of glass into the door, fascinated by his dexterity. ‘And told him I was just a feeble, squeamish townie.’ She’d held one of those strong, capable hands, felt the warmth of those long, supple fingers against hers. She swallowed hard. ‘Or claimed to be a strict vegetarian, but...’

      Her stomach muscles contracted in a fierce knot as against her will her eyes skidded over the chiselled mouth. Why did she have to start remembering that kiss now? Just when she’d begun to feel at ease with him, begun to relax.

      Taking a step backwards, Joshua examined his handiwork and, apparently satisfied, glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I picked up a couple of new bolts while I was out.’ Discarding his sweatshirt, he tossed it casually over a chair, the tanned length of his arms sprinkled with fine, dark hairs revealed by the dark blue T-shirt.

      Clemency felt herself stiffening. She didn’t want his unnerving masculine presence in her home for one moment longer than was strictly necessary.

      ‘Thanks.’ She forced out the word but knew from the slight narrowing of his eyes he’d noticed her hesitation. But hopefully, she prayed inwardly, not the reason for it. ‘I really ought to have changed the old bolts before now,’ she added more lightly. Joshua had demonstrated just how easy it was to gain access to her home now the rusty bolts were no longer functional, she admitted. Especially as she did occasionally forget to remove the key from the lock.

      Armed with a screwdriver, Joshua dropped to his haunches by the door, the blue denim jeans tautening across the muscular thighs. Clemency averted her gaze abruptly. ‘Coffee?’ She had to occupy herself with something, couldn’t just stand there watching him—or trying not to watch him—any longer.

      ‘Yes, please.’ He looked up. ‘Black. No sugar.’

      ‘Right.’ His eyes under the thick sweep of dark lashes were so impossibly blue, the depth and intensity of the colour almost mesmerising. She turned away swiftly and spooned coffee into two mugs, cursing under her breath as the spoon slid from her fingers and landed on the tiled floor with a resounding clatter. Bending down to retrieve it, she sensed Joshua watching her.

      ‘Yes?’ she enquired silently, lifting her eyebrows.

      ‘Nothing.’ The innocent blue eyes answered wordlessly. Smiling blandly, he began collecting up his tools.

      One black coffee, one white, Clemency reminded herself firmly. Surreptitiously she watched Joshua as he rinsed his hands and drew up a chair to the table. Sitting sideways, he stretched out his long, lean legs indolently in front of him, crooking a muscular arm around the back. This was her house, her kitchen and yet right now he seemed to be the one completely at home, not her, she thought with a prickle of resentment.

      Picking up the mugs carefully, she carried them across to the table and handed him one.

      ‘Thanks.’

      Sitting down opposite him, she took a sip of coffee and flicked him an upward glance. The dark blue eyes were resting pensively on her left hand, the betraying band of white skin on her third finger long since disappeared.

      ‘I used to wonder occasionally what had happened to you. How everything had turned out.’

      The quiet admission was so unexpected it made Clemency start.

      ‘Did you?’ she said with studied casualness, wondering why she found it so difficult—no, impossible—to make the same admission. ‘Simon and I separated when I moved down here four and a half years ago,’ she said instead, after a pause. ‘We’ve been divorced for two.’ She wasn’t unduly surprised by his slight frown as he registered the time discrepancy.

      ‘I didn’t confront Simon about Lisa straight away,’ she said evenly, and saw the furrow between the dark eyebrows deepen.

      ‘Why not?’ he said quietly.

      She averted her eyes. Initially because I felt so damn guilty about you. It had been absolutely absurd in retrospect, particularly under the circumstances. One fleeting New Year kiss—and for a while she’d actually felt as guilty about Simon as if she’d been the betrayer not the betrayed. She’d waited nearly five weeks before finally confronting Simon.

      ‘I suppose I convinced myself that he was simply infatuated with Lisa, that once she went to America he would forget her. It wasn’t as if he’d actually had an affair with her, been physically unfaithful.’ Was that really true or had she simply chosen to believe it? Put her own interpretation on the words she’d overheard in the kitchen?

      ‘And then when you finally did tackle Simon about Lisa?’ Joshua asked quietly.

      Clemency studied the table. Simon’s distress at the pain he’d caused her had been almost as unbearable as her own hurt. ‘We decided to give our marriage another shot.’ For nine long months they’d tried so hard, both concealing their increasing unhappiness beneath a veneer of superficial domestic normality. ‘It didn’t work out. Simon didn’t stop loving Lisa just because she went to America, and I stopped deluding myself that he had.’

      Her eyes darkened, remembering both the sadness and relief with which she and Simon had finally agreed that their marriage was over. A marriage, she had gradually come to realise, that should never have taken place. Simon hadn’t fallen out of love with her—he’d never been in love with her in the first place. A deep affection, a loyalty grown out of a shared childhood had never been a strong enough basis for a lifelong commitment as man and wife. They had been friends but never truly lovers.

      ‘Simon and Lisa were married six months ago,’ she finished steadily. It was completely irrational but it had still hurt.

      ‘A happy ending for Simon.’ The blue eyes moved over her face. ‘And you, Clemency? Are you happy?’ he enquired softly.

      Was she? ‘I like living on my own,’ she said slowly, occurring to her only then just how much she did value her independence, just how reluctant she would be to give it up. Okay she did get lonely occasionally, but that was a small price to pay for the advantages of her single status. Never again would her personal happiness be reliant on someone else.

      ‘And you enjoy your job?’ He lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

      ‘Yes, I do,’ she acknowledged, and frowned, not wholly comfortable with the image she was presenting of a self-sufficient, independent career woman. Well, it was an apt one, wasn’t it? This was the second time in as many days СКАЧАТЬ