Alien Wife. Anne Mather

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      ‘Reasonably,’ he returned, straightening. ‘Shall we go on?’

      As they passed the bakers, the smell of newly baked bread and pastry was irresistible. Abby gave Luke a rather speculative glance before disappearing inside, emerging a few minutes later with a paper bag containing two hot meat pasties. She offered him one, and after a moment’s hesitation he took it, biting into the crumbling pastry as she was doing and savouring the juicy filling.

      ‘I’ve just had breakfast,’ he protested, when she suggested they seated themselves on the low wall surrounding the church yard to eat them.

      ‘So have I,’ she replied easily. ‘But I’m sure a man of your size doesn’t need to watch his weight.’

      Luke’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a compliment?’ he inquired dryly, and she coloured, unable to meet his gaze.

      ‘Naturally,’ she murmured, looking down at the pastry in her hands. ‘Don’t you think this pastry is delicious?’

      Luke conceded that it was, and they sat in silence until they were finished. The sun was gaining strength, and its rays beat warmly upon their backs.

      Afterwards they walked down to the shore of the loch, and Abby pointed to a small rowing boat pulled high up on the shingle.

      ‘That’s Uncle Daniel’s,’ she said. ‘Would you like to go out on the loch? You can see the whole village from there.’

      Luke was obviously torn between a desire to do as she suggested, and his desire to get this outing over. His reluctance for her company had not diminished, and she wondered what had made him so wary of her. Unless, somehow, he had spoken to her aunt …

      That telephone call he had made the previous evening. He had told her uncle that he had spoken to Scott. What if he had spoken to Ella as well? But she was in Rome, Scott had told Abby so. And Luke would have told her uncle if he had made a call to Rome.

      Now Luke said: ‘I should very much like to row out on to the loch. But there’s no need for you to come with me. I’m sure you must have better things to do than keeping me company.’

      Abby took a deep breath. There it was again—that aloofness, that withdrawal. This wasn’t at all how she had planned it. But how could she penetrate that mask of politeness he was wearing?

      She gambled, knowing that if it didn’t come off, she might have destroyed any chance of success. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you like me?’

      Luke sighed then. ‘That’s not the point, is it? Good God, I’m old enough to be your father! You can’t possibly enjoy being with me.’

      Abby held up her head. ‘And if I do?’

      Luke shook his head. ‘I’d rather go alone.’

      Abby’s confidence crumbled. ‘Why?’ she demanded, childishly. ‘Because I remind you of my aunt?’

      Luke’s brows drew together. ‘That would be silly, wouldn’t it?’

      ‘Would it?’ Abby knew she had to make a stand. ‘I don’t think you like being reminded of the kind of woman she is!’

      That was unforgivable. She knew, as soon as the words were uttered, and Luke looked justifiably furious.

      ‘What the hell do you mean?’ he snapped, forcing her to go on.

      ‘I—I know about you—and her.’ Abby fumbled the words. ‘I—I know about your—your relationship …’

      ‘Indeed?’ His tone was grim.

      ‘Y—yes.’ Abby swallowed convulsively. ‘I—I know that she—she’s your mistress, that—that you’ve been living together—–’

      ‘What?’ Luke’s green eyes blazed into hers. ‘Where the hell have you got that from? What do you know about my affairs? What can you know, living here, miles from anywhere, out of touch—–’

      ‘I can read,’ she reminded him unsteadily. ‘We get newspapers—–’

      ‘Newspapers!’ Luke’s denigration of the word made her flinch. ‘Don’t you know better than to believe what you read in newspapers!’

      Abby’s shoulders quivered. Well, she had certainly succeeded in breaking his politeness, but any association they might have had must surely be doomed from this moment on. With a little gulp she turned away, and walked up the slope towards the road on trembling legs.

      ‘Abby!’

      She heard him call her name, and although she would have preferred to ignore him until she had herself in control again, instinctively she slowed and glanced back. He was still standing near the rowing boat, his hands pushed into his pockets, the breeze from the loch stirring the silvery thickness of his hair. He looked so big and powerful somehow, so remote. She must have been out of her mind to imagine she might be able to influence a man like him, she thought bitterly. Her methods were so gauche, so unsophisticated, so amateurish! Ella would have known how to go about it. She had known. But Abby’s experience of men was limited to the boys from the village and Uncle Daniel.

      ‘Come back here!’ Luke called to her, but she could sense the irritation still in his voice and remained where she was.

      ‘What’s the point?’ she called in answer. ‘I’ll—see you later.’

      ‘Abby!’ Frustration hardening his tone, he strode up the shingle towards her where she stood, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, poised for flight. ‘Abby, you can’t expect to say something like that without arousing some reaction!’ He sighed, his anger controlled. ‘All right, so I do find your resemblance to your aunt—disturbing. But not for the reasons you think.’

      ‘I was rude,’ she said stiffly. After all, this man was a guest in her uncle’s house and old habits die hard. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Are you?’ Almost against his will it seemed, his hand came out and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his face. His fingers were cool against her heated skin, and his thumb probed her jawline involuntarily. ‘Don’t pay lip service to me. I get enough of that back home.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, shivering, and he let her go.

      ‘Come on,’ he said, as if coming to a decision. ‘We’ll take the boat out.’

      Abby caught her breath. ‘But you said you didn’t want me to come with you.’

      ‘Perhaps I was being unselfish,’ he remarked enigmatically. Then, still unsmiling, he added: ‘If you’re prepared to waste your time with a middle-aged contemporary of your aunt’s, why should I object? Do you want to come or don’t you?’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she nodded.

      ‘All right, let’s go.’

      It was cooler on the loch, but she insisted on taking a turn at the oars and kept warm that way. He leaned back lazily as she rowed, his long legs stretched at either side of hers, and it was difficult for Abby to prevent herself СКАЧАТЬ