The Guilty Wife. Sally Wentworth

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She turned to face him. ‘Such caveman stuff. Do I really look all right?’

      ‘My darling girl.’ Getting up, he came over to her and turned her to face the mirror. ‘Can’t you believe the evidence of your own eyes? You will outshine every woman there.’

      Meeting his gaze in their reflection, Lucie said, ‘I’m not going for that. We’re just going for a giggle. But I wish you were coming. I want to share everything with you.’

      Recognising an unsure note in her voice, Seton put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her towards him. ‘You will have the most wonderful time with your friends,’ he said firmly. ‘You will bet on all the races and win a fortune. You will have a most delicious picnic and drink lots of champagne. And when you come home I will whisk you upstairs, take off all your clothes except that fantastic hat and then make love to you exactly where you’re standing now, in front of the mirror.’ She flushed, as he’d known she would, in the way that still delighted him.

      She moved away, began to change back into her ordinary clothes. ‘Your mother has been dropping hints about us having another baby; she’ll be so pleased when we tell her.’

      ‘Of course; my parents have found a new lease of life since they’ve become grandparents.’

      She laughed. ‘They might not be quite so keen after they’ve had Sam all day tomorrow.’

      ‘And overnight,’ Seton grinned.

      Lucie gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘When did you arrange that?’

      ‘I haven’t yet—but I’m certainly going to now that I’ve seen you in that hat.’

      ‘You’re incorrigible.’

      ‘It’s your own fault, woman; you shouldn’t be so sensational.’ And he kissed her again.

      

      The next day was warm and sunny but without a breeze, exactly right for all those hats. As Seton had predicted, Lucie had a wonderful time. They had a stretch limo to take them to the racecourse and set out their picnic in the car park, alongside all the Rolls-Royces and Bentleys. Because they were all women together they could let their hair down and there was a lot of laughter, especially after they’d opened the second bottle of champagne. Lucie was enjoying herself as much as the others until a photographer she hadn’t noticed came along and took a shot of them all as they clustered round the frothing bottle of bubbly with their glasses.

      ‘That was a good one,’ the photographer remarked. ‘It might be accepted by a paper. Give me your names for the caption, ladies.’

      Lucie hesitated but decided to be cautious. ‘I don’t want my name in a newspaper,’ she said to Anna, the friend next to her. ‘Please see that he doesn’t get it.’ And she got to her feet and walked quickly away.

      When she got back ten minutes later the man had gone.

      ‘You didn’t give him my name, did you?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

      ‘No.’ Anna hesitated. ‘But Fiona talked to him, gave him her name. I think she’s a bit squiffy,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t worry; why on earth would they put us in the paper when they’ve got all these beautiful women and outfits to choose from?’

      Which was very true. They packed away the picnic, walked down to watch the races, and Lucie forgot about the photographer in the excitement of picking two winners.

      And Seton kept his promise—more than fulfilled it as he made love to her that night in front of the mirror, their passion for each other seeming to be doubled as they not only felt but saw themselves giving and taking such glorious pleasure. ‘Hold your hat on, sweetheart,’ Seton groaned out. ‘Because I’m going to blow your mind.’

      That made Lucie start to laugh, but soon she was gasping, her eyes closing in exquisite sensuality then opening to see their straining bodies in the mirror. She moaned, the eroticism of it almost too much to bear, and then cried out in ecstasy as Seton lifted her off the ground and held her to him. They were free tonight, with Sam not there, to give voice to their excitement, to cry out the other’s name, to give full rein to a hunger that was heightened but never satiated.

      

      Lucie woke late the next morning, able to sleep in because Sam wasn’t there and Seton didn’t have to go to work. She showered and dressed, taking her time, smiling when she saw her discarded hat on the floor. Carefully she packed it away in her wardrobe, sentimentally thinking that she would keep it for ever, take it out when they were old and grey and smile in happy remembrance of the past night.

      Seton had made breakfast and was sitting in their big, sunlit kitchen reading the paper. He glanced at the back page then gave an exclamation of astonishment. ‘Lucie! Your picture’s in the paper!’

      ‘What?’

      She looked over his shoulder as he held the paper for her to see. It made a good photograph, in colour, all of them in their chic outfits, laughing and happy as they held out their glasses to catch the fountain of bubbles like diamonds in the sun. Lucie was in the forefront, easily recognisable, the most attractive of them all, and her name was clearly given, along with the name of the village from which they all came.

      Seton said, ‘How amazing. You didn’t tell me you’d had it taken.’

      ‘I forgot. There were so many beautiful women there, and lots of photographers going around. I didn’t think they’d ever print it.’

      ‘But it’s a wonderful shot. You all look so happy.’ He grinned at her and put his arm round her waist. ‘I told you you’d be the most beautiful woman there.’

      She gave him a hug and sat opposite him, helping herself to cereals, looking across at the photograph as Seton read the rest of the paper. Her heart sank a little and Lucie wondered if she had changed much over the last ten years. Would anyone who had known her then recognise the same person in the sophisticated young woman in the picture? On the whole she thought not, and they certainly wouldn’t recognise the name of Lucie Wallace, of course. That thought made Lucie feel considerably better, enough to make her laugh at her fears as absurd. She was safe now—safe and secure in the world that Seton had given her.

      He gave a sound of disdain and read out an item from the paper that had caught his eye. He often did this, keeping up with the news, especially with politics, and frequently made some quite scathing remarks when he disagreed with something. Often, though, he read out items that amused him too, or that aroused his sympathy. ‘You must read this piece,’ he told her, a few minutes later. ‘It’s a report on how women drivers can take steps to protect themselves if they break down when they’re alone.’

      ‘You’ve already given me a mobile phone.’

      ‘Wouldn’t hurt to read it, though.’

      Lucie smiled, knowing that his most anxious concern was always for her safety and well-being.

      He made another angry sound. ‘They’ll have to do something about the overcrowding in the prisons. There’s a piece here about a man who shot a policeman actually being allowed out four years early. He was sentenced to fifteen years but has only served eleven.’

      The jug of fruit СКАЧАТЬ