Marriage Under Suspicion. Sara Craven

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      My God, she thought. We’re almost quarrelling, and that’s the last thing I want.

      She put down her glass and went to him, sliding her arms round his waist, inhaling luxuriously the familiar male scent of his skin.

      ‘Well, I love our success.’ She spoke with mock-defiance, smiling up at him. ‘And our happiness even more. And, as a bonus, we get to spend tomorrow together.’ She traced the open neck of his shirt with her forefingers. ‘Sunday, sweet Sunday, all by ourselves.’ She lowered her voice temptingly. ‘We can get up as late as we want. Walk in the park, or stay in with the papers. Find somewhere new to have dinner. Just like we used to.’

      He shook his head. ‘Sorry, my love, not tomorrow. I’m going down to Whitmead to have lunch with the family.’

      ‘Oh?’ Kate stiffened instantly. ‘May I know when this was arranged?’

      His voice was equable. ‘My mother telephoned during the week.’

      ‘You didn’t mention it before.’

      He gave her a meditative look. ‘I didn’t think you’d be particularly interested.’

      He didn’t add ‘After the last time’. He didn’t have to, Kate thought, wincing. The implication was right there.

      She made her tone placatory. ‘Darling, I didn’t mean the stupid things I said on the way home. I—lost my temper. We both did.’ She shook her head. ‘I wish your mother could just understand that if and when we start a family it will be our own personal decision, taken when we’re good and ready. And without any prompting.’

      ‘It was just a casual remark, Kate. She didn’t mean to interfere. Or start World War Three.’ He paused. ‘After all, when we first got married, a baby was very much on the cards. And we made no secret of it.’

      ‘Yes, but everything changed when you gave up your city job,’ Kate protested. ‘I had to work while you established yourself as a writer. You know that.’

      ‘I’m established now,’ he said mildly.

      ‘And so am I,’ Kate reminded him. ‘Which makes it more difficult now to find an appropriate time. Something that will fit in with our career demands. Surely your mother must see that.’ She hesitated. ‘And you remember what Jon and Carla Patterson were telling us about the nanny situation the other night. They’ve had one disaster after another.’

      ‘So it seems.’ His voice was noncommittal.

      ‘Therefore it isn’t something we can rush into,’ she went on. ‘And your mother has got your sister’s children to fuss over, after all,’ she added with a touch of defensiveness.

      ‘Undoubtedly,’ he agreed. ‘But I can’t promise she won’t drop any more hints.’ His mouth twisted slightly. ‘I’m afraid we’re just not a very reticent family.’

      ‘Maybe not.’ She pinned on a smile. ‘So, does all this mean that I’m excluded from tomorrow’s invitation? ’

      ‘On the contrary,’ he said quietly. ‘Everyone would be delighted to see you, but I assumed you’d be tied up at the office once you got back from Gloucestershire, and made your excuses.’

      ‘You’re quite right of course,’ she agreed colourlessly. She detached herself from him, and turned away. ‘I have got a load of paperwork to complete. So, next time, perhaps.’

      ‘That might be best.’

      Did she imagine it, or did he actually sound relieved?

      My God, she thought, biting her lip. Am I really such a bitch?

      She swung back towards him, smiling brightly. ‘Shall we have some more wine?’

      ‘I’d better not.’ He sounded regretful. ‘I need to keep a clear head.’

      ‘You’re not going to work tonight, surely?’ Kate made no attempt to hide her disappointment.

      ‘I have some editing to do. It won’t take long.’

      Kate knelt on the sofa, reaching forward to take his hand. ‘Couldn’t it wait until the morning?’ Her voice was husky, almost wistful. ‘I—I’ve missed you.’

      He shook his head. ‘I’ve got to make an early start to Whitmead. I need to get it done now.’ He disengaged his hand, then ran a finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

      ‘Is that a promise?’ Kate drawled the words, looking up at him through her lashes.

      ‘Behave.’ He bent and dropped a swift kiss on top of her head. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He collected his briefcase and went into the office, closing the door behind him.

      Kate stayed where she was for a moment, staring blankly in front of her, then she collected the wine glasses and took them into the kitchen to rinse them out. She could see her reflection in the window above the sink, pale-skinned, taut-mouthed, and wide-eyed.

      She thought, with a sense of shock, I look—frightened.

      And yet there had been nothing to be scared of—had there?

      Admittedly, it hadn’t been the ideal reunion under the circumstances. Ryan’s reaction to her unexpected return hadn’t been the one she’d hoped for. But then he was always preoccupied when the book he was working on reached a certain stage. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have given it another thought.

      But life was no longer ordinary. The anonymous letter had changed all that . . Those seven words had removed the certainties, and replaced them with doubts. And with the fear she saw in her own eyes.

      He’d been doing research, he’d said. But what kind of research would he dress up for? And the meal he’d mentioned—had he eaten it alone?

      Why didn’t I ask him? Kate thought, twining a strand of hair round her finger in a gesture left over from childhood. Why didn’t I find out exactly where he’d been? Got him to name the restaurant even?

      Was it, maybe, because I didn’t want to hear the answers? Because I was afraid to pursue them?

      She shivered, and turned away from the strained face confronting her in the glass.

      Ryan might not have been overwhelmed to see her, but they were hardly newly-weds, for heaven’s sake. It didn’t make him guilty of anything. And there was no real reason for him to change his plans either. They were both adults with their own lives.

      And she could well do without a family Sunday at Whitmead, she told herself, pulling a face. The perfect roast, the home-grown vegetables, the seriously alcoholic trifle all ordained beforehand, and produced without a hitch, even when extra guests turned up, as they often did. The afternoon spent playing croquet or French cricket, or taking the dogs for a walk, to build up an appetite for the equally sumptuous tea. The noisy games of cards or Trivial Pursuit during the evening. It was all like a cliché of English country life.

      Oh, come on, she chided herself. That really is bitchy. You really don’t want to go in case Sally and Ben are there СКАЧАТЬ