jetting all over the world like a demented gnat!’ Her loving smile took any sting out of the words, but Nathan, Olivia noted, didn’t return it. His face had closed up and her heart sank.
‘I know you have the mews cottage, which is fine, I suppose. Livvy says she loves it, and she does have her job to keep her occupied while you’re flitting off here and there, so for the time being I can see you need a London base—and that’s an improvement on hotel rooms and suitcases!
‘But you need somewhere bigger,’ she burbled on in blithe innocence, blissfully unaware of the building tension. ‘The Grange would be perfect. You could come down most weekends and when the children begin to arrive—and I hope that won’t be too far down the road—you could move in permanently. You could fill one of the rooms with all that electronic gadgetry people like you seem unable to function without, and I could have my new daughter, and my grandchildren, practically on the doorstep. I know you’ll have Rye House one day—’ she crossed her fingers elaborately and wagged them at her husband ‘—but that won’t be for ages yet! And it would be lovely to have you settle so near!’
‘Brilliant!’
‘A splendid idea!’ the Spencers enthused as one.
‘You’ve really excelled yourself this time, Ma,’ Nathan said tonelessly. ‘Take your oar out, for God’s sake! Olivia and I are more than capable of sorting out our own future.’
Silence. Angela looked more surprised than stricken. It was probably the first time her adored son had slapped her down, Olivia thought. Whenever she’d tried to interfere in his life before he would have given her that lazy, stupendous smile and just got on with doing exactly what he wanted to do.
Nathan had no intention of settling down; she knew that now. There hadn’t been the time or the inclination during their brief, passionate courtship to think of their future. They had been too obsessed with each other.
She wished, with painful intensity, that her mother-in-law had kept her mouth shut. The relaxed persona Nathan had been acquiring throughout the evening had been wiped away by his mother’s artless interference.
But, even though she was shocked by his cold incisiveness, Angela wasn’t to be deflected. She was his mother, after all, and entitled to open her mouth when no one else would dare.
‘I’m sure you are, dear. But as The Grange is on the market it wouldn’t do any harm if you took Livvy to see over it, would it, now? You could walk across tomorrow morning, if that’s all right with Lester and Ruth.’
Whether or not it would be convenient no one would ever know, Olivia decided sinkingly as Nathan stated flatly, ‘Not possible. We’re leaving directly after breakfast Ten, at the latest.’
It was the first Olivia had heard of it. They’d planned to spend the whole weekend here, driving back to town late on Sunday evening, but there was no point in arguing about it. Nathan had made his mind up and nothing she said would change it. She recognised with an inward shudder that his dark mood had nothing to do with his mother’s well-meaning interference and everything to do with her.
And although the conversation was general for the remainder of the evening she sensed the undercurrent of his anger. She was sure everyone else was unaware; not even his parents, close as they were, could tune into his moods as instinctively as she could.
And much later, almost before he’d closed the bedroom door behind them, he drawled, ‘So that was what the cosy natter was all about this afternoon? The London house, handy for your job, but it would be nice to have a country place, to put down roots, tie us down.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ she told him levelly, not wanting to fight. Angela had done all the talking, explaining that Nathan had always had itchy feet, always off someplace else, doing deals, turning wheels. Seizing happily on the fact of his marriage as evidence that he was at long last willing to settle down. ‘The idea that we should consider buying The Grange came as a complete surprise to me, too.’
She walked out of her shoes and took the studs from her ears, searching for a way to put things right between them. ‘Your parents know I work—it’s only natural for them to look into the future, see me giving it up when we start a family, needing somewhere bigger. Everything set out in a nice predictable line.’
She had her back to him, putting the gold studs safely in their soft silk pouch, and only knew he was right behind her when his hands fastened on her shoulders, twisting her round to face him.
‘Did you tell her I’d begged you to hand in your resignation?’ He forced her chin up with his fingers. ‘Look at me. I want to see your eyes. I can tell if you’re lying. Did you?’
‘No.’ She held his gaze squarely, her violet eyes bruised. The lovely guest suite suddenly seemed an alien place. She didn’t want to be here. The matter of her resignation had nothing to do with anyone else. His fingers tightened on her chin, hurting her. She tried to twist away but he wouldn’t let her. She hated having him touch her in anger. It brought back sickening memories of Max.
‘Why not? Because you have no intention of doing what I asked?’ His voice was low, deadly. ‘The whole world is my workplace; you knew that before we married. You’re my wife; I want you with me. But you don’t see it that way—’
‘My career’s important too,’ she retorted, her teeth snapping. Why did men always think they and their needs were the most important things in a relationship? Why should women always be the ones who had to adapt?
‘I offered you another, remember? Helping me. Taking the place of the temps I hire in wherever I happen to be. What makes the job at Caldwell’s more exciting and challenging than that? More satisfying than being with me?’ He released her, his hands dropping to his sides. ‘If you loved me, you’d want to be with me,’ he said flatly. ‘Or was Big-Mouth telling the truth? Can’t you bear to leave James Caldwell?’
CHAPTER THREE
‘THIS is getting to be a habit.’ Nathan’s voice came softly in the thick, curtained darkness. He turned his head towards her. ‘Let’s say we kick it?’
Lying a rigid three feet away, in the intimate cave of the unfamiliar four-poster bed, Olivia wanted to slap him. The sultry, sexy tone of his voice told her he was perfectly happy to forget his temper, the hurtful things it had made him say. But she couldn’t.
They hadn’t made love for thirty-six hours so he was probably frustrated. His rampant male hormones were making him forget the way he’d accused her of refusing to walk away from her job because she was having an ongoing affair with her boss.
Well, she hadn’t forgotten and if he had the nerve to reach out and touch her she would scream—even if it did bring his parents to the guest suite at a run!
She held her breath, all tensed up inside, her eyes hurting from staring into the darkness while she waited for that sneaky hand, that strong, sinfully knowing, sneaky hand, to bridge the gap and begin to work that wicked magic, taking what he wanted...
Which was exactly what she wanted, too. Her body was already responding dramatically. It would be too easy to turn into his arms, pretend that that would resolve everything. The thought appalled her. She blinked her eyes rapidly and made herself breathe. It would be so easy...
‘I can’t forget what you accused me of that easily,’ she said, making her words clipped and precise so he
