mouth took on a bitter shape. ‘Did you give our marriage a fair chance?’
He blanched. ‘Yes. I did.’
‘Oh? How long for?’ she demanded. ‘A week? Or did you manage a month before you started playing the field? How long, Dan? How long has this been going on?’
‘It hasn’t. I have not been unfaithful,’ he said doggedly.
He swallowed and she thought there was the hint of moisture blurring his dark eyes.
Perhaps he was sorry now. There’d be all the problems of splitting up: sharing out the wedding presents and deciding who paid what for the furniture and carpets…
It was a nightmare. No wonder he looked sick.
She heaved in a huge breath. ‘You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe.’
With a face set like concrete, he handed her the hot-water bottle. She contemplated hurling it at the hideous vase his best man had given them, but grudgingly took it. She needed the warmth. Her body was as cold as Siberia.
Dan drew up a chair and sat heavily in it, the towel parting to show an expanse of tightly toned thigh. Incongruously, she wanted to touch the satiny skin.
‘Temperature,’ he said dully.
So he was miserable, she thought, jerking out of her mooning over him. Annoyed with herself for being so easily diverted by his long, powerful legs, she snatched the thermometer from him and stuffed it into her mouth, glowering at him from under her dark brows. After a moment he looked away, unable to hold her gaze. Guilt, she thought, and felt no pleasure in the certainty.
Hauling himself up as if his body were a lead weight, he moved slowly to stand by the window, the beautiful triangle of his back a stiff barrier between them. Incredibly, his dejection upset her. She tried to hate him but her heart kept betraying her efforts.
It was awful seeing someone as confident and unassailable as Dan look so diminished. He’d always given the impression that he could withstand anything that was thrown at him. All his movements had been vigorous and definite, his muscular body brimming with energy.
Now he looked as if the life-blood had been drained from him. Sympathy oozed from her and she felt herself crumple. Feeling weak, she slumped back into the plumped-up pillows, her mouth releasing a soft moan.
He was probably contemplating the future. The house would have to go, for a start. That was why he looked so bleak and depressed. He adored Deep Dene.
Whereas she was dreading the consequences of his adultery for a different reason: because she had loved him with all her heart. She pushed that from her mind, postponing the empty black hole that was her future without Dan.
She gave a little gasping intake of breath, realising that she still loved him. Madly and deeply—despite her low opinion of him. You couldn’t immediately switch off something that had been all-consuming and magical for years and years. Heck, they’d known one another since their teens and neither of them had ever looked at anyone else. Till now.
Her slender arm lifted and angled to cover her anguished eyes. It would take ages for the hurt to go away—if it ever did. Already it was searing her heart with a cramping agony and her mind seemed to be churning with disjointed thoughts…
The thermometer was slipped from her mouth and she sullenly opened dark and angry eyes to see Dan studying it, his face still bent over hers, close, touchable, the strong planes of his face achingly near.
‘Well. Let’s see.’ Low and husky, his voice seeped like hot lava into her bloodstream, startling her with unwanted sensuality. Breathing heavily, he stared at her shoulder and she hastily slid the errant satin shoulder-strap of her nightie back into place. ‘Normal,’ he declared in a tone that was anything but.
Collecting her ragged nerves together, she blinked and frowned in disbelief.
‘Can’t be. I feel rotten.’
‘See for yourself.’
She did, and was surprised. ‘Then I’ve eaten something dodgy,’ she muttered, unable to take her eyes from the sultry lines of his mouth.
He straightened, taking away temptation. ‘Do want to sleep, or do you feel up to listening to me properly?’ Dan asked stiffly, the proud carriage of his head telling her that he was going to brazen this out.
‘Sleep? Do you think I could sleep with this on my mind?’ she cried, her body still pulsing with warmth.
‘No. Of course not. All right. But on one condition. I want you to avoid making any sarcastic remarks till I’ve finished,’ he said in a horribly distant tone.
Suitably chastened, she felt her lip quivering. She shouldn’t behave like a prize bitch. Shock seemed to have turned her into a different woman, someone who wanted to lash out and yell and behave like a wounded tigress. He’d done this to her. Made her no better than an animal.
‘I’m sorry. I lost control. I felt…’
‘I understand,’ he muttered, as if he didn’t want her to spell it out.
Her eyes blinked back treacherous tears. How could he know how deeply she mourned the man she had loved? How her very heart was shrivelling because her unconditional belief in him had been shattered? She felt more than empty. There was nothing good left in her life. Nothing to look forward to.
‘I doubt that you do,’ she whispered.
He looked down on her with an impassive expression, his tall figure dauntingly rigid.
‘It’s not surprising you’re on edge. You’re not well. And you had a shock.’
Helen drew in a shaky breath. They were talking like polite acquaintances. She was apologising for ranting at him, he was making allowances for her. It was bizarre.
Helen nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Helplessly she gazed at his handsome face, which had so often turned her to jelly. Her mouth had kissed those dark and haunted eyes and even now her memory could vividly recall the silk of his thick lashes against the softness of her lips. Her fingers had stroked the fine jaw and she’d marvelled at the strength of the underlying bone. Time after time, her body had lain against his, ecstatic, replete…
And so had Celine’s mouth, Celine’s fingers, Celine’s body.
Anguished, ripped apart by pain, she jerked her head away in a sudden, violent movement.
‘What is it?’ he enquired urgently, gripping the fragile bones of her bare shoulder. His voice gentled. ‘Helen, tell me!’ he coaxed. ‘Is it a pain? Where?’
Everywhere. She was hurting so badly. And he was trying to get round her with soft words of concern, imagining they could brush this aside and carry on as normal. But she’d lost the love of her life, her hopes for the future, father of her future children…
So many times she’d dreamed of their life together, of another, nicer house they’d have when they’d saved enough, a mews house in Chelsea perhaps; of the dinner parties with good friends; their much-adored children. Four, she’d thought. To make up for the family Dan had never had, for the bruising
