A Passionate Affair: The Passionate Husband / The Italian's Passion / A Latin Passion. Kathryn Ross
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walked across to the wicker table and ticking-cushioned chairs she and Taylor had chosen together just after their marriage, when she had persuaded him that eating outside was fun, sitting down facing the yews and old stone wall. The flower beds were a riot of colour, their scent adding to the beauty all around her, and the sky was black velvet, pierced with stars.
She didn’t speak as Taylor placed the tray on the table and sat down, but as he went to add cream and sugar to her cup she said, ‘I take mine black now, thank you.’
He quirked a brow. ‘The cream and sugar queen?’
‘We drink coffee all day at work, and I’ve got used to it black.’ It was a silly thing, but she was pleased she’d surprised him.
‘I can see I mustn’t assume anything,’ he drawled mockingly, making her feel as though she was being puerile for the sake of it.
But she had changed in the last eighteen months, she thought militantly, and drinking her coffee black was the least of it. ‘Quite so,’ she responded evenly, as though she hadn’t caught the inflection in his voice, and she ignored the slight smile twisting his lips with an aplomb she was proud of.
There were six chairs grouped round the table, but he had chosen to sit in the one next to her rather than opposite, as she had expected, and now he was so close his shoulder was almost brushing hers. With an effort, Marsha relaxed her body, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how tense she was.
Some moments had ticked by before she said, ‘What did you mean when you said you’d known where I was every minute since we split up?’ It had been at the back of her mind all evening, she realised now with a dart of surprise as she heard herself speak.
‘Exactly that.’
She wasn’t going to let him get away with being so succinct. ‘That’s not an answer,’ she said, finishing her coffee.
‘Of course it is.’ He turned his head, the amber light on her face, but she kept her gaze on the shadowed garden. ‘You didn’t really think I would just let you walk out of the house and my life, did you?’
Her stomach trembled. ‘Who…? How…?’
She didn’t know quite how to put it, but he seemed to understand what she was trying to say. He shifted slightly in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and as she caught a faint whiff of his aftershave a hundred nerves went haywire.
‘I employed someone, okay?’ he said mildly.
No, not okay! Mega not okay. ‘You employed someone?’ she said, so shrilly a number of birds protested in the trees surrounding the garden as their slumber was interrupted. ‘You had me watched? Like…like a criminal?’
‘Don’t be childish,’ he said calmly as her eyes met his. ‘I wanted to make sure you were all right, that was all. You are my wife, my responsibility.’
‘The hell I am!’
He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head at her. She deeply regretted there was no coffee left in her cup to fling at him. ‘I would like to leave now.’ She stood to her feet, her eyes blazing.
‘Sure.’ To her absolute amazement, Taylor rose lazily. ‘The taxi’s been outside for the last few minutes. I didn’t think you’d want to be too late on a working day.’
‘Who was he? This guy you had spy on me?’ Much as she would have liked to storm off with her nose in the air, she really wanted to know.
‘He was a she, and from one of the most reputable firms in the country.’ He looked at her squarely. ‘And there was no question of spying. She merely checked now and again that you weren’t in any trouble, that everything was okay. That was it.’
‘And who I saw and where I went and with whom?’ Indignation lit her eyes and flushed her cheeks.
He was magnificently unperturbed. ‘Of course. You are my wife.’
‘We are separated.’
‘You’re still my wife, Marsha.’ The use of her name checked her even more than the tone of his voice, which had suddenly chilled.
She looked into amber eyes which had become as dangerous as those of a big cat, and just as hard. ‘I shall never forgive you for this,’ she said shakily. ‘To have me watched, put under surveillance as though I’m the one in the wrong—’ She wished with all her heart she had met someone in the last months, gone out on a date or two, flirted a little—anything to puncture that giant ego.
‘Then it is merely another crime to be added to the list, yes?’ He shrugged as though bored.
‘And you obviously don’t care about any of your crimes, right?’ she snapped, furiously angry with his offhand manner and lack of remorse.
‘If you are referring to my supposed affair with Tanya, I plead innocent to all charges, remember?’
She glared at him, wondering how it was that he could so get under her skin, even when she knew exactly what he was playing at. She ought to be able to ignore his arrogance, but it grated on her unbearably. ‘I want the bloodhound called off.’
‘I doubt the very attractive woman concerned would appreciate being labelled a dog.’
He was laughing at her! She stared into the hard face, quivering with righteous indignation. ‘I can think of worse things to call her,’ she said forcefully.
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘Does she know the sort of man she’s working for?’
‘I think so.’ He was regarding her lazily. ‘More to the point, do you?’
‘Only too well.’
‘Now, that I doubt.’ He caught her upper arms in his hands, holding her in front of him and looking deep into her eyes as he said, ‘But before I’m finished you will know, Marsha. That’s a promise.’
‘Let go of me.’ She stood rigid in his grasp, glaring furiously up at him. ‘I don’t appreciate being subjected to brute force.’
‘Brute force?’ His eyes pierced her with laser brightness. ‘There’s times I wonder what planet you’re on.’
His complete refusal to accept any blame for his actions made her see red. ‘You’re the lowest of the low—you know that, don’t you?’ she hissed bitterly. ‘I hate you—’
Anything else she might have said was cut off by the simple expedient of his mouth on hers. She knew enough not to struggle this time, willing herself to show no feeling at all as he brought all his sexual experience to the fore in a kiss that was tender and erotic and deep in turn. He gently probed her mouth until her lips parted for him of their own volition as resistance drained from her, in spite of all her efforts to remain unmoved.
He was just too good at this, she thought feverishly. He always had been. In the early days she had been enchanted to find a man who kissed like Taylor, who made it into an art. The trouble was it had left her with no defences, no barriers to the response he could always bring forth with seemingly effortless skill.
She knew she was melting against him, and yet she could no more have stopped her body’s response than she could have stopped breathing, and the past and the present were forgotten as the magic that was his mouth took her senses. Taylor shifted his stance slightly to take more of her weight, one arm going round her waist and the other moving to take a handful of her hair as he pulled her head back gently for greater access to her mouth. The position and feel of him brought a torrent of memories to mind, and all of them good.
His tongue curled round hers, probing in a way that sent tremors throughout her whole body, and then his mouth moved to one earlobe, nibbling gently. Heat was flowing in her veins, intensified by his tongue as it traced a delicate path in and around her ear in a sensual pattern that had her legs trembling.
Her