A Passionate Affair: The Passionate Husband / The Italian's Passion / A Latin Passion. Kathryn Ross
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‘I hate you.’ She stared at him, wounded beyond measure by the things he had said.
‘No, you don’t,’ he said evenly. ‘You just think you do.’
She was saved having to make a reply when the front door opened on a delighted screech of her name. ‘Marsha! Oh, Marsha, honey.’ Hannah’s plump bulk fairly flew down the steps, and the next moment Marsha was enfolded in a floral scented embrace that took the breath out of her lungs.
‘Don’t throttle her, woman.’
She was released to the sound of Taylor’s mordant voice and Hannah moved her back a little, staring into her face as she said, ‘You’re thinner. You’re too thin. You’re not eating enough.’
‘Oh, Hannah.’ It was as if she had only seen her the day before, Marsha thought wonderingly. The last eighteen months had been swept away in a moment of time and now she couldn’t prevent the tears flowing as she said, ‘I’ve missed you.’
Hannah hugged her again, and there was no reproach in her voice or manner when she said, ‘Not as much as I’ve missed you, child.’
They clung together a moment longer before Taylor’s voice brought them apart once more, saying, ‘Much as I hate to mention it, I’m starving. Can we continue the reunion inside?’
‘Oh, you, thinking of your stomach at a time like this,’ Hannah chided smilingly through her own tears.
Marsha walked up the steps and into the house with her arm in Hannah’s, and once in the beautifully light-oak panelled hall the Jamaican housekeeper pushed her in the direction of the drawing room, saying, ‘The cocktails are all ready. You go in and sit down a while, and I’ll call you through in a few minutes.’
‘Thank you, Hannah.’ It was Taylor who answered, taking Marsha’s arm as he led her into the gracious rose and pale lilac high-ceilinged room which had French windows opening out on to the grounds at the back of the house.
Marsha knew what she would see if she walked over to where antique lace was billowing gently in the slight breeze from the garden. Clipped yews bordering an old stone wall, in front of which was a manicured lawn enclosed by flower beds, and behind it a splendid Edwardian summerhouse now used as a changing room for the rectangular swimming pool of timeless style that Taylor had installed ten years before, when he had bought the house.
She walked over to one of the two-seater sofas dotted about the room and sat down before she said, ‘You should have told me you were bringing me here.’
‘You wouldn’t have agreed to come,’ he answered quietly, a silky note in his voice.
‘So you tricked me. Clever you.’ It was acidic.
He poured a pale pink cocktail, and then one for himself, and it was only after he had handed her the tall fluted glass and sat down himself opposite her that he said, ‘Why is it easier to believe lies than the truth? Have you ever asked yourself that?’
‘Meaning regarding you and Tanya, I suppose?’ she said flatly.
He sat back in his seat, studying her over the rim of his glass. ‘Has it never occurred to you that you might be wrong about all this?’
Hundreds, thousands of times, but wishful thinking didn’t stand up when confronted by harsh reality. She would never forget the churning of her stomach when she had made that call to Germany, or the sickening feeling when the hotel receptionist had put her through to Taylor’s room and the bright, fluttery voice of Tanya had answered. ‘No.’ She swallowed. It was hard to lie with his eyes on her. ‘I might be a fool but I’m not certifiable.’
‘I see.’ He set down his drink and then steepled his fingers, his gaze never leaving her face for a moment. ‘Then we won’t waste any more time tonight discussing it. Drink your cocktail.’ And he smiled the smile which lit up his face. The rat. The low-down, cheating, lying, philandering rat.
Marsha stared at him, the misery she had been feeling replaced by a healthy dose of anger. How dared he sit there smiling like the cat with the cream when he had all but destroyed her eighteen months ago? Without taking her eyes from his, she set her glass down with a little touch of defiance. ‘Is Tanya still working for you?’ she asked baldly. He was not going to dictate what they discussed and what they didn’t, not after kidnapping her!
‘Of course.’ He undid his dinner jacket as he spoke, slipping it off and slinging it across the room to another sofa, before loosening his tie so it hung in two thin strands on either side of his throat.
‘Of course.’ She put a wealth of sarcasm into her voice.
He picked up his glass again, draining it before he added, ‘But only for the next month or so, unfortunately. I shall be sorry to lose her; she’s a damn good secretary and they don’t grow on trees.’
‘She’s leaving you?’ Marsha raised fine eyebrows in what she hoped was a mocking expression. ‘Dear, dear. A better offer?’
‘Not exactly.’ He stood up, moving across to her and handing her her glass again. ‘Drink up. There’s time for another before Hannah calls us through, and I’ve ordered a taxi for later.’
She accepted the glass simply because she felt she needed the fortifying effect the alcohol would have on her nerves. It tasted heavenly, but Hannah had always been able to mix a mean cocktail. After two sips, she said, ‘If it’s not a better offer, why is she going?’ Lovers’ tiff?
‘She’s having a baby at the end of September.’
Marsha drank deeply, using the action as an excuse to break the force of his eyes on hers. ‘Thank you.’ She held out the empty glass with a brittle smile. ‘That was lovely.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ he murmured softly. He strolled over to the cocktail cabinet, his movements easy.
Marsha wondered whether Hannah would support her if she demanded to leave. So this was why he had made the move after all this time? Tanya was pregnant. By him? The pain which sliced through her was too severe to continue down that path, so she brushed the possibility aside until she could consider it when she was alone.
‘I think her husband wants a little girl; he has two boys from a previous relationship,’ Taylor continued with his back to her as he poured two more drinks. ‘But I guess all that matters in the long run is that the child is healthy.’
She sat very still as he turned and walked back to her, accepting the drink from him with a slight inclination of her head. So Tanya was married? When had that happened? The other woman had been a Miss when she had left Taylor. Had Tanya been seeing Taylor as well as the man who was now her husband at the time of the Germany trip? Did her husband know she had been more than just a secretary to Taylor at one time? A hundred questions were buzzing in her head, but she couldn’t ask any of them.
She raised her head as Taylor took the chair he had vacated, and for a moment her gaze met his. Her breath caught for a second at the look in his eyes. It was brief, and instantly veiled, but for a moment she had seen the inner man, the man she had known in the intimacy of their bed. The vital, vigorous, dynamic lifeforce which was Taylor, a force which let nothing and no one stand in the way of something he wanted. It was this magnetic power which had made her flee that night eighteen months ago, before he had had a chance to convince her that black was white, before that dark, dangerous energy of his reached out and smothered all rational thought and sense.
Contrary to what she’d expected, Taylor said nothing more as they sat and sipped their drinks in a silence which was fairly shrieking. The rich scents from the garden were drifting into the room on the warm breeze and a summer twilight was beginning to fall. The sounds of the birds as they began to settle down for the night and the drone of lazy insects about their business were the only intrusion.
Marsha resisted glancing Taylor’s way. She could feel he was watching her, his long lean body stretched out indolently in a very masculine pose, the amber eyes hooded and intense. He hadn’t