Smokescreen Marriage. Sara Craven
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made her legs shake under her.
Even as she turned away and walked across to the dining table, every detail of him was etched on her mind, as if she’d touched him with her fingers.
Yet she did not have to do that—to remember.
She knew that the black curling hair was brushed back from his face with careless elegance. That his dark eyes were brilliant, but watchful beneath their heavy lids, or that the cool, firm mouth held a hint of sensuality in the slight fullness of the lower lip.
It was a proud face, strong and uncompromising, but when he smiled, its charm had twisted the heart in her body.
He was formally dressed, the charcoal business suit accentuating the tall, lean body which moved with such arrogant grace. His olive skin looked very dark against the immaculate white shirt. His tie was silk, and there were discreet gold links in his cuffs matching the narrow bracelet on his watch and, she noticed with a sudden painful thud of her heart, the plain band on the third finger of his right hand.
The ring which matched hers, inscribed inside with their names and the date, which she had slipped on to his finger on their wedding day…
How could he still be wearing it? How could he be such a hypocrite? she asked herself numbly.
He said, ‘Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down—offer me some coffee?’
‘You’re not a guest,’ Kate said, keeping her voice level with an effort. ‘And this is not a social call.’ She frowned. ‘How did you get in, anyway?’
‘A charming lady on the ground floor.’ He paused. ‘She seemed pleased you were having a visitor.’
Mrs Thursgood, Kate thought, grinding her teeth. Who normally guarded the front door like Cerberus at the gates of Hell.
She said, ‘She allows her imagination to run away with her sometimes.’
She loosened the towel that was swathed round her head, and her damp hair tumbled on to her shoulders. Then she switched on the drier, and picked up the brush.
Mick stood by the old-fashioned fireplace watching every movement, his whole body very still, except for a muscle flickering at the side of his mouth.
He said at last, ‘You’ve received Ismene’s invitation.’ His tone was abrupt, and it was a statement rather than a question.
‘It came today.’
‘So you haven’t had time to reply.’
‘It won’t take much time,’ Kate said shortly. ‘Naturally, I shan’t be going.’
‘Ah,’ Mick said gently. ‘But that is what I came to discuss with you. It would mean a great deal to my sister to have you present, so I hope you will reconsider.’
Kate switched off the drier and stared at him, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘That’s impossible.’
‘I hope not. Ismene has missed you very badly, and this is a special time for her.’ He paused. ‘I would regard your attendance as a favour.’
Kate gasped. ‘And that’s supposed to make all the difference?’ she demanded furiously.
‘I thought it might.’ He leaned an arm on the mantelshelf, looking hatefully assured and relaxed. ‘In fact, I believed we might exchange favours.’
There was an uncertain silence, then Kate said, ‘What do you mean?’
‘You want a simple, consensual divorce.’ He smiled at her. ‘Which you can have—at a price.’
There was another tingling silence.
She said, ‘And if the price is too high?’
He shrugged. ‘Then I refuse to consent, and we let the legal process run its course.’ He added casually, ‘I understand it can take several years.’
‘That’s—blackmail.’ Her voice shook.
‘Is it?’ he said. ‘But perhaps I do not agree that our marriage has “irretrievably broken down” as you allege in that document.’
‘But you must. It has.’ Kate drew a deep breath. ‘And you’re bluffing. I know you are. You don’t wish to stay married any more than I do.’
His mouth twisted. ‘You’re mistaken, agapi mou. I am in no particular hurry to be free.’
No, she thought, with a stab of anguish. Not while your father is still alive, and Victorine is nominally his…
She said slowly, ‘So I have to attend Ismene’s wedding if I want a quick divorce.’
‘Is it really such a hardship? Kefalonia is very beautiful in September.’
‘Kefalonia is beautiful all the year round.’ Her tone was curt. ‘It’s only some of the people there who make it ugly.’
‘A word of advice, pedhi mou.’ His smile was mirthless. ‘It is better to win an opponent over than to antagonise him.’
Kate lifted her chin. ‘I think it’s a little late to worry about that.’ She hesitated. ‘But everyone must know by now that our marriage is over. Won’t they find it strange if I’m at the wedding?’
‘I am not interested in what people think.’ His voice was suddenly harsh. ‘Besides, they only know that we have been separated for a short time. You might simply have come back to this country to attend to some family business.’
‘Is that what you’ve been telling people?’ She shook her head. ‘My God, you can’t even be honest about our marriage breaking down.’
‘They will know soon enough, when the wedding is over.’
‘Well, I hope you don’t expect me to take part in some spurious reunion,’ Kate said acidly. ‘I’m not that good an actress.’ She paused. ‘Why do you want me there?’
‘Did I say wanted?’ Mick drawled. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, my sweet one. I am here on Ismene’s behalf, not my own.’
She did not look at him, staring instead at her gingham-covered knee. ‘Then I’d be there—just as an ordinary guest? Nothing more?’
He said mockingly, ‘Why, Katharina, did you think you had left me all these weeks to sleep alone? That I’ve been burning for your return. What an innocent you are.’
‘Not,’ she said, ‘any more.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I need time to think about this.’
‘You have twenty-four hours. I am staying at the Royal Empress Hotel. You remember it?’
‘Yes.’ It was a painful whisper.
He nodded. ‘You can contact me there with your answer.’
He walked to the door, and paused for a final swift look round the room.
He said, ‘So this is what you left me for. I hope it is worth it.’
‘I don’t have to live in the lap of luxury to be happy,’ Kate said defiantly.
‘Evidently,’ he said. ‘If happy is what you are.’ He looked her over, slowly and thoroughly, a smile curling his mouth.
He said softly, ‘Eyes like smoke and hair like flame. What a waste agapi mou. What a tragic waste.’
And was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
FOR several long moments Kate stood like a statue, staring at the closed door, pain and disbelief warring within her for supremacy.
Then she gave a little choked cry and ran to her bedroom, flinging herself face down across the bed, her hands gripping the covers as if they were her last hold on sanity.
She said aloud, ‘Fool.’ And again, more savagely,