Reclaiming His Wife. Susan Fox P.
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wide shoulders that were as rigid as iron.
‘I don’t know about you but… well this state of affairs… It’s hardly very satisfactory, is it? I mean… you living here… while I…’ He glanced away from her, his teeth clenched, as though the state of affairs, as he had called it, fuelled his anger. ‘Being separated, yet not being free either. I think we should change things,’ he rasped.
The composure Taylor prided herself on had deserted her somewhere between coming up here and when he had told her to sit down, and now her words left her on a low croak. ‘Change things?’
Again there was hesitation in Jared’s usually arrogant manner. ‘We can’t go on like this,’ he stated with an air of finality. ‘I certainly don’t think it an ideal situation. And I’m sure you can’t think so. This may come as a surprise to you, but I miss the domestic scene. Call me crazy if you like but I’m keen to throw myself right back there into matrimonial bliss—have a second stab at it—but as you can appreciate, I can’t do it without your co-operation.’
What was he saying? That he wanted them to try again? Surprise, shock and an emotion to which she wanted to give no credence surged through her. Was he saying he had missed her? That he still wanted her?
Well of course he did, an inner little voice told her cruelly after the initial shock of his statement began to wear off. Hadn’t he had the best of both worlds while they had been together?
Slamming the lid on a well of anguished memories, she asked tentatively, ‘Are you implying we should get back together?’ But then the ambiguity of his statement suddenly struck her, making her tag on, ‘Or are you asking me for a divorce?’ She was relieved that no emotion crept into her voice, giving away how much he still affected her and, sparing herself the humiliation of a possible rejection, quickly she added, ‘Because if you are, I don’t intend standing in your way.’
Was it relief or surprise, she wondered, that brought him down onto the opposite sofa? That furrowed his brow and kept his voice low and husky when he spoke again? ‘I hadn’t realised you’d agree to one so readily.’
Taylor drew in a breath that was almost too painful to expel. And to think she could so easily have misunderstood!
She gave a careless movement of her shoulder. ‘Why not? We’re living separate lives. You said so yourself.’ So he wanted to get married again. Have a second stab at it, as he had so casually and unthinkingly called it. ‘Who is she?’ she asked caustically. ‘The wonderful Alicia?’
‘What?’ His eyes had narrowed into slits.
‘This woman you’re prepared to sacrifice your freedom to for a second time?’
He was still looking at her as though he were trying to fathom out why she was asking. Or, from the grimness of his mouth, perhaps he thought she had no right to question him on the subject—no right at all.
‘Or have you found someone else?’ Jumping up, bitterly she couldn’t help flinging down at him, ‘Someone else willing to give you the children I couldn’t—no, wouldn’t— agree to?’
Frighteningly swift, Jared was on his feet. ‘You haven’t a clue what you’re saying,’ he rasped in a harshly chiding tone. ‘I was hoping by now you would have grown up a little and come to your senses! You’re still governed by that jealous nature and a far too vivid imagination. As for children—that isn’t important.’
‘No?’ Her thick hair moved sleekly as she tilted her head, her green eyes dark and injured. ‘Funny! It seemed of paramount importance when you were married to me!’
She gave a small cry as he suddenly reached out, dragging her against him, the hands gripping her upper arms, hard and bruising.
‘I still am. Married to you,’ he breathed, his strong white teeth clamping together, his jaw, with that marked cleft at its centre, locked in anger and some other, more primal emotion that excited as much as it unnerved her.
His closeness could have been her undoing. The strength of those arms that held her but a few centimetres from his body, his familiar, elusive scent and the latent power of his sexuality all combined to make her head swim with the longing to throw her arms around him, tilt her lips in shameless invitation to his. But common sense prevailed and beneath the burn of his gaze she taunted in a whisper and with a control she was far from feeling, ‘Do you want both of us, Jared?’
His features were almost feral, nostrils flaring, his eyes glittering with something that for a few heady seconds had Taylor panicking, fearing that he was going to take the decision away from her and plunge them both into a moment’s savage passion of the kind that had ruled them both during the final days of their marriage. A passion that now they would only both regret.
But then suddenly, and with a heavy lifting of his chest, as if it had taken every ounce of will-power he possessed, he released her.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he muttered breathlessly, and a few seconds later she heard his footsteps thundering down over the stairs.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOUR husband!’ Charity breathed, having called to ask if Taylor could spare a carton of milk later that evening. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me? No, don’t answer that,’ she added quickly, palms upwards in negation of any explanation that might be forthcoming. ‘It’s none of my business and you have a right to keep it to yourself.’
With anyone else, Taylor thought, it might have been a prompt for more information, but she knew that with Charity that wasn’t the case. Just as she knew that the request for milk wasn’t a ploy to question her about Jared. Taylor had offered the information voluntarily and with little prompting. Besides, with a family and two cats to feed, Charity was always running out of milk.
‘I’m just not too proud of carrying around the stigma of a broken marriage,’ Taylor admitted, reaching into the fridge for the small, unopened carton.
‘Oh, Taylor! It’s hardly a stigma these days.’
‘Well, a failure then.’
Charity treated her to one of her caring smiles. ‘Not even that. It’s because you do everything so perfectly. Always look good. Manage a career and—’ she sent a glance around the modestly fitted but pristine kitchen ‘—somehow keep your home spick and span. Thanks.’ She took the carton Taylor handed her, giving it a shake as she said wryly, ‘Never running out of basic necessities. Sometimes you’ve got to realise that you’re human too. It’s all right not to succeed in everything.’
Was that how Charity—and possibly other people—saw her? Taylor wondered, shocked. As a kind of superwoman? The proverbial perfectionist?
Closing the fridge, she gave her a friend a half-hearted smile. She wasn’t sure she liked being viewed like that at all.
‘Are you going to at least let me in on how long you’ve known him?’ the other woman ventured.
She owed Charity that at least, Taylor decided, having deceived her over her marital status even if it were only by omission, although she had gone as far as to tell both Charity and Craig that she had had a relationship that hadn’t worked out.
‘It was four and a half years ago,’ Taylor told her, opening the dishwasher to unload it, releasing a sudden cloud of steam. ‘I was working in a small provincial theatre as assistant to the set designer. I think Jared knew the leading lady of the play we were putting on at the time. His mother had been an actress and I suppose he knew people through her. Anyway, the theatre was in extreme financial difficulty and was scheduled for closure at the end of that season.’ Carefully she stacked several small plates in the cupboard above the worktop. ‘It had been a theatre for ninety years and was going to mean a great loss to the community. I found out later that Jared financed it, prevented it from closing down.
‘One of the cast threw a party and that was the first time I saw him. All he did was look at me across the room…’ And she