Brittle Bondage

‘Yes, I do.’ Wishing he would sit down so that she could do the same, Rachel steeled her knees against their embarrassing tendency to shake. ‘He—he’s everything you’re not: sweet, and kind—and faithful.’

Ben didn’t look impressed. ‘He sounds like a bloodhound,’ he remarked unkindly, and Rachel felt like slapping his mocking face. ‘Does Daisy share your views?’

Rachel drew a deep breath. ‘Daisy—Daisy doesn’t know Simon as well as I do.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means what it says.’ Rachel couldn’t sustain his cool interrogative stare any longer without betraying that she wasn’t at all convinced what Daisy’s feelings were. Turning away, she pretended to adjust a fold in one of the curtains, before continuing carefully, ‘Daisy doesn’t know Simon that well yet.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘But she likes him?’

Behind her, Ben’s voice was disturbingly persistent, and Rachel had to turn round again without having gained any advantage from the brief reprieve. ‘I—I haven’t discussed it with her,’ she replied, not altogether truthfully. ‘Um—naturally, she’s very loyal——’

‘To me?’

‘To our marriage,’ Rachel amended firmly. ‘She is only eight, Ben. Obviously she still hopes there’s some chance of us—of our——’

‘—getting back together?’

‘Absurd, isn’t it?’ Rachel managed to sound suitably amused at the suggestion. ‘I’ve told her how it is. She just doesn’t——’

‘How is it?’

His question disconcerted her—as it was meant to do, she realised impatiently. He had emptied his glass now, and was waiting for her answer with what she could only identify as mild derision in his expression. The fact that he was baiting her gave her a feeling of frustration, and it was doubly infuriating to know that he could still do it so easily.

‘Can we keep to the point, Ben?’ she enquired, trying to ignore the heat that was invading her face once again at his words. ‘I’m not enjoying this, even if you are, and I’d appreciate it if——’

‘I thought that was the point,’ he interrupted her obliquely, cradling his empty glass between his palms. ‘I’d like to know what you’ve told her. Am I still the evil seducer of pubescent women?’

‘I never told her th——’ Rachel broke off abruptly, realising he was only trying to provoke her into defending herself once more. ‘You know perfectly well that so far as Daisy is concerned, you’re her hero.’ Her lips twisted with conscious irony. ‘But then, heroes are in short supply these days, and she doesn’t have a lot of experience.’

‘Unlike her mother?’ suggested Ben, putting down his glass, and pushing his hand into the pockets of his trousers, and Rachel drew in a steadying breath.

His action had made her unwillingly aware of how lovingly the fabric of his trousers followed the muscles of his hips and thighs. Though she didn’t want to notice it, the fine wool delineated the strength and leanness of his bones, accentuating the power in his legs and moulding the swell of his sex. She had forgotten how physical he was, she realised. Forgotten what it was like to be aware of a man in any way other than an intellectual one. With Simon, it was his kindness and his personality that had drawn her to him first; his ability to treat her like someone important, someone special. She’d deliberately obliterated the sexual attraction Ben had always had for her, and it was disturbing to realise that it had not been erased, only buried beneath a layer of pain and bitterness.