Season Of Mists

‘No!’ With a face contorted by the strength of his emotions, Piers’ hand came out and closed about her upper arm, jerking her towards him. ‘Believe it or not, one of us still possessed some sense of decency,’ he snapped, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘You selfish little bitch! When did you ever think of anyone else but yourself?’

Abby brought her hand back then and slapped him, the sound of the impact ringing round the cluttered little room. It was an instinctive reaction to what he had said, an uncontrollable impulse that she regretted almost as soon as it was done. With a sense of horror, she watched the white marks her fingers had made appear on his cheek, and sensed the iron control he was exerting not to respond in kind.

‘I should have expected that from you,’ he grated, and for a few agonising seconds, Abby thought he was about to exact revenge. His grip on her arm tightened, and she was forced even nearer, so that she could feel the hard muscles of his thigh against her hip.

With an unsteady gaze she looked up at him, close enough now to see the pulse beating at his jawline, the flaring hollows of his nostrils, and the thick curling lashes with their sun-bleached tips. He was breathing heavily, his narrow lips separated to reveal the even whiteness of his teeth, his breath mingling with hers, warm and sweet. But it was the savage brilliance of his eyes that held her gaze, those strange tawny irises, flecked with gold, and undoubtedly smouldering with the heat of his anger. They impaled her like a sword, hard and unyielding, and filled with—contempt?

She wasn’t sure any more. As he continued to hold her, as the warmth of her body against his thigh penetrated the fine cloth of his trousers, his expression changed, became fiercer and yet more malleable, his unwilling awareness of her as a woman superseding the violent revulsion she provoked.

‘I should kill you!’ he muttered, bending his head towards her, and Abby’s quivering lips parted almost involuntarily.

He was going to kiss her, she thought incredulously. In spite of his contempt, his anger, his hatred, he still had some feeling for her, and her limbs turned to water as his passionate gaze swept down to her mouth.

And then she was free. In the space of a moment, her blind anticipation of his touch became an unforgivable weakness, and she despised herself utterly as he strode towards the door.

He turned as he reached the door, and with his fingers on the handle, regarded her contemptuously. ‘I hope I never have to see you again,’ he said, any emotion she imagined she had seen in his face erased completely. ‘You’re right—I was glad of the child’s birth to escape from an impossible relationship. Our marriage was a farce from the beginning. Perhaps I should have told you the truth before I married you. Perhaps I was to blame for that. But how was I to know then what an over-sexed little bitch you were, and how little time it would take before you betrayed yourself!’

CHAPTER THRE (#ulink_4ed3459d-44f4-55e4-9d02-af27e3ae3ebe)

‘MUM?’

Matthew’s anxious voice from the open doorway alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. It took quite an effort to turn and face him, aware as she was that her eyelids were probably puffy, and the evidence of her recent bout of weeping was impossible to hide. But he had to be answered, and she held her handkerchief to her nose as she turned about.

‘You’re up,’ she said, unnecessarily, mentally noting the fact that his jeans were getting too short for him again. ‘I—did you sleep well? I expect Aunt Hannah will give you some breakfast if you ask her.’

‘She’s boiling me two eggs,’ said Matthew, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. ‘What’s the matter, Mum? Why have you been crying?’

Abby sighed, and put her handkerchief away. ‘Oh—you know how it is,’ she murmured, hoping to divert him. ‘Old places, old memories——’

‘My father’s been here, hasn’t he?’ Matthew stated flatly, shocking her out of her lethargy. ‘I heard his voice. It woke me up. Why did he come here so early?’

Abby struggled to find an answer for him. ‘Your—your father’s a busy man,’ she got out at last. ‘I expect he has things to do later.’

‘It was about last night, wasn’t it?’ mumbled Matthew, scuffing his toe. ‘He was annoyed because I broke in on his meeting with that Langton woman.’

‘Well, you did embarrass him,’ agreed Abby wearily. ‘Matt, let’s not go over that again now. You—you behaved impulsively, you didn’t think what you were doing. I’m sure your father appreciates that. Let’s forget it, shall we?’

‘Forget it!’ Matthew’s jaw jutted. ‘I don’t want to forget it. At least I’ve met him now. And I think he liked me. ‘Course, with that silly female being there, we couldn’t have a proper conversation, but when I see him again——’

‘Again!’ Abby stared at him. ‘Matt, you won’t be seeing him again.’

‘Why not?’ Matthew’s mouth took on a downward slant. ‘You can’t stop me from seeing him. He’s my father. Why do you think I was so keen to come here? After reading his letter, I knew it might be the last chance I’d get.’

‘You read your father’s letter?’

Matthew had the grace to look a little shamefaced now, but he bluffed it out. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ he demanded. ‘You weren’t going to tell me, were you? He wants a divorce—I read that. Why? Does he want to marry that Langton woman?’

‘Oh, Matt!’ Abby shook her head helplessly. ‘I wish you’d try to understand. Your—your father isn’t interested in us, in either of us. He just wants his freedom.’

Matthew looked sulky. ‘You don’t know that. You think because he doesn’t want you, it follows that he doesn’t want me. Well, that needn’t be true. Lots of couples separate, but the kids get to see both parents—regularly.’

‘It’s not like that.’ Abby was close to telling him exactly how it really was, but compassion forbade her from destroying what little dignity he had left. ‘Matt, don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault, honestly. But—but this morning your father told me that he doesn’t want to see—either of us again.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘It is true.’ Abby would have gone to him then and put her hands on his shoulders, but Matt backed away.

‘What did you say to him?’ he demanded, and she was dismayed to hear the choke of a sob in his voice. ‘I bet you told him to get lost. My father wouldn’t refuse to see me—he wouldn’t! You’ve done this. It’s all your fault.’

‘Matt——’

But Matthew had gone, charging back through the kitchen as if the devil himself was at his heels. Abby followed him more slowly, hearing, like the death knell of all her hopes for their relationship, his booted feet hammering up the wooden staircase.

Hannah looked up from the bread she was cutting when Abby appeared, turning her head towards the stairs before giving the girl her attention. ‘Whatever has happened?’ she exclaimed. ‘First Piers goes striding out of the house, without even a word of farewell, and now Matthew dashes up the stairs, as if you’d taken a whip to him!’

‘Don’t ask,’ said Abby tiredly, sinking down into a chair beside the table. ‘Honestly, sometimes I wish I’d died in childbirth, like my mother. I just don’t think I’ve got the will to go on.’

‘Of course you have.’ Hannah spoke half angrily. ‘And don’t let me hear you suggest such a dreadful thing again! Be thankful for what you do have—your youth and your health. There’s many a one would envy you, just remember that.’

Abby sighed. ‘I know, I know. But I don’t know what I’m going to do, Aunt Hannah. Matt blames me for everything. He even blames me for sending Piers away this morning, and goodness knows, that wasn’t how it was.’

‘Hah!’ Hannah snorted impatiently. ‘I suppose Piers came to tell you to keep the boy out of his way.’

‘Something like that.’

Hannah shook her head. ‘The man’s a fool! Can’t he see the resemblance between them? Both so stubborn! Both blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. I could knock their heads together!’

‘If only it was that simple,’ sighed Abby wryly. ‘You know, I really believed that sooner or later Piers would begin to have doubts.’

‘I doubt his mother would have let him,’ retorted Hannah crisply, taking Matthew’s eggs out of the pan. ‘You really reinforced her position when you became pregnant so soon after your marriage. And she’s had years to brainwash Piers into believing that story about you and Tristan.’

‘I suppose Tristan going away didn’t help.’

‘No.’ Hannah conceded the point. ‘And for a while, the Olivers were very bitter. But Lucy’s grown up now. Do you remember Lucy Oliver? Well, she’s grown up and married, and her husband’s taken over the running of the farm.’

‘Tristan went to Canada, didn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Hannah nodded. ‘And I believe he’s done very well. He’s married, too, of course—a Canadian girl, naturally. They have three children.’

‘Lucky Tristan!’ Abby gave a rueful sigh. ‘How much simpler it would have been if I’d married Tristan when I had the chance.’

‘You didn’t love him,’ declared Hannah practically. ‘You think it would have been simpler, and perhaps it would, in some ways. But Abby,’ do you honestly think you’d have been happy, over a prolonged period? All right, so things with Piers didn’t work out as you expected. At least you took your happiness while you had the chance.’

‘For which I’m paying now,’ remarked Abby dryly, putting up both hands to massage the aching muscles at the back of her neck. She moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘Why couldn’t Piers at least have given me an opportunity to explain? Or if he had agreed to speak to Dr Morrison again, taken some more tests——’

‘Abby, Abby …’ Hannah gazed at her compassionately. ‘You really can’t be that naïve! Not after more than twelve years of marriage. You know how important these things can be; particularly to a man. Piers had taken that medical, on his mother’s advice, to assure himself that there was nothing wrong——’

‘But the tests must have been wrong, you know that!’ Abby exclaimed, blinking back the tears that persistently pricked at the backs of her eyes.