Marriage Reclaimed: Marriage at a Distance / Marriage Under Suspicion / The Marriage Truce

Because she’d been thinking about him, it took Joanna a couple of seconds to realise that Gabriel’s faintly amused drawl was not just in her mind.

She gasped, nearly inhaling a mouthful of bubbles, her head turning in shock towards the bathroom door.

He was lounging in the doorway, totally at ease, the tawny eyes scanning the concealing foam with lazy appreciation.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Joanna remembered just in time not to sit up.

‘I came to tell you I’m going to be away for some while,’ he returned. ‘I have a meeting in Paris, and another in Vienna later in the week.’

‘All right, you’ve told me,’ she said tersely. ‘Now you can get out.’

Gabriel’s brows lifted. ‘I can’t say your manners have improved during our separation,’ he remarked coldly. ‘Not that it makes any real difference. I’ll leave when I’m ready.’

‘In other words, I’m to be allowed no privacy at all,’ Joanna said with a snap.

‘If that was really the case,’ he said gently, ‘you wouldn’t have been alone in that bed last night. And you’d certainly have my company in that bath this morning.’ He watched a wave of indignant colour invade her face and nodded. ‘So stop being absurd and listen.’

She said between her teeth, ‘Yes, master.’

He laughed. ‘You’re getting the idea. Did Mrs Ashby speak to you about Lionel’s room?’

‘She mentioned it.’ Joanna hesitated, the image of him kneeling beside Lionel’s bed in her mind. ‘Isn’t this a—little soon?’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want it to turn into some kind of shrine, dusted once a week and everything the way he left it. I want life to get back to normal round here as soon as possible.’

‘You have a strange idea of normal.’ Joanna could feel the water getting colder. She was also becoming cramped through lying so still, but she dared not move.

‘Why, darling,’ he said mockingly, ‘is this your shy way of telling me you’d like ours to be a conventional marriage?’ He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it onto a chair, and began to loosen his tie. ‘Perhaps I’ll join you after all.’

‘You’ll do nothing of the kind.’ The breath caught in her throat as Gabriel moved across to the bath and sat down on its broad rim. ‘Go away.’ Her voice sounded hoarse and uneven. ‘Get out of here. Now.’

He said, ‘No, darling. Not quite yet.’

Paralysed, Joanna watched his hand descend towards the surface of the water. For a moment Gabriel allowed it to hover tantalisingly, barely an inch from her quivering body, then he scooped up some of the fragrant foam, lifting it to his face.

He said softly, ‘Now this evokes some memories. Each time I’ve encountered clove carnations in the past two years, I’ve thought of the scent of your skin in the darkness.’

‘Don’t expect me to be flattered,’ Joanna returned grittily.

‘No, I accept that’s too much to hope for.’ His dark face inscrutable, he gently blew the bubbles from his palm. ‘Don’t you have any memories, Joanna?’

‘None that I care to recall.’ Her tone was curt.

‘And no curiosity, either? Haven’t you ever wondered how it might be between a man and a woman? Or how it should be?’

‘Never.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Gabriel dipped an idle hand into the water again. Joanna remained like a statue, determined not to flinch. ‘Because I’ve wondered a great deal—about you, about myself. About the fact that we’re both two years older, and, hopefully, wiser. That maybe there are things we could both learn from each other—before we part.’

His smile slanted down at her, and she felt deep inside her an answering twist of pain, mixed with—what? Regret—yearning? She couldn’t be sure. And didn’t want to find out.

‘I mean,’ he went on softly, moving the water gently with his fingers, ‘I wouldn’t want you to go out into the world thinking those few doomed encounters between us was all there was to it.’

‘So what are you offering?’ Joanna loaded her tone with contempt. ‘A quick course in sexual gratification?’ She shook her head. ‘Not for me. But I’m sure you won’t lack for willing applicants,’ she added cuttingly. ‘You never have.’

‘What a pity.’ The tawny gaze undertook another lingering survey. ‘Because those pretty bubbles are beginning to melt, opening up all kinds of interesting perspectives. Sure you won’t change your mind?’

‘Certain.’ She was trembling inside, but somehow managed to keep her tone even. ‘And now may I make something clear?’ She drew a deep breath. ‘If this kind of—harassment continues, it’s going to make it impossible for me to remain here—whatever the consequences.’

‘Sexual harassment between husband and wife?’ His brows drew together meditatively. ‘I wonder if that exists in law?’

‘I neither know nor care,’ she returned steadily. ‘I’m not talking legalities, but on a personal level. You may find these—games of yours amusing, but I don’t. The only way this arrangement can work is by each of us keeping out of the other’s way.’

‘You really think that’s the sole solution?’

‘I know it is.’

He shrugged. ‘Then we’ll play it your way. God forbid my foul lust should drive you away,’ he added derisively. He bent forward, running a hand swiftly over her bare shoulder. ‘And you’re freezing. It’s time you came out of that water.’ He got up and fetched the towelling robe which hung on the bathroom door. ‘Here, put this on,’ he directed brusquely.

Freezing? Suddenly she was burning, consumed by some strange and terrifying flame.

She set her teeth. ‘In my own good time.’

He laughed. ‘You mean you’d rather risk pneumonia than allow me a fleeting glimpse of you naked? Now, are you underestimating my self-control—or overestimating the effect of your own charms? However, we won’t debate the point now.’

‘Or ever,’ she snapped back.

‘All avenues of communication safely closed off?’ He shook his head. ‘You disappoint me, sweetheart. But from now on it’ll be strictly business.’

He draped the robe unhurriedly within reach, directed one last appreciative look downwards, then became instantly and impersonally brisk, leaving Joanna to grind her teeth in impotent rage.

‘With regard to Lionel’s clothes and belongings. I’d like them stored in another room, please, so I can go through them at my leisure.’

‘If that’s what you want,’ she acknowledged stiffly.

‘It isn’t, particularly.’ Gabriel grimaced. ‘It’s a lousy job, but I can’t, in conscience, wish it on anyone else.’

He picked up his jacket, slung it over one shoulder, and turned to go. Then he paused. ‘By the way, one last thought.’ His tone was abrupt, and Joanna tensed again. ‘As Larkspur Cottage is empty, why don’t you rent it to Cynthia for the next twelve months? Apparently she’s always had a hankering to live there.’

‘I suppose you discussed it last night—over the hors d’oeuvres?’ Joanna made her tone poisonously sweet, then regretted it.

But he smiled at her, unfazed. ‘Over the coffee and Armagnac, actually. But it’s entirely up to you. It’s going to be your property, after all. Think it over, and tell her your decision.’

Then he was gone. And a moment later she heard her bedroom door close.

She sat up gingerly, feeling slightly giddy. As she glanced down she realised with annoyance that her nipples had tautened to hard, rosy peaks in the cooling water, and hoped very much that they weren’t one of the perspectives Gabriel had referred to.