The Marriage Truce

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’

He set off down the street, still holding her arm, taking Jenna with him whether she wanted to go or not, turning the corner on to the harbour.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing.’ She was flushed, breathless with indignation at being whirled along in this undignified manner.

He had always done this, she thought. Starting with that night in London when they’d met again. Recognised each other in a totally new way …

‘Come.’ He’d taken her arm then, hurrying her from the room—from the building and into the street. Striding so fast that she’d had to run to keep up with him.

‘Where are we going?’ She’d been overwhelmed by all she felt for him—scared, joyous and hungry all at the same time.

And he’d stopped suddenly, and turned to her, his hands framing her face with heart-stopping tenderness. ‘Does it matter?’

Now, even though there was nothing remotely lover-like in his touch, she was shocked to find it could still shake her to the core. Or was that the memory it evoked?

‘Making amends, darling,’ he flung back at her. ‘Being amazingly civilised.’

He pushed open the door of the Quayside Café and marched her in. For a startled moment the buzz of conversation at the occupied tables faltered, then resumed at a slightly higher pitch as Ross ushered Jenna to a table beside the window and ordered two coffees from the flustered proprietress.

‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked Jenna, glancing towards the counter laden with cakes, biscuits and scones.

‘Thank you, no,’ she returned glacially.

His face relaxed into a sudden grin. ‘Because it would choke you?’

It did not help her temper to know she’d actually been tempted, just for a moment, to smile back. ‘This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?’ she said in a furious undertone.

His brows lifted. ‘Far from it, sweetheart,’ he drawled. ‘A tragedy, perhaps.’ He paused. ‘Now, perhaps we should find some bland neutral topic to keep us from each other’s throats until the coffee comes.’

‘You think of something,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m not into small talk.’

‘Fine.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Are you planning to go on holiday this year?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’ She looked down at the checked tablecloth. ‘I might go for a last-minute booking on some Greek island.’

‘Alone?’

She shrugged. ‘I can hardly go with Natasha. One of us has to be there to run the gallery.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said softly. ‘Thirza told me that you were now in business together.’

There was a note in his voice that reminded her that Natasha’s low opinion of him had been entirely reciprocated.

She lifted her chin. ‘How kind of your stepmother to take such an interest in my affairs.’

‘A slight exaggeration.’ The dark eyes glinted. ‘She merely mentioned it in passing.’

‘I see.’ She hesitated. ‘What about you? Are you—planning any kind of vacation?’

He smiled faintly. ‘For me, as ever, a holiday is simply to stop travelling.’

But you did stop—when you married me. You said you’d finished with that kind of life. The thought forced itself upon her before she could prevent it.

‘But I suppose I’ll go back to the house in Brittany,’ he went on. ‘Apparently the last lot of tenants weren’t the most careful in the world, and it needs some work.’

‘You’ve been renting out Les Roches?’ The place where we spent our honeymoon? ‘I—I didn’t know.’

Ross shrugged. ‘Houses shouldn’t be left empty, or the heart goes out of them.’

Jenna examined a fleck on her thumbnail. ‘You’ve never considered selling it?’

‘No.’ The response was crisp and instant. ‘It’s always been a family home.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘And one day I intend to have a family there.’

She had not seen that coming, and she felt as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus. There was an odd roaring in her ears, and when she parted her lips to say something—anything—no sound would come.

The arrival of the coffee saved her. By the time the cups had been placed on the table, and cream and sugar brought, she was able to speak again. To cover, she hoped, the momentary hiatus.

‘My God.’ She even managed a little laugh. ‘Is the rolling stone coming to rest at last?’

‘It would seem so.’ His mouth twisted. ‘As they all do—eventually.’

‘I thought you might prove to be the exception.’ She could only hope the lightness in her tone was convincing. ‘What’s caused the change of heart?’

‘I became ill.’ His gaze met hers. ‘And, as you know, I’m not used to that. It made me think. Perhaps—adjust my priorities.’ He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Also, there is—someone in my life. Someone important.’ He shrugged. ‘What can I say?’

‘There’s nothing that needs to be said.’ Stunned as she was, somehow she found the words. Made her lips utter them without faltering. ‘After all, we’re both—free agents. When—when’s the happy day?’

‘Nothing’s been decided yet. It is still a little too soon for her. She’s been married before as well, and there are adjustments to be made.’

‘Well,’ she said, smiling resolutely, ‘naturally you’ll want to be sure—this time.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will.’ His brows lifted. ‘You’re—very understanding.’

She murmured something and looked down at the table. The compliment was undeserved, and she knew it. She understood nothing. Under her façade of composure she was seething with questions that she would not—could not ask him.

Do I know her? being the foremost. To be followed by, Is it Lisa Weston? And, if not, why not? What happened to the woman for whom you ended our marriage? And, Did you tire of her, too, in the end? The words were tumbling over themselves in her mind, demanding answers.

But these were places she dared not go. Because once the questions started she might not be able to stop them.

And the inner ice she relied on might crack, and all the pain—all the loss—might come pouring out at last. Betraying her utterly.

Revealing to him, once and for all, how deeply he had wounded her.

And revealing, most damagingly of all, that she still bled—still grieved in spite of the two years’ total separation between them.

And if he ever suspected the healing process in her had not begun, he might ask himself why. And she could not risk that particular humiliation, she thought breathlessly, or any other.

Aware that the silence between them was lengthening, she looked up and smiled brightly at him across the table.