Читать книгу Last Chance Marriage - Rosemary Gibson - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

MUFFLING a yawn, Clemency zipped up her jeans and tugged a green cotton sweater over her rumpled red curls. Barefoot, she padded across to her bedroom window and flung it open, surveying the cloudless blue sky. It looked as if it was going to be another glorious day.

Yawning again, she slipped on her sandals and made her way downstairs. She bent to retrieve the newspaper and mail from the front doormat and headed down the hall, coming to an abrupt halt as she heard the sound of breaking glass.

One of the cats from the local farm knocking down a milk bottle? Except she didn’t keep her empty bottles outside her back door. She took a tentative step forward and froze. Someone was breaking into her kitchen...

‘Please, Daddy, let me do it.’

‘Sorry, old chap. Back you go. You too, Tommy, please.’

She expelled a long, deep breath. Did prospective burglars normally bring their four-year-old sons along as witnesses? Tiptoeing to the door, she stealthily eased it open a crack and peeped through.

Armed with gloves and a small hammer, Joshua Harrington was casually knocking out the glass in her open back door onto a plastic sheet. From the safety of the lawn, the twins, identically dressed today in the brown uniform of the village school, watched with expressions of utter longing on their small faces.

Clemency’s eyes dropped to the football at their feet and her eyes darkened reflectively. One hell of a kick for such small legs—over the hedge with still enough force to smash her window.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into the kitchen.

‘Good morning,’ she said breezily.

If she’d hoped to throw Joshua Harrington even marginally off-balance, she was disappointed.

‘I thought you’d be at work by now,’ he murmured mildly, the navy blue sweatshirt hugging the wide, powerful shoulders intensifying the brilliance of his eyes. Knocking out the last fragment of glass, he stooped to gather up the plastic sheeting.

Normally she would have been, Clemency conceded, but it wouldn’t have hurt him to ring the doorbell and check. ‘I’m on leave for a week.’

Waggling her fingers at the twins, who were waving to her enthusiastically from the garden, Clemency retrieved the strong refuse bag from the floor and held it open.

‘Thanks.’

As he deposited the plastic sheeting deftly into the bag, her eyes flicked over the strong contours of his face, absorbing the weariness etched into it. For a second her hard-won composure almost cracked completely, the muscles of her stomach coiling into a fierce knot. Had he endured an equally troubled night? Lain awake for hours, like her, eyes open, staring into the past?

‘Daddy’s going to put a lovely new window in your door,’ trebled a small voice. Evidently deciding that their temporary banishment had been lifted now the glass had been safely removed, the twins scampered across the grass.

‘That’s really kind of him, isn’t it?’ The second voice piped, with unconcealed hero-worship.

‘Yes, it certainly is,’ Clemency agreed solemnly, her muscles relaxing as the small boys bounded into the kitchen.

‘Especially as Daddy broke the damn window,’ Joshua Harrington murmured sotto voce, the corners of the firm, straight mouth twitching.

Unable to keep it straight any longer, Clemency’s face broke into a warm, wide grin, the wariness in her eyes of which she’d been quite unconscious clearing briefly.

‘Where’s your lunch box, Tommy?’ Joshua enquired, straightening up.

‘Left it in the garden.’

‘Go and fetch it, please.’

‘Yes, Daddy.’ The boys started for the door and then, as if some invisible hand had tapped them on the shoulder, turned back towards Clemency.

‘Bye, Clemency,’ they chorused dutifully.

‘An’ thank you for having us...’ one voice continued absently, parrot fashion.

‘You don’t have to say that...’ Its owner was instantly corrected.

‘Goodbye, Jamie,’ Clemency said formally, repressing her laughter, a little mystified at the expression of utter resignation on their small faces as they looked up at her. They were so adorable, she could hug them! ‘Goodbye, Tommy.’

For a second neither of them moved and then, faces lighting up with relief, they turned and bounded towards the door.

‘She didn’t kiss us...’ The clear, carrying voice floated jubilantly back through the open door.

‘Or hug us...’

‘I believe,’ Joshua Harrington murmured dryly, ‘that you’ve just passed the litmus test.’

Clemency couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She so very nearly hadn’t!

‘An’ she smelled nice...’

‘Even nicer than Anna.’

Anna again, Clemency mused, but on that tantalising note the small voices faded away.

‘Hmm.’ Joshua gathered up the refuse bag and headed for the door. ‘I think I might have a word with my sons and heirs about the importance of discretion,’ he murmured thoughtfully.

‘Do as I say, not as I do?’ Clemency enquired innocently before she could help herself.

‘How much of my diatribe did you overhear yesterday?’

‘You mean did I hear the “to hell with all women” soliloquy?

‘Or the reference to the inquisitive, frustrated spinster next door?’

‘I don’t think those were quite my words...’ he refuted, his mouth quirking.

‘No,’ she conceded, ‘but that was the inference,’ she continued lightly. ‘The implication that no woman could possibly feel fulfilled without the presence of a man in her life. An arrogant male assumption that isn’t true.’ She smiled back at him to take the sting out of her words, to show him she was half-teasing. Nevertheless, it suddenly seemed very important to assure him, however obliquely, that she had absolutely no designs on either him or the twins, wasn’t in the market for happy families.

She saw his eyes flicker, but their expression was as unreadable as his face.

‘The assumption works both ways,’ he drawled. ‘I’ve had my fill over the past few years of the manipulative attempts at matchmaking by the wives of various male acquaintances.’

His voice was as light and as casual as hers had been, but perversely the underlying tension between them seemed to intensify rather than ease. They were making ground rules, Clemency absorbed, warning each other off—though why it should be necessary to do so was something she didn’t care to analyse.

‘I’ll pick up a pane of glass after I’ve dropped the boys off at school.’ Glancing at his watch, he grimaced slightly, and hurried outside to herd up his sons, their small, bowed heads on a level just above his knees as they scampered by his side, trying to keep pace with his long, rapid strides.

Moving across to the window, Clemency watched the tall, lean, assured figure disappear around the side of the house, her grey eyes thoughtful. She had nothing but admiration for those courageous women who had attempted to interfere in his private life. And she very much doubted that Joshua Harrington had ever been manipulated by anyone in his entire existence.

Breakfast! Turning away from the window, Clemency moved across the tiled floor, extracted a loaf of bread from the fridge and, changing her mind, replaced it. She’d skip her usual tea and toast this morning, settle for a cup of instant coffee instead. Her mouth twitched. Live dangerously, change her routine!

Switching on the kettle, she picked up the newspaper while she waited for the water to boil, her gaze darting immediately to the cartoon at the bottom of the front page. Josh. The distinctive, decisive signature was oddly redolent of its owner, instantly conjuring up an image of the dark, rugged face.

Abruptly she tossed the paper to one side, the cartoon for some reason failing to amuse her this morning, and armed with a mug of coffee sat down at the breakfast bar. She glanced up at the wall clock. How long would it take him to drop the twins off and buy a new pane of glass?

Determinedly she turned her attention to her post. Mostly junk mail. An exceedingly rude postcard from David Mason. Idiot. She smiled, thinking affectionately of the russet-haired man who had somehow managed the difficult task of maintaining his friendship with both herself and Simon.

Her smile faded. Had David known about Simon’s feelings for Lisa all those years ago? Let himself be used as an alibi on occasions? Had those games of squash with Simon been fictitious? She winced. Oh, blast Joshua Harrington. He was the one indirectly responsible for reviving those painful questions, questions she had resolutely dismissed years ago.

Slipping off her stool, she carried her mug of coffee through to the sitting room at the front of the house. Was that the sound of his car now? Tensing, she gazed out of the window into the lane. No, just a tractor en route to the farm. Restlessly she wandered back to the kitchen, had just sat down again when the doorbell chimed.

Trying to ignore the rush of adrenalin spurting through her, she jumped to her feet and went to answer it. Joshua had evidently decided to announce his arrival more formally this time.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door expectantly, perturbed by the immediate sense of anticlimax as she saw the grey-haired man standing in front of her. Recovering quickly, her mouth curved in a warm, welcoming smile.

‘Hello, William.’

His gnarled, weather-beaten face creased in a beam. ‘Brought you something for your supper tonight,’ he said laconically and without preamble. Digging into the pocket of the voluminous waxed jacket that he wore both summer and winter, and, Clemency sometimes suspected, even to bed, he drew out a brown paper parcel and thrust it into her hands. ‘Fresh this morning.’

‘Oh, how lovely!’ Clemency exclaimed enthusiastically, her heart dropping as she felt the clammy contents through the paper. ‘I shall look forward to them.’ Stooping down, she petted the black and white collie sitting obediently by the gum-booted feet. ‘Thank you very much.’ She smiled, straightening up, only then noticing the lean figure coming up the drive towards them.

‘Come on, Jesse.’ Nodding his head with satisfaction at Clemency’s evident pleasure with his gift, the elderly countryman made his way back down the drive, returning Joshua’s courteous greeting as they passed with a monosyllabic grunt.

‘A man of few words,’ Joshua commented as, a tool box in one hand, a pane of glass in the other, he reached Clemency’s side.

‘William doesn’t say a lot,’ Clemency conceded, trying to ignore the way the sun’s rays were flickering over the thick, rich dark hair, caressing the hard contours of his face. ‘But he and his wife are very sweet,’ she added over her shoulder, leading Joshua down the hall and into the kitchen. She was unsuccessful in camouflaging her slight shudder as she deposited the package on the sink unit, and sighed resignedly as she met the quizzical blue gaze.

‘They don’t have a car any more so I give them the occasional lift into Bournemouth,’ she said vaguely. She didn’t mention the fortnight last winter when she’d faithfully driven William over to the hospital every evening to visit his wife who’d been recovering after a fall.

‘And William and his wife express their appreciation with mysterious brown parcels?’ Depositing his tool box and the pane of glass on the floor, Joshua’s eyes dropped thoughtfully back to the sink unit.

‘William was a gamekeeper until he retired.’ Clemency’s own eyes returned to the package. Oh, heavens, it hadn’t moved had it? No, that was definitely her imagination. ‘And I suppose he still has, um, contacts in that line.’ She had never enquired too closely about the source of her presents. ‘It’s usually fish, like today. But sometimes it’s a rabbit or even a pheasant.’ Her large, expressive eyes darkened unhappily. ‘William just assumes that I can...prepare them.’ She paused and confessed in a guilty rush, ‘I know it’s dreadful but I bury them at the bottom of the garden.’

‘In the dead of night so no one can see you?’ The corners of his mouth twitching, Joshua turned his attention to the back door.

‘It’s not funny,’ Clemency reproved, but she grinned back at him and then sighed. ‘I should have been honest with William right from the start.’ Leaning back against the sink unit, she watched as Joshua deftly inserted the new pane of glass into the door, fascinated by his dexterity. ‘And told him I was just a feeble, squeamish townie.’ She’d held one of those strong, capable hands, felt the warmth of those long, supple fingers against hers. She swallowed hard. ‘Or claimed to be a strict vegetarian, but...’

Her stomach muscles contracted in a fierce knot as against her will her eyes skidded over the chiselled mouth. Why did she have to start remembering that kiss now? Just when she’d begun to feel at ease with him, begun to relax.

Taking a step backwards, Joshua examined his handiwork and, apparently satisfied, glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I picked up a couple of new bolts while I was out.’ Discarding his sweatshirt, he tossed it casually over a chair, the tanned length of his arms sprinkled with fine, dark hairs revealed by the dark blue T-shirt.

Clemency felt herself stiffening. She didn’t want his unnerving masculine presence in her home for one moment longer than was strictly necessary.

‘Thanks.’ She forced out the word but knew from the slight narrowing of his eyes he’d noticed her hesitation. But hopefully, she prayed inwardly, not the reason for it. ‘I really ought to have changed the old bolts before now,’ she added more lightly. Joshua had demonstrated just how easy it was to gain access to her home now the rusty bolts were no longer functional, she admitted. Especially as she did occasionally forget to remove the key from the lock.

Armed with a screwdriver, Joshua dropped to his haunches by the door, the blue denim jeans tautening across the muscular thighs. Clemency averted her gaze abruptly. ‘Coffee?’ She had to occupy herself with something, couldn’t just stand there watching him—or trying not to watch him—any longer.

‘Yes, please.’ He looked up. ‘Black. No sugar.’

‘Right.’ His eyes under the thick sweep of dark lashes were so impossibly blue, the depth and intensity of the colour almost mesmerising. She turned away swiftly and spooned coffee into two mugs, cursing under her breath as the spoon slid from her fingers and landed on the tiled floor with a resounding clatter. Bending down to retrieve it, she sensed Joshua watching her.

‘Yes?’ she enquired silently, lifting her eyebrows.

‘Nothing.’ The innocent blue eyes answered wordlessly. Smiling blandly, he began collecting up his tools.

One black coffee, one white, Clemency reminded herself firmly. Surreptitiously she watched Joshua as he rinsed his hands and drew up a chair to the table. Sitting sideways, he stretched out his long, lean legs indolently in front of him, crooking a muscular arm around the back. This was her house, her kitchen and yet right now he seemed to be the one completely at home, not her, she thought with a prickle of resentment.

Picking up the mugs carefully, she carried them across to the table and handed him one.

‘Thanks.’

Sitting down opposite him, she took a sip of coffee and flicked him an upward glance. The dark blue eyes were resting pensively on her left hand, the betraying band of white skin on her third finger long since disappeared.

‘I used to wonder occasionally what had happened to you. How everything had turned out.’

The quiet admission was so unexpected it made Clemency start.

‘Did you?’ she said with studied casualness, wondering why she found it so difficult—no, impossible—to make the same admission. ‘Simon and I separated when I moved down here four and a half years ago,’ she said instead, after a pause. ‘We’ve been divorced for two.’ She wasn’t unduly surprised by his slight frown as he registered the time discrepancy.

‘I didn’t confront Simon about Lisa straight away,’ she said evenly, and saw the furrow between the dark eyebrows deepen.

‘Why not?’ he said quietly.

She averted her eyes. Initially because I felt so damn guilty about you. It had been absolutely absurd in retrospect, particularly under the circumstances. One fleeting New Year kiss—and for a while she’d actually felt as guilty about Simon as if she’d been the betrayer not the betrayed. She’d waited nearly five weeks before finally confronting Simon.

‘I suppose I convinced myself that he was simply infatuated with Lisa, that once she went to America he would forget her. It wasn’t as if he’d actually had an affair with her, been physically unfaithful.’ Was that really true or had she simply chosen to believe it? Put her own interpretation on the words she’d overheard in the kitchen?

‘And then when you finally did tackle Simon about Lisa?’ Joshua asked quietly.

Clemency studied the table. Simon’s distress at the pain he’d caused her had been almost as unbearable as her own hurt. ‘We decided to give our marriage another shot.’ For nine long months they’d tried so hard, both concealing their increasing unhappiness beneath a veneer of superficial domestic normality. ‘It didn’t work out. Simon didn’t stop loving Lisa just because she went to America, and I stopped deluding myself that he had.’

Her eyes darkened, remembering both the sadness and relief with which she and Simon had finally agreed that their marriage was over. A marriage, she had gradually come to realise, that should never have taken place. Simon hadn’t fallen out of love with her—he’d never been in love with her in the first place. A deep affection, a loyalty grown out of a shared childhood had never been a strong enough basis for a lifelong commitment as man and wife. They had been friends but never truly lovers.

‘Simon and Lisa were married six months ago,’ she finished steadily. It was completely irrational but it had still hurt.

‘A happy ending for Simon.’ The blue eyes moved over her face. ‘And you, Clemency? Are you happy?’ he enquired softly.

Was she? ‘I like living on my own,’ she said slowly, occurring to her only then just how much she did value her independence, just how reluctant she would be to give it up. Okay she did get lonely occasionally, but that was a small price to pay for the advantages of her single status. Never again would her personal happiness be reliant on someone else.

‘And you enjoy your job?’ He lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

‘Yes, I do,’ she acknowledged, and frowned, not wholly comfortable with the image she was presenting of a self-sufficient, independent career woman. Well, it was an apt one, wasn’t it? This was the second time in as many days that Joshua Harrington had triggered off this introspection, stirred up some tiny core of dissatisfaction within her, she realised uneasily.

‘At least my career is proving to be more rewarding and fulfilling than my marriage,’ she said with a rare touch of bitterness, and could have bitten off her tongue as she saw the shutters slam down over the blue eyes.

‘A view apparently shared by my ex-wife,’ he observed caustically.

How could she have been so unbelievably thoughtless? Clemency opened her mouth and closed it again, knowing that to start apologising would only compound her gaffe. Unhappily she watched as he took a sip of coffee, her gaze moving over the hard features, the cynicism once again pronounced.

‘Laura resented her pregnancy for its entire duration.’ He raised his head abruptly. ‘She returned to work full-time almost immediately the twins were born, leaving them in charge of a nanny. As her reputation grew, she spent more and more time travelling overseas. Our home became little more than her base in England. On the occasions she was at home, we were like strangers, sharing nothing but the same roof.’

Clemency’s eyes didn’t waver from his face. His voice was even, devoid of all emotion, but it was all too easy to fill in the gaps left by the skeleton account of the disintegration of his marriage.

‘Prolonging the marriage for the sake of the children hardly seemed appropriate under the circumstances. In fact,’ he said wryly, ‘I think Laura saw more of the boys once we were separated. They used to think it was a great adventure, going to stay the night at her flat.’

Past tense, Clemency registered.

‘We were divorced eighteen months ago and Laura now lives in the States. She sees the boys whenever she comes to England, phones them, never forgets their birthday.’ He paused. ‘In her own way, I think she does care about them.’

‘Do the twins miss her?’

‘They did a little at first but they rarely mention her now, seem to have accepted the situation quite easily, though no doubt when they’re older they’ll start asking more questions.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think Laura was ever a large enough part of their lives for them to really feel the loss. In fact they were far more upset when Sue, their nanny, left a year ago. Unfortunately due to a family crisis she had to leave very suddenly, giving them no time to get used to the idea.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t replace Sue with another full-time nanny.’

Clemency nodded. He hadn’t wanted to run the risk of the twins becoming attached to yet another woman who might disappear from their lives. That Tommy and Jamie appeared to be such happy, well-adjusted small boys despite the two emotional upheavals in their short lives was in no small way attributable to their father, she conceded thoughtfully.

Her eyes moved speculatively over the strong face. Had the ban on women been applied just as rigorously to his own life? It was difficult to believe that he’d been completely devoid of feminine company since his divorce, though his evident determination not to allow anyone into his domestic life must have placed severe limitations on any relationship.

‘Can I get off the couch now?’ the deep voice enquired dryly.

‘Sorry?’ Clemency blinked at him innocently. ‘Miles away,’ she murmured airily, starting to rise to her feet automatically as she heard the doorbell ring.

‘Don’t get up,’ Joshua drawled, unfurling his long frame with deceptive speed from his chair. ‘It’ll probably be for me.’

To her disbelief Clemency found herself instantly obeying the commanding hand as it waved her back to her seat. He was giving her orders in her own home now?

‘I’m expecting some fencing this morning, and left a note explaining where I was,’ he added casually, striding into the hall. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

There was the murmur of male voices followed a few seconds later by the slam of her front door.

Well, really! Clemency felt a gurgle of laughter rising in her throat as she surveyed the chair opposite her. She had wished for his departure, but hadn’t expected it to be quite so abrupt.

Permission to stand up in my own house? She inclined her head towards the empty chair and, gathering up the two empty mugs, carried them across to the sink, heaving a sigh as her eyes encountered the brown parcel.