Anne Mather - Dangerous Temptation

But she was not a quitter, and although she knew she had made a terrible mistake, she was still prepared to give the marriage a chance. She’d known how disappointed her father would be if she said she wanted to divorce Nathan. Particularly when he’d invested so much hope in their union.

She’d discovered Nathan was being unfaithful to her less than three months after their return to London. Seeing him with another woman had shaken her, and she had listened to his excuses with a heavy heart.

She’d learned Lisa Abbott’s name just a few weeks later.

The woman was an American, she discovered, and he had known her for years. He had apparently invited her to join him in London, and he had been using the credit card her father had given him to pay for a room at a hotel.

Caitlin had been searching, quite legitimately, for her address book when she’d found the damning statement crumpled at the back of a drawer. She probably shouldn’t have looked at it. The very fact that she hadn’t seen it before should have warned her it was nothing to do with her. But curiosity got the better of her, and like any normal wife, she’d wanted to know what it was.

The row that had followed had been painfully destructive, the first real indication that any hopes she still might have nurtured for their marriage had been hopelessly naïve. She’d walked out of the flat afterwards, with every intention of seeing a solicitor. She couldn’t go on living with a man to whom deceit was second nature.

But it was evening when she left the flat. All solicitors’ offices were closed, and rather than go back, she’d taken a room in a hotel. She’d had no knowledge that her father had had a heart attack until she’d arrived at her parents’ home the next day to find an ambulance—and Nathan’s car—already in the drive.

The sight of her father being carried from the house on a stretcher had sent her running towards the pillared portico. Matthew Webster was clearly unconscious, but her mother was there, with Nathan just behind her, and she’d raised accusing eyes to her daughter’s face.

“What is it? What’s happened?” cried Caitlin, convinced in those first few minutes that Nathan was responsible for her father’s collapse. She was quite prepared to believe he had told some cock-and-bull tale to her parents, blaming her for the rift between them and destroying all her father’s hopes for their marriage.

“Where have you been?” retorted her mother tearfully. “If Nathan hadn’t come at once, I don’t know what I’d have done.” She glanced round at her son-in-law gratefully. “We’ve both been trying desperately to find you. If you must continue to go out with your friends, you might at least leave Nathan an address where you can be reached.”

Caitlin’s eyes moved to her husband’s then, and his smug expression was almost her undoing. But how could she accuse Nathan of anything in the present circumstances? With the guilt successfully transferred to her shoulders, it was doubtful if even her mother would believe her.

Of course, Caitlin could tell from Nathan’s expression that he knew she wouldn’t say anything now. That half-amused arrogance, quickly disguised when her mother turned to speak to him, was a clear indication of what he was thinking. There was no question now of Caitlin betraying his falseness. Until her father recovered his strength, her hands were tied.

And, unfortunately, since that afternoon, Matthew Webster had never completely regained his strength. He’d recovered from the attack, but his doctor had warned him there was still a weakness in his heart, and he had to avoid any kind of stress.

For her part, Caitlin had eventually resigned herself to the hypocrisy of her marriage. The awful thing was that, as the weeks and months went by, she had actually begun to ask herself what she had to gain by ruining Nathan’s reputation. She was grateful that the physical side of their marriage was over, but from an objective point of view, he provided a shield. At least no other man attempted to seduce her. As Nathan’s wife, she was protected from men like him.

Gradually, however, she had become aware of a change in her father’s attitude towards her husband. He no longer seemed confident that Nathan was the man to succeed him. These days, he never spoke about giving Nathan more authority, and his sudden appointment of Marshall O’Brien as his second in command had placed a definite strain on their relationship….

“Mrs Wolfe?”

The unfamiliar masculine voice arrested her uneasy thoughts, bringing her abruptly back to earth. Whatever had happened in the past didn’t much matter now. Nathan was injured, maybe seriously, and even her father couldn’t blame him for that.

An elderly man in a white lab coat was looking down at her, and she forced her brain into action. “Dr—Harper?”

“That’s right.” Harper looked both harassed and weary. “Come with me, please, Mrs Wolfe. I’ll explain why I wanted to speak to you before you see your husband.”

“Good luck.”

Emmy’s mother called the words after her as Caitlin followed the stoop-shouldered medic into the corridor, and she raised a grateful hand. She had the feeling she was going to need all the luck she could get if Dr Harper’s expression was anything to go by.

The corridors were still busy, with orderlies transferring patients from one ward to another. Although she tried not to look at all the gurneys they passed, the need to reassure herself that Nathan wasn’t on one of them was irresistible. But none of the pale faces she saw even remotely resembled her husband. Wherever Nathan was, she was not to be allowed to see him until this unsmiling doctor had delivered his doubtful news.

The office he eventually appropriated was obviously not his own. A nurse, who had apparently been snatching a quick cigarette, was unceremoniously despatched, and Dr Harper opened a window to allow the noxious fumes to disperse. It allowed a draught of cold air to enter the office, however, and Caitlin blamed that for the sudden chill that slid down her spine.

“Please—sit down.”

Harper gestured to a chair beside the desk, and although Caitlin would have preferred to stand, she obediently complied. The truth was, she felt less helpless when she was standing. As if whatever blow she was going to be expected to weather could be overcome better when she was on her feet.

“Thank you.”

Her gratitude was as spurious as the tight smile she bestowed on her companion, and the doctor hesitated only a moment before seating himself behind the desk. It occurred to Caitlin then that he probably welcomed the respite. He wasn’t a young man, and he’d obviously been continually on his feet throughout the night.

“You’re English, Mrs Wolfe,” he remarked at last, unnecessarily, Caitlin felt, but she assumed it was his way of starting the interview. Whatever he had to say, it was probably easier to get the formalities over first. Hospitals had their own form of protocol, even in circumstances like these.

“Yes,” she replied now, crossing her legs and making sure the skirt of her coat covered her trembling knees. “I flew over from London this morning.”

“This morning?”

Harper arched a quizzical brow, and Caitlin felt obliged to explain. “On the Concorde,” she appended quickly. “I was lucky enough to get a cancellation.”

“Ah.” He inclined his bead. “Your husband’s not English, of course.”

Caitlin began to understand.

“No,” she said evenly. “Nathan was born in this country. As a matter of fact, he was over here visiting his—oh, God!” She broke off as a horrifying thought occurred to her. “Has—has anyone informed Nathan’s father? If he knew his son was on the flight, he must be worried sick. And he’s not a well man—at least, that’s what Nathan said.”