Anne Mather - Sinful Truths

There had been pictures, too, but Isobel hadn’t looked at those. She wouldn’t have seen the article at all if Lady Hannah hadn’t saved it for her. She winced. Sometimes she couldn’t make up her mind whether her mother truly had her best interests at heart or if she got some perverted kind of pleasure out of proving that she had been right all along.

‘Thanks.’

While she had been wool-gathering Jake had finished the can, and now he crushed it in his fist before dropping it into the swing bin beside the sink.

Isobel forced herself to concentrate on what she was doing. ‘Do you want another?’ she asked, grateful that the kettle had boiled and she could make her tea. Her legs felt decidedly wobbly and she would be glad when she could sit down.

‘Not right now.’ Jake shifted restlessly as she put milk into a mug and filled it from the pot. Then, in a low voice, ‘I guess I should apologise.’

Isobel tried not to show her surprise. Flicking him an uncertain glance, she moved past him into the living room again. ‘If you mean it,’ she said at last, resuming the seat she’d occupied earlier on the sofa. She sipped her tea. ‘Mmm, I was ready for this.’

She was aware that Jake was still standing in the doorway behind her, and she wished she could see his face. Or perhaps not, she amended. She had never been able to hide her feelings from him.

When her nerves felt as if they’d been stretched to breaking point he moved into the room, but instead of sitting in the armchair, as before, he joined her on the couch.

‘I mean it,’ he said, his weight depressing the cushion beside her. ‘I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. But, dammit, Belle, I thought she knew.’

Isobel steeled herself to look at him. ‘Knew what?’ she asked, though she knew exactly what he meant.

Jake blew out a breath. ‘That I’m not her father,’ he declared harshly. ‘If you insist on having me say it yet again.’

Isobel’s dark brows ascended. ‘But you are her father,’ she said, as she had said so many times before. ‘You just don’t want to believe it.’

‘Damn right.’ He sounded angry. ‘For God’s sake, Isobel, how long are you going to persist with this—this fabrication?’

Isobel put her mug down on the table beside her. ‘As long as it takes, I suppose,’ she replied, amazed that she could sound so cool when inside she was burning up. Then, realising that she couldn’t delay the moment any longer, she lifted her shoulders in a wary gesture. ‘Why don’t you tell me why you wanted to see me?’

Jake stared at her, his eyes as vivid as jade in his dark face. ‘Do you think it’s fair on Emily to give her unreal expectations?’ he demanded, without answering her, and Isobel sighed.

‘You mean because her father refuses to acknowledge her?’ she asked tersely. ‘I don’t think so.’

Jake’s jaw hardened. ‘Dammit, she’s not my child!’

‘She is.’

‘How can you say that? When you and Piers Mallory were having an affair at the time?’

Isobel pursed her lips. ‘We were not having an affair!’

‘You slept with him.’

‘I was in bed with him,’ she said, annoyed to find her voice was shaking. ‘But not through choice.’

Jake snorted. ‘Oh, right. Are you saying he raped you now?’

‘No.’ Isobel picked up her tea again, endeavouring to warm her frozen hands on the mug. ‘But I’d been drinking. I don’t remember anything about it.’

With an oath Jake got up from the sofa and paced grimly across the rug. His powerful frame cast a long shadow across the hearth and she turned to stare into the flames of the gas fire rather than look at him. But the temptation to do so was almost irresistible, and only the fact that the hot liquid was burning her palms caused her to turn her attention to putting the mug down again.

‘He was my friend,’ said Jake, speaking through his teeth, and Isobel felt the familiar frustration building inside her.

‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘That was the trouble, wasn’t it? You couldn’t believe your friend could do something so—so—’

‘Unlikely?’ suggested Jake scornfully, but Isobel shook her head.

‘So despicable,’ she corrected, looking up at him with accusing eyes. ‘And on that basis you decided that Emily couldn’t possibly be your daughter. That she was his.’

Jake blew out a breath. ‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘I’ll bet.’

‘For God’s sake, Belle, be honest for once in your life!’ Jake came to stand in front of her and she averted her eyes from the impressive bulge of his manhood. ‘We’d been married for three years, dammit, and you hadn’t got pregnant. Are you telling me we suddenly got lucky? I don’t think so.’

‘We’d been trying to avoid me getting pregnant,’ cried Isobel fiercely. ‘You know that.’

‘But accidents happen. That’s what you said, isn’t it?’

Isobel groaned. ‘Well, what are you saying?’ she demanded, putting out a hand as if to ward him off. ‘That Piers Mallory is so—so macho that one night with him was enough?’

‘If it was just one night,’ retorted Jake harshly. ‘And I only have your word for that.’

Isobel couldn’t sit still any longer. Trembling violently, she got to her feet, pushing him aside and stumbling away from the sofa. Of course he only had her word for it. Piers was never going to admit what he’d done.

‘In any case, your getting pregnant was just adding insult to injury,’ said Jake heavily, and there was a trace of bitterness in his voice now. ‘How could you do it, Belle? How could you have an affair with my best friend? God, you knew how I’d feel about it. Piers and I had been friends since we started college.’

Isobel gripped the back of a chair for support, her nails digging into the fabric as she struggled to regain control. ‘Piers was never your friend, Jake,’ she said, ignoring his immediate growl of derision. ‘He wasn’t. He was jealous of you, of our life together. He’d have done anything to split us up.’

‘That’s crap and you know it.’ Jake was scathing. ‘I don’t know why you keep repeating the same old story, the same old lies. It’s not as if I haven’t heard it all before.’

Isobel held up her head. ‘I suppose I’m hoping that one day you’ll come to your senses and believe me,’ she replied huskily. ‘That you’ll at least consider that Emily might be your daughter.’

‘She’s not,’ said Jake flatly. ‘She’s nothing like me.’

‘She’s nothing like Piers Mallory either,’ retorted Isabel, feeling the familiar wave of despair creeping over her. ‘For pity’s sake, Jake, when have I ever lied to you?’

‘When you told me that you and Piers had never slept together,’ Jake responded at once. ‘You were pretty convincing then.’

‘Because it’s true.’

‘But you’re not denying he was making love to you when I found you?’

Isobel’s shoulders sagged. ‘He was trying to, yes.’

‘Right.’ Jake regarded her contemptuously. ‘So why do you persist in saying you never had sex with him?’

Isobel shook her head. ‘I don’t believe I did. In any case, I was—afraid.’

‘Afraid of me?’

‘Afraid of what would happen if you believed I’d been unfaithful to you,’ she moaned miserably. ‘I knew how you’d react.’

‘You weren’t wrong.’ Jake gave a weary shake of his head. ‘And you told me you didn’t even like him.’

‘I didn’t.’

But Isobel knew she was fighting a losing battle. It was a battle she’d been fighting and losing for the past eleven years, and nothing she said or did was going to change Jake’s mind now.

‘It’s getting late,’ he said abruptly. ‘And you look exhausted, never mind Emily. I’d better go.’