Sally Wentworth - The Guilty Wife

That made Lucie start to laugh, but soon she was gasping, her eyes closing in exquisite sensuality then opening to see their straining bodies in the mirror. She moaned, the eroticism of it almost too much to bear, and then cried out in ecstasy as Seton lifted her off the ground and held her to him. They were free tonight, with Sam not there, to give voice to their excitement, to cry out the other’s name, to give full rein to a hunger that was heightened but never satiated.

Lucie woke late the next morning, able to sleep in because Sam wasn’t there and Seton didn’t have to go to work. She showered and dressed, taking her time, smiling when she saw her discarded hat on the floor. Carefully she packed it away in her wardrobe, sentimentally thinking that she would keep it for ever, take it out when they were old and grey and smile in happy remembrance of the past night.

Seton had made breakfast and was sitting in their big, sunlit kitchen reading the paper. He glanced at the back page then gave an exclamation of astonishment. ‘Lucie! Your picture’s in the paper!’

‘What?’

She looked over his shoulder as he held the paper for her to see. It made a good photograph, in colour, all of them in their chic outfits, laughing and happy as they held out their glasses to catch the fountain of bubbles like diamonds in the sun. Lucie was in the forefront, easily recognisable, the most attractive of them all, and her name was clearly given, along with the name of the village from which they all came.

Seton said, ‘How amazing. You didn’t tell me you’d had it taken.’

‘I forgot. There were so many beautiful women there, and lots of photographers going around. I didn’t think they’d ever print it.’

‘But it’s a wonderful shot. You all look so happy.’ He grinned at her and put his arm round her waist. ‘I told you you’d be the most beautiful woman there.’

She gave him a hug and sat opposite him, helping herself to cereals, looking across at the photograph as Seton read the rest of the paper. Her heart sank a little and Lucie wondered if she had changed much over the last ten years. Would anyone who had known her then recognise the same person in the sophisticated young woman in the picture? On the whole she thought not, and they certainly wouldn’t recognise the name of Lucie Wallace, of course. That thought made Lucie feel considerably better, enough to make her laugh at her fears as absurd. She was safe now—safe and secure in the world that Seton had given her.

He gave a sound of disdain and read out an item from the paper that had caught his eye. He often did this, keeping up with the news, especially with politics, and frequently made some quite scathing remarks when he disagreed with something. Often, though, he read out items that amused him too, or that aroused his sympathy. ‘You must read this piece,’ he told her, a few minutes later. ‘It’s a report on how women drivers can take steps to protect themselves if they break down when they’re alone.’

‘You’ve already given me a mobile phone.’

‘Wouldn’t hurt to read it, though.’

Lucie smiled, knowing that his most anxious concern was always for her safety and well-being.

He made another angry sound. ‘They’ll have to do something about the overcrowding in the prisons. There’s a piece here about a man who shot a policeman actually being allowed out four years early. He was sentenced to fifteen years but has only served eleven.’

The jug of fruit juice that Lucie was holding slipped dangerously in her hand as her blood ran cold. ‘R-really? What—what was his name?’ Somehow she managed to say the words although her voice seemed somehow disembodied, not part of herself any more.

‘What?’ Seton’s eyes had already moved on, but he looked back at the item. Even before he spoke she somehow knew what he was going to say. The premonition was so strong that she felt no surprise when he said, ‘Some foreign name. Oh, yes, here it is. Rick Ravena.’

He went on to say something else but Lucie didn’t hear him; time seemed to have stopped. It was the only name in all the world that she had hoped never to hear again, the name of the man who had ruined her life, whose vindictiveness had sent her to prison for something she hadn’t done.

CHAPTER TWO

LUCIE went on automatically pouring the orange juice, but her hand was shaking now and she slopped some onto the table. Quickly she got up to get a cloth, turned her back on Seton so that he couldn’t see her face.

He glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better get a move on; remember, we’re booked for a game of tennis at the club before we pick up Sam from my parents.’

Lucie desperately wanted to be alone, to try and come to terms with this terrible news. She thought about saying that she didn’t feel up to playing tennis, but knew that Seton would insist on staying with her if she felt unwell. So perhaps it would be better to go; at least they would be among other people, so that Seton’s attention would be distracted from her. They were so close that she was very afraid that he would notice there was something wrong.

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