Sara Craven - Marriage Under Suspicion

‘I told you why last night.’ He sounded faintly amused. ‘As soon as I’ve drunk my coffee, I’m off to Whitmead.’

‘You’ve been invited to lunch.’ She heard a pettish note in her voice, and tried to sound more beguiling. ‘It surely won’t take all morning for you to drive there.’

‘Dad wants me to help him with some fencing.’

‘Oh.’ Kate straightened. ‘And that naturally takes precedence over your wife?’

‘It does today.’ He set the glass of orange juice down on the worktop. ‘You seem to have forgotten that you weren’t even going to be here.’

He paused. ‘Tell me, Kate, if the wedding had gone ahead, and I’d asked you particularly to come with me today, would that have taken precedence over the usual mopping-up operations?’

‘That’s not fair,’ she protested. ‘A wedding—or any kind of party—is entirely different. I set it up beforehand, and supervised the clearing-up afterwards. I don’t have a choice in this. It’s work.’

He shrugged. ‘On the other hand, it could simply be a question of priorities. And today mine have been decided for me.’

He pushed the slice of toast to one side, untouched, and walked to the door. On the way past, he turned to her, his hands reaching for her wrists, pinioning her suddenly against the wall.

Kate gasped, half in indignation, half in excitement, as she twisted against his imprisoning grasp in an unavailing attempt to free herself.

Ryan’s hazel eyes were unsmiling but intent as they looked into hers, watching her pupils dilate in anticipation, in the beginnings of an arousal she was powerless to control.

He leaned forward and kissed her slowly, almost insolently, his teeth grazing her lip, his tongue gliding against hers like heated silk.

Her response was immediate. Her mouth moved against his, sweetly, greedily. She lifted the hands which clasped hers, and placed them on her breasts.

She thought, exultantly, He’s mine.

His leg parted her thighs, pressing the satin of her gown against the moist satin of her body in a deliberate, tantalising friction which forced a tormented moan from her throat.

She wanted him so fiercely that it hurt. She needed to feel him sheathed inside her—to be taken, there and then, against the wall, or on the floor. She wanted to see his cool, ironic control shattered in tiny pieces. To possess him, to know that he was as driven and desperate as she was herself.

Even when he stepped back, his breathing hurried and harsh, she thought she’d won.

She hooked her fingers under the straps of her gown, and pulled them down, letting the folds of satin slide down her body, and cascade around her bare feet. She waited, her nakedness a challenge, her body heated and ready for his invasion.

And saw him smile at her.

‘Goodbye, darling,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t ever think I wasn’t tempted.’

He turned, and walked away from her towards the main door.

For a second, she was too shocked to move or speak. Then sheer outrage rescued her.

‘Bastard,’ she hurled after him, chokingly. ‘Don’t you dare walk out on me.’

But Ryan’s only response was to blow her one mocking kiss as he left.

Kate closed down her computer, and switched off the power, sitting for a moment and staring at the blank screen. She could only hope that what she’d stored over the past hour made some kind of sense, but she guaranteed nothing.

For once, her mind had not been on the job in hand.

Instead, she’d found herself going over and over again the events of the past twenty-four hours, as if she were trapped on some weary treadmill.

And the inescapable and unpalatable fact facing her was that, leaving aside whether or not Ryan was actually having an affair, her own relationship with him seemed to have reached some kind of watershed.

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