Come Home To Love (Harlequin Signature Select)

by Joan Hohl

Tired of her own thoughts, the endless circle her mind seemed to revolve in, she sought out Mary much of the time. A few days after Matt had left for the conference, Mary came into the sitting room to find Katherine staring out the window, shaking with fury.

  "You've just had lunch with the butterfly sisters," Mary remarked dryly.

  Katherine turned from the window, face pale with anger, lips quivering in agitation. Not trusting herself

  to speak yet she nodded her head. She had spent the last hour, in the dining room, as the target of saccharine-sweet poisoned barbs aimed at her from Beth and DeDe. Interspersed between the barbs, the two women had gaily made plans for when Matt came home, omitting Katherine from them as if she was not there. I must be out of my mind, she thought furiously. How long do I think I can put up with this? Falling in love with that beast has scrambled my brain, for heaven's sake.

  She had been staring at the carpet broodingly and now, glancing up, she found Mary's concerned eyes on her face.

  "You don't look too good, Kate, you know that?" Mary asked quietly.

  A small bitter smile twisting her soft mouth, Katherine murmured, "I could hardly help but know, could I? There are times during the course of one's day when one has no choice but to look in the mirror."

  Mary's eyes sharpened. Katherine's cynical tone was completely out of character.

  "Is there some physical cause?" The nurse in Mary had to ask, although she was sure the answer would be negative.

  "No. No, Mary, I'm not ill. At least not physically. There are times, though, when I'm sure I'm about to go round the bend, as Tom would say." She forced a small, brittle laugh that didn't come off too well, and Mary snapped, "Kate! What the hell are those two she-dragons doing to you? And why the hell are you letting them? Oh, I know," Mary went on quickly at Katherine's raised brows. "But no man, not even the fantastic Matt, is worth the kind of mental agony you've been going through. I wonder if you do really realize how drawn

  and wacked out you look? You're in worse shape now than you were in September."

  Katherine swung back to the window, tears smarting her eyes. "I know, I know," she whispered in an odd, faraway tone. Mary subsided onto a chair and picked up the sweater she was knitting for Jon, glancing apprehensively every few minutes at the slim, taut figure at the window.

  September. That one word spun her into the past, the recent past. Was it only two months ago?

  By the end of summer Katherine had become as tight as a miser's purse strings, and the one thing she had not needed was one of Matt's old girlfriends. Needed or not, that was exactly what she got in the form of a thirty-five-year-old pale-skinned, raven-haired beauty Beth had invited to the house, along with several other young women, for lunch and bridge.

  Katherine had agreed to join them for lunch but when, lunch over, they had moved into the family room, where card tables were permanently set up, she excused herself and strolled into the garden.

  The garden was a riot of late summer color and Katherine breathed deeply the heady scent of roses. She had not heard the dark haired woman, who had been introduced to her as Rosalie Marella, until she spoke softly at Katherine's shoulder. "The garden is lovely. Matt must be pleased with it." Just Matt? Katherine wondered and then thought cynically, I doubt if he's even noticed it. But aloud she replied, "Yes," turning to examine the woman more closely then she had earlier. Rosalie was a truly beautiful woman, with fine dark brows, a small straight nose and perfectly shaped lips on an oval face of clear, pale matte. The paleness of her skin was

  relieved by the dusky rose color in her high cheekbones and her flashing black eyes.

  In the few short seconds Katherine studied the other woman she felt an instinctive twinge of apprehension and with Rosalie's next words her twinge was proved accurate.

  "I've been wanting to meet you ever since I heard that Matt had finally married. Curious to see the woman who had managed to draw the nuptial noose around his neck." Rosalie's voice, though soft and well modulated, had a fine edge which sent an alarmed tingle slithering along Katherine's spine.

  They had been strolling along the graveled path, bordered by rose trees, and, a mask of cool composure firmly in place Katherine stopped, turned slowly and calmly asked, "Why should you be curious about me?"

  Rosalie returned stare for stare, before asking, in a strained voice, "You don't know who I am, do you?"

  "Should I?" Katherine countered.

  "I thought you might. Beth being Beth, you know," Rosalie replied thoughtfully. Then, giving a small shrug, she added ruefully, "Just like Beth to invite me here this way, when Matt's not home." Black eyes snapping, she said bluntly, "I am one of Matt's ex-mistresses. The only one, I think, that he might have married. I was too smart to become pregnant. Considered it much too old hat, a gambit that probably wouldn't work. It seems I outsmarted myself on that angle."

  The words hit Katherine like a blow and she felt sick to her stomach. She had known, of course, of a few sneering remarks made when she'd delivered Jon not eight full months after their wedding, but she'd thought these remarks had been very few. Now she wondered although, in truth, she didn't really care. What had sick-

  ened her had been the boldness of Rosalie's first statement. The sick feeling spread as Rosalie continued calmly, "We were together for over two and a half years and I think I know him better than anyone else, including his ex-wife. Matt is incapable of feeling the emotion of love. Deep, romantic love, I mean. Oh, I'm sure he loves his son, the child being an extension of himself. And he loves women. Oh my, yes, he does love women. But in a purely physical, animal way, nothing deep or binding."

  Katherine stood staring at her mutely, unsure which was worse, the actual words or the calm, detached tone in which they were delivered. For Rosalie was obviously carrying a flaming torch for Matt.

  How does one respond to statements such as this, Katherine wondered wildly. This woman was speaking of Matt as if he were some casual acquaintance they both knew and, good Lord, they had both shared his bed. She unwillingly, it was true, but that was hardly the point.

  Nausea gripping her throat, her face gone frozen, Katherine spun on her heels, bit out icily, "If you'll excuse me," and forced herself to walk slowly into the house and up the stairs, one thought pounding inside her head—I have got to get out of here.

  She paused long enough to snap at Mary, "Don't ask questions, just throw some clothes for Jon and yourself into a bag as quickly as possible. I want to be out of here in ten minutes."

  It was closer to fifteen minutes later when they left the house quietly and went to the garage, Katherine thinking that if Jack tried to stop her she'd fire him on the spot. Matt had replaced the black Cadillac he had put at her disposal after their marriage with a new silver-gray one as a gift to her when Jon was born. She

  knew the title was in her name and standing beside the gleaming machine she demanded the keys from Jack.

  "But, Mrs. M., I have my orders. I'm to drive you anywhere you wish to go." Jack sounded more than a little confused, but adamant.

  "Is this legally my car?" she bit out.

  "Yes, ma'am, but—" Jack began, then his eyes widened at the unaccustomed sharpness of her tone as she cut him off.

  "Then give me the keys at once or I'll call the police and report it as stolen."

  He eyed her reproachfully but dug into his pocket for the keys. Placing them into her outstretched palm, he made one last try. "The boss is going to be very angry about this, Mrs. M."

  Katherine's smile was over-sweet, her voice acid. 'The boss can go to hell."

  She felt a momentary regret for the position she'd placed Jack in as she backed the Cadillac out of the garage, but with a mental shrug dismissed it. She had enough problems of her own without taking on Jack's. She drove the car sedately down the driveway then out onto the road and freedom.

  "Do you have any idea of where we're going?" Mary asked softly, settling the sleeping Jon more comfortably on her lap.

  "
Yes, of course I do." Katherine laughed in sheer relief at getting away. Then, sobering, she added, "We're going to the house in the Poconos. I need a few days to make some plans and I can't think of any place else to go."

  "And what about Matt?" Mary asked.

  "What about him?" Katherine's voice had grown tight again. Then shaking her head ruefully, she added

  more normally, "I'm sorry, Mary, of course I intend to let him know where I am. But I need a few days alone first, I really need them, Mary."

  She was not to have those few days. They stopped for an early dinner and arrived at the house in the mountains shortly after five o'clock. A few minutes after their arrival Mr. and Mrs. Darcy rushed in, all flustered and put out because they hadn't been notified as to Katherine's coming. Katherine soothed their ruffled feathers, declared the house spotless, which it was, then finally managed to assure them they would not be needed until morning.

  Two hours later Katherine and Mary sat staring at the small fire Mary had built in the huge fireplace, sipping at the coffee Katherine had brewed, when Matt strode into the room, followed by a worried looking John.

  Katherine looked up in astonishment, a shaft of fear stabbing at her chest. Matt's face was set in cold, harsh lines of anger and his eyes made Katherine shudder. She wanted to move, jump up and run, but two icy chips of pure rage pinned her to the chair. She had thought his eyes could be riveting, now she knew they could also be terrifying.

  She moistened her lips, but before she could speak, he rasped coldly, "Where is Jon?"

  "In—in his crib, asleep." She hated the tremor in her voice, but did not seem able to control it.

  His eyes locked on hers, he snapped, "Mary, get Jon and your things together. John will take you home."

  "Now? Tonight?" Katherine cried.

  "Now. Tonight. This minute, Mary." His voice flicked at Mary, although his eyes held hard on Katherine.

  Mary jumped off her chair and ran from the room

  with the agility of a teenager. One didn't argue with Matt when he gave an order in that tone of voice.

  Matt's eyes finally released their hold on Katherine as he turned sharply and strode into the kitchen, where she could hear him get coffee for John and himself.

  Days later, Katherine would wonder exactly how long she had sat frozen to her chair. For when she finally did move it was too late. She dashed up the stairs, softly cursing the fact that she had already showered and changed into nightgown, robe and slippers, flung open the bedroom door and ran across the room to the closet, one thought in mind: To dress and go with Jon and Mary.

  She was fumbling in the closet for something to pull on when she heard the soft click of the door closing. The dress dropped to the floor from nerveless fingers as she turned slowly to face him, saying softly, "Mary and Jon?"

  Matt leaned back against the door as if barring her way. He had removed his coat and suit jacket and his white shirt outlined his broad shoulders against the dark wood of the door. Eyes narrowing, he rasped, "Just leaving." Then cocking his head in a listening attitude he added, "There goes the car now. Incidentally, I told John to take the Caddy. I truly hope you won't call the police and report it as stolen."

  Katherine felt her face go hot at the sarcasm that laced his words and she shot back defensively, "It was the only way I could think of to get the keys from Jack."

  Matt shook his head slowly, his fingers working at the knot in his tie. Undoing the two top buttons of his shirt he sauntered into the room sliding the tie from around his neck and dropping it onto the dresser.

  Katherine watched him warily as she slowly stooped, picked up the dress she'd dropped and rehung it in the

  closet. He stopped in the middle of the room, placed his fisted hands on his hips and asked quietly, "What is all this about, Katherine?"

  Katherine shivered thinking his quieter tone more intimidating than his earlier, sharper one. Forcing a calmness she didn't feel into her own voice, she answered. "I'm leaving you, Matt." She managed a light shrug before adding, "I thought I already had."

  "Why?" His voice was a hair less quiet. "What is it you want, Katherine? It's not money, because you obviously couldn't care less about mine. So what is it?"

  "I want a divorce, Matt."

  "No." Flat, final, the way he spoke the one word should have warned her, but in her agitation she ignored it. "Why not?" Unable to stand still any longer she walked jerkily around the room, unaware that her hands tugged nervously at the ends of her knotted robe belt.

  "No divorce, Katherine."

  This time the warning note reached her and spinning around to face him, she fought for control, before saying more calmly, "All right, no divorce. But you asked me what I want. I want to take Jon and go. Get my own apartment, come and go as I please. I don't expect you to support me, in fact, I don't want you to. I don't want anything from you."

  "Except my son." The three words were spoken coldly, slowly, each one measured.

  "Yes, your son," Katherine retorted. "Who is almost seven months old and you've hardly even looked at him."

  "I've looked," he drawled.

  Growing frustrated, Katherine pleaded reasonably. "Matt, I have no wish to deprive you of your son. I know I couldn't do that if I wanted to. But I do not want

  to. You may see your son at any time. All I'm asking of you is to let us go."

  Less than two feet of carpeted floor separated them and her eyes studied him, trying to read his thoughts. Impossible scrutiny, for his face was closed to her, his eyes shuttered.

  Seconds stretched into long minutes before he answered her. "All right, Katherine, if that's what you want."

  Slowly she exhaled the breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding and murmuring, "Thank you," she walked to the door, only to stop, hand on the knob when he asked, "Do you mind if I wait until morning to leave?"

  The subtle change in his voice should have alerted her. For the second time in less than an hour she'd missed the danger signal.

  "No, of course not, this is your house, Matt, I wouldn't think of asking you to leave it tonight."

  Hand still on the knob she made a half turn to look at him as she spoke, watching as he walked across the room to her.

  "That's right, this is my house." His voice was a silky rasp and Katherine felt the first flickerings of alarm. "And that is my bed. And you are my wife. And tonight you will sleep in my house, in my bed... with me."

  Katherine's eyes widened in fear. She should have known he wouldn't let her off that easily. Shaking her head firmly she whispered hoarsely, "No, Matt." If she tried she couldn't imagine a worse punishment than being subjected to his brand of mechanical possession. Her hand twisted the knob and pulled the door open as she turned away from him repeating her refusal. "No, Matt."

  His hands clasped her shoulders painfully, spinning her back around to face him again. Holding her firmly still he rasped, "Yes, Katherine, and this time it will be my way."

  His way? What did he mean, his way? She stood rigid under his hands, her racing thoughts paralyzing her. She had heard, read about men who brutalized their wives at times, but surely not Matt! Her fear grew, closing her throat, setting her heart pounding at a terrifying rate.

  Eyes darkening, his hands dropped to her knotted belt, tugging it open and none too gently.

  "Matt, please."

  Shaking his head he growled, "Be quiet," as his hands moved up and under the lapels of her robe. He began sliding the robe off, paused long enough to slip his thumbs under the narrow straps of her nightgown, then slid both garments off her shoulders. One long arm reached past her head, his fingers touched a button, and the room was plunged into darkness. The next instant she was swept into his hard arms and tossed onto the bed. Fingers gripping the soft, furry material of the bed spread, she lay still, her body frozen with panic.

  Silvery strips of moonlight gleaming through the louvered doors gave a pale glow to the room and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness Katherine could
see Matt's large outline as he undressed. When he slid onto the bed she felt her spine lift as it tightened even more stiffly.

  Life came rushing back into her limbs when his hand slid over her flat tummy to her hip. With a sudden lurch she swung her legs off the bed but she just wasn't fast enough. His arm shot out, caught her legs midthigh and swung them back again. Then with slow deliberation his hand moved caressingly down the length of her leg and

  back up again, over her hip, to her waist, coming to stop cupping her breast.

  "You have beautiful long legs, you know that, Kath-erine? Even when you were a kid you were a leggy dame." His voice was a soft, raspy caress at her ear and the trembling that had begun at the touch of his hand intensified. The upper part of his body shifted, moved over her and as he lowered his head she turned her face away, as she always did. The next second his hand had left her breast and he was gripping her chin, forcing her head around.

  "Not this time, Kate," he murmured, his hard mouth covering hers in a fierce, passionate kiss. Moments later he raised his head and growled, "Damn you, open your mouth." As he spoke he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and giving a short, firm, downward tug forced her lips apart.

  "Ma—" The protest was lost inside his mouth. He kissed her roughly at first, almost brutally, then with deepening sensuality. The trembling that had shaken her body changed to a quiver and her fingers uncurled. His hands seemed to set off tiny explosions under her skin wherever he touched her. She felt desolate when his mouth left hers, then an exquisite sensation as his lips slid along her cheek to her neck. His teeth nipped sharply at her earlobe, bringing a gasp of pain, intertwined with pleasure.

  "Let go, Kate," he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. "Touch me. Let me love you. Love me back."

  His words broke through the last of her weakening defenses. Her body felt consumed with heat and she wanted to touch him more than she'd ever wanted anything before. A soft moan escaping through her parted