Though it was odd, very odd, because she felt as if she loved him—even now. Looking up at his saturnine features, that unyielding mouth, the short, dark hair, and his blue-black eyes, she felt a great wail of love cry out inside her. Except that it wasn’t love, because they didn’t even know each other. Shakily she stumbled to her feet. ‘Guy,’ she sighed, not knowing where to begin, ‘you just said that you loved me.’
‘Yes. Well, I guess I was wrong about that.’
She nodded slowly. ‘You were. All the things you’ve accused me of today are dreadfully, horribly wrong. Which means that you never knew me. So you couldn’t have loved me.’
And then, when she looked into his eyes he looked away. But not before she saw tears standing there.
‘It felt as if I knew you once or twice…’ he said thickly. ‘Windsurfing…I wanted to catch hold of you in the water…and then the next day, when you rubbed that sand into my back.’ He stopped talking very abruptly, and redrew the lines of his face into their familiar mask. ‘I was wrong,’ he finished stiffly. ‘I was physically obsessed by you, Jane. That was all. I wanted you so badly I could hardly control myself. Once we were engaged it was intolerable. I had to keep out of your way, because I didn’t trust myself.’ He let out a pained sigh. ‘Though why I bothered…? Of course, I thought we were going to be married for ever then. I wanted to start it right. To earn your respect. To build us a solid foundation.’
Jane’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were so bright that she had to blink several times before she could see clearly. When she had mastered her emotions she continued staunchly, ‘I’m not trying to tell you that you’ve got me wrong in order to save my own face, you know? If I were really the money-grubbing little bitch you seem to think that I am, then of course then I’d be bound to tell you that you’d got me wrong, because I don’t suppose even money-grubbing little bitches like to admit that that’s what they are. So I can’t prove to you that I’m telling the truth. All I can do is to tell it.’
She took a deep breath, aware that Guy was looking resolutely at the floor, determined not to meet her eye. ‘I’m telling you that you’ve got me wrong because I don’t want you to pity my family, Guy. They’re remarkable people. As you once pointed out, I’m very close to them. It was easy to let go of them when I married you… because…’ Even now she couldn’t bring herself to admit to him that she loved him. It would seem too pat. He would never believe her—and anyway, he didn’t love her any more, so it would be too humiliating. Instead she fumbled for another version of the truth. ‘Because. .. they aren’t the clinging type. And they wanted me to marry you. They always wanted me to have what was best for me.’
‘But Jane, don’t you realise that what they want for you isn’t wealth but happiness?’ His eyes burned with intensity, and he put out a hand towards her, but didn’t touch her. ‘Ella didn’t find out much. But she discovered that there had been a Brazilian family trying to adopt you, too. They were wealthy and already had two sons. The wife didn’t want to go through another pregnancy, and anyway, she wanted to make sure that this time round she had a pretty little girl. Your mother fought tooth and nail to make sure that she got you. She didn’t care whether you were pretty or not. She was frightened that this family might reject you if you turned from a beautiful baby into a plain child. Good lord, your mother even told me that she chose your name because it was nice and ordinary and you’d never feel that you had to live up to it in any way. Do you want any more proof than that that all your parents wanted for you was happiness?’
‘But of course! I never had any doubt about that!’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you said on our wedding-day.’ And he sighed such a grey, heavy sigh that all of the breath seemed to shake out of his body. ‘When I asked you whether you’d decided that love didn’t matter, after all,’ he continued, ‘you said you were marrying me so that your parents could see you getting everything. In abundance. Anyhow, it was quite plain what I was offering when I asked you to marry me…the sort of lifestyle you wanted to be able to afford. That’s what you thought your parents wanted for you. That’s why you married me.’
‘It was what you offered. But that wasn’t why I accepted. I…’ She swallowed hard, making a heroic effort to see this through in a dignified way. He didn’t love her any more, so it wouldn’t hurt him that it was all over. But she didn’t want him to be left with a residue of bitterness for the rest of his life. Not when it was so unnecessary. ‘Guy, for all sorts of reasons I felt that fate was taking a hand and I should go along with it. I…I love my family, and I guess I’d always believed that fate had placed me with them. Fate had given me friends from other cultures along the way—friends who told me that love inside a marriage would grow from respect. I really believed when I accepted you that that would happen. I honestly thought it would work. I was wrong, of course.’
‘But Jane,’ Guy said in a voice thick with despair, ‘how could you have hoped to come to respect me when you wouldn’t even let yourself get to know me?’ He paused to reflect for a moment. ‘You know something? It occurred to me, when Ella came over to Tuscany, that when I was telling her about my background it was probably the first time you’d ever heard about it, too… It shook me. Because I thought by then that we were getting somewhere…I really did…though it must have been an illusion. I liked being cut off with you there, all alone. But you were hankering after parties and crowds, and I’d promised you a good social life, because that was what you wanted. But we were better all alone. I’m sure.’
He let out a weary sigh. Then he put up a hand to cover his eyes.
It was a gesture of such numbing vulnerability that she could barely hold herself back from rushing across to him and holding him in her arms. Only the knowledge that he would disdain her comfort held her back.
He let his hand drop and looked at the suitcase at his feet. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Take it with you, Guy,’ she said, bracing herself for his final departure.
He stuffed his clenched fists in his trouser pockets. ‘Yes,’ he said. But she could see that he was nowhere near as calm as he would like her to think, and scarcely fit to drive.
‘Let me make you a cup of tea first,’ she offered impulsively. Then added with a weak smile, ‘No sugar. See? I remember.’
He nodded ruefully. ‘That was about the nearest you ever got to cooking me a meal, wasn’t it? I should have realised from that that it wasn’t going to work. My father was great…and he did finally master the art of the Sunday roast, but I have to admit I always fantasised about having a woman to put a meal on the table for me…Oh, I know it’s old-fashioned and sexist, and I knew perfectly well that you weren’t going to be that sort of wife…’ He gave a resigned smile. ‘That’s why I did the cooking myself—to make sure I didn’t start getting stupid ideas…But we can’t just throw away our histories, can we?’ He sighed. ‘I made a mess of it, Jane. I couldn’t accept you for what you were. I guess I should have stuck to engineering. I will in future.’
‘No, Guy,’ she said softly, leading the way into the kitchen and determined to be strong until the bitter end. ‘You’ll make someone a fine husband one day—and you’ll be a wonderful father, some day too. But next time you make those vows, just make sure that it’s with someone you really love, huh?’ And who loves you too, she prayed inwardly.
‘And what about you, Jane?’ he asked, pulling out a captain’s chair from the scrubbed pine table and sitting down.
Jane filled her heavy kettle and put it on the hotplate of the Aga. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. Instead she just shrugged awkwardly.
‘I admit I seem to have got it wrong about Rupert and that Giesham bloke. But is there anyone in your life who’s likely to make you happy—without the intervention of fate, that is?’
She shook her head so that her glossy hair swung about her face. ‘Nope,’ she said at last, when she had forced down the surging emotion that was threatening to o
verwhelm her. ‘I’ve been pouring all my affection into this house, so far, and I’m beginning to think inanimate objects are my forte, too. I haven’t done all the work yetbut it shouldn’t be difficult to sell, even so. I’ll send you the money as soon as I can.’
He pulled a face. ‘Don’t be crazy. You can keep this house. Keep that bloody suitcase full of bank notes too. I don’t care.’
‘But I do. I don’t need this place—or even want it after all the things we’ve said today. I can’t repay you for all the damage I did when I agreed to marry you for the wrong reasons, but at least I can repay you in material terms. I’ll put it on the market right away.’
He looked around at the big, farmhouse-style kitchen. ‘From what little I’ve seen the rest seems pretty much complete. I suppose you were bound to leave the kitchen to last. There’s no point in preparing all that party food until you’re ready to give the house-warming party, is there?’
Jane gave a wry laugh. ‘On the contrary. The kitchen’s the only bit I have touched.’
‘But all the rest is so—’
‘So ghastly. I know. I don’t know if I would ever have succeeded in turning this place into the home I wanted. I certainly didn’t make much of a job of stripping the paint off the dresser. There are little bits left all over the place. I’m afraid it’s a family failing, not getting things quite right. Never mind.’ She went across to the breadbin and produced a heavy, grey-looking loaf. ‘Do you want a slice? I’m afraid I haven’t much else in.’
He nodded. She cut him a piece and buttered it, setting it on a plate in front of him before going to warm the pot.
He took a bite. ‘I’d change my baker if I were you.’
She looked across the kitchen at him. His dark eyes met her black ones for just a moment. And then suddenly, helplessly, she burst into gales of laughter. But the laughter brought tears to her eyes. Tears of grief. She stopped herself.
‘Why did you laugh?’
She started again then, almost hysterically, blinking hard while her shoulders shook convulsively. ‘Oh, Guy! Your face! You look just like you must have done when you were a schoolboy,’ she managed to say, desperately willing the powerhouse of emotion within her to wait until he had gone before roaring into action…
He frowned uncertainly, chewing on the heavy piece of bread.
She pulled herself together at last. ‘I made the loaf,’ she confessed with false brightness. ‘You can spit it in the bin, if you like.’
He swallowed determinedly, then looked down at his slice. He pushed the plate away. ‘It’s horrible. What made you try?’
‘It beats the hell out of stuffing olives,’ she said, wishing now that she’d never offered him the cup of tea. All of a sudden they were so near to understanding one another. And yet it was all so dreadfully impossible… She reached a couple of mugs down from the dresser, and as she did so her sweatshirt rode up.
‘Good grief…I can count your ribs…’ muttered Guy.
‘I…I’ve been working hard. I guess I have lost a bit of weight.’
‘You haven’t been dieting?’ he asked, and his voice was rough with concern. It lay against her skin like swansdown. ‘Because, Jane, that would just be dumb. You’ve got the world’s most perfect figure—’
She kept her back to him. She lined up the two mugs so that their handles faced each other. She set the pink mug to the left of the blue one. ‘No. I haven’t been dieting.’
She raised one hand to stroke at her throat where the words still nestled tenderly. And then she slowly turned to face him, her dark eyes frightened, her face pale. ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ she said shakily, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘It can jeopardise one’s fertility, so I’ve heard.’
He looked into her eyes, and then his features forgot everything they had ever learned during all those years of boardroom manoeuvring. They dissolved into lines of uncertainty. And in his eyes flickered the first dawning of hope…
‘But that wouldn’t bother you…’ he said cautiously.
She gave a single nod. ‘It would. I…I didn’t want a nanny, Guy…but that didn’t mean I didn’t want a child.’
The light in his eyes brightened one degree. ‘But the opera…the parties…theatre outings to Stratford…you can’t do any of that with a baby in tow, you know?’
‘I know,’ she said simply. And then she closed her eyes tight, although it didn’t stop the tears from running free. ‘But I’ve got this wonderful recording of Rigoletto—though I can’t listen to it too often because it makes me cry—and…and I have this book of Shakespeare’s sonnets…they’re far more romantic than the plays, you know? I can recite some of them off by heart, if you’d like to listen some time…And as for company…well, there’s only one person’s company I really want of an evening.’ She gulped, and a huge sob burst out. Then, eyes still tight shut, she steeled herself to say the next bit. ‘But I don’t really know him. I’ve been waiting for him to introduce himself from the first moment I met him. I kept telling myself that there was no such thing as love at first sight. That it was only chemistry…and that I couldn’t really love him because I didn’t know him…But…um…um…’
And then they were there. His arms. They were around her shoulders, holding her so tight, and his mouth was in her hair and his rough chin was butting her cheek and underneath her own hands she felt the emotional surge of his ribcage match her own.
They never got round to drinking the tea. They made love so tenderly and yet so swiftly that it didn’t have time to get cold. But lying upstairs in the Louis-Quinze bedroom they could neither of them bear to leave the other to go down to fetch it.
‘This room is horrible,’ said Guy, rubbing his mouth against her skin.
‘Mmm. Don’t talk about it.’
‘The whole house is horrible.’
‘I know. But it’s got potential. I love it.’
‘Has it?’
‘Mmm. For a start, the windows are big.’
‘Well, yes…’
‘There’s even a chipboard secret passage…’
Guy groaned. ‘Don’t talk to me about secret passages, or I shan’t be able to control myself…’
And then Guy’s dark blue eyes met Jane’s dark brown ones and they both stared at one another for a long, long moment, while the universe, once more, mustered its magic. And then suddenly, together, for the first time, they burst into gales of laughter.
eISBN 978-14592-7729-8
FORSAKING ALL REASON
First North American Publication 1996.
Copyright © 1994 by Jenny Cartwright.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronio, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter Invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any Information storage or retrieval system, Is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly Inspired by any Individual known or unknown to the author, and all Incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Forsaking All Reason Page 17
