Rufus stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, then he hauled her onto his lap and kissed her with such passionate thanksgiving that Jo's eyelashes were spangled with tears when she opened them at last to a look she'd never seen in his dark eyes. They blazed with love. And, miraculously, it was all for her.
He rubbed his cheek against hers. 'Jo, I did my best to be a good husband to Claire.'
'I know you did. You made her very happy.' Jo shivered. 'I tried to be a good friend, too, but sometimes it was so hard. She talked about you all the time.'
'She talked about you all the time to me.' Rufus smiled crookedly. 'She even forced us to dance together once. At that party we gave for New Year's Eve.'
Jo shuddered. 'I remember. The music was slow and smoochy, and you held me away from you as if I had some infectious disease!'
He grinned. 'I was afraid to pull you close in case you blacked my eye when you found what you were doing to me.'
'Oh!' She giggled, burying her face against him. 'I thought you couldn't bear the sight of me. I think Claire thought that too.'
'It seemed the easiest way to deal with the situation.' Rufus sobered. 'Then she died and I felt so bloody guilty because everyone—including you— thought I was devastated. Which I was. But part of it was guilt because I hadn't been able to love Claire as she should have been loved.' He sat Jo upright, holding her by the shoulders. 'So then I was free. But by that stage, of course, you'd got yourself engaged to someone else. I didn't know you'd broken it off until just before that night.'
'The night of your anniversary.'
'The night I first made love to you.'
They looked at each other for a moment.
'Are you hungry?' asked Rufus casually.
'Not particularly.'
'Good.' He stood her on her feet, and got up to take her by the hand. 'I'm a lawyer, remember. You say you love me but I need proof. The physical kind.'
'I thought you were against that kind of thing in case I got pregnant again,' said Jo breathlessly as he made for the door, pulling her with him.
'You won't,' he assured her. 'After what happened at Christmas I'm now prepared against just such a contingency.'
'But I want another baby, Rufus,' she protested as he raced with her up the stairs to her room.
He picked her up and carried her to the beautiful bed. 'So do I. But not yet. I've only just discovered that the woman I love actually loves me. I want you to myself for a while, darling. Let's enjoy being married to each other before we get to be parents.' He stretched out beside her and drew her into his arms. 'I still can't believe this is all true.'
'Neither can I,' said Jo, and abandoned herself to the joy of kisses and caresses made all the more rapturous by the knowledge that they were the natural result of mutual love instead of mere physical chemistry.
Rufus undressed her slowly, savouring the task, kissing the places he uncovered. When he came to the scar, he pressed delicate kisses all along its length, until Jo could bear it no longer and instigated some caresses of her own which quickly brought about the inevitable, long desired result as they found rapturous fulfilment together after the long, cold weeks of estrangement.
'I dreamed about this, Rufus,' said Jo afterwards, when she could speak. 'I never believed it would really happen. When you insisted on marrying me I thought you were just doing the honourable thing.'
'Getting you pregnant was an unexpected short cut to being your husband,' said Rufus lazily, running a hand over her hip. 'If I hadn't I'd have wooed you until you gave in.'
' "Wooed"?' Jo chuckled. 'I like that word almost as much as "cosset".' She sobered. 'Poor Claire. I hope she never had an inkling of how we felt.'
'If neither of us suspected the other's feelings I'm certain Claire didn't. I did everything within my power to make her happy—and so did you.' Rufus rubbed his chin over her hair. 'We did our best in our separate ways to make sure she never knew. It wasn't her fault she was the wrong bride.'
'I thought I was,' said Jo. 'Mrs Beaumont certainly thought so. She told me only recently you'd never get over Claire and how nice it was that you had me to comfort you.'
Rufus scowled. 'She was the one who misled me about your engagement.'
Jo sat up to look down at him, pushing her hair back behind her ears. 'You don't think she knew how we felt?'
'No.' Rufus pulled her down to him. 'She just can't cope with the idea of Claire's husband happily married to someone else.'
'When did you find out I'd broken it off with Edward, then?'
'That night at the Mitre. I saw you behind the bar, and asked Phil Dexter if you were married.'
'He never said a word!'
'I asked him not to.'
Jo wriggled closer. 'Mrs Beaumont wasn't a bit interested when I told her about the book.'
'I am. Deeply interested,' he assured her, grinning. 'I remember what you said about being a kept man. The idea appeals—strongly!'
The following autumn Rufus Grierson came home one evening to a euphoric wife.
'What's all the excitement?' he demanded, kissing her.
Jo returned his kiss with enthusiasm, then dragged him by the hand into the dining room, and pointed to the small stack of hardback novels on the table. 'My book,' she announced, eyes shining. 'In good time for the Christmas sales.'
Rufus gave her a rib-cracking hug, then picked up the book, studying the jacket. An impressionist-type painting depicted two girls running barefoot towards a shadowy male figure on a deserted beach, with storm clouds massing on the horizon. He stared, arrested, and opened the book, gazing down at the page in silence. The title, Storm Warning, by Jocasta Grierson, was followed by the simple dedication 'For Claire'.
'Do you like it?' she demanded breathlessly. 'I wanted you to see it first before anyone else did.'
'It never occurred to me,' he said slowly, 'that you'd—'
'Dedicate it to Claire?'
'Not that—though it's a beautiful thought, darling. I was looking at the author's name,' he said, an odd catch in his voice.
'Oh.' She eyed him uncertainly. 'I never thought to ask. Would you have preferred me to use Fielding?'
'Absolutely not.' Rufus took her in his arms, hugging her close. 'Darling, I'm deeply honoured.'
'Well, I am your wife,' she pointed out.
He rubbed his cheek against her hair. 'And very happy I am with the arrangement. How about you?'
Jo hugged him close. 'You know I am.' She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. 'Now I know I'm not the wrong bride, I quite like being married to you, Rufus.'
'I'm not so sure I like the "quite" bit,' he said threateningly, and caught her by the hand. 'Let's go to bed. We can eat later.'
'Much later,' she agreed breathlessly as they went upstairs.
'If you're very good to me,' he informed her as they sank down together on their beautiful bed, 'I'll take you out to dinner. At the Chesterton, in honour of the occasion.'
Jo slid her arms round his neck. 'I've already booked. I got an advance from Diadem today— I'm buying dinner.'
'Are you now?' Rufus laughed, and held her tight, his lips to her throat. 'In that case I'd better be good to you, instead.'
'Better than good,' she ordered, smiling. 'Just be wonderful—as usual.'
The Second Bride Page 15
