Mistresses: Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds
Page 77
‘Tony?’ Anna was dismayed that Oliver would even think this way. ‘I’ve not seen him since we split up and that’s the truth. I should have said something, I know, but you weren’t here when I thought about it, and when you were—well, we had other things to occupy our minds.’ She moved her body suggestively against his. ‘Much more interesting things. I love you, Oliver, far too much to be unfaithful. I’ll never, ever, do that to you, I promise.’
He groaned and his mouth came down on hers. ‘I told my father he was wrong, I said you weren’t like that, but—oh, Anna—’ and words weren’t needed to express his sorrow for doubting her.
‘You’d better invite your brother over here one evening,’ he muttered between kisses.
And Anna agreed, while knowing she would keep putting it off until after Chris got the order.
Their lovemaking that night was quick and intense. The argument had heightened their senses and the instant Oliver touched her she exploded, feeding herself from his mouth in a frenzy of sexual hunger.
His hands were all over her, fierce and encouraging, and Anna’s nails clawed Oliver’s back as he found the moist, throbbing heart of her. She arched her body in glorious wild abandonment. ‘Take me now, Oliver. Now!’
It was the best time ever. She jerked and bucked beneath him and thought the waves of pleasure would never stop. Oliver too groaned and shuddered, and they went to sleep in each other’s arms, completely satisfied.
A week or so later an excited Chris phoned her. ‘I’ve got the business, Anna. Can you meet me? I want to take you out for a celebratory lunch.’
That lunch proved her undoing.
The very same evening Oliver came home from work with his face grim, his eyes so hard and condemning that Anna knew exactly what he was going to say. And he didn’t fail her. ‘I want to know who you had lunch with today.’
Her shoulders stiffened. ‘How do you know I had lunch with anyone?’ And because attack was always the best form of defence, she added angrily, ‘Have you been spying on me? Don’t you trust me any more? If this is what I’m going to get from you every time I go out, then—’
He sliced through her words. ‘Who was he?’
A feeling of unease seeped into Anna’s bones. ‘It was Chris again, as a matter of fact.’
‘The mystery brother who you seem determined I shouldn’t meet?’ His voice was loaded with sarcasm, his golden eyes razor-sharp. ‘I don’t believe you, Anna.’
Her hackles began to rise. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.’
‘So when were you planning to tell me? Or was this to be another of your little secrets?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘I suddenly don’t understand you, Anna. In fact, I feel I don’t know you at all.’
Anna sighed deeply and unhappily. Even though her brother had asked her to keep quiet a while longer, she knew that it wouldn’t be wise, that it was time to tell Oliver the truth. It couldn’t hurt, surely, not now that Chris had got the order?
She hadn’t liked keeping it a secret from her husband, and she liked even less the way he was accusing her. But before she could even open her mouth, Oliver sprang another surprise accusation.
‘Not only are you dating another man but you’re giving him money.’ His golden eyes blazed with fury. ‘Money that I, out of the generosity of my heart, have given you.’
A flash of righteous anger ripped through Anna. ‘You’ve checked up on me? How dare you? You had no right.’ If she was a man she’d have punched him. It was an invasion of privacy, that’s what it was—even though he’d given her the money in the first place.
‘Unless what you’re saying is that the money isn’t really mine,’ she flared. ‘Is that it? It’s just a token thing to make you look good and feel good, but you never intended that I should spend any of it. And now that it’s gone you’re wishing you’d never given it to me in the first place.’
‘My actions are not in question,’ he retorted coolly. ‘What is, is why have you given away thirty thousand pounds. It’s what I’m assuming you’ve done with it. Or have you spent it on some flash piece of jewellery that you’ve not yet shown me? I don’t think so. There’s a man involved and I want to know who he is and what he means to you. And don’t continue to give me that brother rubbish, because it won’t wash.’
Before Anna could say anything in her own defence, he added, ‘It’s that rat you were once engaged to, isn’t it? An ambitious but penniless young man, you said, who didn’t want to be tied down into marriage before he’d made his millions. Is this his way of doing it, sponging off other people?’
‘You’re crazy, Oliver Langford.’ There were two spots of high colour in Anna’s cheeks, her eyes were brilliant with anger. ‘This has nothing to do with Tony. Actually, it has nothing to do with you, either.’ Brave words. ‘That money was mine to do with as I liked—or so I thought. If you have a problem with that, if you can’t trust me enough to accept that I had a very good reason for doing what I did, and that one day I would have told you, then you’re not half the man I thought you were.’
‘Oh, so you would have told me?’
‘Eventually.’
‘In my book, husbands and wives don’t keep secrets from each other.’
She tossed her head, red hair flying magnificently. ‘If you hadn’t been nosy enough to check up on me, you wouldn’t have known. And if you saw me at lunchtime, why the hell didn’t you come and speak to me? Or do you get some sort of savage enjoyment out of spying on me?’
Anna couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, that their idyllic marriage was in danger because of a promise she’d made to her brother.
‘It wasn’t me who saw you, it was my father.’
‘Ah!’ She needed to hear no more. ‘And I suppose he couldn’t wait to tell you? To blacken my name? I suppose he also made a point of saying that he saw my companion with his arms around me as we parted? It must have looked a very cosy scene to him.’
She shook her head in wild and furious resentment. Edward Langford would have her hung, drawn and quartered without an ounce of compassion, or any thought that he could have been wrong. She’d played right into his hands.
This was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
Their argument raged long and loud until eventually Oliver walked out. Where he went she didn’t know, but he didn’t come home that night. And the bed felt cold and empty without him.
At lunch time the next day he turned up and began ramming clothes and toiletries indiscriminately into a holdall. ‘You’ll see me again when you’re prepared to tell me the truth,’ he said icily, almost viciously, ‘and not a minute before.’
The days that followed were the blackest of Anna’s life. She was aware that her husband had moved in with his father because she’d seen his car whizzing past, and she kept expecting Oliver to walk through the door and say he’d made a mistake, that he loved her and couldn’t live without her, but he didn’t. And she had too much pride to go after him.
Besides, she was hardly likely to be made welcome there. Edward would continue to feed his son’s distrust and anger—until in the end he’d have no love left for her at all.
When Edward himself came to visit she wasn’t surprised, in fact, she’d been expecting it. But what he had to say most certainly did shock her.
‘I want you out of this house,’ he said bluntly.
‘I think that’s up to your son.’ Anna surprised herself by managing to keep her voice cool and calm, her chin high. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we’re still married and I have every right to live here. I’m afraid it has nothing to do with you.’
‘Really?’ Shaggy brows rose to meet the mane of white hair. ‘Perhaps Oliver omitted to mention that this house actually belongs to me. And in that event I have every right to evict you. I’m giving you seven days to find somewhere else to live.’
Anna felt as though he’d stabbed her between the shoulder blades. Oliver had never breathed a word about his father owning Wes
ton Lodge. For pity’s sake, why had he never bought a place of his own? It wasn’t as though he couldn’t afford it. It didn’t make sense.
But it was herself she had to think about now. She was jobless and virtually penniless and in a week’s time she would be homeless. Edward must have laughed his head off when Oliver walked out on her.
Anna supposed she could move in with her own parents, but they’d been so pleased she’d found such a wonderful man after her disastrous engagement to Tony that she couldn’t bear to tell them it was all over so quickly.
She could also go to see Oliver and plead with him, go to see him at the office in order to avoid Edward, but pride stood in her way. Oliver had made his position very clear and if he wanted her back then he was the one who had to do the running.
So she moved to her sister’s holiday cottage—the very place where she’d first met Oliver. Damn him! She’d expected at the very least a courtesy call before she left Weston Lodge—but no. Nothing. Not a visit, not a phone call, not even a hastily written note on a scrap of paper saying good riddance.
Actually this cottage was the worst place she could have come to. It was filled with too many memories. It was here that they’d introduced themselves properly, here where they’d first made love, here where they’d fallen in love. Just the thought of Oliver making love to her sent her into a tizzy.
But she’d had little choice of where to live at such short notice. She’d taken her sister into her confidence and Dawn had offered her the cottage for as long as she needed it.
‘Although if I know Oliver,’ Dawn had said, ‘he’ll be after you in no time at all, begging you to go back to him. That guy’s deeply in love with you. You can’t tell me that some stupid misunderstanding will change it. Once Chris’s business is on the up, and you’re free to tell Oliver the truth, then—’
‘I don’t think so.’ Anna shook her head with fierce determination. ‘I’m certainly not going to run after him with explanations.’
‘But—’ began Dawn.
‘But nothing,’ interrupted Anna. ‘I’ve made up my mind. And I don’t want you to tell Chris what’s happened either, or he’ll feel truly awful. Tell him, if he asks, that Oliver has business in Ireland and we’re using your cottage. Tell Mum and Dad that as well.’
In the weeks that followed she tried to convince herself that she was well rid of Oliver, but the truth was she missed him more than she had imagined possible. She missed their nights of passion—sleeping alone was crucifying her, she missed his companionship, their long, interesting, sometimes heated conversations. In those six short months he had become so much a part of her life that she found it difficult living without him, it was as though half of her was missing.
Time would heal she supposed—but…
It was obvious his love for her had died—if he’d ever truly been in love with her. Maybe his father was right and he had turned to her on the rebound.
Perhaps it had been lust that drove him, some sort of physical cleansing to rid his mind of the woman who had hurt him. The physical side of their marriage had certainly been a very high priority—not that she’d complained, she’d been as eager as he to satisfy their pagan needs.
And then came the phone call. Only Dawn ever rang so it was a distinct shock to hear Oliver’s deeply attractive voice. A surge of something approaching excitement catapulted through her but she stamped on it because it would be fatal thinking along those lines.
Physical reactions were ruinous and negative and must never be allowed purchase. If it was his intention to try and patch things up, he was in for a big disappointment. Oliver Langford had definitely burned his bridges the day he walked out on her.
‘Anna, sad news, I’m afraid.’ There was no preamble.
‘Oh?’ This wasn’t what she’d expected.
‘My father died yesterday of a massive heart attack.’
For a few seconds Anna was too stunned to say anything. Edward Langford, dead! The ebullient old man who’d done his best to stop her marriage, gone! She was saddened to hear it even though she hadn’t really liked him. The truth was, she’d never been allowed to get to know him.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said finally, softly. ‘It’s hard to take in. He seemed such a vital man, as though he had years of life left in him.’
‘My father was his own worst enemy,’ Oliver growled. ‘He constantly disobeyed doctor’s orders. I was wondering if…I—I’d like you to come to the funeral.’
‘Of course.’ She said it instinctively, then wondered if it would be wise. Edward had turned Oliver against her. Meeting again could invoke friction—and she would hate there to be any of that on the day of his father’s funeral. It was likely he was inviting her to keep up a front for the sake of family and friends. He had numerous cousins and aunts and uncles whom she’d never met, who would all be coming to the funeral. And of course there was Melanie!
Anna couldn’t help wondering whether Melanie had wormed her way back into Oliver’s affections.
Chapter Three
OLIVER’S palms were moist and there was an unnatural thudding in the region of his heart. Ridiculous when Anna no longer meant anything to him, when he had washed his hands of her and his next planned step was to instruct his solicitor in divorce. How could simply hearing her voice trigger such a juvenile reaction?
He shook his head and forced himself to continue with the very disturbing job of arranging his father’s funeral. Edward Langford had died as he had lived. Railing at change, surmising he knew better than everyone else. He’d been arguing with Oliver over the way he was applying new management techniques when he’d keeled over. By the time the ambulance arrived he was dead.
Oliver couldn’t bear to remain at the Hall with his father gone and he moved back into the house he had shared with Anna, which wasn’t much better because there were memories here of a different kind.
For six months he’d been a completely happy man. He’d found the girl of his dreams, he’d totally adored her and then, like a bullet shattering a crystal vase, his heart had been smashed into a million tiny miserable pieces.
If anyone had warned him that Anna would turn out the same as Melanie, the same as other girls he’d dated, he would have told them they were off their head. Anna was perfection personified; she could do no wrong. Or was that where his problem had lain? He’d stood her on a pedestal, been unprepared for her to have human failings the same as everyone else.
He’d been surprised by her ready acceptance to come to the funeral, and hoped she wasn’t trusting he’d had a change of heart. So why, he wondered, had he asked her, if it wasn’t to use the opportunity to try and patch things up?
His father had never approved of Anna, the same as he’d never approved of anything Oliver did. All his life it had been like that.
And it would have been perfectly reasonable for him not to ask Anna to come to the funeral. In fact, it would be hard for her to try and pretend sadness for a man who’d never attempted to welcome her into the family.
Technically, though, she was still his wife and he wanted her by his side. None of his family knew that they’d split up, and a funeral was hardly the place to tell them. He steadfastly refused to accept that there was any other reason.
Anna left her car behind and flew to London where Oliver sent a car to pick her up. She’d half-expected that he’d come himself, had felt a flurry of anxiety at the thought, but instead one of his company drivers met her.
Her heart zinged into overdrive as they neared Cambridge but she deliberately hardened it, refusing to accept that she had any feelings left for this man who had so callously walked out on her.
The driver dropped her off at the Lodge, for which she was grateful. She’d half expected, half dreaded, that Oliver would want her at his father’s house with him. And that was something she felt she couldn’t face.
If she hadn’t been welcome there in his father’s lifetime, he wouldn’t have wanted her there after his d
eath, that was for sure. But also she needed some breathing space before she confronted Oliver. Time to accustom herself to being back here where she had once been so happy.
His housekeeper was there to greet her. ‘It’s sad news about Mr Edward,’ she said as she busied herself making tea and buttering scones.
‘It certainly is,’ Anna agreed. ‘Is Oliver up at the house? I suppose I ought to—’
‘Out on business somewhere,’ interrupted Mrs Green. ‘There’s such a lot to organise.’ When the tea was made, the scones pushed towards Anna with a pot of homemade strawberry jam, Mrs Green sat down at the kitchen table and leaned towards her.
‘Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but I don’t understand why you two split up. I thought you were the perfect couple. Oliver’s been like a bear with a sore head. He misses you terribly.’
He had a strange way of showing it, thought Anna. If his father hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be here now. The next step would have been divorce. She had no doubt in her mind about that.
‘He was the one who did the walking, Mrs Green,’ she pointed out, not quite meeting the other woman’s eyes. ‘There’s no chance of us getting back together. If that’s what you were hoping I’m sorry.’
The woman looked disappointed. ‘And I’m sorry it came to this. I’m very fond of you, Anna.’
No more was said and after Anna had nibbled half a scone and drank a cup of tea she got up and began to wander around the house. Nothing had changed. Pictures that she’d chosen were still on the walls, little ornaments, things they’d selected together—everything was exactly as she’d left it.
Upstairs she trailed through the bedrooms, dumping her overnight bag in one of the guest rooms, coming to a sudden halt in the doorway of what had used to be their room.
Anna felt a mixture of trepidation and resignation as she slowly pushed open the door. It turned swiftly to shock. Oliver was back! His leather slippers were tucked beneath the dressing-table stool, a tie hung on the back of a chair, but more potent was the lingering musky smell of his cologne.