His Very Own Wife and Child

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘You know what’ll happen if I come back.’

  She swallowed hard, and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, but she was answering quite a different question, and he knew it.

  His breath hissed in sharply, and he turned away, then his voice came softly to her in the velvet dark.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said again, and with fingers that weren’t quite steady she put the car into gear and headed towards home.

  Jack tried to breathe deeply, slowing his heart rate, repeating the word ‘calm’ to himself over and over again.

  It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Not after touching her today, first bumping into her leg as they’d sat down, then having to kneel with her shin pressed against him so intimately that she must, just must have known how he felt, then the backs of his fingers brushing against her breast as he’d stroked the child’s head.

  Each touch had set off a wildfire, and they were running together now, burning him up. It was going to take more than a little mantra to calm him down. A damn great slug of ketamine might do it—enough to fell a horse.

  She turned into her drive, pulled up by the front door and cut the engine.

  ‘Coming?’ she said, and he nearly choked.

  Nothing had changed.

  Well, that was rubbish. Loads had changed, but not the way she felt when he touched her, the way he seemed to know just where and how to do it, to take her to the brink again and again and again before finally driving her over it in glorious, spectacular freefall.

  She turned her head and caught him studying her, his face serious. ‘What is it?’ she asked, suddenly aware of her nakedness and curiously shy.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, his voice gruff. His hand reached out and stroked slowly down over her skin, flirting with her breasts, teasing her nipples to attention before moving on, lying flat and warm and firm against her abdomen, his long fingers splayed out over the soft curve left by childbirth.

  Well, childbirth and too much chocolate. She sucked it in, and he shook his head and leant over, brushing his lips against the skin in a tender gesture that made her swallow suddenly.

  ‘Beautiful. One hundred per cent pure woman.’

  ‘I could do with losing weight.’

  ‘Who says? I think you’re gorgeous.’

  ‘You’re biased.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’m the one who’s with you.’

  He lay down again, drawing her into his arms and kissing her lips with the same tenderness. ‘I’ve missed you, Sal,’ he said, and the unexpectedness of it, the sincerity in his voice, brought tears to her eyes. It was almost as if he was saying I love you, but he wasn’t, and she needed to remember that. Needed to remember all sorts of things.

  She touched his face. ‘Oh, Jack—I’ve missed you, too, but there are so many things…’

  Guilt swamped her, guilt and uncertainty and—

  His kiss stole her breath. ‘There’s nothing we can’t work through,’he said softly. ‘It’s been too long. We should have been together all this time. Maybe now we can find a way.’

  She closed her eyes. How? Never mind anything else, there was still Clare in the background, and Chloe. How could she ask him to leave his wife and daughter for her? He hadn’t been prepared to ten years ago, why should he now? And if he did, should she trust him?

  Besides, this was about so much more than just her.

  ‘Hungry?’

  Hungry? Absolutely not, but she’d promised him food and they hadn’t even made it up the stairs the first time. They’d hardly made it to her bed in her new room the second. And it was nearly midnight now.

  ‘What do you fancy?’

  He smiled slowly and threw back the quilt. ‘Well, apart from you, lightly brushed with oil and served warm on a bed of, well, any bed, really, I’m sure we can find something.’

  She turned away from the wicked twinkle in his eyes and stood up, putting on her dressing-gown to cover a body she was still not sure of. ‘I’ve got fresh pasta in the fridge, and pesto, and salads and peppers and things. There might be some ham, too.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ He pulled on his snug jersey shorts and held out his hand, and she slid hers into it. Their fingers threaded together, and he drew her closer, feathered a kiss over her forehead and led her downstairs.

  She put the kettle on, poured the boiling water into the pan and turned round with the pasta in her hand to find him watching her with dark, hungry eyes.

  ‘How long does that take to cook?’

  ‘About three minutes. It’s fresh, not dried.’

  ‘Not long enough,’ he said. Taking it from her and throwing it aside, he lifted her easily and put her on the edge of the worktop.

  ‘Jack, what on earth are you doing?’ she asked on a bubble of laughter that turned instantly to need as he untied her dressing-gown and slid his hot, firm hands down over her body, parting her thighs and easing her closer.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m keeping the cook happy,’ he murmured, and she gasped as he slid home, his eyes glittering. ‘How on earth have I lived without you?’ he groaned, and, anchoring her hips with his hands, he drove into her, taking her higher and higher with every stroke.

  ‘Jack!’ she screamed, her hands locking on his shoulders, her body convulsing around his as he gave one final thrust and shuddered against her, his head falling to her shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat through his ribs, hear hers drowning out everything, including common sense, and she rested her head against his and let her body come slowly back down to earth.

  A long moment later, he stirred, lifting his head and giving her a lazy, self-satisfied grin. ‘Now you can cook the pasta,’ he murmured.

  She laughed and slapped his shoulder, her fingers curling lightly over the warm, damp skin, sliding up to cup his neck and draw him back to her for a kiss. ‘Don’t push your luck, I might poison you,’ she advised, and slid down to the floor, gathered her dressing-gown around her and turned her attention back to the food, a self-satisfied smile that she could do nothing about playing around her lips.

  ‘Where the hell were you last night?’

  He laughed wryly. ‘I haven’t been asked that since I was about sixteen,’ he retorted, and walked into the kitchen, Patrick hard on his heels. ‘Hiya, Tuppence, how you doing? Morning, Annie.’

  She looked up from the dishwasher, her eyes searching, her face serious. ‘Katie, darling, why don’t you go and find your trainers and make sure you’ve got some good thick socks on ready to go. You’ve got ten minutes.’

  Katie smiled up at him as she flitted past, and he rumpled her hair and grinned and then took a deep breath, ready for the firing squad.

  Not a moment too soon.

  Patrick got off the first shot. ‘You told me—’

  ‘I know,’ he said softly. He could still hear his own words echoing in the room. What the hell do you take me for? The poor bloody woman’s marriage has just fallen apart!

  ‘But?’

  ‘But I love her, and I think she loves me, and we should have been together for the last nine, nearly ten years.’

  ‘Did you ask her if she loves you?’

  ‘No—neither did I tell her that I love her, not that it’s any of your business. I was taking your advice—giving her time.’

  Patrick snorted. ‘You’re supposed to do the whole I-love-you thing before you spend the night with her,’ he growled softly.

  Annie paused, her hands full of cups, and gave him an odd look. ‘You had an affair before, didn’t you?’ she asked, and he laughed humourlessly.

  ‘Oh, yes. I thought—but then Clare came along and scuppered everything.’

  ‘But you were working together, weren’t you? Didn’t that make it really difficult afterwards?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not because of that, no, because it was the end of my rotation. I started my next job in another hospital at the beginning of August, and Clare rolled up right at the end of July.’

  ‘July
?’ Annie looked at him intently for a moment, then turned back to the dishwasher. ‘Um—do you know if Sally’s made a picnic?’

  He gave a short cough of laughter. ‘Ah—the picnic wasn’t exactly high on our list of conversation topics, but you know Sally. If she said she was going to do it, she will have done it. And she put something in the car just before we left. I didn’t see what was in it, but it was a small rucksack. I didn’t pay much attention to it, to be honest.’ Too busy looking at her, at the soft light in her eyes, the tender smile she’d been giving him…

  ‘If you hurt her—’

  ‘What?’ He turned to face Patrick angrily. ‘I love her, dammit. I’ve waited nearly ten years for a chance to tell her that again. I’m not going to hurt her now, am I?’ And he pushed past him, ran upstairs and changed into jeans and a clean shirt.

  He was just zipping up the jeans when Katie appeared in the doorway. ‘Patrick’s only cross with you because you didn’t tell him where you were going to be. I expect he was worried. Mummy gets like that with me if I’m not where I say I’ll be.’

  He looked up from shoving his feet into trainers and grinned at her. ‘It’s OK, squirt. I can handle Patrick. You all set?’

  She nodded, and he followed her downstairs to find the others. They were in the kitchen, deep in conversation, and they stopped abruptly when he went in. Annie couldn’t meet his eye, and Patrick looked ready to kill.

  So not over yet, then, he thought, and sighed inwardly. Maybe it was time to find somewhere else to live for a while.

  ‘All ready?’ Patrick asked Katie, and she nodded. Then he turned to Jack, his eyes almost hostile. ‘Are you still coming?’

  ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

  Annie went still, and Patrick shrugged. ‘Just…’

  He arched a brow. ‘Just?’

  ‘You know…’

  Jack laughed shortly and turned on his heel. ‘I’ll follow you in my car,’ he said abruptly, and went out through the front door, leaving them to close it.

  Jack wasn’t with them.

  Sally had been hovering near the car park, waiting for them, not knowing if she wanted him there or not, but when they drew up without him, she felt a ridiculous sense of let-down.

  And then his car turned in behind theirs and her heart lifted. She had to stop herself from running over to him, and made herself wait until he got out and wandered towards her with a wry smile.

  ‘We’re in the doo-doo,’ he said softly.

  Oh, lord. She felt the heat climb her cheeks and turned away a little. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Annie? Nothing much—asked a few questions about our affair years ago. Patrick, on the other hand, played the heavy father with me.’

  She laughed quietly. ‘Oh, I can imagine that. Bless him. He’s such a sweetheart.’

  Jack snorted and looked around, thoroughly unconvinced at that. ‘This is a charity thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes—you pay to join in. Well, the adults do.’

  ‘Have you paid yet?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I’ll do it for you. What about the Corrigans? Have they got advance tickets or anything?’

  She shook her head again. ‘It’s all pay on the day.’

  ‘I’ll get theirs, too, then.’

  He wandered off towards the marshall, and Annie came over to her. Katie had run off to join the other children, Patrick was peering at one of his tyres—probably quite unnecessarily, she thought—and that left them alone together. How convenient.

  Annie gave her a searching look and smiled tentatively. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Don’t give me a hard time,’ Sally warned.

  Annie looked stricken, and shook her head slowly. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘Not really. It’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve done in years. But—I love him, Annie. I know it’s crazy. I know it can’t last—’

  ‘Mum, look, I’ve found a wood louse.’

  ‘Lovely. Put it back, darling,’ she said automatically. ‘We’ll be going soon.’

  Ben darted off to return the bug to its habitat, and Sally looked around her, finding Alex deep in conversation with Jack. Her heart skittered, but he just grinned at the boy and came back to her, brandishing tickets at Annie.

  ‘Here—I paid for yours while I was there.’

  Her smile was wary. ‘Is that a peace offering? If so, you probably need to give them to Patrick.’

  He gave a grunt of laughter and handed them to her. ‘Just take them, Annie. Patrick can sort himself out. He’s not my problem, and neither will I be his soon.’

  Because he was moving on. How silly of her to have forgotten it, even for last night, but by the time he’d finished with her she hadn’t remembered her own name, never mind all the hundred and one vital reasons why it had been such a lousy idea.

  ‘Please, go and talk to him,’ Annie begged, and with a sigh he took the tickets back and went over to Patrick’s car.

  Sally looked around for the children. It was time to start heading off on the ten-mile trail around the nature reserves and woodland, and back through the park. It was the walk they’d done in October, when Patrick and Annie had first met, and she knew it would have sentimental connotations for them.

  She turned to Annie and found a smile.

  ‘Go and walk with Patrick. We’ll keep an eye on Katie for you. And mind you don’t get blisters!’

  ‘I never get blisters now, not with your boots, and Patrick can wait a minute for me. I’m worried about you, Sally.’

  ‘Well, don’t be. I’ll be fine. We all will.’ Somehow, although she wasn’t thinking about what would happen when he went back to Clare and Chloe. It was too hideous to contemplate.

  ‘Just remember—we’re here for you if you need us. We’re your friends.’

  ‘I thought Patrick was Jack’s friend?’

  She sighed. ‘He is, but—they had words this morning.’

  ‘Jack said. I’m sorry, I don’t want to drag you two into this. It’s all ancient history.’

  ‘Not that ancient—not any more, is it? And Patrick’s very protective of you. He was just worried you’d be hurt.’

  She laughed softly and hugged Annie hard, the emotion welling in her chest. ‘Thank you, but he doesn’t need to fight Jack over this. We can sort it out between us.’

  ‘In other words, butt out?’

  She smiled. ‘In the nicest way.’

  Annie chewed her lip, as if she wanted to say something else, but Alex and Katie came running up and she just shook her head and turned round, waiting for Patrick to catch her up.

  ‘Come on, kids, off we go,’ Sally said, and walked on, Ben at her side bouncing along sideways and chattering at her about woodlice and earwigs and other creepy-crawlies while Alex and Katie led the way. And then Jack was there, too, grinning at Ben.

  ‘You OK, sport?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Do you like bugs?’

  He chuckled. ‘Probably more than your mother.’

  ‘She hates bugs,’ Ben said, and opened his hand.

  Another unfortunate creature, Sally thought, and glanced at Alex and Katie. They were still just ahead, chattering like starlings, full of energy.

  Good, she thought. He’s safely occupied. But then Fliss came over, and Ben ran off to see one of her children, and Jack and Tom ended up walking together for a while, deep in conversation.

  And the next time she looked, he was with Alex, kicking a football backwards and forwards between them, teaching him to dribble.

  She heard Alex laugh, and Jack was pulling a face and chasing after the ball, and then Alex ran back to her, eyes alight.

  ‘Mummy, can Jack come over to our house some time and teach me football? He’s really cool and he says he can teach me all sorts of things—did you know he’d done bungee jumping and white-water rafting and stuff? He’s amazing. Can he come? Please?’

  She felt the panic building and wonder
ed what on earth had made her think she could deal with this. It wasn’t going to go away, even if Jack did.

  ‘Maybe. I’ll ask your father.’

  Oh, God.

  ‘Cool.’ And he ran off, back to his new idol, and Sally stopped in her tracks and watched them together. They were laughing at each other, sharing a joke, heads thrown back, eyes crinkled, and as Patrick and Annie came up alongside her, they followed her eyes and stopped walking.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Annie whispered. ‘Sally—does he know?’ She shook her head, her heart pounding, nausea rising in her throat.

  But just then he looked up, his smile fading, and caught them all staring at him, their eyes going from him to Alex and back again.

  He tipped his head on one side in a quizzical gesture, and Alex copied it. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out. There were no words—or, at least, none that would make it any better or any different.

  Then Jack glanced down at Alex, then back to them, and she saw realisation dawn.

  He sucked in a breath, turned on his heel and strode briskly off, leaving Alex standing in the middle of the path, his face puzzled. ‘Jack? Wait for me.’

  ‘Alex, leave him. He just wants some time to himself,’ Sally said hurriedly, but then Jack stopped and slowly turned and walked back to Alex, his eyes on Sally.

  ‘It’s OK. I think actually I’ve had quite enough time by myself.’

  She swallowed and forced herself to meet his eyes. They were blazing with anger, and something else—something that could have been pride.

  Their football skidded across the path and he lifted a foot and trapped it against the ground. He looked down at Alex and his face twisted for a second.

  ‘Come on, then, son,’ he said clearly, rumpling his hair, ‘let’s find out what you’re made of.’

  And then he smiled and kicked the ball towards him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘WE NEED to talk.’

  Jack’s eyes sliced through Sally. ‘Oh, do we ever. But not here. Not now.’

  She looked round at them all, grouped under the trees, eating their picnic, Patrick and Annie carefully avoiding looking at them, the children oblivious and full of energy.