Marriage at a Distance (Presents, 2093)

by Sara Craven

  ‘They were saying the Furnival people are coming down soon to talk over a deal.’

  Joanna patted Minnie’s neck. ‘And I say Debbie had better learn to be more discreet if she wants to keep her job,’ she returned drily, and rode out of the yard leaving Sadie gaping after her.

  It was a grey morning, but milder than it had been, and Joanna turned Minnie’s head towards the hill.

  When she reached the Hermitage she dismounted, tethered Minnie to a stump of tree, and sat down on a fallen rock.

  Below her, the house looked as it always did, as if it had evolved naturally out of the landscape. As she’d imagined it would always look, whether or not she was here to look after it.

  The Furnival chain had produced grandiose plans for its development, she remembered unhappily. Tennis courts, a health spa and swimming pool. Lionel had heard them out in silence, then dismissed them with icy finality. She’d thought that would be the end of it.

  But I should have known they wouldn’t give up so easily, she told herself bitterly, wondering just how soon after Lionel’s death they’d made their move. But they’d regard that as business—just another deal. And perhaps that was how Gabriel saw it too. After all, he was just as ruthless. He wouldn’t let sentiment stand in his way either. Or the transient desire of a moment.

  When she had come up here to say goodbye the previous afternoon, it had been on a purely personal basis. She would leave, but the Manor would endure. She had not foreseen—how could she?—just how all-encompassing that farewell might be.

  At least, she thought sombrely, she would never be tempted to return.

  Minnie, grazing quietly, lifted her head and whinnied sharply. Joanna, startled, turned her head and saw Paul Gordon standing a few yards away.

  She got slowly to her feet and stood watching him, her head thrown slightly back, her gaze cool and unwelcoming. He wasn’t dressed for open country, she thought critically, observing his tight-fitting denim jeans, his black leather jacket and the cream silk scarf wound round his throat.

  He, however, seemed perfectly pleased with himself, and totally unabashed. ‘I was hoping I’d run into you.’

  Joanna pushed her hands into her pockets. ‘The pleasure is entirely yours.’

  ‘How unkind,’ he said lightly, ‘when I did my best to show you a good time.’ He paused. ‘However, I accept that I allowed my ardour to get the better of me, and I want to apologise.’

  ‘Ardour?’ Joanna’s brows lifted.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You’re a very lovely, clearly neglected girl. You surely can’t blame me for trying?’

  No, Joanna thought. Not if I believed you. But I didn’t get the impression you were carried away by overwhelming passion. On the contrary, the whole situation seemed strangely orchestrated. But, then, what do I know?

  She shrugged. ‘Let’s just agree we both made a mistake and forget about it. The chances are we shan’t meet again, anyway.’

  His smile was ingratiating. ‘But I wouldn’t want us to quarrel.’

  ‘That’s hardly likely.’ Joanna lifted her chin. ‘We don’t know each other well enough.’

  ‘That could change.’

  ‘Not,’ she said, ‘in my lifetime.’

  He laughed. ‘Cold little devil, aren’t you? No wonder the handsome husband prefers to warm himself at a different fire.’

  Even as the jibe went home Joanna, wincing inwardly, saw movement on the hill behind him. A gleaming chestnut gelding was picking his way towards them across the tussocky grass, his rider sitting easily in the saddle. Her heart missed a beat.

  For a moment the thought that Gabriel might have guessed where she’d gone and followed played crazily in her mind. But it was as quickly discarded. His appearance on the hill was just a coincidence, but one that she could use to her own advantage. She was damned if she was going to leave him with an image of her depressed, lonely and isolated. She would try a little orchestration of her own.

  Deliberately, Joanna walked to where Paul Gordon was standing, running a hand lightly up his arm to his shoulder.

  She dropped her voice to a throaty drawl. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Maybe that’s what I need too.’

  She saw suspicion in his face, warring with his natural egotism, but self-love won. For a very long moment, which made her soul writhe, Joanna endured the touch of his mouth on hers.

  As she freed herself and stepped back she saw Gabriel go past at the canter, his face dark and hard, as if carved from obsidian, the amber eyes not sparing them a glance.

  Paul Gordon saw him too. The gratified smirk vanished and his brows snapped together. ‘What the hell…?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Joanna said kindly. She went over to Minnie and released the rein.

  His eyes narrowed unpleasantly. ‘I do believe you were using me, you little bitch. And I don’t like that.’

  ‘You mean you’d much rather believe you were irresistible?’ Joanna swung herself up into the saddle, shaking her head as she looked down into his angry face. ‘Not to me, I’m afraid.’

  He reached up to grab for her rein, but Minnie threw up her head and sidled away from him.

  ‘Or to dogs and horses, apparently,’ Joanna said, clicking her tongue reprovingly at the muttered piece of filth he directed at her.

  ‘I’ll make you sorry for this.’ His tone was venomous.

  ‘I think not.’ Joanna said coldly. ‘Because I already deeply regret becoming even marginally involved with you.’

  She turned Minnie, and rode off in the opposite direction to that which Gabriel had taken.

  She didn’t look back, but she was aware of Paul Gordon’s furious gaze boring into her back as she departed.

  Sylvia and Charles had been fully justified in their reservations about him, she thought, urging Minnie to a canter when they reached level ground. Under the mask of charm, Paul Gordon was a nasty piece of work.

  In spite of her troubled thoughts, she found she was enjoying her ride. There were signs of spring all around her—evidence of a new beginning which she should maybe see as an omen for her own life. Which could help her clarify the direction she should take.

  Down in one of the hollows, where a small stream pushed its way between rocks, she found a cluster of primroses, and picked a few to push into her buttonhole while Minnie drank from the cold rush of water.

  Joanna watched her fondly. Min had been the first horse she’d ever ridden, sure-footed and dependable even then, and she was good for plenty of years in the future, providing she found a good home.

  And it’s up to me to see that she does, she told herself with renewed determination. So, when I get back, I’ll set the wheels in motion—about this, and a few other things as well. Think positive.

  As she guided Minnie back up the slope the mare’s ears went forward, and she whinnied eagerly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Joanna held her firmly. ‘What have you heard?’

  As she reached the crest she saw the reason for Minnie’s excitement. Gabriel was waiting for them in the middle of the track, his face enigmatic under the peak of his hard hat.

  ‘Good morning.’ His tone was cool and formal.

  ‘Good morning,’ Joanna returned. She felt a wave of betraying colour rise in her face and bent forward to adjust one of Minnie’s straps to hide it. ‘I—I thought you’d gone the other way.’

  ‘I came round in a circle.’ His gaze strayed to the pale yellow blossoms in her buttonhole. ‘I guessed you’d come here. It was always one of your favourite places.’

  Which he knew, she thought, because he himself had shown it to her, back in the old, innocent days when he’d been not merely her angel but her god. A very long time ago.

  ‘I’m sorry if I spoiled your tryst earlier,’ he went on.

  ‘Please don’t apologise,’ Joanna said coolly. ‘I’m sure there’ll be others.’

  ‘As you say.’ Nutkin danced a little and was swiftly controlled. ‘Maybe next time you should
choose a less obvious place.’

  ‘Probably,’ she said. ‘But then I haven’t your experience in these matters. Perhaps I could come to you for some tips.’

  His face was like stone. ‘I don’t recommend it.’ He paused. ‘But do me one favour, Joanna. Delay the consummation of your fling until after the divorce.’

  Joanna lifted her chin. ‘For what reason?’

  ‘A very practical one. You could become pregnant, and if you were still technically my wife, it could throw up all kinds of problems.’

  ‘Practical indeed,’ she agreed expressionlessly.

  And also bloody impossible, she wanted to scream at him. Because I wouldn’t touch Paul Gordon if he were the last man on earth—even before he let the mask slip.

  Because the only man I want to father my child is right here in front of me now, God help me.

  Aloud, she said, ‘Then perhaps you’d allow me a favour in return.’

  ‘If it’s possible. What do you want?’

  I want you, she thought. Now, and for all eternity.

  She said, ‘I’d like to take Minnie with me, when I go.’ She paused. ‘And I want you to sell me Nutkin. I gather from Sadie you’re not going to keep him yourself.’

  Gabriel’s brows lifted in undisguised surprise. ‘You’re going to have your own stable?’

  ‘Eventually.’ She nodded. ‘And in the meantime I can keep them at a livery.’

  He said drily, ‘You seem to have it all worked out.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Of course you can have Minnie, but I’m not sure about Nutkin. He’s not easy to manage—even for me.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d like to try. I think we belong together, Nutkin and I.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘I’d like to know what you base that on.’

  Both of us outsiders. Neither of us wanted around any more.

  Aloud, she said, ‘Instinct, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s not enough. You’d need to prove to me you could handle him.’

  ‘Are you saying I don’t ride well enough?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ he drawled. ‘You had an excellent teacher.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, deliberately misinterpreting his words. ‘Lionel had endless patience.’

  He winced elaborately. ‘What ingratitude. And hardly the way to gain a favour.’

  She shrugged. ‘I haven’t agreed to yours yet, either.’

  Something came and went in his face. For a moment the atmosphere shimmered with tension. But tension laced with some other element, which Joanna sensed but could not analyse. The horses felt it too, and began to move uneasily.

  Joanna watched Gabriel quieten Nutkin with effortless assurance. Horses had always been such an important part of his life, she thought desolately. How could he contemplate a life without them in London? Did he really believe Cynthia was worth this kind of sea change in his existence?

  Across the space that divided them, their eyes met. He said quietly, ‘But I hope you will.’

  ‘Quid pro quo, Gabriel. One good turn deserves another.’

  His smile was wintry. ‘I’m not sure I’d describe Nutkin as a good turn. But if you show me you can ride him, then I’ll give him to you.’

  ‘I said I’d buy him,’ she reminded him.

  ‘We’ve settled the broad basis for our separation,’ he said wearily. ‘For God’s sake, let’s not fight over trivial details. I’ve given you little enough during our ill-starred relationship. Just take the bloody horse, will you?’

  ‘May I take him now? Prove to you I can stay on him?’

  ‘It isn’t the right saddle for you.’

  ‘All the same.’ She tried to smile. ‘I want the deal done—before you change your mind.’

  ‘It’s not something I make a habit of.’

  No? she wanted to scream at him. Then what was last night about?

  But that, of course, she could never say.

  Instead, ‘I hear you’ve changed your mind about staying at the Manor,’ she said as she slid off Minnie’s back.

  Gabriel’s head turned sharply. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

  She shrugged. ‘I gather Furnival Hotels are back in the picture.’

  ‘They’re preparing an offer.’ He turned his attention to the stirrup leathers he was shortening.

  She swallowed. ‘Which you mean to accept?’

  ‘Which I mean to consider.’

  ‘Oh.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’

  ‘Why not?’ His tone was matter-of-fact. ‘It’s a valuable piece of real estate.’

  ‘But it’s your home.’

  ‘Not for the past two years.’ His gaze rested ironically on her flushed face. ‘And absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.’

  ‘I—see.’

  ‘I doubt very much that you do,’ he returned shortly. ‘In any case, it’s none of your business—apart from the sum from the sale that would become due to you under the divorce settlement.’

  She gasped. ‘You really think I’d accept—blood money like that?’

  ‘I suspect that’s something that our respective lawyers will decide.’ His drawl became more pronounced. ‘And it’s hardly blood money. I didn’t kill anyone for it.’

  ‘But you’re destroying the house. Turning it into something it was never meant to be. Ripping the heart out of a family home and everyone who works for it and supports it.’

  ‘My God, Joanna,’ he said softly. ‘Such vehemence. Perhaps you should go into politics.’

  She said between her teeth, ‘And maybe you should go to hell.’ She put a foot into the stirrup, swung herself onto Nutkin’s back, and took off.

  She heard him shout after her, telling her to stop, to wait for him. But she took no notice. Just sat down in the saddle and let the horse run.

  She needed to distance herself. To come to terms with the fact that, as he’d said, it was none of her business. No longer her house. No longer her home. Separate ways. Separate lives.

  Anyway, it occurred to her that she’d probably already used up any reserves of his goodwill there might be. So what did she have to lose?

  Nutkin carried her like a dream, strong, effortless and eager.

  ‘You and me against the world,’ she shouted into the wind. She tried to laugh, but the laugh cracked in her throat and turned into a sob.

  They were nearing the Hermitage. It was time to slow Nutkin and turn for home. She glanced over her shoulder, but Gabriel wasn’t even in sight.

  As she turned back again she saw it. Ahead of them. Something white, billowing out on the breeze from between the fallen stones. She knew in the same split second that Nutkin had seen it too. Felt his muscles bunch and heard his frightened squeal as he reared.

  And saw the ground coming up to meet her as she fell.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THERE were faces, swimming in and out of her vision. Usually she could put names to them, but not always. There were voices, too, which seemed to come from the bottom of some deep sea. And words that she recognised, like ‘slight concussion’ and ‘nothing broken.’

  Which didn’t stop her whole body feeling like one enormous bruise, even against the softness of her bed.

  She forced her eyes open, searching for one particular face. Found it stark and grey with shock. She wanted to hold his head between her hands and kiss away the nightmare from his eyes, but she couldn’t. Because he didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t even tell him that she loved him, promise that everything would be all right.

  Instead, she heard her own voice, oddly small and strained, say, ‘You mustn’t blame Nutkin. It wasn’t his fault.’

  And his bitter response. ‘You could have been killed, Joanna, and all you can think of is that bloody animal.’

  The doctor intervened at this point, saying that she needed rest and quiet, and that it might be better to move her to a local nursing home where these could be guaranteed.

  ‘No,’ Joanna said, with a
ll the force she could summon. ‘No, thank you. I—I want to stay here. I’ll be fine.’

  She couldn’t bear to be sent away, even for her own good. As if something—some inner voice—warned that once she left, she would never return. That this would serve as an excuse to distance her for ever.

  The faces round the bed retreated. The voices faded and she was alone, cocooned in a soreness that couldn’t even touch the all-encompassing ache in her heart.

  She swallowed the painkillers the doctor had left and settled back against her pillows, seeking the promised oblivion.

  She dozed eventually, but restlessly, dreaming of pounding hooves, the wind in her face, and that billowing gleam of whiteness which had ended it all with such dramatic suddenness.

  White fabric, she thought feverishly, flowing all around her, wrapping itself across her face so that she couldn’t see—so that she couldn’t breathe…

  She sat up with a little cry, wincing as her bruises protested at the sudden movement.

  What was it? she asked herself. What on earth could it have been?

  ‘So you’re awake.’ Cynthia spoke from the doorway. She was wearing a woollen suit in deep crimson, the collar and cuffs trimmed with fur, and her lips and nails were painted to match her suit. She looked like some exotic but poisonous flower. ‘I just came to say goodbye. I’m moving into my cottage as from now.’

  She surveyed Joanna’s white face and shadowed eyes with undisguised malice. ‘You look like hell, sweetie. And all for nothing. Or did you think Gabriel would be impressed with your dramatic attempt to break your neck?’

  Joanna stared at her. She said slowly, ‘Are you implying I came off on purpose? Because it’s not true. Something spooked Nutkin. Something white floating about between the rocks near the Hermitage.’

  Cynthia’s lips curled. ‘Another runaway newspaper, perhaps? You have a vivid imagination, my dear. Not that it matters.’ Her laugh jarred tinnily. ‘All you’ve accomplished is to embarrass Gabriel and damage a valuable horse.’

  ‘Nutkin’s hurt?’ Joanna asked sharply. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

  Cynthia shrugged. ‘How should I know? Something to do with one of his legs, I think. Anyway, the vet’s coming later to put the wretched animal out of its misery.’