Wife to a Stranger

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Wife to a Stranger Page 13

by Clair, Daphne


  She turned her head a little. ‘Thank you.’

  His smile was tight as he straightened, and he didn’t answer, but lifted his hand again and brushed his knuckles lightly over her cheek before turning to start the engine.

  After he’d negotiated the Harbour Bridge and they were on their way north, she asked him, ‘Rolfe, do I have any money of my own? I found a cheque book in my bag but there’s no balance written in.’ He’d given her what seemed a generous amount of housekeeping money in cash but she hadn’t used it for her personal spending.

  ‘You spent most of what you made while you were working, but you have a small personal account. Is there something you want money for?’

  ‘Nothing in particular. But I’d like to know that I don’t have to ask you if I do.’

  ‘No need. You have credit cards on my accounts, and you’ve never been shy of using them. In fact I thought you rather enjoyed doing so.’ At her surprised look, he said, ‘We’re not short of money, Capri.’

  ‘I know that.’ She’d known it since she first set foot in the house—a house where she’d lived for two years and yet still failed to feel at home. ‘Were my parents not well off?’ she asked.

  The change of subject seemed to disconcert him. ‘Your parents?’

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, thinking aloud, ‘my mother must have struggled, bringing up two girls on her own after my father left.’

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t easy.’

  ‘I don’t feel used to having plenty of money,’ she explained. ‘Perhaps it goes back to my childhood.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed.

  Some time later they stopped outside the sole takeaway bar and restaurant at Atianui. Rolfe asked, ‘Are you sure you want takeaways? We could see if the restaurant has a table free.’

  ‘Would you prefer that?’

  ‘I thought you might.’

  Capri shook her head. ‘I feel like junk food tonight. Chips and…’

  ‘Crumbed oysters?’ Rolfe supplied as she paused for thought. ‘You don’t like batter, or white fish unless it’s raw in sushi.’

  ‘Or in a salad,’ she agreed. ‘Thanks for remembering.’

  He looked as though he would say something, but changed his mind, instead slanting her a smile before opening the car door to climb out

  When they reached the house Capri tipped the food onto two plates and took them to the terrace outside, along with knives and forks.

  It was getting dark, but an outside light allowed them to see the food, and the wine that Rolfe had poured.

  ‘Fish and chips and a good Riesling,’ Capri commented. ‘I suppose it’s a bit of a contradiction.’

  ‘I’ve always thought fish and chips is a noble meal when it’s properly done. You’re the one who’s suspicious of junk food.’

  ‘I suppose being in modelling makes one very conscious of diet. But I’ve never had a weight problem.’

  Rolfe arched an eyebrow and she said uncertainly, ‘Well…not that I can recall.’

  It was fully dark when they had finished, and they emptied the bottle of wine, Rolfe declining her offer to make coffee.

  A huge pumpkin moon hung over the darkened horizon, gilding a broad band of ripples all the way to shore. The air was still, and warm from the day’s sun.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ Capri suggested. It was later than usual, but the moon cast a white glow almost as bright as daylight.

  Rolfe shifted the empty glass in his hand, drawing silent circles on the table. ‘A walk on the beach in the moonlight?’ His eyes searched her face, then he abruptly stood up. ‘All right. I guess I can take it.’ He held out his hand.

  ‘If you’d rather not…’

  He reached over and snagged her wrist. ‘Come on,’ he said brusquely, ‘before I think better of this.’

  The sand was cool and white in the moon’s glow, and Capri slipped off her shoes, leaving them at the edge of the lawn.

  Rolfe bent to shed his shoes too, and rolled his trouser legs above his ankles. He’d already removed his tie, leaving it hanging over the back of his chair before they ate, and his sleeves were carelessly folded back.

  Capri was wearing the simple green dress he’d bought her, her favourite, that somehow she felt more comfortable in than any of the lovely clothes in her wardrobe. Rolfe took her hand again, turning in the direction away from Gabriel Blake’s house. Capri determinedly banished all thought of Gabriel.

  The waves whispered along the sand in curving white lines, leaving gleaming smoothness behind. A faint breeze arose, fluttering Capri’s skirt and smoothing Rolfe’s hair away from his forehead, throwing the strong profile into relief against the moon’s light.

  Capri shivered a little, and she rubbed at gooseflesh with her free hand.

  ‘You’re cold?’ Rolfe asked.

  ‘Not really. Just the breeze is coolish.’

  His arm came about her, drawing her close before they strolled on. His hand warmed her skin. Capri raised her own arm and draped it round his waist. She felt very comfortable.

  One wave scudded white-foamed and fast, swinging inland further than the others, and caught their feet, making Capri gasp at the chill on her toes.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘The tide’s on its way in.’

  As they walked further, their feet sinking now into the wet sand, she asked, ‘Did we ever swim at night?’

  ‘Only after…’ He paused, then went on deliberately, ‘Only after we’d made love on the beach.’

  He’d said they’d done that. ‘Where was that?’ she asked him. Most of the beach was lined with houses, and fairly open. She couldn’t imagine she’d have been really happy about risking possible exposure.

  ‘There’s a grove of trees over there.’ He pointed. ‘Some have grown together and fused. With the branches overhanging, it makes a cosy little cave.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve seen it.’

  ‘But it brought back no memories.’

  ‘No. Perhaps if…’

  He stopped walking, and drew her into his arms. ‘If…?’ he repeated, his breath stirring her hair.

  Her heartbeat increased, her blood flowing hot. When he tipped her head with his hand in her hair she closed her eyes, and felt the whisper of his lips across her eyelids, on her cheek, then settling on her mouth.

  The thunder in her ears mingled with the pounding of the sea. Her lips parted and Rolfe deepened the kiss, one hand settling on her breast, the other wandering down her back, finally holding her in an explicit embrace, while the kiss went on and on until she was dizzy with desire.

  His hand left her breast as he eased a small space between them, and she felt buttons give way, and trembled. He released her mouth and she gulped in air as his head bent and his mouth touched her skin, wrenching a small cry from her as she felt him push aside her bra, his lips on her breast.

  He held her close, his breathing ragged. She arched against him, knowing he was fully aroused, glorying in her ability to do that to him. And in what he was doing to her.

  Until he lifted his head and with his lips against her throat, muttered, ‘We could visit it tonight…our cave. Shall we go there now?’

  Capri stiffened, and he raised his head further, staring down at her face.

  He must have seen the sudden doubt and nervous excitement there, mingling with the desire that had nearly overwhelmed her.

  His hands fell away from her, leaving her disoriented and cold. ‘Don’t offer such temptation, Capri, unless you’re prepared to follow through. A man can only stand so much.’

  Capri took in a sobbing breath, and wrapped her arms about herself, pulling her clothes together. ‘I don’t mean to tease, Rolfe. It’s just that I—’ She made a helpless gesture with her hands. ‘You must think I’m being stupid.’

  ‘No.’ He heaved in a deep breath that came out as a sigh. ‘No. I’m trying to understand that things a
re different for you. I told you I’ll wait. Only the waiting isn’t getting any easier. I think I want you even more than in those first weeks after we met. At the time I didn’t think that was possible.’

  ‘And I want you,’ she admitted softly.

  ‘Then what’s holding you back?’ he demanded.

  ‘I don’t know! I—just feel that…that something isn’t right.’ It was a lame explanation, she realised wretchedly—no explanation at all really.

  After a moment he said quietly, ‘Has it occurred to you that maybe it might help restore your memory if we made love again?’

  ‘Do you truly think so?’

  ‘I have no idea. Nothing else seems to have worked.’ He sounded very fed up. ‘And perhaps it might…’

  ‘Might what?’

  ‘Never mind.’ His voice was clipped, impatient.

  ‘Perhaps we should visit your cave, after all.’

  He said nothing for a long time. ‘No,’ he ground out finally. ‘Alluring though the thought is, I’ve no intention of pressuring you into anything you’re not ready for, Capri. Come on, we’d better get back.’

  He took her hand again and they retraced their steps along the pale, glimmering sand.

  When they reached the house Capri collected the plates from the table, and Rolfe picked up the empty glasses and the wine bottle, following her inside and to the kitchen. While she slotted the plates into the dishwasher he rinsed the glasses and dried them.

  The light seemed bright in the kitchen. She could almost feel it leaching the colour from her skin as she turned to Rolfe. ‘Thank you.’

  He was hanging up the tea-towel. ‘You’ve no need to thank me.’

  ‘Not just for that,’ she said. ‘For everything…’

  His smile was ironic. ‘As I said, you’ve no need to thank me.’

  There was an awkward silence. Capri decided to broach something that had nagged at the edge of her consciousness for weeks. ‘Rolfe?’

  ‘Yes?’ Rolfe leaned back against the sink counter, folding his arms, his eyes half hidden under lowered lids.

  ‘When I asked about my natural parents, you sort of brushed it aside, as if you didn’t want to discuss the subject.’

  He looked at her consideringly. ‘As I said, you’ve got enough to cope with.’

  ‘And…?’ she pressed him, sure there was more to it.

  ‘Is this important?’

  ‘I don’t know. I have a feeling it might be. And I feel that…well, that you’re keeping something from me. And I need all the information I can get, if I’m to be well again.’

  ‘All right,’ he said reluctantly. ‘We…argued about this before you left. That’s why you were so determined to travel to Australia. You were trying to find your birth mother.’

  It was a small shock. Not her adoptive father. She had been trying to trace her biological mother—the woman who had given birth to her.

  ‘And you didn’t want me to?’ She looked back at him with grave surprise.

  ‘I thought you should give it some time…’

  ‘Why? And why didn’t I agree?’

  Rolfe frowned. ‘I’m not sure if going over old quarrels is a good idea—’

  ‘Rolfe, I need to know!’ With an effort she kept her voice even, reasonable. ‘I’m living in…a vacuum. Locked in the dark with no past, groping for memories that I sometimes just touch before they slide away, nothing to hold onto except…you. Relying on you and my mother for every scrap of knowledge about myself.’ And Treena hadn’t been a great deal of use, her information scattered and often difficult to disentangle. ‘You said you wanted to protect me…’ she paused as she caught a strange expression on his face, then went on ‘…but keeping secrets from me isn’t going to help.’

  His jaw was shut tight. She saw the twitch of a muscle in his cheek. ‘Capri, I’m really sorry,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve been very selfish—’

  ‘I didn’t mean to imply that at all!’

  ‘I know you didn’t.’ He gave a small, crooked smile. ‘But everything you’ve just said has been coals of fire. I should have insisted on seeking a second opinion as soon as we got back, instead of letting it go for so long.’

  ‘It was my decision,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I could have persuaded you to see someone. The truth is,’ he said harshly, ‘Gabriel was right—it suited me not to have you get better too soon. I’ve been looking on your—your illness—as a gift, a reprieve of sorts. Because I hoped that if you didn’t recall too much too soon, we might get a chance to rebuild our marriage before you remembered what a mess it was.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘OUR marriage…was a mess?’ Capri was not really surprised. Without thinking, she added, ‘Gabriel said I never meant to come back to you.’

  Rolfe’s lips tightened and a muscle in his jaw moved convulsively. ‘It’s possible. I noticed in the hospital that you seemed to have taken off my rings.’

  So he’d never really believed that they’d been stolen. ‘But…’ hope quickened in her breast ‘…you wanted me back?’

  Rolfe stirred, levering himself away from the counter behind him. ‘It’s getting late, and this isn’t a good place for this discussion Why don’t we leave it until tomorrow?’

  ‘No. I…I think I need to sort this out now.’

  Rolfe thrust his hands into his pockets and stared at her broodingly. ‘At least let’s sit somewhere comfortably.’

  He led her into the lounge and switched on the side lights that cast a mellow glow, softening the rather stark outlines of the furniture. ‘Sit down,’ he said, and when she dropped onto a sofa he hesitated a moment before taking a seat on the other side of the gleaming coffee table. He clasped his hands loosely before him, as if he didn’t know where to start. Then he took a deep breath. ‘After the miscarriage, being on the pill wasn’t enough for you. I didn’t mind at first that you insisted I use something too. But it became such a ritual…and you were so uptight that I think neither of us found much pleasure in sex.’

  Capri shook her head in disbelief. ‘Why was I so against having children?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought you were. We’d talked of having a family, although not quite so soon. I know you were sometimes careless about taking the pill, so it didn’t seem to be vital to you. The issue only became a problem after you lost that pregnancy. Something Sarah said seemed to stick in your mind like a burr.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  Rolfe shrugged. ‘Just that a miscarriage in the early stages of a pregnancy often means the embryo was imperfect from the start—the technical term for it is a blighted ovum. She meant to comfort us, I guess—persuade us it was for the best. But you worried that something in your biological heritage might have caused the baby to be malformed. And you wouldn’t risk another pregnancy until you knew.’ He paused. ‘That’s when you started trying to find out about your natural parents. At first I thought it could be good for you, give you an interest other than fretting about the child we’d lost.’

  ‘But…?’ Capri prompted.

  ‘The quest seemed to take over your life. You spent hundreds of dollars in phone calls to Australia, and hours on the computer. The adoption was a closed one where neither set of parents were told much about the other, and Treena didn’t want to help—I guess she felt you were rejecting her.’

  Capri felt a flash of compunction. Her relationship with Treena had apparently always been fairly difficult.

  ‘At last,’ Rolfe said, ‘you discovered your natural mother’s name, and found an old address of hers in Australia, but then the trail came to a dead end. There didn’t seem to be any more you could do from here.’

  ‘That’s when I flew over there,’ Capri guessed.

  ‘You were frantic to find her and, given your increasing obsession with the subject, I was afraid of what it might do to you if she didn’t want to see you or…if she’d died. I wanted you to wait.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t.’ She remembered hi
m saying she’d acted on an impulse, refused to allow him to make time to come with her.

  ‘I hoped you’d let me make further enquiries, and give me a week or two to arrange things so I could go along. But when I suggested you shouldn’t go off to find her straight away you screamed at me that my work always came before you and our marriage, that I didn’t care about you, never had—and a few other things—and I’m afraid in the end I shouted back. Next day when I got home from work, you’d gone.’

  ‘Had I screamed at you before?’

  He gave her a rueful look and stood up, paced to the window and turned to face her. ‘I don’t think we need to go into every row we ever had. It wasn’t all on your side. I’ve done my fair share of shouting now and then.’

  Somehow she didn’t think he’d have shouted without great provocation. She’d sensed from the first that he had strong feelings, but in her limited experience they’d been kept firmly under control. ‘It hasn’t been easy being married to me,’ she guessed.

  His smile was strained. ‘I’m no saint myself. And it’s had its compensations,’ he said. ‘Especially lately.’

  ‘Lately? But…’ Her eyes lifted to his, then flickered away.

  ‘Sex isn’t everything. If we’d realised that sooner, we might have made a more successful marriage. This period of…celibacy has frustrated the hell out of me, but it’s also made me aware of so much about you, your personality, that I never knew before. Of course I want to make love to you—at times the wanting has been almost unbearable. But I love you in so many other ways, and more deeply than I ever knew.’

  She couldn’t speak. The sincerity in his voice, his deep gaze, made her throat close, tears sting at her eyes.

  ‘Back then,’ Rolfe said, ‘nothing was that clear. You’d think that losing a baby would have brought us closer, but instead we were drifting emotionally further and further apart. I talked to Sarah and she guessed you might have been suffering from a postnatal disorder and should see your regular doctor, but when I suggested it you were furious that I’d even spoken to her. We had a flaming row and…’ He shrugged. ‘This was months before you left, but we never did make love after that.’

 

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