“We’ve been living apart for three years and we have what could be termed as irreconcilable differences. Our marriage is over in every way but legally.” She used a voice that was all reasonableness and patience. He hated that voice. “It’s not like we’ll ever be husband and wife again.”
“We took vows that were meant to last forever.” If there was one thing his family had taught him, it was that both promises and secrets should be kept.
“We’re breaking them already—for better or worse and then there’s in sickness and in health.” Maddy reached for her tea, wrapping her long, slender fingers around the mug.
She’d once wrapped those fingers around his arms the same way, holding firm to him as he kissed her. Shoving the memory aside, he cursed under his breath. “You’re the one who abandoned our marriage. I would never have left you.” Fool that he was, nothing could have made him leave her and the bitterness that she’d done it to him hadn’t dimmed.
“Samuel, there’s nothing to be gained by talking about this again.” She placed her mug on the table and dropped her hands to her lap. “I’m not leaving until you sign the papers. I’ll be at this kitchen table to remind you every morning for a year if I have to.”
“You’d stay here a year?” he asked tightly. “Seems you’re more committed to our divorce than you were to our marriage.” She’d walked out on him three weeks shy of their first anniversary and for that act alone, he could never forgive her.
“Samuel, please.”
A vice tightened around his temples. How could she ask him to do it? He didn’t make vows and promises lightly. He’d been six-years-old when he’d learned that promises had weight, they had consequences. They shouldn’t be entered into lightly, and once made, they must never be broken.
He’d taken his marriage vows seriously, yet she was asking him to break them for no better reason than she’d changed her mind about being married? He knew she wouldn’t see it that way. In fact, most people in this day and age would tell him to move the hell on. But he had a say in this matter, and his answer was no.
If he could be granted a wish, just one wish for the rest of his life, it would be that he and Madelyn were still married, sharing a house. A bed. A life. The tension that filled every muscle in his body ramped up another notch. Then he met her eyes and saw the plea there and it was a hot blade to his heart. This was what she wanted. What sort of man had he become if he kept her tied to him when she clearly wanted out?
He squeezed his eyes shut for a long second, and when he opened them he stalked to the sink and threw the rest of his tea down the drain. “Leave the damn papers on the table and I’ll sign them before you leave.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. Then she looked around, blinking, as if just becoming aware of her surroundings again. “I’d offer to cook—”
He had a sudden flashback to the fun they’d had cooking a special lunch for their only Christmas together as husband and wife. Maddy loved Christmas and her infectious joy had rubbed off on him that year. While he’d been with her, he’d been able to push the bleakness way down inside to a remote, not-quite-forgotten place. Laughter and kisses were on the menu, and his ring had been on her finger. They’d sat at the table, this table, and pulled the extravagant Christmas crackers Maddy had bought. He’d felt alive. Almost whole.
“No need,” he said more sharply than he intended. “I’m in no mood for food tonight.”
With any luck, he could avoid seeing her again until the helicopter arrived in the morning to take her out of his life. His obligations as a host—and a husband—were done.
CHAPTER THREE
After tossing and tangling himself in the blankets for an hour and a half, Samuel finally gave in. Sleep would remain elusive as long as he was spending the night under the same roof as Maddy. After not seeing her in three years, it was surreal that she was here, just along the hall and down a flight of stairs…
He punched the pillow a few times to try to make it comfortable, but it continued to mock him by remaining lumpy. Much like his day.
Before the separation they’d come here often for holidays and weekends away. Endless nights of exquisite lovemaking, lazy mornings of breakfast in bed. Their history here had made him second guess his decision to move in after the split, but he loved this place. It had been in his family for three generations as a holiday retreat and his soul was at home here.
And now Maddy had stormed in. Maddy. Who was sleeping in his assistant’s room. So close, so far. Maddy. Making his body ache for her again with no effort at all. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and groaned. Lying in bed remembering and thinking about her was only putting him in a worse mood. And that was without even considering her demand for a divorce…and his agreement to grant her one.
He threw back the covers and grabbed a robe from a hook on the wall. Lochie looked up from his place on the end of the bed with huge, sleepy eyes.
“Sorry to wake you, boy,” he said gruffly. “I’m going down to the kitchen.”
Lochie stretched and jumped down, reluctantly willing to accompany him wherever he needed to go. It was enough to make him forgive the dog for the traitorous greeting he’d given Maddy, and he rubbed his scruffy head.
He trudged along the dark corridor—he knew this place like the back of his hand—and flicked the light on only when he reached the kitchen. The house had solar power and a generator, which were more than enough for two people’s power needs but he was still careful.
He grabbed a bottle of aged scotch and poured himself two fingers while Lochie curled up in his basket by the back door and drifted off. What he wouldn’t give to be able to fall asleep so easily. Even on the best of days, sleep wasn’t something that came willingly to him—too many unspeakable memories waiting to torment him as soon as his guard was down—so maybe he shouldn’t have bothered trying tonight with Maddy in the house.
With his glass of scotch in one hand and the bottle in the other, he sank down into a chair at the kitchen table. Laid out in a neat pile were the papers that formed the document that would end his marriage. Foreboding seeped into his skin and he barely resisted a shudder from its power. He should shove them away…but maybe she was right. Much as it seemed wrong, maybe it was time to let go. He grasped the document—a little too tightly—and began to read, downing his drink as he went.
In the silence of the night, soft footsteps sounded on the stone floor and Samuel stilled, listening. Lochie was up, tail wagging in welcome before Maddy even entered the room. She wore the jacket she’d had on earlier over light pajamas, the dark curls around her shoulders tousled, and his pulse leapt then galloped like an excited stallion. He clenched his fists tight to try and rein in his body’s response. His reaction to her had always been explosive, but he was having none of it now.
Silently, he looked away, not allowing himself to be enticed by the slope of her neck or the shape of her lips. Distraction was the beginning of downfall, and—despite his anger and bitterness about her departure—distraction and downfall were always close at hand when he was near Maddy. And then she’d walk all over his heart again.
After her greeting with Lochie was done, she slipped into a chair across from him and gave him a half-smile. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He cleared his throat. “I found your papers,” he said, indicating the spread of pages in front of him.
She watched him silently, her expression somber.
“Answer me one question,” he said. “Why now? You’ve served me with the papers before, but why a visit in person now?”
She hesitated, then said, “I want to marry again. Have a baby and start a family.”
Marry again? His head was ringing as if she’d slapped him. She wanted to wed another man. He shoved his chair back from the table and pushed to his feet. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“Not yet,” she said and bit down on her lip, her whiskey-brown eyes earnest. “I wouldn’t start looking while we’re still married. I couldn
’t. When I go back, I’ll begin.”
The room was suddenly devoid of air. He paced to the far kitchen counter in search of oxygen and his equilibrium. She was ready to pick out the man who would replace him as her husband. Who would share her days. Share her nights.
Their marriage really was dead with no hope of resuscitation. He’d failed, lost her.
He glanced at her, sitting at his kitchen table, face free of make-up, curly hair soft and messy around her face. Heartbreakingly beautiful. How would he let her go?
They’d had no proper words of goodbye when she left, no closure. Now she was here for one night—perhaps if he took her to his bed, made love to her one last time, he could release her tomorrow to marry another man and he’d be able to finally move on. It was possibly crazy, he knew that even as the thought formed in his mind. Or maybe he was fooling himself and it would only make things worse. But it was the only plan he had.
He straightened. “So there’s no man in your life now? Hasn’t been since me?”
“What do you mean?” A frown-line appeared between her brows.
He crossed to the table and stopped within reaching distance of her. “Are you seeing anyone else?”
Her eyes flashed fire and she shot to her feet. “What business is it of yours?”
“You’re still married to me,” he said as calmly as he could. “I think it’s a fair question.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts but didn’t back down or move away. “As it happens, no, I’m not. I haven’t.”
He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, feeling the relief course through his body. They’d both been celibate for three years. When he and Maddy had first met, their passion had verged on uncontrollable. It had been like a fever. She’d stayed that first night, moved in weeks later, and within months they were married. He thought their passion would be part of his life forever. At least he’d been right about the wanting being unending, if not their love-life.
He opened his eyes and saw a scrappy piece of dried foliage clinging to a rafter. Mistletoe. A lifetime ago, Maddy had insisted they get some. Threatened to refuse to kiss him unless he picked some. God, the hot kiss she’d given him had made climbing the gum tree for that silly bit of greenery all worthwhile.
And then she’d balanced on his shoulders, reaching up with a hammer to secure the bunch to an Oregon beam. He’d made it as difficult for her to concentrate as he could by nuzzling her inner thigh while he held her prisoner.
He glanced down at her, so unexpectedly back here in their kitchen. With him. Standing under the mistletoe. He still hated mistletoe and everything associated with Christmas. But Maddy? His heart thumped hard and erratically in his chest. He would always want Maddy with an unparalleled ferocity.
She moistened her lips. “Samuel?”
He moved closer, until he could feel her warm breath on his cheek, smell the scent of her skin, see her pupils expand. It was the closest he’d been to her in three years and his body was roaring its protest that there was any distance at all. This was right, he felt it in every fiber of his being.
He lifted her chin with a crooked finger. “Want to know something ironic?”
“Why not.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady, the pulse at the base of her throat raced faster.
“Mistletoe,” he said, and kissed her.
CHAPTER FOUR
At the first touch of Samuel’s lips, Maddy’s pulse jerked, then it sprinted, and she melted into his familiar, devastating heat. She shouldn’t, of course she shouldn’t, but being kissed by Samuel was too easy. Too beautiful. As his mouth moved hungrily and his tongue slid carnally against hers, everything inside her woke from a deep, three-year slumber. When she’d first left him, her nights had been bleaker than she could have imagined. This was what she’d craved. This.
His arm wound around her, pressing her close until she could feel his thumping heart through his shirt. A moan vibrated low in her throat. It was the most intimate touch she’d shared with him—with any man—in three years and its beauty was almost overpowering.
Yet, all the while, a warning light at the back of her mind blinked, trying in vain to get her attention. Determinedly, she blotted it out and fell back into the kiss, into the feel of his arms around her again, but the light became more insistent, blaring at her to stop—this was the man she was divorcing. A jagged pain ripped through her heart. She couldn’t have him. Couldn’t even have this kiss. She counted to three, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled back.
“Stop,” she whispered, using every last scrap of her self-control.
He laid a string of kisses along the line of her jaw. “Why?” His voice was barely more than a rumble against her skin.
Her entire body—the entire world—seemed to shimmer with glorious sensation. If she was going to be able to explain, she’d need distance, so she stepped back—trembling as she severed their link—and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Because you don’t get to do this,” she said, her breath still uneven.
“Kiss you?”
She blew out a breath. “You don’t get to ignore me for three years, ignore the one thing I asked for in that time, then try to pick up where we left off.”
He ran his hands through his hair and gripped at the roots before releasing them and letting his arms drop to his sides, palms out. “How was I ignoring you? You left me. Walked out our front door with nothing more than a note to say goodbye. What you term ignoring you, I see as respecting your wishes.”
Tears threatened at the back of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them form. Apparently it hadn’t once occurred to him to come after her, to see if their marriage was salvageable. He’d simply given up on them. Which proved she’d done the right thing by leaving—their union wasn’t strong enough to surmount the obstacles it faced. They were over. She’d left and he’d let her go.
“If you’re so keen to respect my wishes,” she said lifting her chin, “why kiss me when I’m here asking for a divorce? Divorce is pretty much the way two people announce they won’t be kissing anymore.”
“Which was your idea,” he pointed out, eyes narrowed.
Of course it was her idea—he’d taken no responsibility for the shape of their marriage, healthy or dying.
“Feel like falling on your knees and begging for another chance, Samuel?” She rested her hands on her hips, challenging him.
Thunderclouds seemed to gather above his head as he scowled. “Not even when I’m in a good mood.”
“Getting a lot of those good moods?” she asked, eyebrow arched.
“Not since you arrived.”
“Well, I can fix that,” she said, all faux sweetness. “Just as soon as you sign those papers.”
He glared at her for endless seconds, his chest heaving, an intensity in his eyes that scorched her. Then he snatched a pen from the counter and signed his name in a few bold strokes. “I’ll see you on the helipad in the morning.”
Long after Samuel had left the room Maddy still stood, frozen to the spot, staring at the signed divorce papers on the kitchen table.
It was really over.
She’d been the one to push for the divorce, sure, but it was still a shock to realize the marriage she’d dreamed would last forever was now mere history.
Continuing the way they were was impossible. Samuel didn’t give himself to anyone. Maybe little bits here and there, but not enough to maintain a marriage. She knew it was from his upbringing—his parents were respected members of society but everything with them was smoke and mirrors. Their two children, Samuel and Emma, had been taught the family mantra of distrust and facades—that everyone was out to get what they could from the Ruxthorns. So he’d learned early not to give pieces of his heart, of himself, away. She’d worked that much out from snippets of his past that he’d divulged, and unguarded comments his parents had occasionally made.
Problem was, she’d thought that once they were married he’d be willing to share with her, to open up about his past, h
is emotions, but even then he never trusted her enough. Wouldn’t share his innermost thoughts; could never have a true emotional intimacy. His love had never been in doubt, but love on its own wasn’t enough to sustain a marriage—trust and openness were as vital.
Their marriage had already been in trouble when she’d realized she wanted a baby…and that had been the death knell. Ever since she’d known him, Samuel had been adamant about not wanting children. She’d thought she felt the same. But a spark of need had lit inside her and no matter how much she’d tried to ignore it, the spark had stubbornly refused to snuff out. She’d finally had to acknowledge it—to herself and to Samuel.
She winced as she remembered his reaction. Shocked was an understatement, but he’d also refused to budge. He’d never wanted children and nothing would change his mind, and she had to admit that she’d never seen him hold, or even touch a baby in the entire time she’d known him. She’d left it a couple of months to see if the idea was something that could grow on him, but it became apparent it never would. And with Samuel’s modus operandi of refusing to open up and discuss his feelings, she’d seen no other way forward than to leave. A baby wasn’t something they could compromise on—either he’d have to give in, or she’d never be a mother. One of them would feel cheated.
How to leave had been harder to work out and reconcile. If he’d asked her to stay, she would have stayed, no question. She’d always been putty in his hands. And if she’d stayed, nothing would have been resolved—things would have gone downhill and they’d have ended up hating each other. Seeing hate in his eyes every day over the breakfast table, whenever they talked, was more than she could have borne.
So she’d done the most cowardly thing she’d done in her entire life. She’d written him a letter, packed up, and left while he was out of town for a couple of days. She’d tried to explain everything in her head and heart in that letter, but had no idea if he’d understood—she hadn’t spoken to him in person again until she’d arrived on the helicopter yesterday.
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