An Interrupted Marriage
Laurey Bright
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
Everything seemed brighter than Jade remembered. The light was harsh on painted roofs, and the trees, shimmering under the beat of the sun, were implausibly green. Power poles whizzed past the car, the wires gleamed in long streaming lines, and other traffic shot by in blurs of colour.
Clenching her hands in her lap, she peeked at the dashboard in front of Magnus. The needle was steady and just within the legal speed limit.
Magnus slowed to allow room for a white van cruising onto the motorway from the side, and she gazed at his hands—strong hands, fastened tight on the steering wheel so that his knuckles showed pale against the tanned skin. She glanced at his face then, wondering if he, too, was nervous.
He turned his head slightly, his expression aloof, the deep-set eyes in the clever, lean face the colour of gunmetal. Sometimes they became softer, like a dusky evening sky, but it was a long time since she’d witnessed that sea change.
“All right?” he queried abruptly, his dark brows fractionally rising.
“Yes.” Jade deliberately loosened her fingers and gave him a shaky smile.
Something flickered in his eyes and was gone. Then he returned his attention to his driving, smoothly changing lanes and accelerating. It was a new car, with comfortably moulded velour seats and plenty of leg room. Magnus needed that to accommodate his length. He was over six foot when he stood.
She said, “I’m not used to traffic anymore.”
He looked at her with faint surprise. “I’ve taken you out a few times recently.”
“Short trips,” she said. “This is different.”
A brief frown creased the skin between his brows. The car slowed a little as he eased his foot back on the accelerator. “Is it worrying you?”
Jade shook her head. “No, it’s just...I have to get adjusted to things.”
“We’ll be there in about an hour or so.”
It would be a bit more, but she supposed he was trying to reassure her. “I’m all right,” she said vehemently, “really.”
“I know. I wouldn’t be taking you home if you weren’t.”
She wondered if he really believed it, but the last thing she wanted was to start an argument. Trying to be positive, she said, “I’m looking forward to being at Waititapu again.”
“You’ll find there have been changes.”
A small chill cooled her skin. “What changes?” She knew, of course, that the younger children had left home—Danella married, Laurence attending an agricultural college down south, Andrew at boarding school.
Magnus shrugged. “The trees you planted have grown, for one thing. And there’s the housekeeper.”
“She won’t be needed now.”
But Magnus, his lips thinning, said in a carefully expressionless voice, “I think she’d better stay. For a while, at least.”
Jade breathed twice, slowly. Matching his reasoned tone, she argued, “They’ve said I’m perfectly okay, you know. There’s no need to coddle me.”
“I’m sure they’re right,” he agreed, “but we don’t want to take any risks. We’ll leave the question for a few months.”
That seemed to be his final word. Jade briefly dug her teeth into her lower lip, then turned her head to look out of the window. They were already approaching the Auckland Harbour Bridge, the long, upward curve rising ahead, the waters of the Waitemata below sizzling with sun sparks, and randomly sprinkled with dipping and twirling sails—white, blue, red, striped.
“How is your mother?” Jade asked as they left the bridge and headed north.
“Much the same.”
Jade said after a while, “And the new nurse-aide?”
“What about her?”
“Is your mother getting on with her?”
A large maroon sedan swung too closely in front of them and Magnus braked, letting slip a violent swear-word in a savage undertone.
“Your mother doesn’t like new people in the house,” Jade observed when they had picked up speed again.
Magnus moved his head sharply but when she looked at him he was staring at the road ahead. His voice clipped, he said, “I’m aware it wasn’t easy for you. Things are different, now. It’s a big enough house.”
And it should be simple for Magnus’s mother and Jade to avoid each other.
Her mouth turned down in a wry grimace. She suddenly felt tired, and laid her head back against the soft upholstery. “Do you mind if I sleep?”
“Not at all.”
She thought she detected relief in his voice. A sense of panic assailed her, similar to the one that had made her eyes prick with tears and her stomach churn earlier when she’d heard the big wooden door shut behind them and watched Magnus swing her suitcase into the luggage compartment of the car. She’d remained on the step, stifling a ridiculous urge to pound on the door and ask to be taken back inside, telling them she wasn’t ready to leave after all. And then Magnus had slammed the lid down on her case and turned to her and said, “Coming?”
And she’d reminded herself that this was what she’d been waiting for, fighting towards. Going home with Magnus.
She dozed until they were almost halfway to Waititapu, opening her eyes when the car slowed to a crawl and then halted, the engine idling. They were passing through Orewa, a beach town where the sea was separated from the main shopping street by a grassy park or, further along, a single row of housing. Magnus had stopped to let a group of children walk over the road on a pedestrian crossing. She closed her eyes again.
Next time the car slowed on the outskirts of a small town, Jade sat up. Her neck was stiff and her mouth dry. She said, “Could we stop for a drink?”
He answered without looking at her. “Of course, if you’re thirsty.”
She raked back heavy honey-blond hair with her fingers, and thought restlessly that soon she’d get it decently cut.
Magnus drew up outside a dairy and said, “What would you like? A soft drink or milkshake? Or coffee?”
She looked at the shop, small and clean with high stools and a narrow bar along one wall. Across the road was a hotel with a door marked Bistro Bar. “Could we go over there?” she suggested. “For a proper drink?”
His hesitation was only momentary. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t suppose it will do any harm.”
She bit back a retort, reminding herself that he’d got used to thinking of her as someone who had to be stopped from doing things that might harm her. She gave him a bright smile and said, “Oh, good! Thank you.”
Immediately she was aware that it had sounded a wrong note, either childish or facetious. She saw the quick drawing in of his lips before he turned away from her to open the car door.
The bar was dim and almost deserted but for two men conducting a low-voiced conversation in one corner. A faint smell of stale beer mingled with the over-sweet scent of a floral air-freshener, and there was no one behind the counter.
Magnus saw her seated on a curved leather banquette in a bay window, and said, “I’ll try to rustle up some service. What do you want?”
“Um...” She hadn’t thought of what she wanted, except to express s
ome sort of independence, celebrate her new freedom. “What is there?”
He glanced at the array of bottles over the bar. “A white wine? Or gin and lime with tonic?”
“That sounds good,” she said over-eagerly. “I’ll try it.”
He gave her an odd look but nodded silently and went over to the bar, firmly pressing the bell-push on the counter. A man appeared from somewhere at the back and took the order.
A few minutes later Magnus put the tall glass, pleasantly bubbling and with a slice of lime on the side, before her. “Here you are.” He sat opposite her with a glass of beer in front of him.
Jade picked up her glass and sipped tentatively. “This is delicious.”
“Your favourite tipple.”
Jade’s head came up, and Magnus caught the look on her face.
“You don’t remember,” he said. And then, rather gently, “It doesn’t matter.”
She gazed back at him in dumb dismay, and swallowed a sudden rush of tears. She couldn’t show that kind of weakness now, not today. He might think...heaven knew what he might think. Fiercely, she fought for control.
“After all,” Magnus said, “it’s been a long time.”
“Yes.” She dipped her head and took a long draught of effervescent liquid. The sweet-sour taste of lime and bitter tonic underlaid with the bite of gin steadied her.
She put the glass down on the table, stained and pockmarked under dark, polished varnish, and looked out the window. A sheep truck rumbled by, making the building shiver, the closed window mercifully shutting out the inevitable smell. Through the truck’s slatted sides she glimpsed a quivering nose, a dark shining eye and twitching pink ear lifted above the tightly packed huddle of stained white wool. It was safer for them to travel squeezed in like that, less chance of falling and getting injured. She hoped the closeness of others was a comfort to them. “Poor things,” she murmured.
Magnus had been staring into his untouched beer. “What?”
“Nothing.” She pulled her gaze away from the window. The bartender was rattling glasses, clinking bottles as he tidied the shelves. “I’ve never been in here before....” She paused. “Have I?”
Magnus shook his head. “Not that I know of.” He picked up the glass and began to drink. She watched his head tip back, his eyes half closing, his throat taut. And had a sudden clear picture of him lying naked over her in their bed at Waititapu, his head lifted like that momentarily before he lowered it and laid his mouth on hers.
A sweet rush of longing warmed her skin, her body, setting it tingling with desire. Magnus put down the glass and as he caught her eyes she saw the quick shock in his, and the sudden colour that overlaid his cheekbones. Her lips parted and trembled on a smile, welcoming, acknowledging, promising.
His face changed and he deliberately turned away from her, idly watching as the two men in the far corner rose from their table and ambled towards the counter to chat to the bartender.
Jade felt the rebuff as though he’d physically repulsed her. She said quietly, “What’s the matter, Magnus?” Her hands were cupped about her glass, the ice in her drink making them cold, and damp.
“Nothing.” His eyes met hers again, and there was no emotion in them, nothing but faint boredom and a hint of impatience. He lifted the glass to his lips again, and half drained it. “Do you want some peanuts or something to go with that?” he asked her, glancing at her drink.
Jade shook her head, almost laughing at the banality of the question. But perhaps he’d been right to deliberately expunge the unexpected flare of sexual anticipation. This was hardly the place for a passionate interlude. Tonight...
Her blood stirred and she concentrated rigorously on her drink, half horrified and half amused at her thoughts. She peeked at Magnus, but he wasn’t looking at her. It was a temptation to keep on looking at him, to take pleasure in the firm line of his chin, the supple skin of his neck with the slight thrust of the Adam’s apple, the hollowed throat bared by the open neck of his casual shirt. If she opened the other buttons she’d find a solid masculine chest, bone and muscle firmly encased in warm skin with a teasing of wiry dark curls to tickle her palms.
Jade shook her head and quickly finished her drink. Soon they would be home, and later they would have the opportunity to rediscover each other. It would be like a second honeymoon, with the bonus that now she knew a lot more than she had the first time, about her own body and his. That was something she thanked heaven she hadn’t forgotten—the deep, delicious pleasure that she and Magnus found in each other when they made love.
“Ready to go?” His voice broke in on her thoughts.
Nodding, Jade edged herself out of the banquette. He didn’t touch her as he walked by her side to the car and unlocked it, opening her door. She smiled at him but he didn’t seem to see it before he closed the door behind her.
“I could take a turn driving if you like,” she offered as he slid into the seat beside her. “I should have mentioned it before.”
“No need,” he said, buckling himself in. “Anyway, you’re out of practice.”
“I’ll have to start again sometime.” Driving herself would probably be less nerve-racking, she thought, than being a passenger, and already she had lost much of her earlier anxiety.
“Let’s not rush things.” He started the engine, glanced behind them and moved the car out onto the roadway.
“I’m sure I’m perfectly safe behind the wheel of a car,” she said as they picked up speed, feeling a perverse need to prove herself in some way. “At least I would be, given the chance.”
“You’ll have your chance,” he assured her. “You’re being over-sensitive, Jade.”
She supposed she was—something she ought to watch. It wouldn’t do to see implications that didn’t exist.
He said, “Why don’t you go to sleep again?”
“I’m not tired.”
Magnus gave a small shrug. “Suit yourself.”
They left the town, and the road wound through plumped-cushion hills with leftovers of blue-green bush folded into the clefts and post-and-wire fences marching across the rounded humps. A yellow-eyed hawk tearing at a dead possum on the road lifted itself reluctantly over the windscreen as the car approached, the feathers at the ends of its wide wings spread like fingers.
Taller hills rose ahead, dark, billowing cloud boiling into the sky behind them. Magnus negotiated carefully around a temporary fence erected to keep traffic safe from where the road had cracked away and was sliding into the gully on the other side.
“Has there been a lot of rain up here?” Jade asked. She’d noticed how green the hills were, the rich, emerald-green of lush pasture.
“Our tanks are still quite full,” Magnus answered, “and the grass is growing well. It should be a good year for the cattle. We’ve had to watch the sheep and keep them on the high ground.” Sheep were better on drier land, where they were less likely to get eczema and foot-rot. Waititapu was a group of farms running beef cattle and sheep as well as a large dairy herd.
They turned off the main highway and soon the smooth road gave way to a narrower, unsealed portion. The engine note changed as the road curled about the hillside, becoming steeper where ponga and manuka and shivering flags of white toetoe and silky purple pampas grass overhung it from the high banks.
Magnus slowed to a near-crawl on the steeper corners that were corrugated by previous traffic, and the dusty ferns alongside brushed the windscreen and the roof.
The entrance to Waititapu was marked by heavy posts and an open gate. The car rattled over the metal bars of the cattle stop and followed the winding driveway between totara and English oaks shading azaleas, daphne and blue hydrangeas. In spring daffodils and jonquils and scented creamy freesias fringed the drive, but now the grass edges were neatly shorn.
At the end of the drive, the house stood white, high and sprawling, and the paddocks ended in a six-wire fence at the top of a steep sandy slope to the sea.
Magnus s
wept the car into the big new garage and opened the door for her, and immediately Jade smelt the salty wind. When he’d got out her case they walked onto the cobbled patio behind the arched trellis connecting the house and the garage, and Jade halted, her mesmerized gaze on the riffled blue expanse lying from headland to headland and stretching to a distant, purple-limned horizon.
“I’d forgotten,” she said, “how beautiful it is.” Magnus was looking at her curiously as she turned to him. “Magnus—do you remember when you first brought me here?”
He said, “Yes.” And then, as though he hadn’t meant to, “Do you?”
“Of course I do!”
His eyelids flickered. He looked at her with a strange, probing expression and then said abruptly, “We’d better go in. You’ll be getting cold out here.”
There was a brisk sea breeze, but she wasn’t cold. He didn’t give her a chance to argue, swinging away from her with the suitcase and pushing wide the side door for her to precede him.
She stepped inside and paused, so that Magnus almost cannoned into her. She felt his steadying hand on her arm as he muttered, “Sorry. You remember your way?”
“Yes, it’s just a bit dark after the sun outside.” She walked along the passageway to the front hall, an impressive entry with a glass-panelled door, and a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. A broad stairway curved down on one side.
A voice, clear and feminine but not young, called, “Magnus? You’re back?”
There was a faint thudding on carpeted floorboards, and a grey-haired woman appeared in a doorway opposite the stairs. Slim and neatly groomed in a navy blue dress, she was leaning on two sticks. “And Jade,” she said, her gaze resting coolly on her daughter-in-law. “Welcome home.”
With genuine gratitude, Jade said, “Thank you very much. It’s...nice to see you again, Mother Riordan.” She crossed the hall and leaned forward to kiss a dry but scarcely lined cheek.
“You’re too thin.” The grey, aloof eyes were very like her son’s, although a shade lighter. “That dress doesn’t fit you.”
Jade managed to smile. She’d specially requested that Magnus bring the flared coral linen dress for her to come home in, and a pair of high heels to go with it. “I’ll have to alter some of my clothes.”
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