The Forbidden Wife

by Sharon Kendrick

  Christine and her team had certainly been busy because the table was laden with crystal, silver and crisp white linen which Ashley had never seen before. Tall, creamy candles flickered over bowls of white hyacinth which filled the air with their heavy scent. Rows of different knives and forks were lined up on either side of each place setting and she wondered just how many courses they were supposed to be eating. Would she know which implement to use, she wondered—or would she disgrace herself by eating with the wrong ones?

  For Ashley, the meal felt a bit like an endurance test. It was strange to be sitting there, served by some young girls who had been shipped in from the village for the evening. She spent much of the meal in silence, listening to Barry Connally, who thankfully held forth with a constant stream of jokes.

  But although Ashley was listening well enough to smile politely at each punchline, her attention was drawn to the interaction between Jack and the stunning brunette. Unwillingly, she watched as Nicole smiled up at him. How she giggled at pretty much everything he said. And how the glittering green of the emerald circlet at her neck drew attention to a magnificent cleavage, which tapered down to tiny waist. It might have been easier to bear if she’d been a bitchy kind of woman—but she wasn’t. In fact, she went out of her way to chat to Ashley with a manner which wasn’t in the least bit condescending. How could Jack fail to be mesmerised by such a woman?

  After dessert, they all went into the library for coffee, where a fire roared in the grate and a tray of brandies and liqueurs had been placed on a side-table. It should have been a warm and welcoming scene but to Ashley it felt anything but—something she put down to the cold ache in her heart. Unnoticed, she crept over to the window and shrank down into a chair by the curtains, wondering how quickly she could make her escape—when Jack walked across the room and sat down beside her.

  Up close, he looked even more magnificent, his aristocratic features seeming to have been hewn from marble and his raven hair gleaming blue-black in the firelight.

  ‘You’re very quiet tonight,’ he observed.

  ‘Am I?’ She gave a little shrug. ‘Everyone else is so bright and chatty that I hardly think my silence will be noticed.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you make a habit of always putting yourself down, Ashley?’

  ‘I prefer to think of it as being realistic.’

  ‘Do you?’ There was a pause as he studied her. Why was she being so damned unresponsive—as if the woman he had held in his arms on the windswept moor had been replaced with a waxwork replica? ‘You know, you didn’t give me a very satisfactory answer when I asked you a question earlier.’

  ‘And which particular question was that, Jack?’

  He gave a low laugh. ‘When I asked whether you’d missed me.’

  Quickly, Ashley glanced across the room—where Barry was in the process of pouring liqueurs for the two women. ‘Do you want our conversation overheard by the whole room?’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you think it might make them wonder why you’re asking your secretary a question like that?’

  ‘That’s extremely unlikely to happen,’ he drawled. ‘Unless you’re planning to break the habit of a lifetime by raising that soft voice of yours.’

  ‘Whether I missed you or not is irrelevant,’ she managed, her voice sounding little, and lost.

  ‘Is it?’ A smile touched the edges of his lips as he leaned forward. ‘So what’s the matter, Ashley? Your lips are trembling as if you’re cold, yet the fire is blazing and the room is warm.’

  You’re making me want you and it is wrong to want you. We both know that. ‘You’re… you’re neglecting your guests,’ she whispered.

  His laugh was as soft as it had been before, but now it was tinged with something else, something dangerous, which made the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle with a sense of the unknown.

  ‘There goes that hypocrisy again,’ he taunted. ‘Your eyes are saying something which your lips are contradicting. You look like a hungry bird which has escaped the winter chill and hopped onto the window sill to find a whole heap of crumbs waiting there—and yet something stops you from reaching out to take them. You wanted me that day on the moor—but then you clammed up and pretended that you didn’t.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I don’t really need a lesson in etiquette from you, Ashley, but perhaps you’re right—I am neglecting them. So you’d better excuse me and I’ll get back to them and leave you alone in your little ivory tower over here.’

  With that, he stood up and went back to the others—leaving Ashley feeling even more isolated than ever and yet knowing she had only herself to blame. Her head was whirling from the bizarre conversation they’d just shared and all she wanted to do was to escape. Was she a hypocrite? she asked herself distractedly. Was that how she came across—as some kind of tease who liked to play games? Didn’t he realise that she had simply been trying to protect herself and to maintain an air of professionalism between them? Yet now it seemed as though she had wrecked even that—wouldn’t the worst of all possible scenarios be that she lost her job without ever having known what it was like to have Jack make love to her?

  Quietly, she rose to her feet—though she noticed that Jack barely lifted his head to say goodnight as she excused herself and slipped from the room.

  Once she was safely back in her bedroom, she undressed—but she noticed that her hands were shaking. And so was her body. Shivering violently, she climbed into bed, curling herself into a ball in a desperate attempt to warm herself, but inside she felt like a cold block of ice. From downstairs she could hear the distant strains of laughter and she pulled a pillow over her head to try to block out the sounds of the others as they made their way up to bed. But when the house had grown quiet, she found herself listening in the darkness—like a small animal who had found itself in an unknown and threatening place with no idea how to escape.

  Pricking up her ears, she heard footsteps treading the night-time corridor. Yet these were not the distracted footsteps of Jack in one of his sleepless moods, but much lighter ones—though with a definite sense of purpose. Somewhere a door opened and closed again—and Ashley bit down hard on her lip as if doing that might alleviate the sudden clench of pain in her heart.

  Was that the sound of Nicole creeping into Jack’s bedroom? she wondered. Was she drawing back the duvet and slipping into bed beside him—his hard, naked body enfolding her to him? Behind Ashley’s closed eyes the graphic images continued to dance—yet what right did she have to feel bitter, or resentful?

  You had your chance! You had your chance with him—and you blew it. You threw it away.

  But even knowing that it had been the right thing to do did little to soothe her troubled spirit. It had been a long time since Ashley had cried. There was absolutely no comparison to the night she’d been locked up by her cruel foster mother and lain in the cupboard there, trembling in terror. Yet somehow the thought of what she had almost found with Jack and had now seen snatched away was enough to make her heart clench. Silently, she turned her head and bit her lip, but that did nothing to stem the silent flow of tears.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SOMEHOW Ashley got through the rest of the weekend. She hid behind a calm smile and a determination not to let her feelings show—but she had never felt more of an outsider. Like an unwilling spectator, she watched from the sidelines as Jack played host to his houseguests—and it seemed to her that the lovely Nicole had been born to live a life like this.

  A horse was sent up from the village and each morning, sitting astride the now-recovered Nero, Jack took the lustrous brunette horse-riding with him. Ashley saw them as they returned to the house, walking companion-ably together across the lawns, their faces flushed with exercise and animated in conversation. Nicole wasn’t scared of horses. She didn’t jump and startle them and make a man end up lying in a ditch. Ashley hated the sharp pang of jealousy which shot through her—and she hated the way her eyes always seemed to be drawn to the two of them. She had to snap out
of it and stop thinking about him in that way—because it was none of her business.

  But to her surprise, there was no sign of any deepening relationship between her boss and Nicole. In fact, Jack seemed more and more uninterested in the brunette as the weekend progressed, leaving Ashley feeling bewildered. It should have appeased her but it did not. If he failed to respond to someone as lovely, rich and cultured as Nicole—then what hope was there for her?

  She was both relieved and nervous when the three houseguests finally departed—wondering what it was going to be like to be alone with him again. Safe in the confines of the office, she could hear the sound of laughter as they all said their goodbyes, but she blocked out the sounds and tried to concentrate on the manuscript.

  When at last he came into the study she paused for a moment, letting her flying fingers still on the keyboard as he entered the room, her gaze drawn unwillingly to his face. His dark eyes were unfathomable as they looked at her and his face was faintly flushed.

  ‘Good morning, Ashley,’ he said softly.

  She swallowed. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘The guests have gone.’

  She nodded. ‘So I heard.’

  ‘Yet you didn’t bother coming outside to wave them goodbye?’

  ‘I had work to be getting on with. Anyway, I didn’t really think it was my place to do that.’

  ‘You didn’t think it was your place?’ he echoed in disbelief.

  She paused, because the black eyes were now looking at her with a kind of impatience—as if he was waiting for an explanation. And maybe she should give him one. ‘They’re not my friends—they’re yours.’

  ‘Yes. So they are.’ Slowly, he walked across the room and came to stand beside her. ‘And what did you think of them?’

  Why was he doing that—standing so close that she could barely breathe? From here she could make out the musky scent of soap and sandalwood as well as being aware of the sound of his breathing and the warmth of his body. Was he trying to tantalise her with his proximity—to remind her just how warm and vital he could be? With fingers which were threatening to tremble, Ashley put her hands in her lap where he couldn’t see them. ‘Surely my opinion on your friends is irrelevant.’

  ‘Maybe it is—but I’m very interested to hear what you think. Your judgement always interests me,’ he persisted. ‘Or perhaps you’re prevaricating? What’s the matter, Ashley—don’t you like my friends and are afraid to tell me?’

  ‘I shouldn’t dream of being so rude and neither would I dream of pronouncing judgement on them. But if you insist on having my opinion, then I’ll give you one. I thought Barry was very funny.’

  ‘Oh, he is.’ His black eyes became momentarily flinty. ‘Women are always captivated by his charm—though men can usually see right through it. And Nicole? What did you think of Nicole?’

  ‘She.’ Ashley sucked in a breath. ‘She’s very beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  And even though she hadn’t seen any outward displays of affection, some masochistic urge made Ashley press on. ‘She seems very… fond of you.’

  Black eyes glittered. ‘Can you blame her?’

  ‘“Blame” isn’t a word I usually associate with the giving of affection, Jack.’

  ‘Oh, Ashley,’ he said, his laugh soft and low. ‘Can a man ever win an argument against you?’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that we were arguing.’

  ‘Weren’t you? Then I can only conclude that either you’re extremely naïve or extremely disingenuous.’ His features hardened as his gaze scanned her face like a searchlight, his lips curving into a smile. ‘We often disagree. It’s because we’re deeply attracted to one another—and arguing is just one way of sublimating those feelings. The conflict we create on the surface is merely a foil to hide the desire which simmers beneath the surface. It’s always there, Ashley. Always there.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Can’t you feel it? It’s simmering now—hot and fierce and relentless. It’s making me want to take you into my arms again just the way I did on the hill, when I kissed you and you responded with a passion which blew me away.’

  ‘Jack—’

  ‘I thought that a break might make me come to my senses. Might make me realise the folly of what nearly happened. I thought if I provided myself with social diversions, that I could dismiss the incident as irrelevant. I thought that perhaps I might make myself interested in Nicole—or Kate.’ His eyes were gleaming now. ‘But

  I can’t,’ he said simply. ‘It’s you I want. I still want you. I can’t get you out of my mind, Ashley—and that’s the truth of it.’

  ‘Jack,’ she whispered again and the word sounded breathless as it caught in her dry throat. He had just said words she had never thought she’d hear—words she had longed for in the dark and sleepless hours of the night. But some bone-deep instinct told her that this was wrong—and Ashley had spent too much of her life reliant on what her instincts were telling her to ignore them now. She shook her head. ‘Please, Jack,’ she finished.

  ‘Please what?’ he questioned, his voice hardening into a husky taunt.

  She swallowed down her own desire. ‘Stop talking that way.’

  ‘What way is that?’

  ‘We mustn’t!’

  ‘Stop telling it like it is, you mean?’ he forged on, as if she hadn’t spoken.

  She shook her head, wanting this warm cloud of dangerous desire to evaporate.

  ‘You’re denying that it exists—this feeling between us?’ he challenged. ‘In which case perhaps my honest Ashley is telling a lie for once.’

  Once more, she shook her head—yet she couldn’t deny his words. There was desire. Deep and strong and all-consuming. She could feel it right now—making itself known to a body which had no practice in resistance techniques. All she knew was that her mouth had dried and she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted to feel the hot crush of his lips and the powerful strength of his body as he pulled her into his arms. Swallowing convulsively like someone who had a fishbone stuck in their throat, she stared up at his half-parted lips. ‘It isn’t… appropriate,’ she breathed.

  ‘Appropriate?’ he echoed and something in his voice made Ashley start.

  She was so used to seeing the autocratic set of his proud features that sometimes it was difficult to imagine that he’d led others into battle. He had seen what most people would never see in a lifetime, nor wish to. But she caught a glimpse of that man now. War was elemental but so was sex—and she saw a flash of raw emotion tighten his features. It was difficult to say what that emotion was: a curious hybrid of anger, desire and something else—something which kept Ashley frozen to the spot until, without any kind of warning, he pulled her up from the chair and into his arms. His breath was warm against her face and she could feel his powerful hands imprisoning her waist.

  ‘Why are you such a meek little mouse, Ashley?’ he bit out, his eyes blazing black fire over her skin. ‘Who cares what is “appropriate”? For once in your life—don’t you long to reach out and take what you really want instead of standing on the sidelines and letting it pass you by?’

  She didn’t know whether he was expecting an answer and even if she’d been in any kind of coherent state to give him one she doubted words would have been able to pass her lips. As it was, she just stared up into the shifting shadows of his features, knowing what he was about to do and powerless to stop him. Uncertainly, her lips parted as he moved closer. For a moment he just stared down into her face, his black eyes almost unseeing. Until, with a small moan, he drove his mouth down on hers.

  It was powerful and it was all consuming—a hot melding of the flesh, which started an instant fire of response singing in her blood. Her arms reached up for him and she clung to him. Into the warm cavern of her mouth, she heard him groan her name and she felt her body shiver in response.

  ‘Ashley,’ he groaned.

  ‘Jack!’ she cried brokenly, unable to contain her pent-up emotions any longer.

 
; Tangling his fingers in her hair, he deepened the kiss as desire shot through her. Beneath that sweet onslaught she began to tremble uncontrollably and he must have felt it because he drew his mouth away—reached out his finger to trace it down her cheek until it stopped on her trembling lips.

  ‘I want you,’ he stated unequivocally.

  She could taste his finger on the tip of her tongue. ‘J-Jack.’

  ‘And you want me,’ he continued unsteadily. ‘Don’t you?’

  How could she deny it any longer? How could she resist her heart’s desire. ‘Yes.’ Yet even as she whispered her assent she felt insecurity begin to bubble up inside her—because she could not bear unasked questions to come back to haunt her. ‘But what about…?’

  As her words tailed off his eyes narrowed. ‘About what?’

  ‘Nicole.’ She swallowed. ‘Isn’t she more suitable? More your type. Someone who rides horses. Someone who—’

  ‘Shh.’ He silenced her by placing a finger over her lips. ‘I don’t want to talk about Nicole. I want you, Ashley. I have wanted you from the moment I first set eyes on you. It’s inexplicable and yet it’s all powerful. You’re like a fire that burns in my veins—do you know that? A fever I can’t escape. Your quietness and your stillness have invaded my soul and I must have you. I must.’

  It was a powerful declaration which made Ashley tremble again—even though she feared that this was wrong on so many levels. But hot on the heels of common sense came the growing realisation that her own desire matched his—despite the disparity of their age and experience. She could see her own hunger reflected back from his ebony eyes. She could feel every fibre of his body straining as if it were being pulled irresistibly against hers. And wasn’t her own body doing exactly the same? Weren’t they acting like two magnets? Each drawn inexplicably to the other?