The Marriage Betrayal

by Lynne Graham

  Desire was slivering along her nerve endings in a smoulderingly slow attack, when little cramping pains low in her pelvis made her tense for a different reason entirely. Without saying anything she went upstairs to the suite set aside for the bride and groom to change and there she discovered with a sinking heart that she was bleeding. In consternation she wondered if she was losing her baby and when her mother came to check on her Crystal wasted no time in using her phone to call Sander. He sought counsel from his cousin who was a doctor.

  ‘You need medical attention,’ Sander pronounced.

  ‘But this is our wedding night!’ Tally protested in dismay.

  ‘These things happen,’ Sander countered, keen to keep her calm the way his cousin had advised.

  An hour and a half later, Tally was tucked into a bed in a private clinic that the doctor had recommended and the wedding day was definitely over. While Crystal had stayed on at the hotel to act as hostess, the bride had not got to throw her bouquet, stay up late at the evening party or even say goodbye to their guests. From below lowered lashes her attention was on Sander, sunk in a chair across the room, his jacket discarded and his sleeves pushed back, his stubborn jaw line now darkly shadowed by stubble. Slightly dishevelled though he was, he managed to look even more gorgeous than usual and her heart went bumpety-bumpety-bump inside her chest, leaving her breathless.

  ‘I’m really sorry about this,’ Tally whispered.

  In an abrupt movement, Sander sprang upright, instantly dominating the room with his height, breadth and restlessness. He raked impatient brown fingers through his tousled black hair. ‘Don’t be silly—this isn’t your fault.’

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes in a hot surge and she blinked rapidly and hurriedly looked away, aware that the last thing he needed was an emotional scene. ‘There’s no point in you staying here with me. Go back to the hotel and see your friends.’

  ‘It’s two in the morning.’ Sander pointed out the lateness of the hour gently, aware that she had lost track of time. ‘I can’t leave you here alone.’

  ‘Why not? I’m ready to go to sleep.’

  Sander shifted a shoulder in silence, expressing a concern he did not want to frame in words, his lean strong face bleak and hollow with tension. The consultant had made it clear to him that nothing more could be done to prevent her from losing the baby. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen. There was no magic cure to be applied. He did not know how he felt about the ongoing risk of a miscarriage; he just didn’t want to think about it. He was more worried about Tally. He just wanted her back to her normal effervescent self; the pale, tear-stained, apologetic woman in the bed felt like a stranger.

  ‘The staff will contact you if anything happens,’ Tally muttered. ‘Please go—it would make me feel better.’

  In the end Sander departed, telling her that he would be back first thing in the morning. Only when Tally studied his empty chair did she let the tears flow freely. This was certainly not how she had dreamt of embarking on their shiny new marriage. She pushed her damp cheek into the pillow and tried to sleep, while trying to tell her baby to hang on in there as if her sincere good wishes could fix whatever problem there might be.

  Forty-eight hours later and still pregnant, the spotting she’d been suffering having stopped, Tally left the hospital and travelled straight to the airport with her baggage to fly to Athens. Sander was already on board the private jet and spent most of the flight preoccupied with work before finally admitting that the family shipping company needed major reorganisation and that he had to hit the ground running if he was to impress his father with his commitment.

  Sander owned a city apartment that was clearly designed to suit a young single male, for the kitchen was minuscule, the lounge furnished with more technology than Tally had ever seen outside a shop and the bed was huge. Recognising that his bride would be at a loose end while he was at the office, Sander suggested somewhat vaguely that she might want to visit his mother, who would introduce her to people. Tally contrived not to cringe at that piece of useless advice and bought a cookery book instead, determined to make meals that Sander would recognise.

  Unfortunately her culinary efforts proved superfluous when Sander worked late every night and invariably slid into the far side of the bed in the early hours of the morning. They shared the apartment on platonic terms because he had not touched her since she had been hospitalised, a state of affairs that shook Tally; it had never crossed her mind that Sander might impose a moratorium on sex.

  Finally she picked up her courage one night when he was stripping for bed in the dark, the husband who was almost becoming a stranger to her in his remoteness from her daily life and his endless working hours. ‘Sander?’

  ‘Sorry, did I wake you up?’

  ‘I want you to wake me up. I never see you.’ Tally sighed before thinking better of what might sound dangerously like a whine. ‘You know, I may be pregnant but I’m totally healthy. And according to the gynaecologist at my last check-up, it’s totally safe for us to make love …’

  ‘I’m too tired tonight,’ Sander delivered cuttingly, striding into the bathroom.

  Cheeks flaming in the semi-darkness, Tally almost groaned out loud and chewed at her lower lip in squirming discomfiture. Perhaps she had been clumsy. She has assumed that her threatened miscarriage had made him reluctant to initiate sex. She didn’t know what else could be wrong. But then she didn’t know why he was shutting her out of his life to such an extent either. He didn’t talk about business or his working day, or if there were problems in either field. Worst of all was the sense she got that he was angry with her, that beneath that smooth, polite and always considerate façade of his he was like a powder keg ready to explode.

  Was it her imagination that he was angry and avoiding her? She thought of the dark brooding look she had glimpsed in his stunning eyes, the clipped words and irritation, the antagonism she felt pulse in the abrupt silences that stretched even during the most casual exchanges. No, Tally was convinced that the anger was not only a figment of her imagination.

  But what was Sander angry about? The blip in her health that had spoiled the aftermath of their wedding? The simple fact that she was pregnant and likely to become unattractively rotund in the near future? The reality that marriage could seem rather boring to a guy accustomed to frequent changes of partner? Or had he just decided that he didn’t want to be with her any more? Was he only putting in his time with her until the baby was safely born?

  Not so very long ago they had laughed at the same things, argued companionably and shared a terrific sexual bond but now, all of a sudden, when she was available every night he no longer seemed to find her attractive. But possibly he was tired, she reasoned ruefully. After all he was working incredibly long hours at Volakis Shipping and she suspected that he and his father rarely saw eye to eye, which had to be stressful and frustrating for a guy accustomed to calling all his own shots.

  The following day, Tally sent Sander a text inviting him home for a meal at eight and then breaking free of her usual inhibitions, she went shopping at a lingerie boutique and stocked up on the kind of silk and lace apparel that she was convinced would appeal to any red-blooded male.

  Shortly before eight she lit the candles on the table and studied herself in the mirror, grimacing a little, hugely self-conscious about the outfit she was wearing—although outfit was not an appropriate description. She was clad in a coffee and cream silk set of bra and knickers, teamed with heels, stockings and a loose chiffon wrap that revealed more than it concealed. Sander was not going to be left in any doubt of the invitation she was giving him and, on one level, her pride was mortified by the bold approach she was taking.

  But the bottom line was that she loved Sander and that simple truth outweighed all other considerations, she acknowledged ruefully. She could not go on indefinitely wondering what was wrong and living on the outskirts of his life like a barely tolerated poor relation. If Sander wanted his
freedom back, if he was excluding her because he resented her presence, she was better finding out now and walking away before they ended up hating each other. She had to think of their child. Her own parents, Crystal and Anatole, loathed each other so much that they couldn’t even be in the same room together. Tally was willing to do almost anything to conserve a more civilised relationship with Sander if only for their child’s sake.

  As the minutes marched on she had to fuss over the meal in an effort to stop it spoiling. By half-past eight she was worried; by the time he was an hour late and hadn’t even phoned she was in angry tears. She did not think she had ever felt so lonely in her life as she did watching the clock tick on in the silence. She wouldn’t let the tears fall and she couldn’t even have a drink because she was pregnant. At ten she threw the meal in the bin and just left all the dishes sitting, then took refuge in the bedroom.

  Sander let himself into the apartment just after two in the morning. Having spent a large part of the evening downing vodka with the Russian consortium who had just signed a very lucrative contract with Volakis Shipping, he was remarkably sober but almost drunk with tiredness. There was a light burning in the kitchen and when he saw the dishes stacked everywhere he was momentarily bemused because, in recent weeks, while he turned night into day struggling to keep the family business afloat it had become an effort to even remember that he had a wife.

  Now in the act of helping himself to some fresh orange juice from his extraordinarily well-stocked refrigerator, Sander remembered that Tally had asked him to come home to dinner. He dug out his mobile and recalled switching off the reminder he had programmed in at the club where he had entertained the Russians. He had meant to ring her when it was more convenient but had forgotten entirely. He swore and crossed the room to the dining table in the alcove, still laid with cutlery and glasses and a rather poignant little bud vase filled with a drooping posy. He stood gazing down at the trappings of the meal he had failed to show up for with a sinking heart and a conscience that was suddenly cutting him like a knife.

  In the bedroom, Tally awoke when the fridge door slammed shut and she sat up, seeing the thin line of light below the door. Sander was home, Sander had actually bothered to come home! She scrambled off the bed, bemused to register that she was still wearing her high heels as she had fallen asleep on top of the duvet. Pushing her tumbling curls off her brow, she headed angrily into the lounge.

  Sander focused on Tally in the doorway and he was staggered by her get-up: she never wore sexy lingerie for his benefit and tonight she had really pushed the boat out. Her beautiful breasts were foaming over the lace edge of a low-cut bra much racier than her usual selection, while a short robe of floral fabric barely covered skimpy high-cut knickers and did nothing at all to hide the length of leg on show. His body reacting involuntarily with all the powerful pent-up hunger of a male who had suppressed his sexual appetite for weeks, Sander dragged his attention from her wonderfully curvaceous body with the greatest difficulty.

  ‘I owe you an apology, moli mou. I should’ve phoned,’ he breathed, colliding with green eyes bright with angry condemnation …

  CHAPTER TEN

  THOSE words were too little too late to soothe Tally.

  While she acknowledged that her threatened miscarriage had got their marriage off to a poor start, she had suffered her neglect in silence. She felt as if her body’s show of weakness, which seemed to have made everything go wrong, was somehow her fault. She had made no demands and had voiced no complaints. Indeed she had attempted to be a supportive understanding partner, only to feel mortified by the obvious fact that her husband seemed neither to want her or need her in that role.

  She did not feel like a wife and Sander didn’t treat her like one either. He had made no attempt to spend time with her or to enquire into what she did with her days in a foreign city where she had no friends. Cosima had ignored both her sister’s wedding and Tally’s sending of her mobile phone number, making it clear that she did not want contact with her sibling even if she was currently living in the same country. Sander could not have made his lack of interest in Tally, his marriage and their future child more obvious and suddenly Tally could not credit that she had tolerated that indifference in silence for so long.

  ‘You owe me more than an apology for the last month, you owe me an explanation—’

  An ebony brow quirked. ‘About what?’

  Green eyes pure emerald with anger, Tally threw her hands out in a demonstration of the strong emotion rippling through her. ‘You’ve treated me like the invisible woman ever since our wedding day. Why on earth did you marry me if you were planning to behave like that? What was the point?’

  His deep-set dark eyes were heavy with exhaustion and his luxuriant lashes lowered to screen his wary gaze. He shifted a broad shoulder. ‘I’m too tired for this stuff now. We’ll discuss it tomorrow—’

  ‘I probably won’t see you tomorrow,’ Tally interrupted. ‘Or haven’t you noticed that you walk out of here at dawn and don’t come back much before dawn the next day?’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for an argument—’

  ‘I don’t care!’ Tally broke in with fiery persistence. ‘I have the right to know where I stand. I have the right to ask you why the heck you married me when you don’t seem to want me as a wife!’

  Sander’s big powerful body had pulled taut with tension and his stubborn mouth compressed as he shot her a sardonic glance. ‘Let’s not go into that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you might not like the answer I give you!’ Sander slung back before he could think better of it, his temper rising in direct proportion to his exhaustion and his impatience and knocking him off guard. He was dead on his feet: all he wanted to do was sleep. Even the hard wooden floor was beginning to look inviting.

  In receipt of that bewildering response, Tally had fallen very still. ‘Why wouldn’t I like it?’

  ‘Leave it, Tally,’ Sander urged in exasperation, striding past her to head into the bedroom she had just vacated.

  ‘And what if I don’t want to leave it?’ Tally sped in his wake, refusing to back off.

  ‘You’ll wish you had,’ Sander told her wryly, tossing his jacket and tie down on a chair. ‘Look, I admit that you have grounds for complaint. So far, I’ve not been the most considerate husband, but tonight is not the time to call me to account for my mistakes. I’m too tired to talk right now. I’ve spent hours exchanging tall stories with a pair of Russian businessmen who could drink the Volga dry and still remain standing.’

  ‘You can’t throw something like that at me and then refuse to tell me the whole story.’

  ‘There is no story,’ Sander said flatly, standing still to unbutton his shirt.

  ‘I want to know why you married me!’

  ‘Well, not because you shout at three in the morning and demand answers that it would be a challenge for me to give you even if I was less tired,’ Sander framed wearily.

  ‘I deserve the truth,’ Tally challenged. ‘It seems pretty obvious that you only married me because I’m pregnant.’

  Sander grimaced. ‘Tomorrow, Tally—’

  ‘No, not tomorrow—now!’ she fired back at him. ‘Every step of this relationship you have controlled everything but now it’s my turn. Why did you ask me to marry you?’

  And in answer to that bold challenge, Sander was suddenly filled with such a swelling, unstoppable surge of rage that he could no longer hold the words back.

  ‘Because your father threatened to bring down Volakis Shipping if I didn’t!’

  Assailed by an explanation so far from her expectations, Tally could only blink at him and stare in sheer bewilderment. ‘Excuse me? My father? He threatened you? When did that happen? Did you tell him I was pregnant?’

  ‘No. Someone—presumably you, your mother or even your half-sister—told Anatole about the baby, and that I was responsible. He was furious. He came to see me at my London office and demanded that I mar
ry you. If I refused, he threatened to scare off a contract that Volakis Shipping needed to survive. Your father is an influential man in the world of business. He always has his ear to the ground. People who matter listen to his tips.’

  The hectic flush in Tally’s cheeks was slowly receding as shock drained the natural colour from her face. ‘I wasn’t the one who told him.’ Slowly, numbly she shook her head in an emphatic negative to underline that point, but she was still so taken aback by what he had revealed that she could not yet put it all together inside her mind. ‘And Cosima didn’t even know I was pregnant which only leaves your parents or my mother, and if she told my father, I’m amazed, because as a rule she can hardly bear to speak to him.’

  ‘My parents have said nothing. So it wasn’t you who talked … you didn’t run to tell stories so that your father would put pressure on me?’ His shirt hanging open to reveal a muscular bronzed wedge of hair-roughened chest, Sander searched her revealing face with incisive dark eyes. He was impressed by her demeanour and convinced that she was telling him the truth. ‘That does make me feel better.’

  And Tally finally understood where the anger she had sensed in him from the outset of their marriage had come from and why it had lingered so that his bitterness soured everything between them. Naturally she could have done nothing to defuse that anger when he had chosen to keep such a massive secret from her. As comprehension sank in fully, though, she almost drowned in the flood tide of his cruelly unwelcome honesty and discovered that her shame was so great that she could no longer meet his dark golden gaze.

  Her husband had been blackmailed into marrying her.

  That was so horrendous, so truly unspeakable an act, that she felt as though she had been punched in the gut and was struggling without success to get air into her starved lungs. She was shaken that the father she barely knew could have so much influence that he could threaten Sander’s family business, but she was equally shocked that her father could have cared enough about her future to even consider putting pressure on the father of her child to marry her. In fact, that did not make sense to her at all.