by Miranda Lee
Her hand cracked across his face with such suddenness and such force that he reeled backwards, staring at her as his hand came up to gingerly touch his stinging cheek. Her look of indignant outrage might have convinced someone else, but not him, not when his stomach was reeling at the thought of the way her eyes had always closed last night, every time she’d taken him into her mouth.
‘How dare you say that to me?’ she exclaimed, her voice shaking. ‘I chose to marry you, not Dean. What I told you in the car after the wedding was the truth. Yes, Dean came and asked me not to marry you but to marry him instead. I said no. I chose you, Jason. I did what you told me to do. Made the decision not to choose a partner who was wrong for me. When Dean came back after all this time, I began to see him as I’d never seen him before. He swaggered in, all macho selfishness, explaining nothing, caring about nobody but himself. It didn’t bother him that he might be spoiling our wedding day. He was simply intent on grabbing what he wanted with no thought for anyone else but himself.’
‘And did he?’
‘Did he what?’
‘Grab you?’
‘Yes, he grabbed me. And he kissed me. He even told me he still loved me.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘As you said, if he really loved me he’d have come back sooner. Dean arrogantly thought I’d still be waiting for him. He thought I’d still be in love with him.’
‘And are you, Emma?’
‘I don’t know, Jason. I honestly don’t know. All I can say is I’m not blind to him any more. And I don’t want to marry him any more. I’m not sorry I married you. Not for a moment.’
A few seconds’ elation was soon replaced by what Emma had left unsaid. She might not want to marry Ratchitt, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still want him. Jason could not get out of his mind the way her mouth had been totally devoid of lipstick at their wedding. That had taken a lot of kissing.
‘Did you like it when Ratchitt kissed you?’ he asked, sounding quite calm. But inside he was churning.
She could not meet his eyes, and he knew the truth.
Jason wanted to kill them both. ‘So what was the outcome? What did he say to you when you knocked him back again? And I want the truth, Emma. No prevarications, and no watered-down words. What, exactly, did he say?’
‘He…he said I was welcome to marry you, but that one day we would be together, and nothing and nobody could stop that, certainly not some stupid fool of a husband I didn’t even love.’
‘Really? And how did he know that you didn’t love me? Could it be because of the way you kissed him back?’
She went bright red. ‘I didn’t mean to, Jason. It was like I was in shock, or on auto-pilot, or hypnotised. When he pulled me into his arms, for one mad moment it was just like it used to be. I forgot…everything. By the time I woke up to reality, he was smiling smugly down at me. I…I wiped my mouth so many times after he was gone, you’ve no idea. I can assure you, Jason, that when you kissed me in the church that day, I…I liked it just as much.’
‘Good God, am I supposed to be grateful for that?’ He was shaking his head at her, fearing that he’d been right all along. She’d spent her entire honeymoon thinking of Ratchitt, trying her heart out to be a good wife, but wondering in the back of her mind if it might have been better with him.
His sigh carried defeat. ‘I don’t know what to say to you.’
‘Tell me you you’re glad I chose to marry you. Tell me you care about me. Tell me you trust me!’
‘Hard for a husband to trust his wife when she’s in love with another man, don’t you think?’
‘You knew that when you married me.’
Jason’s mouth curled into a bitter little smile. ‘True. I thought I could handle it when he was a mythical person. A memory. It’s slightly different now that he’s a real live man living in our town and vowing he won’t rest till he seduces my wife!’
‘He won’t succeed in that, Jason.’
‘Oh? Pardon me if I don’t feel too confident of that. From what I’ve heard, Ratchitt would run rings around Casanova himself in the lovemaking department.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ she muttered.
‘But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?’ he accused nastily, jealousy a festering sore in his heart. ‘I’ll bet you wished you hadn’t been Miss Purity a year ago. I’ll bet you wish you’d let him do what he wanted back then.’
‘Yes, I do, in a way,’ she confessed, totally blowing him away. ‘But not in the way you think. Look, you’ve always wanted to know about my relationship with Dean. Maybe it’s time I told you.’
‘Maybe it is!’
‘All right, then,’ she snapped, green eyes flashing. ‘But not till you’ve put something on. I can’t stand here talking to you when you’re in the nude. It’s too…distracting.’
Jason didn’t know whether to feel flattered or furious. Arching his eyebrows, he strode down to the bathroom where he wrapped a blue bathsheet around his hips. ‘This do?’ he asked caustically on returning.
‘A bit better,’ she said agitatedly, and walked over into the compact U-shaped kitchen. ‘I think I’ll make us some coffee while I talk.’
‘Do that,’ he bit out, and climbed up on one of the kitchen stools at the small breakfast bar.
She didn’t say anything till the electric kettle was on, and the mugs were all ready, then she turned to face him across the counter.
‘I first became infatuated with Dean when I was twelve and he was seventeen. I was in my first year at high school, and he was in his last. Practically every girl in school was mad about him. He was just so sexy-looking and so…oh, I don’t know. Dangerous, I guess. He did things other people didn’t dare to do. He was always being hauled up in front of the principal. He was labelled a troublemaker, but back then he just seemed exciting. As the years went by he seemed even more exciting, and highly unattainable. He went off to Sydney for ages, then came back riding a motorbike. You know the type. He had an earring in one ear, a tattoo on his arm. He wore tight jeans and a sinful-looking black leather jacket.’
Jason could not believe Emma could have been taken in by such superficial garbage! Till he thought of his relationship with Adele. When had he ever done more than scrape the surface of her personality? He’d been attracted to the glamorous façade, and her animal sensuality. How could he blame Emma for finding Ratchitt attractive when he’d been guilty of a similarly shallow infatuation?
But couldn’t she see that was all it was? Not love, but the combination of misguided hero-worship and sexual attraction.
A dangerous combination, though. He did concede that.
‘But it wasn’t just what he looked like,’ she went on. ‘He had a way of focusing his attention on you sometimes which made you feel so…desirable. And he used to say things. Sneaky little compliments whispered in your ear which made you feel wickedly sexy. Not just to me, of course. He said things like that to any female he fancied. I used to watch him with other girls and ache to have him ask me out. But I didn’t think I was his type. Oh, he would flirt with me sometimes, but that was as far as it went. When he finally asked me out, I nearly died. I just couldn’t handle it. I lost my head over him. I admit it.’
‘Not enough to sleep with him, though?’ Jason pointed out testily. He had to say something to bring this paragon of rampant sexuality and charismatic machismo down to size!
Emma sighed. ‘You have no idea how hard that was.’
Jason had a pretty good idea how hard it had been for Ratchitt, if Emma had been as responsive to him as she’d been this past week. Not that he had any sympathy for Dean Ratchitt. Hopefully, some day soon, some jealous husband or boyfriend would do the world a favour and castrate the creep!
‘I know you think I didn’t sleep with Dean because of my old-fashioned stance about sex before marriage,’ she elaborated, ‘but that had nothing to do with it. Oh, yes, Aunt Ivy did bring me up to think that way, but that’s not the real reas
on I held out. I wanted to go to bed with him like mad. But I was afraid if I did, he’d lose interest in me, as he always lost interest in every female he slept with. I thought keeping him dangling was my only chance to get him to marry me. Which was what I wanted at the time.’
Jason thought he did well to sit there and listen to his wife tell him of the extraordinary lengths she’d gone to to get Ratchitt to marry her.
‘Is that why you didn’t sleep with me?’ he couldn’t resist asking, his voice scornful. ‘Because you were afraid I wouldn’t marry you if you did?’ He didn’t imagine that for a moment. He didn’t rate such measures.
Strangely, she looked guilty as hell. ‘No. I…I stupidly believed that if I hadn’t let Dean make love to me this side of marriage, then no way was I going to let someone who…who…’
‘Whom you didn’t love,’ he sneered.
‘Oh, that sounds terrible! And it’s not how I feel now. I mean…’
‘Don’t go saying you love me, Emma,’ he snapped, ‘just because you think you’ve hurt my feelings! Let’s go on as we began, for pity’s sake, and not pretend. We went into this marriage with our heads firmly screwed on. Don’t let a week of sex confuse you. Not that it wasn’t fantastic sex. I have to give credit where credit is due, Emma. How you kept your virginity with Ratchitt is a damned miracle. I just hope that now you don’t have any virginity to protect you, your resistance to him finds a new reason.’
‘I would never be unfaithful to you, Jason.’
‘Are you sure, Emma? Are you sure it won’t eat into you that you can still have Ratchitt if you want to. I know human nature. I have an awful feeling that in the end you’ll be compelled to turn your romantic fantasies into reality. After all, how would I ever know? There’d be no physical proof now, Emma, just as there wasn’t any proof with me and Adele.’
She drew herself up straight, shooting him a proud, yet hurt look. ‘You’ll just have to trust me, won’t you? As I trusted you with that woman. I repeat, Jason, I married you, not Dean. I don’t regret that. Not for a moment.’
‘Is that why you cried on our wedding night?’ he flung at her. ‘Because you weren’t regretting it was me in your bed and not Ratchitt?’
‘My crying that night had nothing to do with Dean.’
‘Then what did it have to do with?’
‘With you,’ she said. ‘And me. With our being married and making love on our wedding night and not being in love. I thought that was rather…sad. I guess I am a silly romantic at heart. It took me a while to come to terms with the sort of marriage I’d agreed to. But I don’t find it sad now, Jason. I think it’s fine. Just fine. More than fine.’
She was trying to be conciliatory. But the word ‘fine’ was lukewarm at best. Being the person she was, Emma would continue to try to be a good wife to him, but the reality of her emotions hadn’t changed. She would never forget Ratchitt, and never fall in love with him.
Which meant she would always be vulnerable to Ratchitt’s attentions. If the creep hung around long enough, it was inevitable that one day—perhaps when their marriage was going through a bad patch—she would surrender to her unrequited passion for him. Then where would that leave him?
‘Fine,’ he bit out, and, whirling, stalked from the room.
He was in the shower when she came into the bathroom and stood outside the shower recess, staring at him through the glass.
‘I do not want Dean like I want you, Jason. Haven’t I shown you that this last week?’
A type of fury ripped through him. A fury born of fear and frustration, a fury rooted in his male ego and sexuality, in everything that had gone before and everything he feared might happen in the future.
He shot back the shower glass and grabbed her nearest wrist, yanking her into the shower with him. The jets of hot water plastered the silk robe around her body, revealing every curve and dip in her body. He didn’t remove it, just wrenched it apart, then gobbled in her wet nakedness till he was fully erect. She gasped when he pried her legs apart and pushed up into her where she stood.
He didn’t know if she was ready for him or not. There was too much water streaming down over their bodies to tell. Perversely, he didn’t want her to be ready, or to find pleasure in his body. He wanted to use her, as men once used their wives of old, without asking permission, without having to care about their satisfaction.
How much of what had happened this week had been real? he agonised as he pumped up into her. And how much was pretence? Since she didn’t love him, then what did it matter either way, as long as she let him do what he wanted, whenever he wanted it? She’d made her bed and now she was going to have to lie in it.
Except when the place of copulation was a shower, he thought bitterly. Then she could stand. His eyes flashed to hers and his thoughts were venomous. Why aren’t you coming, wife? What’s wrong with you this time? Not thinking of Ratchitt enough?
No sooner had this last thought intruded than she closed her eyes with a raw moan, sliding her arms up around his neck, reaching up on tiptoe and urging him on to a more powerful rhythm. Swearing, he hoisted her up off the floor, turning her and pressing her up against the tiles for better support. He hated her when her legs wrapped voluptuously around him, when her mouth gasped wide, when she came with the sort of violent contractions that could not have been faked.
It crossed his mind as he shuddered into her that he was the one being used here, not the other way around.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘JASON,’ she said sternly. ‘We have to talk.’
He looked up at her from where he’d been eating the mouth-watering casserole she’d served up to him fifteen minutes earlier and which he’d been eating in a brooding silence.
They’d been back at Tindley for ten days, and during that time their marriage had gone from bad to worse. He knew it was mostly his fault, but he couldn’t seem to help it. His jealousy of Ratchitt was poisoning his love for her, making him surly and suspicious.
Their sex life had changed considerably since that last tempestuous time in the shower at Narooma. He still made love to her every night, but selfishly and savagely, uncaring if she came or not.
But she always did.
He began to hate her for that. He would have preferred her not to, so that he could imagine she was finding satisfaction elsewhere. His insecurities were beginning to feed upon themselves, and every day he wallowed in all sorts of disgusting scenarios where Ratchitt and his darling wife were concerned.
The worst had seemed to become concrete that very day when he’d gone into the bakery to get his lunch, and Muriel had given him an almost pitying look, followed by a most uncustomary lack of conversation.
‘I don’t know if should tell you this,’ she’d finally said when she handed over his change, ‘but Dean’s been droppin’ in at the sweet shop every time you go out of town on your rounds. I’m not spyin’ on Emma, mind, but it’s hard not to hear that bike of Dean’s. It’s very noisy. I…I just thought you’d like to know, Dr Steel. I’m sorry.’
He’d thanked Muriel politely, saying not to worry, he’d handle Dean Ratchitt.
Muriel had still looked worried.
Jason looked at Emma now across the dining-room table and knew his face was closed and cold. He wondered sourly if she was about to come clean, to confess all. Somehow he doubted it. Adultery was much more fun when kept secret and hidden.
‘What’s there to talk about?’
‘I’m not pregnant,’ she said. ‘My period came today.’
His disappointment was fierce, as was his simmering fury. ‘So?’
She winced at the word. ‘I think it might be a good idea if I went on the pill for a while.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t think I want to bring a baby into this marriage yet.’
‘Wise woman,’ he said caustically. ‘Husbands have a natural aversion to supporting other men’
s children.’
She looked terribly hurt. ‘Oh, Jason… Don’t…’
‘Don’t what? Don’t face the truth? You think I don’t know about Ratchitt dropping into the shop all the time? Parks his bike out the front and bowls up whenever I’m out of town, so Muriel tells me.’
‘I didn’t ask him to, Jason, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘You have no idea what I’m thinking,’ he snapped.
‘I have a pretty good idea. But you’re wrong. He only stays a few minutes. He just says the same old thing, then leaves.’
‘Which is?’
‘That he still loves me and he’s there for me, when and if I ever need him.’
‘In that case, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I…I didn’t want you thinking things,’ she said wretchedly.
A memory shot out of the past, of his doing and saying exactly the same thing when he’d had that encounter with Adele. Emma had trusted him then, but he couldn’t seem to find it in his heart to trust her. Perhaps because he loved her so much, and he knew she didn’t love him back.
He put down his fork and pushed his plate away. ‘Sorry,’ he bit out. ‘I don’t feel hungry tonight. I think I’ll go read a book. Don’t wait up. I have a feeling I’ll be very late to bed.’
‘Jason, please don’t leave me alone tonight.’
‘Sorry, darling, no can do. You have your period, remember? Or were you think of offering me some other service in lieu of the real thing?’
‘Why are you doing this?’ she cried.
‘What?’
‘Spoiling everything. I…I can’t go on like this.’
‘Can’t you? And what do you intend doing about it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Let me know when you do.’
He whirled and walked out the room, beginning the worst week of his life. She didn’t speak to him. Not once. Not a word. Every night she lay next to him in bed like a corpse, and he dared not even put his arm around her. Every morning she set out his breakfast before silently leaving to go to the shop. Every evening she cooked his meal, and even did the washing up, perhaps because she didn’t want to ask him to.