His Untamed Innocent

by Sara Craven

  Watching Elizabeth begin to frown, Marin went on, improvising hastily. ‘Lynne told me last week that the company is frantically busy. And Jake knows that I’m being well looked-after.’ She made herself smile. ‘Spoiled rotten, in fact.’

  ‘Except that it should be Jake himself doing the spoiling,’ Elizabeth returned drily.

  I’m sure he is, thought Marin. Only somewhere else and with someone else.

  But I can’t let myself think about that or I might start to cry, and I only do that alone in bed at night.

  Since her arrival at Harborne a month ago, she could count on the fingers of one hand the times that Jake had joined her there. His visits were generally concerned with estate business and lasted no more than overnight.

  Nights that he spent well away from her in the bedroom he’d occupied since boyhood. Just as he’d said he would.

  And, even if she’d ever been alone with him long enough to have the private conversation he seemed so anxious to avoid, what could she possibly have said? She couldn’t think of a single question where she could risk hearing the answer.

  Such as, ‘Where did you go the night we were married?’

  If there’d ever been a moment to ask, then maybe it was the following morning while they’d been driving down here. But, from the moment they’d come face to face, his aloof and devastating politeness had kept her silent. Warned her to remain so.

  I turned him away, she thought. So, what did I expect—a vow of celibacy?

  Elizabeth was speaking again. ‘It would have been so much better if the two of you had gone off together after the wedding. Of course, it couldn’t have been a honeymoon in the usual sense,’ she added with faint embarrassment. ‘But you might have been able to come to terms with the situation and each other. Maybe found a basis for friendship, at least.’

  Friendship, Marin thought painfully. Could I have settled for that? Could I have taught myself to see him walk into a room, hear his voice and feel only mild pleasure instead of that joyous, agonised lift of the heart?

  If he’d only been less kind and more cruel that first and only night—if he’d stepped back and told me it wasn’t going to happen—yes, it would have hurt. Terribly. But I’d have recovered in time and got on with my life instead of being left to face a lifetime of regret, being with him and without him at the same time.

  And obliged always to wonder…

  Aloud, she said, striving for lightness, ‘It’s probably as well we didn’t. I wouldn’t have been very good company, being sick every day. I just hope it stops soon, and preferably this week, because I really need to go up to London.’

  ‘Are you sure you feel up to that?’ Elizabeth scrutinised her searchingly. ‘You’re looking rather too pale for my liking. When is your next doctor’s appointment?’

  ‘In a week’s time,’ Marin said. ‘She wants to discuss booking me into the Martingdale Clinic for the birth. And I’m fine,’ she added. Apart, that is, from a severe case of unrequited love. ‘But I have to talk to the letting agents handling my flat. They wrote this morning to say my tenants have decided to go their separate ways, and are asking to do a deal over the remainder of the lease.’

  And I’m the last person in the world to want them penalised for being unhappy.

  She added, ‘But I think my real decision is whether to re-let or sell up.’

  ‘Then why don’t I drive you up tomorrow?’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘I have some shopping to do, and we can meet for lunch later. The Casa Romagna, say, at one.’

  Kindness clearly ran in the family, Marin thought wryly. Jake’s mother was trying so hard to behave as if she had a real daughter-in-law that it would be churlish not to meet her halfway.

  ‘I’d love that,’ she said. ‘But do you think we’ll get a table? It’s become incredibly popular since it won that award.’

  ‘Oh, there are ways and means,’ Elizabeth returned casually. ‘So, shall I pick you up at nine-thirty?’

  ‘It’s a date,’ said Marin.

  When she was alone, she began her daily wander, the self-imposed ritual of moving slowly from room to room, running a hand over a favourite piece of furniture, adjusting the fall of a curtain, rearranging a cushion, gathering up the fallen petals of a flower, making it all her own, telling herself she belonged here and it was hers to care for in a way she’d never been tempted to do in Chelsea.

  Sheer delusion on her part, of course. It was Jake’s house and she was here purely on sufferance, keeping it in trust for the next generation.

  She’d wondered how it would be with Elizabeth living so close, but even though the older woman came up most days to exercise her elderly gelding, Mr Gritty, she made these visits totally unobtrusive and was scrupulous about not dropping into the house uninvited.

  Yet, in spite of the intrinsic awkwardness of their situation, there were plenty of invitations, because Marin enjoyed her company.

  I meant to show her the paint cards for the nursery, she thought ruefully, only she sidetracked me over this damned party. But it can’t be held without a host, so all Jake has to do is find the projected dates inconvenient and the whole idea will simply die the death.

  The redecoration of the master suite was also becoming an issue, with books of fabric samples arriving almost daily at Sadie’s behest.

  The only trouble was the colour she liked best was a warm gold, almost identical to what was already there.

  And Sadie’s going to tell me it will fade just as badly, she told herself wryly. But isn’t that a small sacrifice to make in order to go on waking up in a room full of sunlight? Even if this time I’m alone there with just my memories.

  But she didn’t feel particularly sunlit when she woke the next morning. She’d spent a restless night, and must have ended up lying awkwardly, because she had a niggling ache in her back.

  For a moment she was tempted to call the London trip off and simply phone the agents. On the other hand, there’d be stuff to sign and Elizabeth’s offer meant she didn’t have to struggle with trains and the underground, while lunch at a top restaurant was appealing too. Besides, exercise might cure her niggle, she decided, easing herself off the mattress.

  So she put on a plain mocha-coloured shift dress with matching low-heeled sandals, and was waiting, smiling resolutely, when the car drew up.

  She did a little desultory but enjoyable window-shopping before making her way to the estate agency. An hour later she’d released her former tenants from any further obligations and agreed to put the flat on the market, spurred on by the information that potential buyers were already waiting to view.

  Another bit of my life being dismantled, she thought as she hailed a cab to take her to Casa Romagna.

  It was already frantically busy when she arrived ten minutes ahead of time, but a corner table was waiting, and the still mineral-water she asked for arrived almost at once.

  The pain in her back hadn’t vanished, as she’d hoped. If anything, it seemed to have become slightly worse, she realised, testing it with a cautious hand. But maybe Elizabeth would have something mildly analgesic in her bag that she could take.

  She wasn’t a great one for celebrity watching, but in a place like this it was almost irresistible, she decided, spotting in a ten-yard radius a well-known television presenter and the girl who’d won the award for best supporting-actress at the last Oscars.

  Although if anyone looks at me, she thought, they’ll be wondering ‘Who the hell is that?’

  Only to hear a woman’s voice drawl, ‘Well, if it isn’t little Miss Wade herself.’

  She glanced up with a sinking heart to see Diana Halsay standing beside the table.

  ‘Except you’re now Mrs Radley-Smith,’ Diana went on, her mouth curling. ‘And up the stick as well. Although I understand that wasn’t the actual order of events.

  ‘I was terribly upset not to be invited to the wedding, but I quite see why Jake preferred to keep it quiet.’

  Marin put her glass down very caref
ully, feeling sick again. If I throw up, she thought, please God let it be all over her Jimmy Choos.

  She said quietly, ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Halsay.’

  Diana’s smile widened, became catlike. ‘I hope you continue to think so. Because this really is the most amazing coincidence, finding you here today, when I’d heard that Jake had arranged to have you buried alive in the country and go his own merry way.

  ‘You see,’ she went on, ‘I’ve just been talking about you to a former acquaintance of yours who simply can’t wait to meet you again. You may remember I mentioned a friend who’d been doing up her house in the south of France? Well, here she is.’

  She turned her head. ‘Adela, darling, do come and say hello to the unblushing bride.’

  No! The word seemed to explode in Marin’s head. No, this can’t be happening to me. It can’t…

  But Adela Mason was already sauntering towards them, immaculate in a fuschia-pink dress set off by a long, violet scarf.

  ‘Well, well,’ she said unpleasantly. ‘You’ve certainly landed in clover, you treacherous little bitch. Diana tells me you’ve got your hooks into a millionaire, and that you’ve even managed to con him into marrying you to give your bastard a name.’

  She hadn’t bothered to lower her voice, and Marin could see heads turning at adjoining tables, looks being exchanged.

  She had to say something, do something, she knew, but her skin felt clammy and the pain in her back was hurting her badly now, making it difficult to think of anything else, let alone speak.

  ‘I hope the glamorous husband didn’t insist on a pre-nuptial agreement,’ Adela continued. ‘Because he may not be pleased to learn that you’re featuring in my divorce action. A starring role, no less. So you could find yourself out in the cold—big time. You, and your baby.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, Greg and I are finished, and I’m blaming you, Marin Wade. You went after him, and you had him. And I’m going to make sure that your husband and everyone else knows what a dirty little slut you really are.’

  Jake said quietly, ‘Naturally, I’d be fascinated to hear what you have to say, but maybe you should start by telling me who you are.’

  He was standing just a few feet away, his eyes glittering like blue ice, his mouth a grim line. Behind him was Elizabeth, her face appalled.

  Adela swung towards him. ‘My name is Mason,’ she announced, raising her voice even higher. ‘And a while ago I had the misfortune to employ this little tart as a typist. I thought sex was a word she couldn’t even spell, until I found her rolling round naked with my soon-to-be ex-husband.

  ‘No doubt she gave you the same treatment.’ Her smile was contemptuous. ‘Made you think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, then jumped your bones. God, men can be so stupid.

  ‘But it’s not too late to wise up, even now. Spend some of your money having a DNA test done on the brat she’s carrying. Find out who its real father is.’

  Marin got to her feet. She was dimly aware of a crash as her chair fell over, of the faces all around studying her, avid, astonished. But, most of all, she saw Jake standing as if carved out of stone, all the colour draining from his face, looking at her with real horror in his eyes.

  She wanted to defend herself, to tell him that everything Adela Mason had said was a vicious lie. That their baby was his and no one else’s.

  Instead, she heard herself say, ‘Air—please, I need air.’ Then the floor tilted and she felt something hit her head as she slid down into the pain-streaked darkness.

  There was a bright light, but it wasn’t the sun streaming through the curtains in her bedroom. It was too stark, too clinical for that.

  And somewhere a voice was saying, ‘Mrs Radley-Smith, wake up, dear.’

  Her eyelids felt as if they had leaden weights attached but she forced them open obediently.

  ‘That’s better.’ A strange woman was looking down at her, taking her wrist and checking the pulse.

  But it didn’t feel better.

  Everything was white—the walls, the sheet that covered her, even the tunic and top the stranger was wearing. All white.

  ‘Where am I?’ Her voice was a croak.

  ‘The Martingdale Clinic, dear.’

  ‘No,’ Marin said. ‘That can’t be right. That’s next week. I’m sure it is.’

  ‘Well, we’re looking after you now instead.’ The voice was professional and reassuring. ‘So, lie quietly while I fetch the doctor to talk to you.’

  She came back with a young man, curly haired and bespectacled.

  He pulled forward a chair and sat down. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘My—head hurts.’

  ‘I expect it does. You gave it quite a nasty crack when you fainted. That’s why we’re keeping you with us until we can be sure there’s no concussion.’

  ‘But it was my back that was aching,’ she protested, adding slowly, ‘Although that seems to have stopped now.’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was something about the way he said it that told her the truth.

  She said, her voice a whisper, ‘It was the baby, wasn’t it? I’ve lost my baby.’

  ‘I’m so very sorry. But please believe there was nothing to be done, even if you’d seen a doctor as soon as the pain started.’ He paused. ‘It’s just one of those sad, unavoidable things, I’m afraid, and more common in these early months than you’d ever believe.

  ‘It’s no consolation, I know,’ he added. ‘But we’ve carried out the necessary procedures and it was all completely straightforward. You’ll soon be as right as rain again.’

  Marin lay very still staring at the blank, bland wall in front of her as memories began to filter back. A voice, she thought, saying foul, unforgivable things. Accusing her…

  A man’s blue eyes, bleak with shock and disbelief.

  And she knew that nothing would ever be right again.

  At last she said, ‘Does—does my husband know about the baby?’

  ‘Of course. He came with you in the ambulance. He’s outside, waiting to see you.’

  ‘No,’ she said harshly, urgently. ‘I don’t want to. I can’t. Make him go away.’

  The doctor spoke gently, ‘Mrs Radley-Smith, you’ve been through a miserable, traumatic experience, and that bang on the head hasn’t helped. But your husband’s had a bad time too, and he needs to reassure himself that you’re all right.’

  ‘Then tell him so,’ she said. ‘He’ll believe you.’

  He moved restively, ‘But at a time like this you really need each other.’

  ‘He doesn’t need me,’ she said. ‘He’s never needed me. It was the baby he wanted, only the baby, and now that’s gone.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Everything’s gone.’ And I don’t belong here—not in this place where babies are born…

  ‘I’m sure you don’t mean that.’ His voice was awkward now, embarrassed at a situation he’d probably never encountered before. He frowned a little. ‘But it’s clear that you are very upset, so maybe visitors aren’t the best idea right now.’ He paused, adding reluctantly, ‘I’ll do as you ask and tell Mr Radley-Smith you’re fine, but that you need to be left to rest quietly, and ask him to come back in the morning.’

  It was a respite, she thought wretchedly when she was alone. But it would give her time to plan for a future that had suddenly changed beyond all recognition. And, above all, to think of a way that would set them both free from this non-existent marriage for ever.

  Marin turned her face into the pillow and cried until she had no more tears left.

  An hour or so later, the nurse returned with a large carrier bag bearing the logo of a top department-store.

  ‘Your sister has brought some things in for you,’ she announced. ‘A nightie, some toiletries and a change of clothes.’

  ‘Lynne’s been here?’ Marin sat up. ‘Why did no one tell me?’

  ‘I’m afraid the no-visitors rule applies to everyone once it’s in place,’ the older woman said in a fai
ntly repressive tone. ‘But she asked me to say that your mother has been contacted and will be flying in tomorrow.’

  She paused. ‘Also, we’re moving you to a different room. One of our special suites. You have some lovely flowers waiting for you,’ she added encouragingly. She took a tissue-wrapped, beribboned package from the carrier and extracted a pale blue silk nightdress and a matching peignoir. ‘So, why don’t I help you wash your face and hands and change, then we can get you tucked up for a nice rest before dinner? It’s chicken in a cream sauce tonight.’

  She kept up a flow of gentle chat while the transfer was being made.

  The new room turned out to be special indeed, more like an upgrade in a top hotel, Marin thought wryly.

  Everyone seemed to have sent flowers—Elizabeth, Lynne and Mike, Sadie and the staff at Harborne, and Mrs Connell. And in the centre of them all was an enormous basket of cream roses flushed with pink, like her wedding bouquet, with a card saying simply, ‘Jake.’

  As she looked at them, smelled their perfume in the air, she thought of her wedding night. Of the humiliation of going to his room—his empty bed—to offer herself, and knew she could not risk that happening to her again.

  She ate some supper, and after the doctor’s visit watched a little television, then accepted the hot milk with honey and nutmeg that the nurse brought to help her sleep.

  Then she lay awake, staring into the darkness with eyes that burned as she worked out what to do, what to say, to bring the pain and unhappiness of the past weeks to a close.

  She’d expected Jake to be at the clinic before they’d finished serving breakfast, but it was nearly midday when he eventually arrived, bringing Barbara with him. Marin welcomed her with trembling lips and tears in her eyes, and was glad when Jake left them alone together.

  Hugged, comforted and the medical details dealt with, Marin took a deep breath. ‘When I get out of here, could I come and stay in Portugal with you and Derek for a while?’

  ‘Of course, darling.’ Barbara stroked her hair. ‘But can Jake get away?’