Marriage at a Distance

by Craven, Sara

  Pain made her hollow. Made her want to hurt him back.

  She raised her eyebrows, parodied his drawl. ‘Then your standards must have slipped dramatically, my dear Gabriel.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘In your eyes, I never had any standards anyway.’ He slung the towel across a chair. ‘To hell with this, Jo. Do we have to go on sniping at each other?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘As long as you acknowledge I have the right to live my own life, and form whatever relationships I please.’

  ‘And does Paul Gordon please you?’ There was faint mockery in his tone.

  ‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘Yes, he does.’ She even allowed herself a small, reminiscent smile. ‘Very much. If that’s any concern of yours.’

  Gabriel’s face was expressionless. ‘We’re still married, Jo.’ He paused. ‘And I don’t want you to be hurt.’

  For a moment Joanna stared at him, stunned. He could still say that, after everything that had happened between them? After the humiliation of letting her see that he didn’t want her—that their marriage was a trap from which he couldn’t wait to escape? After staying away for two years without contact of any kind?

  Not to mention the even greater misery of knowing she was going to be replaced by her own stepmother.

  She took a deep breath. She said thickly, ‘I don’t know which I despise most, Gabriel. Your arrogance or your hypocrisy.’

  His head went back as if she’d struck him, but when he spoke his voice was level. In control. ‘Well, you won’t have to endure either of them for much longer. I talked to Henry Fortescue tonight, and we worked out a deal for you.’

  ‘What kind of a deal?’

  ‘I’ve agreed to pay you myself the yearly sum that Lionel specified in his bequest. And an additional sum for maintenance. The arrangement can commence as soon as you wish.’ He paused. ‘I’m afraid I can’t include Larkspur Cottage—or not immediately, anyway.’

  ‘No,’ she said, her lips suddenly numb. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Henry’s going to draw up the necessary paperwork,’ he went on. ‘When it’s completed, and signed, you’ll be a free woman.’

  ‘And the divorce?’

  ‘I’ve told Henry to set that in train too.’ His glance was a challenge. ‘Satisfied?’

  She bit her lip. ‘This is very—generous of you.’

  ‘On the contrary. I’m as anxious to be rid of this situation as you are.’

  She said slowly, ‘I—appreciate that. I hope we can—part friends.’

  ‘Now who’s being a hypocrite?’ His voice lashed at her. ‘We’ve come a hell of a way from friendship, Joanna.’

  ‘Why are you so angry?’ She stared at him. ‘You—we’ve both got what we wanted.’

  He said slowly, ‘Because anger is a much easier emotion to deal with than some of the alternatives I’m experiencing right now.’

  The room seemed to have shrunk suddenly, the walls closing in on her. Although Gabriel hadn’t taken a step, she felt him near to her. So near that if she put out a hand she could touch him. Could feel the warm silk of his skin under her hands. The clean, male scent of him, at once achingly familiar and terrifyingly alien, seemed to fill her nose and mouth, so that she breathed him, absorbed the essence of him into her inmost being.

  Her breasts pushed against the cling of the velvet, her hardening nipples excited by the delicate friction. Under the flowing skirt her legs were weak, the secret female core of her burning, molten.

  His eyes were pools of gold, glowing like the eyes of a sleek jungle cat watching its prey.

  Except that she could turn and run away right now, and he would not follow.

  Only she would not run—this time.

  She could sense the tension in him—the arousal—because she shared it.

  Instinct drove her. Her voice was low, husky. ‘Tell me about them, these emotions of yours.’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘You might not want to know.’

  Her smile, faint, oblique, challenged him. ‘Try me.’

  He said softly, ‘Is curiosity an emotion, Joanna, or a deadly sin? Because I’d die to know if you’re wearing anything under that pretty green gown of yours.’

  She moved a shoulder almost diffidently. ‘Not a thing.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Now, how long would it take, do you think, to undo all those little buttons?’

  ‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’ Her hand went to the top one, released it from its loop. ‘Do you want to time me?’

  A ghost of a laugh shook him. ‘No—just to watch.’

  She didn’t hurry. She watched him in turn—the flare in his eyes, the sudden heat spreading along his cheekbones. She heard his intake of breath as the edges of the pliant velvet fell apart.

  For the first time in their life together she was revealing herself to him, and the power of it made her almost dizzy.

  She shrugged the gown from her shoulders, held it for a moment, bunched round her hips, then let it fall completely.

  The silence in the room—the stillness—was charged, pulsating.

  Then Gabriel moved, covering the space between them in two strides, sinking on his knees before her, putting his cheek then his mouth against the flatness of her belly in an act that seemed like worship.

  He said, with a kind of desperation, ‘Oh, God—do you know—have you any idea how truly beautiful you are?’

  She put out her hand, touched the springing darkness of his hair.

  He drew her gently downwards so that she was kneeling in front of him. As he kissed her her lips parted for him in longing and surrender. His hands were stroking her, feathering down her spine, moulding every slight, graceful curve, and she felt her body arch towards him in blind delight. He cupped her breasts in his palms, bending his head to kiss them, to caress the eager rosy peaks with his tongue, making her sigh with pleasure. With need. One sensation seemed to blur into the next, so that she hardly knew when he lifted her to her feet, and into his arms, to carry her to the bed.

  Through half-closed eyes she watched him strip off his trousers, but when his hands went to the band of his briefs, she stopped him.

  ‘Let me do that,’ she whispered.

  He lay beside her as she gently freed him from that last constraint, his head pillowed on his folded arms, the lambent tawny eyes devouring her.

  ‘I should have mentioned,’ he said lazily, watching the direction of her own widening gaze. ‘That other emotion was lust. Definitely a deadly sin.’

  ‘Somehow I guessed.’ She touched him shyly, her fingers tracing the power of his virility until he gasped and rolled towards her, imprisoning her under one muscular thigh.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up at him, stricken. ‘Did—did I do something wrong?’

  Gabriel laughed softly. ‘Quite the opposite. You were doing everything right, but I don’t want to lose all my control just yet.’

  He began to kiss her slowly, deeply, sensuously, his tongue grazing hers. His hands caressed her blossoming breasts, teasing the tumescent nipples into a pleasure that bordered on pain.

  His mouth suckled her. His hands caressed her, exploring every curve and plane, inventing new sensations, making every inch of her come alive, each nerve-ending sing.

  She pressed herself against him, gasping, her lips busy with small, frantic kisses against his skin.

  His fingers discovered the delicate flesh of her inner thigh, lingered there, moved on her sweetly and rhythmically, making the breath catch in her throat.

  She heard a small, strained voice she barely recognised as her own say, ‘Oh—there. Please—there.’

  Every nerve-ending, every atom of her being was concentrated on that tiny point of feeling he was revealing to her.

  Her head turned from side to side on the pillow, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her hands gripped his shoulders, trying to draw him down to her. Into her.

  ‘Gabriel.’ His name was a plea. ‘Oh, God—Gabriel…’

 
; ‘No.’ He breathed the word against her skin. ‘No, darling—not yet. This is for you—only for you.’

  She was poised for ever on the edge of some vortex. She could hear herself whimpering. Then pleasure imploded in her, her body clenching deliriously in wave after wave of piercing sweetness.

  Reality returned slowly, and with it a sense of well-being—of completion that she’d never experienced before.

  She opened her eyes. Gabriel was sitting beside her, one leg drawn up and his forehead resting on his bent knee. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his back, and she put out a languorous hand and touched it.

  He jumped, as if she’d used her nails.

  She said with a new shyness, ‘Gabriel—darling…?’

  ‘Yes, my sweet?’ The endearment, and the smile which accompanied it, seemed almost perfunctory.

  For a moment she felt chilled, but told herself it was sheer imagination.

  She said, ‘I—I didn’t know it could be like that.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ His smile was almost mocking. ‘Well, I suppose I have been rather remiss in the past where your sexual education was concerned.’ He picked up her hand and dropped a careless kiss on the palm. ‘But you’re an apt pupil, darling.’

  She hadn’t imagined a thing. Suddenly she was shivering.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘This little crash course in female response that we’ve just enjoyed.’

  ‘Is that what it was?’ Her mind didn’t seem to be working properly. Nothing made any sense. ‘All it was?’

  ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you weren’t disappointed.’

  It hurt to breathe. ‘No—but I—I thought we were going to make love.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be very wise—under the circumstances.’ The tawny eyes glittered at her. ‘Besides,’ he added, shrugging, ‘we’d need to practise safe sex, and unfortunately I’m not equipped for it tonight.’

  She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. ‘You make it sound so—clinical.’

  ‘Experiments usually are. But I’m glad this one was so successful.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said lightly. ‘After all, I can’t have you going to some stranger without knowing what turns you on.’

  ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure your pride wouldn’t allow that.’ She looked down at him, her brows lifting. ‘I see it’s replaced lust as the current deadly sin.’

  He yawned. ‘And will soon be overtaken by sloth, I fear. Do you want to stay here, or would you prefer to go back to your own room?’

  She kept her voice steady. ‘Thank you, I’d rather sleep in my own bed.’

  She slid to the floor and walked to where her velvet housecoat lay in a crumpled heap, aware all the time of his eyes watching her.

  She pulled the garment on, her hands clumsy as she huddled it round her, and started for the door.

  From some far distance she thought she heard him say her name, but she didn’t even falter.

  Pride, she thought as she got outside, wasn’t just a deadly sin. Sometimes it was all there was to cling to, in the wreckage of your hopes and dreams.

  Head bent, she walked quickly down the passage. She had just reached her own door when something—some sound—some movement—attracted her attention.

  Cynthia was standing at the head of the stairs, staring at her, an unpleasant smile twisting her lips.

  She said, ‘Well, well, Joanna. I hope you haven’t been making a fool of yourself, my pet.’

  Without speaking, Joanna went into her room.

  And sometimes, she thought wretchedly, as she closed the door and leaned back against its panels, even pride was taken away from you.

  She stood where she was for a long time, staring across the room at the reflection in her mirror. It was someone she didn’t recognise at all—a stranger, half-naked, with dishevelled hair, and tears pouring endlessly down her white face.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT WAS nearly dawn before Joanna finally fell into a restless sleep. She simply lay there, staring into the darkness, her eyes tearless at last, and burning, trying to make sense of what had happened but failing utterly.

  Gabriel had wanted her. There was no question about that. Nor had he made any attempt to hide it. But then, suddenly, he had no longer wanted her, and she’d been dismissed from his bed—and from his life.

  A situation with which she was all too familiar. And yet she’d still allowed it to happen.

  It’s all my own fault, she thought, pressing a fist to her mouth as her whole body cringed in pain. I asked for it—talking about divorce one minute and throwing myself at him the next.

  She supposed that he’d remembered, just in time, that he was committed to Cynthia now. That he intended to make the relationship work.

  I should have been the one to remember. The one to step back, she told herself. I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Now I have to live with the consequences.

  Starting this very morning, she realised, hugging herself defensively.

  She wanted to stay in this bed, with the covers pulled over her head, but what remnants of pride that still remained wouldn’t allow her to take the coward’s way out.

  Pride made her shower and dress and go downstairs with her head high and every line of her body a challenge. But, to her unspoken relief, she had the dining room to herself.

  Perhaps this morning Cynthia had kept Gabriel with her, to make amends for last night’s minor transgression.

  But she couldn’t think about that, she told herself, as she drank orange juice and coffee, and crumbled some of the freshly made toast that Grace insisted on bringing.

  She would think about the new life ahead of her. The freedom which had been placed so unexpectedly within her grasp and which only she would know was an illusion.

  When the world was your oyster, it was strange how small and bleak it suddenly became.

  Everything she wanted in life was here under this roof, and she had to detach herself and walk away. Wasn’t it the mandrake plant that was said to scream when pulled up by its roots?

  I hope I have more dignity than that when the time comes, she thought. But I don’t guarantee a thing.

  When she’d finished her pretence at breakfast, she went to the stables, where Sadie was mucking out, her face glum.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Joanna fetched Minnie’s tack and began to saddle up.

  Sadie did not meet her enquiring gaze. ‘Jimmy and I were in the Royal Oak last night,’ she mumbled at last. ‘And everyone was talking, Jo. Saying what’s going to happen here. Made me feel quite sick.’

  Joanna braced herself. ‘I presume they were talking about Mr Verne—our divorce…’

  Sadie looked aghast. ‘No, no one mentioned… Oh, Jo, it isn’t true—surely? Not that on top of everything else?’

  Minnie shook her head and moved restively, as if aware that her mistress was not concentrating on the job in hand. Joanna quieted her with a soothing word and a hand on her glossy neck.

  She kept her voice cool and level. ‘I thought it would have been obvious the way things were going. Tongues have certainly been wagging in Westroe.’

  ‘Then that must be why Mr Gabriel’s decided to sell up and move,’ Sadie said miserably.

  ‘Sell up?’ Joanna echoed in disbelief. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Gabriel would never sell the Manor.’

  Sadie looked at her mournfully. ‘That’s what they’re all saying, Jo. It’s those Furnival Hotels people again—the ones who wanted Mr Lionel to sell to them a couple of years back.’

  ‘Yes, but he saw them off.’ Joanna fastened Minnie’s girth with hands that were shaking. ‘Told them he wasn’t interested and never would be.’

  ‘But he’s not here any more,’ Sadie said unanswerably. ‘And it stands to reason that Mr Gabriel doesn’t feel the same way about the place, or he wouldn’t have stayed away all that time. And if there’s going to be a divorce too…’ There
was a short, heavy silence. ‘They reckon he’s going to sell out to Furnivals and move back to London. I was sure you knew all about it.’

  ‘I’m clearly not as well-informed as the Royal Oak.’ Joanna tried to find a grain of humour in the situation and failed. The ground seemed to be shaking under her feet. ‘Who’s the industrial spy?’

  Sadie bit her lip, looking evasive, and Joanna suddenly remembered that Debbie Macintosh, the landlord’s daughter, worked in Henry Fortescue’s office.

  She said, rather grimly, ‘On second thoughts, I’d rather not know.’

  She began to lead Minnie over to the mounting block, and heard Nutkin whicker softly as they passed.

  What would happen to the horses? she wondered with anguish. And they were the least of it. There was Grace and her husband, Sadie, and the rest of the people who worked on the estate. All part of a safe, secure world shortly to be blown out of the water.

  The dogs, she thought numbly. I could at least keep the dogs. Cynthia’s never liked them, and they’d hate the city.

  But I can’t leave it there. Maybe—somehow—I can talk to Gabriel—convince him not to do this. Make him see this is his birthright—his inheritance—and he has a duty to it.

  Only he wouldn’t listen. Perhaps he’d intended this all along. Casting off the old shackles for his new life—his new wife. Making any sacrifice she wanted.

  And, let’s face it, Cynthia would rather queen it in London and New York than play Lady of the Manor. It was probably all her idea.

  And the fact that Gabriel had been prepared to listen only proved how much he loved her.

  Joanna swung herself up into the saddle, looking down at Sadie’s bent head as she tightened Minnie’s girth.

  Sadie said forlornly, ‘Do you think the hotel people will keep the stables on?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Joanna said gently. ‘But please remember this is only a rumour. It may never happen.’

  ‘They were saying the Furnival people are coming down soon to talk over a deal.’

  Joanna patted Minnie’s neck. ‘And I say Debbie had better learn to be more discreet if she wants to keep her job,’ she returned drily, and rode out of the yard leaving Sadie gaping after her.