Have you recovered from the shock yet?
Now, before you imagine I’ve been seduced by a gigolo, I can assure you I haven’t. My father’s meagre inheritance and the settlement from the marriage is all tied up in my house and studio anyway, so he’d be sadly disappointed if his aim was to be a kept man. However, it isn’t, I’m relieved to report. He’s financially secure, lives in a great sprawling house in Worcestershire (he’s thinking of selling, which is a shame – it has glorious views over the river) and he drives a Jaguar XF Sportbrake, I think he said it was. And, in any case, it was me who did the seducing. Richard has been behaving like the perfect gentleman ever since we started seeing each other, his kisses passionate, but never overstepping the mark. Well, there’s only so much temptation a woman can take, and I’m afraid tonight my will to resist dissolved. I know! She whose confidence was reduced to nil by the control freak misogynist bares all and has sex with a man. My mind’s still boggling, too. And my skin is still tingling. Seriously. Richard might have been caught by surprise by my wantonness – pleasantly so, he told me when we cuddled afterwards. Repeat: cuddled! – but he rose to the challenge admirably. He certainly knows how to please a woman. As in, we reached a very fulfilling mutual climax approximately an hour ago and he’s currently sleeping as I lust. Thus my urgent need to drag myself back to bed.
I’m attaching a photo. No! Not of him naked. It’s one I took earlier while we were out lunching. Let me know what you think.
Much love and huge hugs,
Nicole. X
PS Sorry I haven’t written for a while. I promise to keep in touch now I’ve caught my breath.
PPS I’m an ignorant pig! Let me know all your news, too!
Nicole hurried back to her bedroom with the two glasses of San Pellegrino Sparkling Limonata she’d fetched from the fridge to find Richard stirring. She hoped he wouldn’t mind that she’d grabbed his shirt to pad downstairs in. She didn’t imagine for a second that she exuded the sexual allure of, say, Cameron Diaz, but it was infinitely more flattering than her usual night-time attire: a washed-out old onesie that resembled a pair of long johns, and which even the postman had raised an eyebrow at.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Richard said, hitching himself up on his elbows and looking her over so enticingly that Nicole felt her cheeks flush down to her décolleté. Being fair-skinned really did have distinct disadvantages – her face advertising her embarrassment being one of them. ‘I thought I might have frightened you off.’
‘It’s my house,’ she reminded him, depositing a perspiring glass on his bedside table. ‘I’d hardly run away, particularly with a red hot lover lying in my bed.’
‘That good, hey?’ Richard chuckled, catching her hand as she moved away.
‘Sizzling,’ Nicole assured him, at the risk of over-gushing. ‘You appear to know my body better than I do.’
Richard ran a lustful gaze over her. ‘My wife and I had a mutually satisfying relationship,’ he said, the smile in his eyes fading – as it would, thinking of her. ‘You’ve just reminded me how rewarding that can be. Come back to bed.’ Clearly making an effort to dismiss his understandable sadness, he tugged her gently towards him. ‘We have plenty of time until morning.’
‘Now there’s an offer a girl can’t resist.’ Nicole smiled, her eyes feasting on his torso as he threw the duvet back and patted the space she’d vacated. He really was unbelievable in every sense of the word: kind; attentive in and out of bed; attractive – most definitely that. Shamelessly, she stared at his chest, which was pleasingly toned and taut but not too muscular. He liked to keep himself fit, he’d said. Nicole was so glad that he did.
Her gaze strayed to his lips, which were full, but not too sensual on a man, and were now curved into a languid smile. She felt her cheeks heat infuriatingly again as she recalled where those lips had been – caressing her skin, her breasts, her nipples so slowly it was almost painful. Leisurely exploring every inch of her body.
After years of enforced celibacy in her marriage, she hadn’t known what to expect when she’d abandoned her resolve to steer clear of men forever and decided to sleep with him. Awkwardness, she’d imagined. And she’d hoped that that awkwardness wouldn’t be too excruciating when his hands found her breasts; that she wouldn’t turn him off.
She needn’t have worried. As unselfish in bed as he was out of it, Richard had soon shooed away the ghosts that had climbed under the duvet with her. There hadn’t been fireworks. Mercifully, no frenetic fumbling or thrusting either; none of the urgency that comes with first embarrassing sexual encounters of youth. He’d known instinctively where to touch her, how to touch her. Whispering softly, he’d encouraged her to relax, to trust him, while he’d led her on a journey of beautiful sensual discovery, taking her places she’d fantasised about but never imagined she would reach with a man. Her orgasm, when it came, was like a warm, exquisite ripple flowing right through to the very core of her. She’d never experienced that before. Never imagined placing herself, naked and vulnerable, in the hands of a man. When the misogynist ex had withdrawn from her sexually – one of his control games, she now saw, designed to deprive her of the child she’d so desperately wanted – she’d felt as desirable as cold tapioca. Worse, self-conscious and ashamed of her body, as if there was something fundamentally wrong with her that she could be physically repulsive to a man. So unattractive he preferred to pay for sex with other women, she’d eventually learned. The cruel fact of which he’d got an extra sadistic twist from by insisting it was, ‘All in her mind.’
She’d blamed herself for his cheating on her, just as she’d blamed herself for everything. She’d had no regard for herself in the end, only a self-loathing hatred that she could have been so pathetic, allowing someone to control her, subtly at first and then ultimately. Financially, sexually, he’d stripped her of everything. She had a long way to go to trust herself again completely. But she really did feel she could trust this man, who’d showed her how to love again, how to accept that she was attractive enough to be loved. He’d given her back her self-esteem.
‘You’re thinking,’ Richard admonished her, his forehead creasing into a mock scowl as he realised her mind was wandering. Squeezing her hand, he tugged her a little more persuasively towards the bed, sitting up to meet her as she allowed herself to plop down on to it. ‘Banish all thoughts of him,’ he said firmly, placing an arm around her and drawing her to him. ‘Think about it: if you’re wasting even a single thought on him, then he’s still wielding his power over you. Don’t give him the satisfaction, Nicole. Be here, in the moment, with me.’
Nicole looked up at him and saw the kindness in his eyes – ice-blue eyes, almost the colour of the midwinter sky, yet not cold. They were burning with desire. The misogynist had worn that same look at first. His desire, though she’d little known it then, had been to control her. Richard’s was to make love to her, to suppress her doubts and quiet her fears. There was an ocean of difference between them.
‘You’re right,’ she said, her lips drawn irresistibly to his. She was glad she’d confided some of her secrets to him, relieved she’d been brave enough to. Richard had told her that’s what she was. ‘A strong, brave, beautiful woman, with a mind of her own,’ he’d said, and then pulled her gently into his arms and held her. That’s when she’d known she could love this man, that she would be safe with him.
‘I always am,’ Richard said, an amused edge to his tone. ‘Do you think she’d approve?’ he asked, nodding towards the photograph of her mother on the bedside table.
‘Lord no. She’d be mortified, finding out her wanton daughter was fornicating with a man out of wedlock!’ Feeling herself blush up to her hair follicles, Nicole reached to turn the frame around. She’d forgotten she was there, looking piously on. ‘Do you know, I think she actually resents the fact that I managed to extricate myself from the kind of relationship she had to endure with my father. S-e-x was definitely a dirty word in the house I grew up in. God forb
id a woman should actually enjoy it. I think she even resents the fact that I’m an only child, therefore her sole living heir. I’m sure she’d rather leave all her money to local animal charities – if she actually liked animals, that is.’
Truthfully, Nicole felt a good degree of resentment, too, that her mother hadn’t been there when she’d so desperately needed her. It was hard to accept that the woman had expected her to endure the abuse she’d suffered at the misogynist’s hands simply because he was her husband. She might have escaped sooner if she could have gone back home for a while, if her mother’s attitude hadn’t been that she’d made her own bed and should therefore lie in it until the life was sucked out of her. She might have been able to save her unborn baby.
‘In which case, I suggest we make sure we’re as shocking as possible,’ Richard murmured, a mischievous glint now in his eyes as he closed his mouth over hers.
His far-too-tantalising tongue seeking hers, Nicole suppressed painful thoughts of her dear, lost child, and succumbed easily to his comforting embrace. His foreplay this time was less leisurely, but every bit as considerate and sweet. She’d been far from a virgin when she’d married the misogynist, but now she felt almost as nervous as one, embarking on this unexpected new relationship. Richard sensed it. That had to be special didn’t it? She couldn’t be wrong about him. She had been a victim, yes, though it had taken her too long to realise it. In her youth she’d been strong – determined not to be labelled or boxed. She would be strong again. She would fly again.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered, finding her mouth with his and sliding into her with a degree of urgency. ‘I want to show you what you do to me. You have all the power, Nicole. See?’
He slowed his pace, gazing into her eyes. They were making love with the lights on. Nicole felt almost orgasmic at the very thought of it – that this good-looking man was gazing down at her, making love to her, seeing something beautiful.
‘Stay with me, Nicole. Let me help you see you can make decisions. That you can be all that you want to be.’
Nicole cried afterwards, a single tear spilling on to his chest as she rested her head there, listening to the strong thrum of his heartbeat.
They stayed like that for a while, cocooned under the duvet, listening to the first optimistic birdsong as night gave way to day. ‘Can I ask you something?’ she ventured, circling one of his nipples gently with a finger.
Richard squeezed her closer. ‘Anything,’ he said.
‘You never said…’ She hesitated. ‘How did your wife die?’ Feeling Richard’s arm tense around her, Nicole held her breath, hoping she hadn’t elicited painful memories for him.
‘Suicide,’ he said quietly, eventually. ‘At least, that was the conclusion of the coroner. She’d mixed her medication and alcohol. She’d taken her car keys before I realised she’d gone out, and…’ He stopped, his voice catching.
Stunned, Nicole glanced up at him. ‘But I thought you said…’
‘She was ill? She was.’ Richard took a deep breath. ‘Multiple sclerosis. She watched her mother struggle with it. It’s not strictly hereditary, but she obviously had a genetic susceptibility to the disease.’
‘Oh God, that’s awful.’ Nicole’s heart ached for him.
‘It was, for her. The effects are different for everyone who has the disease, but Emily couldn’t live with the prospect of what might happen.’ He paused, his gaze on the ceiling, his hand softly stroking Nicole’s back. ‘To be honest, I suspect she thought I couldn’t live with it. I wish I’d been able to convince her I could.’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Richard,’ Nicole urged him gently. ‘You can only do your best in a marriage. Remember, that’s what you told me.’
‘That’s right, I did.’ Meeting her eyes, Richard smiled. ‘I try not to. It’s just… sometimes it creeps back to haunt me.’
Nicole nodded. ‘How did your daughter cope? She must have been devastated.’
‘She was. She’s strong though. Resilient. Probably stronger because of it, if that doesn’t sound odd.’
Like I used to be. Nicole hadn’t been confident as a child, but when her father had died – ironically, the man the bastard ex had turned out to be a replica of – she’d grown wings. Felt free, for the first time, to be the person she was inside. It was as if the shackles had been taken off. She no longer had to try to be perfect, which she was never going to be in her father’s eyes. He’d wanted her to join the family firm. As if she could ever be a fulfilled as a solicitor. He’d wanted her to be less of a dreamer. He’d wanted her to dress differently, to learn to cook, to find a good man; to put her in a box and slap a label on it. She’d applied for the degree she wanted the day after his funeral. Perhaps she had had a victim mentality, after all. Perceiving herself as stronger, yet sadly lacking in confidence underneath.
‘It doesn’t sound odd at all,’ she assured Richard. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. I think Olivia and I will get on.’
‘I know you will.’ Richard squeezed her closer. ‘Can I ask you a question, Nicole?’
‘Anything.’ She laughed, snuggling into him.
‘Marry me?’
THREE
REBECCA
PRESENT
Standing on at least an acre of land and approached via electric gates, the period property Nicole and Richard had purchased together was magnificent. Coming through the door to find everything dazzling white, Rebecca wasn’t sure whether she should leave her shoes in the hall, which was at least as big as her lounge.
Following Olivia’s lead, she kept her shoes on – though she was tempted to take her weight off her heels lest they leave scuff marks on the expensive looking tiles. The whole house was immaculate, she realised, passing through a spacious sitting room furnished with contemporary stone leather sofas. It was truly beautiful. She did wonder, though, whether one might dare use the clinical-looking kitchen for anything as messy as actual cooking.
It was also a little perplexing. Given a choice of period properties, Rebecca was certain that Nicole would have gone for more of a farmhouse feel, with original cross-beams, inglenook fireplaces and wood-burning stoves. Nicole had been excited about moving into the house, however, telling her how Richard had called it their blank canvas, how they were going to make it into something beautiful and individual. Rebecca hadn’t doubted she would. Her friend’s choice of decor had always reflected her artistic nature: scatter cushions, mixed colours, patterns and textures everywhere, with no attention to rules. The room they’d rented together in their student days was stuffed full of second-hand prizes found at the Birmingham rag market, but it all came together somehow, creating unconventional, comfortable chaos.
She’d followed her heart in the little house she’d bought after her divorce too, her decor as diverse as she was, with pillows adorning odd pieces of furniture, rugs across the floors, bold colours on the walls. It had been homey to the point of messy, but it was Nicole. This house just wasn’t. But then, Rebecca supposed a project of this scale would take time, careful planning, professional decorators.
‘Rebecca?’ a male voice said behind her, causing Rebecca, who was now gazing through the patio windows at the swimming pool as she recalled the content of some of Nicole’s correspondence, to almost jump out of her skin.
Composing herself, Rebecca turned, and found herself taken aback. Up close, Richard Gray was more good-looking than she’d realised. Almost a head taller than her, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline, he was definitely classically handsome. Rebecca wondered if Nicole had been tempted to paint his portrait. His eyes would be hard to capture. Ice blue in colour, they were striking – utterly mesmerising. So much so, Rebecca almost didn’t notice the hand he held out in greeting.
What exactly did he do for a living, she wondered. He was clearly wealthy. Nicole had mentioned he was in the property development business, and that they had decided to pool their resources to buy a place together of their own. She doubted her fr
iend’s assets would have amounted to a quarter of the value of this property, though, which had to be worth over a million pounds. Nicole had also been quick to mention he’d insisted on her keeping some cash for herself in a separate account. For her own peace of mind, he’d apparently told her, which Rebecca had conceded was very caring of him.
The Second Wife Page 2