His own breathing heavy, he paused, easing his face away from hers. There was a flicker of doubt now in his eyes: a question. Guilt: it was there.
Closing her eyes, Rebecca nodded her answer.
‘You’re beautiful. I want to see you. Look at me, Rebecca,’ he murmured hoarsely, bringing his mouth back to hers. ‘Let me see you.’
Rebecca did. Difficult though it was not to close her eyes, she watched him, looking at her as he entered her. Aware of her sharp intake of breath, he paused again, checking that she was okay. She smiled her reassurance, part of her glad that he had, another part of her sad that she was unashamedly testing him.
Richard smiled, withdrawing from her and thrusting slowly into her again. Stroking her hair from her face, he locked his eyes on hers and increased the pace, moving with deep, sure strokes.
Sliding his hands up her body, weaving them through her hair, he kissed her hungrily. ‘Tell me when, Rebecca?’ he whispered. ‘Come with me.’
‘Now,’ she cried, a tear escaping her eye as a white-hot spasm clenched her muscles around him, followed by another, and Richard groaned throatily and jolted inside her.
‘Christ,’ he muttered, exhaling hard and resting his forehead against hers. ‘Okay?’ he asked her, concern now clouding his magnetic blue eyes.
‘Yes, I…’ Her emotions hopelessly confused, despite her promise to herself not to allow them to be, Rebecca glanced away. She’d wanted to dictate the pace while allowing him to imagine he was. Now, she wasn’t sure who was leading whom. How dark would the dance grow?
‘We shouldn’t have,’ Richard said, his tone full of obvious regret. ‘I shouldn’t have.’ Dropping his head to her shoulder, he swallowed hard.
‘It was wrong,’ Rebecca breathed, wanting to hold him and, equally, to push him away.
Richard’s gaze came back to hers. ‘Then why did it feel so right?’ he asked her, an agonised look now in his eyes, as if he needed her somehow to absolve him.
TWENTY-THREE
OLIVIA
PRESENT
He really should have taken the time to make sure the blind was properly drawn. Her cheeks feeling hot, Olivia walked quickly away from the pool house. God forbid Sam should have walked past. He would undoubtedly have been shocked to see his mother behaving like a complete whore. And boring Laura, who was probably saving her virginity, to poor Sam’s frustration, would have been traumatised for life after witnessing such a display of wantonness.
She hadn’t imagined Rebecca would be able to resist for long. He was a good-looking man. With his height and undeniably attractive physique, women also perceived him as strong, but he wasn’t. He was weak. He fell in love too easily. Rebecca, though, was wary, no doubt conflicted by notions of loyalty. And precisely because of that, she would enjoy him all the more: her dear, recently departed friend’s husband, who was now her lover.
Watching Richard emerge from the pool house – clearly thinking it prudent they leave separately – Olivia bit into the apple she’d fetched from the kitchen and licked her lips with the pink tip of her tongue. Bittersweet.
Catching sight of her, Richard walked across, his expression guilty, as it would be.
Smiling when he reached her, Olivia decided to tease him a little. ‘So, what have you two been up to? Anything interesting?’ She took another languid bite of her apple.
Searching her eyes, Richard smiled awkwardly. ‘Just talking,’ he said. ‘Getting to know each other a little better.’
Olivia arched an eyebrow. ‘Oh yes?’ She smirked, and then looked past him to where Sam and Laura were coming around the side of the house. ‘It’s a good job Sam didn’t walk by while you were “getting to know each other”. He might not approve.’
Richard glanced in Sam’s direction and then looked back to her, his eyes holding a warning.
As if she would say anything to Rebecca’s son at this delicate time in their budding relationship and ruin everything. Honestly, she wasn’t completely naive. He knew her better than that.
‘Hi.’ Coming across to them, Laura still hanging on to his hand like a needy child, Sam smiled warmly. He had a gorgeous smile. Perfect teeth. Olivia was tempted to offer him a bite of her apple but guessed that Laura might be put out by the obvious symbolism. ‘Where’s Mum?’ he asked, scanning the patio.
‘In the pool house, cooling off,’ Olivia supplied.
‘She’s taking a shower after her swim.’ Richard smiled embarrassedly.
‘She got a bit hot and sticky in the pool,’ Olivia added, and twirled around to head back to the house. ‘I’ll put the pasta on,’ she called back. ‘Don’t want Becky getting all flustered because she got distracted and forgot, do we?’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Laura offered, but not sounding particularly keen, Olivia detected. It was a shame, really. The girl was to be pitied for her obvious lack of sexual allure, possibly more than Sam was. Clearly she would feel inferior in her company – more so without Rebecca around to protect her delicate sensibilities.
Nonetheless, Olivia enthusiastically accepted her offer. She didn’t want Sam thinking she was a bitch, although he was obviously turned on by the fact that she had a bit of spark. Boring Laura was so wooden, she practically blended in with the trees she insisted on reading her silly books beneath.
Delegating her the job of chopping the onion, garlic and peppers, rather than get crap under her nail extensions herself, Olivia attended to the job of watching the pan of water boil for the penne, pausing in her efforts to beam Sam a smile as he came in with Richard. ‘Do you want to grab a red wine, Sam?’ she asked him, indicating the wine rack. ‘I think you and Dad prefer red, don’t you?’
Sam eyed Richard enquiringly.
‘The Cabernet Sauvignon’s good.’ Richard nodded towards it.
‘Cheers.’ Sam smiled. ‘Laura and I will go into town and get some wine for when we next eat in,’ he offered, heading across the kitchen. He really was a catch, Olivia thought: caring and conscientious, and way too sexy for boring Laura.
‘No need. We have plenty,’ Richard said. ‘Actually, Sam, while your mum’s not here and I’ve got you and Olivia together, do you think I could run something by you?’
Selecting the wine, Sam looked back at him, his brow furrowed curiously. ‘Shoot,’ he said.
Richard now definitely looked awkward, like a nervous schoolboy, which was rather endearing. ‘I, er, wondered if either of you would have any objections if Rebecca and I…’ He stopped, clearly searching for the right words.
Fucked? Olivia mentally supplied, smiling interestedly.
‘That is, I wondered it would be okay with you, Sam, if I asked Rebecca out to dinner?’
Aw, how old-fashioned. Olivia smirked with amusement in Richard’s direction, which he did his utmost to ignore.
Taken aback, Sam stared bemusedly at him, while Laura almost chopped her fingers off. Olivia guessed the poor girl was aware of the chemistry between her and Sam, and was wondering whether she might have just heard the death knell sound on her relationship. It was obvious that Laura couldn’t wait for the holiday to be over so she could keep him all to herself. Alas, Olivia would be seeing much more of him now. Of course, she would have to remind Sam that they wouldn’t actually be related. She had a feeling Sam might have principles, unlike his mother.
‘I know it’s soon after my wife…’ Richard went falteringly on, ‘but… well, we like each other, and…’ He shrugged and stopped.
Sam nodded in contemplation. ‘I noticed you two seemed to be getting along,’ he said. ‘I don’t have any objections, as long as you’re sure you’re ready for a relationship?’
He eyed Richard questioningly. Olivia had to admit she was impressed by his thoughtfulness.
‘Ahem.’ Rebecca – decently attired in her sarong – coughed from the doorway. ‘Thank you, Sam,’ she said. ‘And do I get any say in this?’
‘Damn,’ Richard muttered, no doubt realising he’d been presumptuous
. Massaging his forehead, he turned to Rebecca and mouthed ‘Sorry’ in her direction.
Rebecca’s expression was admonishing, but Olivia noted the amusement in her eyes.
Hooked, definitely. Olivia gave Laura a wink and slid the pasta into the water.
TWENTY-FOUR
NICOLE
PREVIOUS YEAR – OCTOBER
Nicole hadn’t been sure the local art shop would take any of her paintings. The oils on canvas they might have been interested in displaying, but the landscapes in watercolours she’d taken to painting while she searched for an alternative studio… She’d imagined they would have those in abundance, produced by local artists. She was pleasantly surprised, however.
‘These are really good,’ the owner, Isobel, enthused, already halfway across the shop to put Nicole’s study of the swirling woodland mist, entitled After the Rain, on display in the shop window. It was a painting she had embarked on in one of her more contemplative moods – largely contemplating whether she’d been misinterpreting Olivia’s antagonism towards her, and whether she might have misjudged her because she actually was jealous of Richard’s obvious love for his daughter, in which case that did make her a selfish, insecure person.
‘I’m experimenting with watercolours at the moment,’ Nicole said, her confidence boosted by the woman’s obvious enthusiasm. ‘My stepdaughter suffers with asthma and she’s allergic to the fumes from oil paints, so I’m having to look for a studio, rather than paint at home. I am quite pleased with these, though.’
‘Ah, Olivia,’ Isobel said, glancing curiously at her and then back to the painting to straighten it on its hook. ‘Yes, Emily said she had certain allergies. Emily’s perfume set her off apparently, and then various household cleaning products. Such a nuisance.’
Did they? Nicole hadn’t had any complaints regarding those yet. She sighed. ‘It must have been a real worry for Emily, especially when Olivia was a baby. She’s suffered with it all her life, so Richard tells me.’
‘Well, yes, Emily was worried about her.’ Again, Isobel gave her a look that Nicole couldn’t quite interpret, and then, satisfied the painting was straight, came back across the shop. ‘But Emily wasn’t—’
The door jangling open stopped her mid-sentence. ‘Five minutes.’ Isobel gestured to the man who came in. ‘My husband, come to take me to lunch,’ she explained to Nicole. ‘Have to grab the opportunity while I can.’
‘Ooh, wouldn’t do to keep him waiting then.’ Nicole smiled and gathered up her belongings.
‘I’m worth waiting for, hey, Mike?’ Isobel addressed her husband.
‘Absolutely. I’d wait forever, my lovely.’ Mike smiled and gave Nicole a wink. ‘I often do.’
Isobel gave him a flat smile.
Nicole laughed. ‘I’ll leave you two to it,’ she said.
‘Come back later.’ Isobel stopped her as she turned for the door. ‘If you’re looking for somewhere to paint, there’s a room at the village hall. It could probably use a coat of paint itself, but it has French windows, so lots of light.’
‘Really?’ Nicole turned back, delighted. ‘That would be fantastic. How much would it cost?’
‘Well, I’d have to have a few words in the right ears, but – only if you’re interested, of course – we were thinking of reviving the art classes,’ Isobel said. ‘Just for local people. These paintings of yours really are excellent – you’re hugely talented. I was wondering whether you might be interested in maybe holding the class?’
Nicole bristled with pride. She’d adored teaching at the college – which seemed like another lifetime ago now, in a time when she actually did feel more confident – and it would certainly be a way to spend some time out of the house and away from Olivia. ‘I’d love to,’ she said, feeling almost tearful.
After arranging to meet Isobel later, Nicole left feeling buoyed up by the thought of using her oils as well as the friendliness of Isobel and Mike. One or two people in the village, she’d noticed, had given her curious looks, as if she were an oddity. Nicole supposed she was, in the way that newcomers always were to a village. The woman in the café had stared at her so hard before asking whether she was Richard Gray’s new wife that Nicole had wondered whether she’d had something worse than a milk moustache on her face. The woman had looked surprised when Nicole had confirmed she was. She’d been about to comment more when the woman had mumbled, ‘Congratulations,’ not over-effusively, and then twirled around to go and talk to someone in the kitchen. She probably fancied him, Nicole had concluded. Richard was quite the catch, after all. He no doubt had one or two female admirers.
Still, she could deal with it. Richard loved her, and she’d never once seen his eye stray in another direction. Running the art class would be the perfect icebreaker: giving her the opportunity to get to know people, and for people to get to know her and realise she was no threat. She’d thought she might be nervous at the prospect of teaching again, so useless had she been made to feel by her first husband, but she was actually looking forward to the challenge.
Lighter of foot, she called in to Baby Steps, the ‘all things babies’ shop, to pick up the stair gate she’d ordered, and then she checked her watch – and made a mad dash for her car. Where had the time gone? Richard would be waiting. Not to take her to lunch, unfortunately, but to meet her mother. Nicole prayed he didn’t spend five minutes in Lydia’s company and end up viewing his wife through her disappointed eyes.
Arriving at her car on the high street to find herself blocked in – barely an inch to spare either way – Nicole started to panic. It took her a whole twenty minutes to find the owner of one of the cars blocking her, and even then, halfway through his lunch in the café, he took his time.
God. She was hopelessly late now. Nicole tried Richard’s number as she drove, only to get his voicemail. Having taken time out of his work day, he was not going to be pleased. Pressing her foot down, Nicole drove faster than she should for the first part of the journey, and then cursed as she met traffic.
Finally arriving, almost an hour late, she found Richard’s car parked outside her mother’s house, but no sign of Richard. Hell. He was inside. By now, he’d probably be put off her for life. Lydia would no doubt be regaling him with tales of her wild youth and failed marriage – with a few misconceptions as to why it had failed thrown in – whilst looking frail and lonely, having been abandoned for so many years by her uncaring daughter. All of this she would do to make sure Richard was put off.
Parking haphazardly, Nicole scrambled out of her car, grabbed the shopping she’d bought to stock up Lydia’s cupboards, and then let herself in with the key she’d been entrusted with. Breathe. Nicole deposited the provisions in the kitchen and then braced herself and walked to the living room door, where she stopped and listened – and then did a double take. Lydia was laughing. Nicole shook her head. She couldn’t remember seeing her smiling, let alone actually laughing. What’s more, Richard appeared to be chuckling along too.
They were getting on?
Nicole eased the door open and stepped in, looking first at her mother, who had a tissue pressed to her chest and whose eyes were sparkling with merriment, then to Richard, whose gaze shot to hers.
‘Nicole!’ Sounding pleased to see her – to Nicole’s relief, since she was so terribly late – he got to his feet to take hold of her hand and kiss her cheek. She’d thought he would be annoyed, with every right to be. He’d had a busy schedule this morning, viewing one property and overseeing works on another, he’d said, meaning he might be hard pushed to get here himself. Yet here he still was, apparently getting along like a house on fire with Lydia.
Wonders never… Nicole smiled. ‘Sorry about the time,’ she said. ‘I forgot I had to pick the baby gate up, and then I found my car blocked—’
‘Baby gate?’ Lydia interjected, staring at her in surprise.
‘Stair gate,’ Nicole quickly amended, lest her mother get on to that subject.
She hadn’t told
Richard that she’d lost a child. How she’d lost her. He would have wondered why she hadn’t left her monster of a husband immediately. Nicole hadn’t known how she would explain, at first, that her strength and her sense of self-worth had been so depleted she hadn’t known how to. That, knowing what he would be capable of if she reported him, she’d been too frightened to. She’d intended to tell him, once she’d realised Richard wouldn’t think any less of her, but then events, particularly with Olivia, had overtaken her. She would speak to him, soon, she decided. She would have to, before her mother did.
‘It’s to keep Bouncer downstairs. Richard’s daughter’s allergic,’ she explained. ‘I see you two are hitting it off.’
‘Indeed we are.’ Lydia’s eyes drifted fondly back to Richard. ‘He’s hilarious. And such a gent. He’s changed the bulb on the landing and tuned my radio in. I’d hold on to this one, if I were you, Nicole.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ Nicole said flatly. ‘So, what’s so funny?’ She arched a curious eyebrow at Richard.
‘Him, naked in a lift,’ Lydia supplied, fanning herself with her tissue as she dissolved into another fit of laughter. ‘Stopping on every floor!’ She was so overcome, she could barely get the words out. She’d have a heart attack if she wasn’t careful.
Nicole boggled at Richard, who now looked the tiniest bit embarrassed.
‘Construction company prank, back in my apprenticeship days,’ he explained, with an awkward shrug. ‘My workmates decided it would be amusing to leave me in the lift with my hands and feet tied and stop the lift on every floor.’
‘But that’s not funny.’ Nicole stared at him aghast. ‘That’s bullying.’
Placing an arm around her, Richard squeezed her shoulders. ‘I got over it,’ he assured her.
‘And didn’t bear any grudges,’ Lydia felt compelled to add.
The Second Wife Page 13