A Passionate Affair: The Passionate Husband / The Italian's Passion / A Latin Passion
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When the release came its explosion took them both into a shattering world of light and colour and sensation in which time had no meaning. There was no past and no future, and even the present consisted only of the swirling heights to which they had risen. Passion was the master, and it was all the more powerful for being denied so long.
Her head was resting against the hard column of his throat as he cradled her against him, the furious pounding of his heart beginning to diminish as he placed small burning kisses on her brow.
It wasn’t until he gently lowered her feet to the floor that she began to think again, but even then she was so wrapped up in his arms as he continued to hold her close against him that the full import didn’t register. ‘I love you, sweetheart.’ His voice was muffled above her head but warm with lingering passion. ‘Never doubt that for a moment.’
She continued to rest against the lean bulk of him, but now reality wouldn’t be kept at bay. She had allowed Taylor to make love to her. No, not just allowed it—encouraged it, begged for it, she admitted silently, feeling numb with shame.
‘This is where you say you love me too.’
The beginning of her reply was lost in his kiss as he bent his head, but after a moment or two the lack of response must have got through to him. He raised his head, his eyes taking in her mortified face. ‘We’re married, Fuzz,’ he reminded her evenly. ‘It’s okay to say you love me.’
He was saying it was okay for much more than that, and they both knew it. ‘We—we’re separated,’ she protested faintly.
He held her away from him for a second, his gaze conducting a leisurely evaluation of the space between them. ‘So we are,’ he agreed lazily, his voice deep with throaty amusement. ‘But I can soon remedy that again, if you so wish?’
In spite of herself her body tingled where his eyes had stroked, and now her face was scarlet. For months she had been fiercely telling herself that she was able to make a new life in which Taylor played no part. She was a career woman now; she was going to concentrate on that and that alone. Men, romance, sex—she didn’t want any of it. There were too many complications, too many compromises, too much heartache. And what had happened to all her grand thoughts and principles? Taylor had happened. He had crooked his little finger after eighteen months of silence and she had flown into his arms like a homing pigeon. It was her worst nightmare come to life.
‘We shouldn’t have done this.’ She pulled herself free, yanking the throw off the sofa and wrapping it round her. ‘It will only complicate things.’
‘I doubt they could get more complicated,’ he said mildly.
‘Of course they can.’
He didn’t contradict her this time. He simply stood there, stark naked and faintly amused as he surveyed her frantic face. After a moment he said, very calmly, ‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Shall we eat?’
Shall we eat? She stared at him, her cheeks pink and her hair ruffled. Men were a different species, they really were.
‘Fuzz, you haven’t done anything wrong.’ It was said in tones of insulting patience, the sort of voice one used with a child who was being particularly silly. ‘We’ve just enjoyed one of the most natural pleasures known to man—and woman.’ She went even pinker, as he had meant her to. ‘Besides which we are man and wife, for crying out loud. Or had that little fact slipped your mind with it being so long?’
Nothing about Taylor had ever slipped her mind. ‘The… the divorce.’ Had he made love to her just to put a spanner in the works? She wouldn’t put it past him. She wouldn’t put anything past him. ‘Will it make a difference if the solicitors find out?’
‘I tell you what, I won’t tell if you don’t.’ His face had closed against her as she had spoken, and now he bent to retrieve his clothes, beginning to dress with lazy grace.
She watched him miserably, more confused than she had ever been in her life. She loved him. She had never stopped loving him even when she had told herself she hated him for what he had done. But did she trust him? Did she really believe he had just been Tanya’s boss and that was all? Did she know, deep in her heart, that there had never been any other women since he had met her? The answer sent a bleak chill through her, quelling any words of appeasement.
Once he was dressed he looked at her, no expression on his face now. ‘I can’t carry you kicking and screaming out of that place of shadows you inhabit and into the real world,’ he said quietly. ‘And I can’t show you any more clearly how I feel. You’re destroying us—you know that, don’t you? Throwing away something which should have lasted for a lifetime and beyond. I know what your mother did was tough, along with the rest of it, but sooner or later you have to make up your mind whether anything at all is worth fighting for. If it is, we should be at the top of the list.’
‘I didn’t ask you to come here this morning,’ she said numbly.
‘No, you didn’t.’ He nodded his agreement. ‘But I came anyway, so that should tell you something. And don’t say it was because of what we’ve just done either. If it was just sex I wanted there are any number of women I could call on. That’s the way of it when you are wealthy and successful. I don’t want sex, Fuzz. I want to make love. With you. There’s a hell of a difference there. Do you see that?’
She stared at him, her eyes huge. ‘I don’t know what to think any more. I’m—’
‘Confused.’ Taylor confirmed his understanding with a nod. ‘But not knowing what to think is better than being sure of the wrong thing. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.’
She couldn’t return his smile. She felt raw and exposed and his last words had done nothing to calm her agitation. Taylor was the master of manipulation. Had this morning been an exercise in psyching her out? If so it had been an extremely rewarding one as far as he was concerned.
‘Get dressed, Fuzz.’ His smile was replaced by a sombre gaze. ‘And I promise I won’t touch you again this morning, okay? We’ll eat, pretend this is just the beginning of a normal working day for an old married couple.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ She wondered why the bedsit seemed to have shrunk since he had walked into it.
‘You still need to eat.’
She wanted to argue, but she had the horrible feeling she might burst into tears if she did. Gathering up her clothes, she said, ‘I’ll just have a quick shower,’ and scuttled across the room, closing the door of the shower room firmly behind her and then locking it. Her body felt sensuously replete, the core of her throbbing faintly with a pleasant ache and her breasts full and heavy as she showered before dressing. She eyed herself in the small mirror before leaving the tiny room and groaned softly. She had the look of a woman who had just been made love to, sure enough. She was going to have to make up very carefully once he had gone.
She took a deep breath and lifted her head, opening the shower room door and walking briskly into the main room. And then she stopped dead. It was empty. He’d gone. She glanced about her as though she expected him to leap up from behind the sofa, and then she saw the note on the breakfast bar. Walking across, she picked it up, holding the rose which he had slanted across one of the pages from the message pad she kept near the telephone.
Sorry, urgent call on my mobile means I’ve got to cut and run. We’ll talk later. T
Marsha sank down on one of the stools, her heart thudding. T. Not even ‘love T’. And surely he could have waited a few minutes until she’d showered and dressed? Had he regretted making love to her? Or had he thought it would be easier on her if he left before she came out? She had said she wasn’t hungry, but—
Stop it. The command in her head was strong. No amount of rationalising would give her the answer. Only Taylor could do that, and she couldn’t ask him. She put down the note and the rose, staring at the deep red petals for a long time. She had let Taylor into her mind and her body this morning; she’d gone against everything she had told herself over the last eighteen months and had given him goodness knows what message. She was stark staring mad.
Coffee. She nodded to the thought. She was going to have a cup of strong hot coffee and then force herself to eat some of this food. She would need to be fully in command of herself when she went to see Susan this morning. The time had come. Or perhaps it was long overdue. Eighteen months overdue. If nothing else she should have insisted on seeing Susan and Dale once the initial shock had subsided. She realised that now. So perhaps, as Taylor had said, there was hope for her yet? But it wasn’t hope for herself she wanted, it was hope for them.
She frowned to herself, hating to admit just how much she needed him. From the moment he had come into her life, like a powerful, inexorable force, she had known she would never love anyone else. Taylor was part of her, he was in her blood, her bones, and whatever she did to try to forget him it didn’t work.
It had been so good when they had first been married … She let her mind wander back to those golden days in a way she hadn’t done for a long time because it was too painful. She had adored him, had been over the moon that a man like Taylor—sophisticated, handsome, wealthy, powerful—had noticed her. Not just noticed her but fallen madly in love with her if he was to be believed. And he had been so gentle, so tender with her.
She pushed back the silk of her hair, her eyes cloudy with the memories which were crowding in.
Right from their first date it had been enough to be together; they hadn’t needed anyone else. In fact it had been something of a sacrifice when they had shared their time with other people, even old friends. They had practically lived in each other’s pockets before they were married, their relationship so intense it had disturbed her when she stopped to think about it. Which wasn’t often. Not with Taylor by her side, filling every moment, every thought, every breath.
She sighed deeply, her body still holding the tingling awareness of their lovemaking and her breasts full and heavy with the remnants of passion.
She had told him they shouldn’t have made love, but it had seemed the most natural, the right thing to do. So where did that leave her?
Up the creek without a paddle. An old saying of the home’s matron, a severe, grey-haired lady with the name of Armstrong, came to mind. Matron Armstrong had been a Yorkshire lass, and full of such little gems, but she had been kind beneath her grim exterior. Marsha could still recall when the second set of prospective parents had returned her to the home, making no effort to hide their disappointment in her, and the way Matron had whisked her into her quarters once they had gone, feeding her hot crumpets and jam by the fire and talking long and hard about how stupid some grown-ups could be. Yes, she had been a nice woman, Matron Armstrong.
She sighed again, gazing round the bedsit as though the little home she had created for herself would help her sort out her confusion. Why did she still, knowing all she knew about Tanya—or at least thought she knew, she corrected, trying to be fair—ache for his touch, his love?
Because she loved him in a way she could never love anyone else.
The thought thrust itself into the forefront of her mind, causing her to lower her head as she made a sound deep in her throat.
She sat quite still for some minutes before raising her head, and now her mouth was set in a determined line, her eyes narrowed. She would go and see Susan and bear whatever came of their meeting, good or bad. She owed it to herself to do that, even if she didn’t owe it to Taylor.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SUSAN’S large, faintly ostentatious house was gently baking in the morning sun as Marsha paid the taxi driver. As he drove off she turned, standing and looking at the building for a moment.
The small select estate of three-year-old executive style properties was all manicured green lawns, pristine flower borders with not a petal in the wrong place and pocket-size back gardens without a bird in sight. Windows gleamed, drives were immaculate and the odd silver birch tree—the only trees which had been planted by the builders in the middle of every other front lawn—were neatly trimmed and perfect. Marsha found it hard to imagine that real flesh and blood people lived in such uniform perfection.
She had telephoned Susan earlier that morning, and it was clear the other woman had been keeping an eye out for the taxi as the front door suddenly opened. ‘Marsha.’ Susan smiled at her. ‘How lovely to see you. Do come in.’
As Marsha reached her sister-in-law she was briefly enfolded in a cool perfumed embrace, and then she was in Susan’s elegant cream and biscuit hall—the same colour scheme being reflected throughout the five-bedroomed house.
‘Come through to the sitting room,’ Susan continued, leading the way into the large and expensively furnished room Marsha remembered from when she had still been living with Taylor. Brother and sister had had a few altercations over the price of several items, not least the three two-seater cream leather sofas, the cost of which had run into six figures. Dale’s salary—as Taylor’s general manager—should have been able to cover the mortgage and the cost of any necessary new furniture or appliances when they had moved from their more modest house just after Marsha and Taylor had wed, but neither Susan’s husband nor her brother had expected her to go on a spending spree as she had. When Susan had come crying to Taylor that she couldn’t keep up the repayments on various items he had taken the debts and paid them, but not before he had made it very clear he wasn’t happy with her wild squandering of what was essentially his money.
Susan had argued and cried and sulked, taking herself off for a weekend to a health farm at the height of the dispute, but with the debts all paid off and her new home furnished exactly the way she wanted she had soon been herself again—with Taylor, at least. With Dale she had seemed a little distant.
It was through this fracas that Marsha had seen Taylor’s relationship with his sister was more father to daughter than sibling to sibling. One night when the dust had settled he had explained to her that their father had been such a transitory figure in their lives, even before their mother had died, that he had taken on the responsibility of Susan from childhood. It had explained a lot. Susan’s adoration of her big brother and Taylor’s indulgent humouring of his sister’s sometimes excessive demands had fallen into place.
‘I’ve missed you.’ Susan placed a beringed hand on Marsha’s arm once they were sitting in air-conditioned comfort. Mrs Temple—Susan’s daily—bustled in a moment later with a tray of coffee.
Once the two women were alone again Susan leant forward, her light brown eyes—which were a washed-out version of Taylor’s deep tawny orbs—uncharacteristically warm as she said, ‘How are things, Marsha? What have you been doing with yourself?’
Marsha gave a brief description of her job and her home, to which Susan listened intently. Taylor’s sister had never aspired to further education and she had left school at sixteen, working for a few hours a day in a flower shop before her marriage to Dale, when she had been just over twenty-one. At that point she had given up work entirely.
‘And do you enjoy your job? Are you happy?’
There was something of an urgency to Susan’s tone, which surprised Marsha. She looked at her sister-in-law, her smile soft at the other woman’s concern as she said, ‘Yes, I love my work. It’s challenging and rewarding and every day is different.’
‘But are you happy?’
Marsha took a sip of her coffee to give herself time to think. She had never worn her heart on her sleeve and she wasn’t about to start now, but she couldn’t in all honesty say she was happy, not even before Taylor had burst into her life again and turned everything upside down. She was satisfied with the life she had carved out for herself of necessity, and with that satisfaction had come more self-respect than she had ever had before, along with a belief in her own strength and fortitude, but happy? Happiness was Taylor. Joy was Taylor.
She took a steadying breath as she placed the delicate one china cup on its fragile saucer. ‘Happiness is different things to different people,’ she prevaricated quietly, ‘but can I tell you why I came today?’
‘It’s something to do with Taylor, isn’t it?’ It was more a statement than a question.
‘He’s told you he came to see me?’ Marsha found she was faintly surprised. Susan and Taylor were very close, but somehow she had imagined he would keep the last few days quiet until they had sorted things out one way or the other.
Susan nodded, her eyes fixed on Marsha’s face. ‘He… he said you’re still determined not to go back to him. Is that true?’
Again Marsha prevaricated. ‘Susan, I just need to check a few things with you. Some of what he said—’ She stopped abruptly. She really didn’t know how to put this. ‘He’s adamant he never slept with Tanya or anyone else, not then and not since we’ve been separated. Could you have got it wrong?’
Susan continued to stare at her before bringing her lids down over her eyes as she reached for her own cup.
‘You phoned the hotel yourself,’ she said flatly.
‘I know.’ Marsha’s stomach lurched. She had been banking on a ray of hope; she realised that now. ‘Taylor said the booking was made in error—the double room for him and Tanya, I mean. He said he took the only other available bed in the place and shared a twin with another man at the conference. He maintains he wrote me a letter explaining everything—’
‘Marsha, what do you want me to say?’ Susan had set her cup down and now her face was tight as she raised her head again. ‘You made the decision to leave him at the time and I don’t see what’s changed.’
Marsha returned her gaze for a long moment, then sank back against the sofa, putting a hand to her forehead. She had been clutching at straws; she saw that now. Susan was trying to be kind by not rubbing it in, but it was clear the other woman had no doubts about Taylor’s infidelity. ‘I… I want to believe him, I suppose,’ she said throatily, tears welling up despite all her efforts to control herself.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Marsha, really.’ Suddenly Susan was beside her, hugging her. ‘But you’ve just told me what a great life you’ve made for yourself without him. You’ll be all right. You will. You’re so brainy and beautiful and… and nice.’
As her sister-in-law’s voice broke and Susan began to cry with her, Marsha knew she had to get her equilibrium back. She should never have come here today. It could serve no useful purpose—simply opening the old wound until it was raw and bleeding.
She drew back a little from Susan with as much aplomb as she could muster, her voice still husky with tears as she said, ‘It’s me that’s sorry, Sue. I’ve come here and upset you, and after all you did for me. It must have been hard, loving Taylor as you do, to tell me about Tanya and everything. Look, I ought to go.’
‘No, no, don’t.’ Susan sounded almost desperate. ‘Stay for a bit, please. Here, have some more coffee; you’ll feel better.’
She couldn’t feel any worse. Marsha dredged up a smile from somewhere as she nodded.
‘I have missed you, Marsha, so much. I mean it.’ Susan pushed back her hair from her damp face.
‘Not with your busy social life, surely?’ Marsha attempted to bring things back to normal, her voice brighter. Susan and Dale lived in a social whirl that would have made her giddy. She and Taylor had liked to go out quite often, dancing the night away at nightclubs, having and going to dinner parties or to the theatre, but they had also enjoyed quiet romantic dinners at home together, or weekends when they saw no one. Susan and Dale, on the other hand, rarely had an evening at home, and when they did it was usually because they were throwing a dinner party.
Susan shrugged now. ‘Quantity of friends doesn’t necessarily mean the quality is right,’ she said, so bitterly that Marsha was shocked out of her own misery.
‘Is anything wrong?’ She placed a hand on Susan’s arm.
‘Lots. But then no one’s life is perfect, is it?’ Susan’s smile was brittle now, and she made a show of pouring two more cups of coffee, removing herself back to her own seat as she did so.
The conversation was a little stilted from that point on, with Marsha telling Susan more about the TV company and the way things worked, and Susan responding by talking about the latest drama or film she’d seen.
It was as Marsha stood up to go that Taylor’s sister reached out her hands again, taking Marsha’s in her own as she said, ‘You haven’t told Taylor it was me? I mean, you haven’t let anything slip that might give him an idea? He’s so…’
As her voice faded away, Marsha acknowledged that she knew what Susan was trying to say. Her smile was crooked as she shook the other woman’s hands gently. ‘Of course I haven’t. I gave you my word, but I wouldn’t do that to you anyway,’ she reassured her softly. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? More than friends—family.’ For a little while longer, at least, until the divorce was finalised.
Susan’s eyes flickered and then filled with tears, and for the umpteenth time since Marsha had come to the house the other woman surprised her by hugging her tight. Susan had never been physically demonstrative in all the time Marsha had known her, not even with Dale. The only person she had ever seen Susan hug of her own volition was Taylor, and even then it would be brief.
Marsha frowned over the other woman’s head. There was definitely something wrong, and it was serious; she could sense it. She tried one last time. ‘Sue, are you feeling all right? You don’t seem yourself.’
Susan drew back immediately, brushing her face with the back of her hand. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine,’ she said, smiling now. ‘It’s just so nice to see you, that’s all.’
She couldn’t force a confidence if Susan didn’t want to discuss it. Marsha smiled back, bringing a teasing note to her voice when she said, ‘You just miss those shopping trips you used to drag me on, that’s all.’
‘We had fun, didn’t we?’ Susan said wistfully.
‘Lots of it.’ For the first time Marsha noticed that Susan’s slimness bordered on the extreme. Taylor’s sister had always been a fitness addict, spending hours at a local gym she belonged to, but now she appeared positively scrawny.
Marsha had phoned for a taxi some minutes earlier, and when the two women opened the front door it was just pulling up outside. ‘Good timing.’ Marsha smiled at her sister-in-law, determined to leave on a brighter note. ‘It was good to see you again. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’
Susan nodded. ‘You too. I wish you would let me drive you back.’
‘No need.’ To be truthful, she needed to be by herself. ‘And if I talk to Taylor I won’t mention I called today. Okay?’
Susan nodded. ‘Goodbye, Marsha.’
She had just sat down in the taxi and was leaning forward to shut the door when Susan was at her elbow again. ‘Could we meet occasionally?’ she asked, with the urgency Marsha had noticed once or twice before. ‘Have lunch, that sort of thing?’
Marsha didn’t know what to say. This meeting had torn her heart out by its roots all over again, but it was clear that their relationship was important to Susan.
The only way she had been able to cope when she had first left Taylor was to cut herself off from her old life completely, and she was feeling like that once more. The pain was raw, but if Susan needed her…
She reached out her hand and took Susan’s cool fingers in hers. ‘In a little while, okay?’ she said quietly. ‘I need to make Taylor understand we can never get together again, that it is really over once and for all. Once the divorce is through I’ll feel… easier about everything. But we will meet then, if that’s what you want.’
She had tried to prevent it, but her eyes had filled up again as she spoke, and now Susan’s face was distraught as she murmured, ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’