Elena watched him narrowly. He looked and sounded totally sincere. On the one hand, having his mother remove herself from their immediate orbit would make life a lot easier for him. But, on the other, he was deeply fond of Catherine, cared about her. The whole idea of pretending their marriage was normal had stemmed from his desire to keep the older woman happily deluded, spare her any further grief.
‘You know how you love the old place; all your memories are there—and you’re besotted by your garden!’
‘And having seen something of Elena’s, and her beautiful home, I know Netherhaye will be in good hands.’ Catherine smiled gently and put her hand over her son’s. ‘Sam’s gone now, and in any case he wouldn’t have wanted the responsibility. Netherhaye is yours.’
‘Even so,’ Jed said gruffly, ‘I don’t like to think of your being on your own. Not yet, not until...’ His voice tailed off, and despite herself Elena had to admire his understanding and compassion. If only he had extended a tenth of it in her direction!
‘You really mustn’t worry about me!’ Catherine smiled at both of them. ‘What I was about to tell you is I won’t be alone! I can’t remember who got the idea first, but Susan and I are going to set up home together. There’s a cottage for sale in the village—you remember the Fletchers, Jed? Well, they’re moving to the south coast, to be nearer their married daughter and grandchildren, and while I’m here breaking the news Susan is doing the business with the agent and putting her own home up for sale. There! What do you think of that?’
Elena didn’t know what to think. Jed was saying something, but her head was buzzing so loudly she couldn’t hear a word. Her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about selling the small house in Birmingham where Elena had been born. The fact that she hadn’t taken her into her confidence hurt.
‘As soon as this house was habitable, I asked her to live with me,’ Elena stated numbly. ‘She said she was too long in the tooth to uproot herself. Several years on, she’s obviously changed her mind.’
She pulled herself to her feet. The stars were bright now, in the dark velvet sky, and the scent of mountain herbs was released in the soft warm breeze. She couldn’t stand it, any of it! The night was so beautiful while her emotions were so painful, twisted and ugly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Catherine, I’ll clear away.’ She balanced dishes and plates one on top of another and forced a thin smile. ‘Ask Jed if you need anything.’
‘Did you have to be so bloody curt?’
The bedroom door closed quietly behind him and Elena pulled the soft linen sheet up to her chin, swallowing the hot hard lump in her throat.
Contempt blazed from his narrowed eyes and she really couldn’t taken any more.
Her mother had never forgiven her for the failure of her marriage to Liam. She had thought the sun rose with her handsome young son-in-law. Even when she’d learned the truth she had tentatively suggested, ‘Perhaps you drove him to it, dear?’
Her own marriage had been a miserable thing. Elena’s father had had one affair after another, finally disappearing off the scene altogether when Elena was fifteen. Naturally Susan had wanted her only child’s marriage to be perfect. She would be even more unforgiving now, when she learned that her second attempt at matrimonial happy-ever-after had been even less successful than the first!
‘Go away,’ she said wearily. ‘I’m in no mood to talk right now.’ Though there were things that needed to be said, of course there were—decisions of her own he had to hear about. And she had to make another attempt to break through his stubborn refusal to listen to her story. She should have told him about the treatment she’d undergone as soon as they’d realised they were falling in love. But Sam’s death had been so recent, and Jed’s grief so raw—a grief she hadn’t wanted to exacerbate. She had decided it would be better to wait. And the treatment had been a failure—or so she’d truly believed at the time. She deeply regretted her decision to wait until time had softened the edges of Jed’s grief.
Yes, there were things that had to be said, but the stress and trauma of the past week had finally caught up with her, draining her of every last ounce of energy.
‘You’re “in no mood”—that figures.’ He advanced slowly, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Your ego’s too big to see round, isn’t it? Your needs are the only things that matter. You agree to marry me, conveniently forgetting to mention that you and Sam were lovers, that there was a distinct possibility you might be carrying his child, then get all hurt and bewildered when I understandably say I want out.’
He pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, the tanned skin of his tautly muscled torso gleaming in the soft diffused light, the line of his mouth condemning as he continued, ‘And then you blank Catherine—who doesn’t deserve it—because, amazingly ,’ he stressed insultingly, ‘your own mother appears to prefer her company to yours.’
Elena closed her eyes, fighting to hold back a feeble sob. Never before had she felt this useless, unable to take one more brickbat. She had been barely nineteen when Liam Forrester—he of the sharp suits, fast cars and dazzling smile—had swept her off her feet. And only a year later her world had come crashing down when she’d discovered she was married to a common criminal. But she’d picked herself up, because she was basically a fighter, and made a new life for herself from the ashes of the old.
But now, it seemed, she’d lost it. Lost the ability to pick herself up and carry on and—‘What are you doing?’ she asked thickly, her eyes opening wide as the rustle of clothing sounded ominously close.
‘What do you think?’ His trousers joined his discarded shirt on the carved blanket box at the foot of the bed. Naked, apart from brief boxer shorts, his male magnificence made her throat clench.
‘You can’t sleep here!’ She panicked, despising herself for not being able to invest the words with more authority. ‘Our marriage, for what it was worth, is over.’
‘So it is,’ he agreed coolly. ‘But don’t worry, I’ve no intention of making demands on the delectable body you went to so much trouble to display this evening. What were you trying to do? Remind me of what I was missing? If so, it didn’t work. Move over.’
‘No.’ She kept her eyes firmly closed as he removed his shorts, hugging the sheet more tightly under her chin because she was naked, too. And she hadn’t done her best to look sexy to remind him. Or had she?
She felt the mattress dip and began to shake. Having him share her bed would be sheer, unmitigated torture.
‘I’m not overjoyed about this, either,’ he admitted drily as he extinguished the bedside light. ‘But Catherine’s always been an early riser. Crack of dawn and she’s up and doing.’ She felt him slide his legs beneath the sheet, punch the pillow. ‘If she sees us coming from separate rooms in the morning she’ll know something’s wrong.’
‘And that’s all that matters, is it?’ Elena snapped, stung. Didn’t he consider her feelings at all?
‘At t
he moment, yes,’ he said, his voice cleaving the soft warm darkness. ‘She’s going through a tough time at the moment; I won’t add to it. Sam was always head and shoulders her favourite. Naturally she wouldn’t have wanted to lose either one of us. But she did, and I’m the one that’s left. I feel guilty enough about that without adding to her grief. Just go to sleep, will you?’
He turned his back on her, carefully leaving a yawning space between them, and Elena lay rigidly, staring into the darkness.
What he’d said about feeling guilty was crazy. Wasn’t it? Or was there something about his relationship with his brother that she didn’t know about? Something that might explain the brutal transformation from a warm and loving husband, partner, friend and companion, the soul-mate she’d believed him to be, into a hard, uncaring, bitter adversary?