Savage Obsession

But Charles had had no such qualms, of course. Why on earth should he? He'd been openly re­lieved, and even the brooding severity of those gunfighter's eyes—and everyone around had noticed just how much more brooding they had become since Zanna Hall had left him—had lightened to silvery pleasure as he'd told her,

'That would be ideal. Living in the village, you'd be able to go home each evening, and as I shall be working in the City for most of the week you'll have plenty of time to organise the weekend ar­rangements when I decide to entertain. And there is daily help with the cleaning and so on, so you won't find stepping into Mrs Penny's shoes as well too arduous.'

But, as it had happened, he had spent far less time away than he had led her to expect, and her stupid, hopeless love for him had been fanned, just as she had privately predicted…

And William was perceptive enough to pick up her distress now because when she judged her hand was steady enough to carry his coffee to him his kindly eyes looked directly into hers with com­passion—and just the hint of a question. Then he turned to Charles, whose silence seemed to contain a threat.

'Where are you staying?'

'In Boulogne.' He named one of the most pres­tigious hotels, his voice curt, and put his half-finished coffee down on the tray. 'But I haven't come here to exchange pleasantries. I'd like a word with Beth. In private.' He stalked to the door, as if he could no longer endure the confinement. And he cut through the beginning of the older man's expostulations with a grim, 'I realise she's your secretary, Templeton, but first and foremost she is my wife.'

In the tense, waiting silence, Beth heard the drumbeat of her own blood as she resisted the urge to scream. She felt like a bone being tugged be­tween two snarling dogs, and didn't know why.

'Beth?' William's voice sounded indecisive. 'Is that what you want?'

She nodded mutely. Charles, in this mood, would get exactly what he wanted and wouldn't care about the methods he used. And as he was here they might as well get the unhappy discussion about their future out of the way. And when that was settled she could make her peace with her employer, re­assure him that he wasn't about to be caught up in the middle of a nasty ongoing matrimonial drama. Once Charles had her agreement to a rapid divorce, he most certainly wouldn't want to set eyes on her again, much less waste his precious time in seeking her out and causing disruption at her place of work.

Charles was standing at the door, waiting, the dark line of his brow impatient, and Beth walked reluctantly towards him, her stomach lurching, her feet like lead. Hearing him put his request for a divorce into words was going to be one of the worst things that had ever happened to her.

But she would survive it, she told herself firmly as, her head held high, she walked through the door, refusing to meet his eyes.

'Here!'

She had walked out into the sun-drenched morning, making for the stone bench against one of the courtyard walls, instinctively knowing that she would need to be sitting down while she lis­tened to what he had to say to her. Already her legs were shaking. But she turned at his barked command, saw he was holding the car door open for her, and sucked in a ragged breath.

'Don't treat me like a dog!' she snapped, forcing anger through her bloodstream. Better anger than helpless misery, far better. 'I don't come to heel at your command.'

'So I'm beginning to notice. Nevertheless, get in.'

'Whatever you have to say to me can be said here.' She stood her ground, digging her heels in. 'There's no one around, it's quite private.'

'I have no intention of staying on Templeton's property,' he told her grimly. 'So do you come will­ingly, or do I have to make you?'

Beth compressed her lips to trap a shuddering sigh. The warning in his ruthless gaze was unmis­takable. Better to get into the car under her own steam than have him put her there. If he touched her again her body would betray her, demonstrate how much she still wanted, needed and loved him. And she couldn't think why he had taken such an instant dislike to the harmless William. He should be shaking the other man's hand, slapping him on the back because he had, after all, provided his un­wanted wife with a job, a wage and living accommodation!

She shuddered violently as he slammed the car door behind her as soon as she'd settled in the pass­enger-seat, biting down on her lower lip as he stalked round to take his place. She had known he was capable of anger; she'd had enough confi­dential conversations with the wives of his em­ployees and business colleagues who'd accompanied their husbands on those working weekends at South Park to learn that though he was always fair-minded, willing to listen to the other person's point of view, his icy anger when someone failed to live up to his exacting standards was something to be avoided at all costs.

But she, herself, had never experienced it until now. It made her feel small and vulnerable, threat­ened, as if she didn't know him at all, as if he had become a dangerous, menacing stranger.

While they were leaving the courtyard and heading for open country at what Beth considered to be a dangerous speed, she forced herself to stare grimly ahead, to display no emotion at all. She wasn't even going to ask where the hell he thought he was taking her. She couldn't trust h

er voice.

And he was silent, too, handling the fast car with steely concentration. Beth wasn't surprised. Since the accident the lines of communication between them had broken down.

Previously, they'd always been able to talk, about everything under the sun. And that was just one of the things that had further cemented her love for him when she had first gone to work for him at South Park.

Eventually, he braked the car at the foot of a forest track, the tyres spinning, scattering small stones, and Beth let herself out of the car, closing the door and leaning against it with weak relief.

The tension, the unspoken rage coming from him had been more than she could bear and she dragged in a deep breath of the slightly cooler air, scented by the forest trees, spiced by the faint tang of the ocean, and rubbed the beads of perspiration from her short upper lip with the back of a clenched hand.

And he was standing in front of her, a dark, silent presence whose soft-footed approach made her heart leap and twist inside her.

But there was something different now, as if the concentration needed to handle the fast car with safety had exorcised that coiling anger. And her unguarded eyes winged up to his, then dropped, veiled by heavy lids and the thick dark sweep of her lashes as she recognised the softening of his eyes, his features.

Compassion? Pity? She didn't need it. He had always treated her with kindliness and respect, even after she had lost the child he had set his heart on. He would be feeling sorry for her, knowing he was about to tell her exactly why Zanna had returned after all this time.

He wasn't a deliberately cruel man; he wouldn't want to cause her pain. But there was nothing he could do about it because Zanna, for him, had been an obsession. Still was. Always would be. Everyone had known that, which was why the people who really cared about her, her parents and Allie, had warned her against accepting his marriage proposal.