For Better for Worse

She had married Nick knowing that she loved Adam.

She could feel the slow, hot crawl of the tears that burned her skin, the ache of knowledge and sadness that filled her body.

It had taken Cressy to make her unwittingly confront the reality which she had so determinedly buried beneath layers of duty and responsibility. And fear? Perhaps most of all fear. Not of acknowledging her love for Adam, but of where that admission would lead her.

Cressy had made her see tonight that she could no longer stay married to Nick.

Strange how it had taken someone else to show her what Nick really was; how he had manipulated and controlled her… used her.

‘But why?’ she had asked Cressy helplessly as she listened to her.

‘Why? Because that’s the kind of person he is,’ Cressy told her flatly. ‘There is no logical reason, Fern. I’ve stood by and watched over the years as Nick has loaded you down with guilt and fear, forcing you to carry burdens you had no need to bear, simply for the pleasure of making you do so. For some reason you’ve managed to convince yourself that you owe him that kind of sacrifice, of self-immolation almost, but you don’t. He’s the one who should feel guilty, not you. What the hell have you got to feel guilty about?’

Fern leaned her head on her knees, closing her eyes briefly. Cressy didn’t know the full story.

She didn’t know how she, Fern, had broken her marriage vows, betrayed her marriage and herself, forcing Adam, out of pity and compassion and automatic male reaction, to…

Abruptly she opened her eyes, her body tensing as though she could physically prevent her thoughts from forming; as though by the fierce compression of her body she could deny her memories.

But did she really want to? Didn’t some treacherous, aching part of her want to hold on to them, to keep and savour them, carefully and jealously guarding them, protecting them from Nick’s malice and from her own guilt?

Didn’t some dangerously self-deluded part of her remember, not the way she had wept and begged Adam to hold her, to touch her and finally and, most shamefully of all, to make love to her, but instead the gentleness of his touch, the joy and pleasure he had given her, the tenderness he had shown her; and then, finally, ultimately, the passion? Just as though his desire for her, his need for her had been so intense that he hadn’t been able to hold back, to control himself any longer? Just as though he loved her.

And even then she had tried to deny what she really felt; had tried to convince herself that she could somehow impose her will on her body and compel it, force it to respond to Nick’s touch the way it had done to Adam’s. But of course it never had. Nor ever would.

She had never dreamed until that day that her body was capable of that kind of physical intensity, never imagined that she could feel such desire, such need, never mind actually reach out past the barriers her upbringing had built up to separate her from her sexuality and be the one to initiate… to want… to beg.

She made a small, angry sound of protest deep in her throat, but it was too late, the memories were too strong for her; she was being dragged relentlessly back to the past, to Adam’s comfortably furnished, welcoming sitting-room, once again experiencing the sense of relief, of safety she had always felt in Adam’s presence.

Initially she had been too distraught to protest or object when he had taken hold of her arm in the street, but as he gently guided her into the soft comfort of the deeply upholstered sofa, quietly insisting that she tell him what was wrong, she had suddenly come to her senses, struggling against the firm pressure of the hands which had so carefully brought her to this sanctuary.

How could she tell Adam what was wrong; how could she admit to him that she had failed as a wife, as a woman… that Nick, her husband, was having an affair with someone else?

Before their marriage Nick had once told her cruelly that Adam would be pleased to hear that they were getting engaged.

‘It seems he’s been a bit concerned that you might be getting too… fond of him… that you might have misinterpreted things… imagined that… taken him more seriously than he intended.’

How she had writhed in embarrassment and mortification then as she listened to Nick, her face, her whole body consumed with the heat of the blush that burned through her as she pictured Adam confiding his concern to his stepbrother.

After that she had gone out of her way to make sure that Adam knew that he had been wrong, that she had never been foolish enough to believe that he had been interested in her in any emotional or sexual way, determinedly playing up to Nick’s proprietorial manner towards her, grateful to him for saving her from the embarrassment she would have faced if he had not warned her.

‘I must go,’ she had told Adam shakily, but he had shaken his head, refusing to move, blocking her exit with the male bulk of his body as he said quietly,

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong. I mean it, Fern,’ he had added gently.

‘It’s nothing… nothing,’ she had told him, but his mouth had tightened, the bone-structure sharply revealed against his skin as he leaned forward and gently touched his fingertips to her damp face.

‘Nothing?’ he queried, watching her. ‘Then why have you been crying?’

It was then that she should have pulled herself together, reminded herself of exactly what his relationship with her was: of what his relationship with Nick was, and got up and walked out; but instead, as though his words, his touch had somehow turned the key and unlocked the floodgates behind which she had suppressed everything that she had been feeling, she had burst into tears, crying so hard that her body had physically shaken with the force of her pent-up emotions.

It had been impossible for her to speak, im

possible for her to explain or to protest when Adam had suddenly cursed roughly beneath his breath and then gathered her up into his arms, pressing her face into the curve of his shoulder, his hand sliding into the thick mass of her hair, his arms wrapping round her, holding her tightly and safely against him.

It had been like coming home, finding a safe harbour, being given sanctuary… being let back into her own special Eden, and as she breathed in the familiar male scent of him, felt the warmth of his body against her own, felt the tension ease from her flesh as it recognised the feel of his, she had quite simply given in.

She had told him everything. How Nick had lied to her, deceived her; how he had betrayed her with someone else… She had even told him how much of a failure she was as a wife… a woman, the words choked out between her tears as she purged herself of her pain and fear, the self-consciousness and guilt she had become accustomed to feeling in Adam’s presence gone and in its place an overwhelming sense of peace and security.