She had caught herself once or twice lately thinking in terms of a future without him, and it scared her to death that she could accept that. But maybe she would have to. Perhaps she would have to learn to live alone permanently? She shivered, her blood turning to liquid ice. But she couldn’t, she mustn’t give in to the temptation to capitulate to his terms. She would be miserable and ultimately it would be the death knell on their love. She recognised now that for the last few months of their marriage she had been getting more and more resentful and bitter, and she didn’t want to go back to being that person again.
‘Oh, what a mess.’ She spoke out loud, rubbing her hand wearily across her face. She loved him. She loved him with an all-encompassing love that wanted the best for him as well as herself. But what if he really was unable to escape the darkness and come into the light? The thought was so gut-wrenchingly painful she couldn’t bear it.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS another three weeks before Zeke contacted her, but Marianne had been determined the first move would come from him.
She had gone over and over their last words in her mind until she could have screamed, but one thing was absolute. He had to decide how he saw the future with regard to their relationship, and he had to see it clearly.
The Saturday morning in early February was damp and cold, but Marianne had spent it at the library, researching current data on haematology and serology. She had found she needed to do something constructive to avoid dwelling on Zeke every spare moment, and the fact that she had taken her A levels over four years ago meant she was behind the times on scientific developments, which could change month by month. She found the research absorbing, and facts and figures were buzzing in her head during the walk home to the bedsit in the drizzly rain.
Once ensconced in front of the small gas fire she found her eyelids closing, and she must have slept, because when the buzzer sounded she awoke with a start, totally disorientated for a moment.
Her wristwatch told her it was three in the afternoon, but the murky weather had already darkened the sky to charcoal, and she switched on the light as she clicked the intercom and said, ‘Yes? Who is it?’ in a voice still groggy with sleep.
‘Zeke.’
Just one word but it was enough to send her heart racing and the blood singing through her veins until she thought her ears would pop. ‘Just a moment.’
She leant against the wall and took several deep breaths in an effort to gain control. He was here. Now. She flicked the switch to open the door downstairs and then breathed deeply a few more times, telling herself she was being ridiculous.
She only had time to run her fingers through her hair and smoothed down the bubblegum-pink cardigan before his knock sounded at the door to the flat. She opened it at once, her calm face and quiet demeanour betraying none of the surging panic and excitement she was feeling inside.
‘Hallo, Marianne.’
Hallo, Marianne. Just like that. Smooth and cool. The words and the tone in which they had been spoken—along with his imperturbable face—registered like a punch in the solar plexus, but she managed to reply in like vein, her voice equable as she said, ‘Hallo, Zeke. How’s the ankle?’
‘Fine.’ He didn’t smile and neither did she.
It wasn’t fine, it couldn’t be, but she didn’t argue the point, merely standing aside and gesturing for him to enter.
He was limping slightly as he walked into the room but she knew better than to fuss, merely asking, ‘When did you have the plaster off?’ as she closed the door and turned to face him.
‘Yesterday afternoon.’ Zeke could never be bothered with trivialities and his tone made this quite clear.
She flushed slightly as their gazes held; he looked good enough to eat and the magnetic quality to his dark good looks had never been stronger. His black hair was damp from the misty rain outside and longer than he normally wore it, indicating he hadn’t bothered to get it cut recently. A few errant strands had dared to curl down on to his forehead and it softened the harsh lines of his face considerably. She felt her heart turn over.
He looked big and dark and controlled, his grey eyes narrowed and glittering as they fixed on her and his mouth taut in the chiselled bone structure of his face.
‘How are you?’ His voice was soft and it sent a shiver snaking down her spine.
‘Okay.’ She managed a smile but it was difficult.
‘Ask me how I am,’ he said grimly.
‘How are you?’
‘As miserable as hell.’
Her heart jumped up into her throat before subsiding back into her chest, where it began to thump against her breastbone so hard it hurt. She wanted to say something but her mind had frozen; all she was conscious of was the look on his face and the nearness of him.
‘I love you, Marianne. I can’t live without you and I can’t take another day of this damn separation,’ he said huskily, his voice deep and low. ‘When I saw you with that guy…I wanted to do murder. If I’d been able I’d have been out of that taxi and had him by the throat when you first walked through the door of the supermarket.’
She stared at him, stunned by the naked emotion in his voice and the way he was allowing her to see his vulnerability. ‘It…it was a good job about your ankle, then,’ she managed at last, trying to alleviate the intensity of the moment. She had wanted her voice to sound light and teasing but it was merely shaky.
He nodded slowly. ‘If I was noble and self-sacrificing I’d let you go; you know that, don’t you?’ he said bitterly. ‘You deserve someone like that boy, young and fresh and with no hang-ups. Someone you can have fun with, act crazy with, someone with no responsibilities or ties of any kind. You said once there was more to life than Buchanan Industries and of course you are absolutely right. But I have commitments to the people who work for me, Marianne, whose livelihoods are tied up with the success or otherwise of the business.’
‘I know that,’ she said quickly, her voice trembling. ‘And I wouldn’t want you to give up any part of your business. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. But…’