The Price of a Wife

'What you're doing now is going to bed.' His voice was not unkind but it was implacable. 'Everything has been done that can possibly be done tonight. I've made it known in certain quarters that a reward is in the offing for a large brindle tomcat, and that might bear fruit. I'll also arrange for copies of a notice to be put in all the shops and pubs in the district to the same effect, and I'll get a couple of people knocking on doors in the area. I'll find him, Josie, I promise you.'

'But he might be…' Again she couldn't say it, her imagination running rampant as she stared at him with great tragic eyes.

'Yes, he might be,' he said gently. 'But knowing is better than not knowing, better than wondering day after day. But I don't think he's dead.'

'You don't?' she asked gratefully, aware that she would ding onto any straw, however fragile.

'No, I don't.' He touched her face with the tip of one finger. 'And you mustn't either; it won't help. Now, you're going to get some steep and leave things to me. I'll arrange for my name and phone number to go on the notices; it'll be simpler that way.'

Simpler? She knew what he meant, what he couldn't say. If the news was bad it was better it came through to him first, so that he could prepare her for it. She stated at him as her mind sped on. Why was he being so understanding, so kind? She would be eternally grateful that he had never once said or even hinted at what he must be thinking. That Mog was only a cat, an animal.

'Thank you.' Her voice was low and shaky. 'Thank you, Luke.'

Why she moved closer to him and rested her head against the broad expanse of chest she never could explain to herself afterwards. In view of what she'd decided, about the way things had to be, it was insane, but in those few moments in the early morning, when the world outside was dark and distant, she forgot the past and the future. There was only the present. And she wanted him. Needed him. Loved him.

She felt him stiffen for a long moment before his hands came round her to hold her tight, but his touch was gentle as he stroked the top of her head and his voice was soft. 'It's all right. I'll make it all right. Go to sleep now and try not to worry any more.'

It was her exit line and she knew it, but she didn't take it. Instead she lifted her face up to his, her eyes luminous as she looked into his searching gaze for a moment before shutting them, the invitation blatant.

'Josie…' His voice was a low groan. 'Go to bed.'

For answer she whispered his name as she snaked her arms round his back, pressing herself further into his hard frame as she did so. There was one moment when she thought he wasn't going to respond, and then he crusted her to him and took her lips in a kiss that was almost savage, all control gone.

One night. One night wasn't too much to ask for a lifetime in which she would have to c

ontinue alone, was it? she asked herself desperately. She wanted his warmth, his comfort, his need of her this night more than any other, when her heart was rent in two at the thought that even Mog had been taken from her. She knew he didn't love her, but she loved him and that would have to do—

And then her mind stopped thinking as sensation washed it clean of everything but the touch and taste and feel of him.

His lips burnt her skin, moving over her exposed and vulnerable throat, and down into the hollow between her breasts, which were tingling at his touch. His hands urged her hips into him, the movement primitive and fierce, before moving to peel her blouse aside and then slowly caressing her fullness. 'Josie…'He breathed her name against her skin as his mouth moved to hers again, and she knew the thrilling excitement that was filling her was in him too as she sensed the heat in every nerve and sinew of his male frame.

She clung to him tightly, giving him back kiss for kiss, allowing him to penetrate the inner sweetness of her mouth while she strained against his hardness, their bodies locked close as they swayed together in the dimly lit room for endless minutes. Quite when she sensed rather than acknowledged with her mind that he had regained that iron control of his she wasn't sure, but gradually she became aware that the arms holding her against him were restraining rather than passionate, that his desire was checked and contained.

'Luke?' She raised drowning green-flecked eyes to the glittering silver of his.

It's not enough, Josie. Your gratitude is not enough.' As she moved to jerk out of his arms they tightened, his eyes narrowing on her flushed face. 'No, there will be no misunderstanding about this,' he said levelly, his voice controlled although the fierce pounding of his heart against his ribcage was anything but. 'I want you. Make no mistake about that. I want you so badly I am thinking, eating, sleeping you twenty-four hours a day, and it's been like that since the first moment I laid eyes on you. But, like I said at the chateau, your body is not enough.

'You are feeling desperate tonight, anguished, and you reached out for comfort, didn't you…? Didn't you?' he persisted softly, nodding slowly as she whispered an affirmative through numb lips. 'And that is understandable. It is perfectly understandable,' he said, with a curious lack of expression she didn't like. 'And I am here for you. I will continue to be here for you.'

He took a step back, his hands still holding her arms but his body removed from her. 'But when I have you—and I will have you—it will be solely and utterly because you want me in the same way I want you.'

'And if I can't?' she whispered faintly, her heart breaking.

'You will.' Just for a moment that supreme arrogance showed through the calm.

'Because you always get what you want?' she asked numbly. 'Because your wealth, your power can buy anything and everyone?'

'No.' He eyed her expressionlessly. 'Because I can make whatever has gone wrong for you right. However this other man failed you, however deep the hurt is, I can deal with it. I know it.'

That utter faith in his own ability, that almost insolent arrogance, didn't grate on her as it had done before she'd acknowledged that she loved him. Now it pierced through her, causing such pain that she was unable to hide it, her eyes wounded as they held his. She would give the world if it were true, but whatever he did, whatever price he paid materially, physically, emotionally, he couldn't give her back what the surgeon's knife had taken. And if he felt anything for her—and there seemed to be tenderness and concern there, at least—what would such knowledge do to such a proud, forceful man?

'I—think you had better go, Luke.'

A deadly silence followed her broken words and then he nodded, and his voice was steady when he spoke.

'I think so too, but I will be back, OK? Again and again and again.' She hadn't expected those words and they hung in the air, tangible and threatening. 'I won't give up.' He walked across the room, turning in the doorway to survey her through eyes that were hooded and rapier-sharp. 'I never do.'

CHAPTER NINE