The Marriage Solution

'But I don't want you to move into one of the other bedrooms,' she said rapidly. 'I—'

'I don't care what you want, Katie,' he said flatly, his eyes cold and remote. 'Later on we can discuss how best to handle this—whether you want a divorce straight away or a separation for a time to give your father time to reconcile himself to the situation—but right now I'm going to bed—alone. OK?'

'A divorce?' Somehow, in spite of all that had happened, she hadn't been expecting this and his words hit her like a physical blow. She put a hand to her mouth in protest.

'Don't worry, the financial side will remain as I promised,' he said coldly, misunderstanding her gasp of shock and white face. 'Whatever else I am I don't welsh on a deal. All your father's debts will be cleared and I'll continue to support his business with a nice healthy bank balance to keep him thinking he's winning. Your settlement we can discuss separately, but you won't have to work again or do anything else you don't want to for the rest of your life.'

'I don't want a divorce,' she said numbly.

'A separation, then.' He was already turning and walking up the stairs as he spoke. 'You can play this exactly how you want to. You kept your end of the bargain after all— you married me and fulfilled all your marital duties.' His voice w

as derisive and tight but even through the cynicism her new awareness of him heard the agonised pain he was trying to hide.

'You won't listen to me, then?' she asked quietly, moving to stand at the bottom of the stairs. 'Hear how sorry I am?'

'I accept your apology, Katie.' His eyes were narrowed and veiled as he looked down at her from the first floor. 'And I absolve you of all guilt, all blame; how about that? You are free to leave if that's what you want or stay until the legal formalities are completed. I probably got exactly what I deserved after all in forcing you into a situation I knew you didn't want. But it's over now.' There wasn't a shred of indecision in his voice. 'Finished.'

For one more moment he watched her standing, pale and small, in the hall below, then turned without another word, and as she heard the door to one of the bedrooms close a few seconds later it was as though it was synonymous with all she could expect from the future.

CHAPTER TEN

Katie remained standing staring upwards in the dimly lit hall for a long time. There was no sound from the sitting-room where Maisie and Joe were or from the bedrooms upstairs. All was quiet and still. She fingered the locket at her neck, her mind too heavy and dull with exhaustion and pain for coherent thought.

She found herself in the sleeping garden almost without being aware of getting there, sinking down on to a wrought-iron bench beneath the sweeping fronds of an old weeping willow tree as her trembling legs finally gave in.

The June morning was just beginning to stir, the birds twittering and calling in the trees surrounding the green square of lawn and a few insects buzzing quietly on their early morning call to the flowering bushes and plants perfuming the summer air. She sat there as the last of the dawn's shadows were banished by the sun overhead, its mild heat gentle on her arms already browned by the fierce Spanish sun.

'What am I going to do?' She spoke her thoughts out loud, her voice flat and slow. 'I love him. Doesn't that count for anything?' As her gaze wandered round the hushed, tranquil garden she touched the locket again, unfastening it suddenly and opening it to peer at her mother's face.

'Help me, Mum.' She felt like a little child again, tiny and alone. 'Tell me what to do. I can't let him go; I have to do something.' The tears were raining down her face; it was probably that which gave the minute face a different expression for a moment, but suddenly she heard her mother's voice in her mind as clearly as though she were in the garden with her.

'Tell him.' The tone was urgent. 'Tell him how you feel.'

'He won't listen,' she answered wearily. 'He's finished with me; he's had enough.'

'He'll listen.' The voice was persistent. 'He loves you. Did you have enough of your father over the years? Did you finish with him because he was wrong, cruel even? You loved him and love is stronger than disappointment and bitterness and hurt—yes, and even betrayal. He'll listen. You have to make him listen and then he will understand. He loves you, pumpkin; he'll never love anyone else. You owe it to him to make him see how you feel, how wrong you were.'

'Pumpkin'. The old pet name, forgotten through the years, brought her to her feet. 'Mum?' But there was no answer, no soft hand on her brow or fleeting shadow that she could touch, just the silent, peaceful garden and her own tears.

He was sleeping when she slipped in beside him after shutting the bedroom door quietly, her heart in her mouth. The strong, hard face was younger, boyish in sleep; the harsh lines of experience and life had eased and mellowed. He stirred very slightly, murmuring her name, before his breathing regulated and quietened again.

How could she have thought him capable of what she'd accused him of? she thought as she lay propped on one elbow, watching him sleep in the same way he had done with her only the morning before. First Penny and then Maisie…

She shut her eyes tight as she groaned in her mind. He had given her so much and she had thrown it all in his face, and if she had to debase herself now, crawl and plead and beg, she would. Pride and self-preservation had no place in her feeling for him any more—they couldn't have.

She had intended to keep awake, fighting the warm blanket of sluggishness every time it descended on her as she lay curled up by his side, knowing she had to stay awake to confront him the moment he woke, but when something heavy brought her out of a deep inertia she knew by the length of the afternoon shadows that she had slept.

Carlton's arm had landed across her middle and a moment or two later his eyes opened slowly, their lids heavy with sleep. As he saw her by his side he smiled lazily for a split-second and then, as realisation hit, sprang upwards so violently that the bed bounced.

'What are you doing here?' he asked harshly, but she had seen him glance at her naked breasts, seen the hunger in his eyes before he'd swung his legs over the side of the bed, intending to move away.

'Don't go.' She flung her arms round his neck as she pressed herself against his back. 'Please don't go, Carlton, please.'

'Let go of me.' His voice was thick and husky. 'I don't know what you think you're doing but I'm fully aware that this is beyond the call of duty.'

'Carlton, I love you,' she gabbled rapidly, keeping her arms tight round his neck although he had made no move to stand once she had touched him. 'I've loved you for ages but I thought you didn't love me—'

'Katie—' his shoulders tensed, the muscles hard and tight against her soft nakedness, but still she wouldn't let go, hanging on to him as though her life depended on it. '—what is this? Some extreme form of guilt? You don't have to lie. I know how you feel and I can handle it. I'm a big boy now—'