An Interrupted Marriage (Silhouette Special Edition) (11 page)

“Did you enjoy your day with your friends?” Jade asked politely.

“Yes, thanks. Where’s Magnus?”

“Working. I worked with him for a while, but he didn’t need me any more, and I came down for a swim and found Glen here with the baby.”

Danella threw a glance at her, and then stared over Rose-Lee’s head at the water. “You don’t have to explain. I trust Glen.” She paused, chewing on a thumbnail. “He says I owe you an apology.”

“I don’t expect one,” Jade told her coolly, “and certainly not if
you
don’t think it’s owed.”

Another look slid her way, and Danella said shamefacedly, “No, he’s right. I shouldn’t have said all those things. The thing is, I have this possessive streak.”

“I know.” Jade smiled dryly.

Danella picked up the piece of driftwood that Rose-Lee had been playing with earlier and began absently digging in the sand. “I don’t really blame you for telling Magnus about the drugs. I hated you at the time, of course.”

“You were only sixteen. I couldn’t let you ruin your life. You needed help.”

“Yeah, I know I did. And Magnus tried to give it to me, only I wouldn’t listen.”

She’d run away instead, and Magnus had been frantic, trying to locate her, worrying about what sort of life she might be leading, or if she was alive at all. For weeks he had scarcely come home, spending all his spare time hunting the streets of Auckland, then further afield as rumour and guesswork led him fruitlessly to other cities.

So, do you think your illness is a bid to gain your husband’s attention?
The voice intruded in her head—she recalled a woman in a white coat facing her.
No!
she heard her own voice giving its emphatic reply, and then the brief flash of memory abruptly faded.

Eventually, after months of worry, Danella had telephoned from Sydney in Australia, hysterical and broke, and Magnus, dropping everything, had flown over to fetch her home. She’d been alternately remorseful and defensive, her mood swings a trial to live with as she battled to break her addiction, or gave up and disappeared again for days on end.

Magnus had pulled strings to get her a job in his office where he could keep an eye on her, and she’d vacillated between gratitude for his help and resentment that he insisted on keeping her under his wing. He’d been remarkably patient with his sister, but occasionally the strain he was under showed, and he’d snapped at other people—his wife included.

Rose-Lee reached for a passing grey-blue butterfly, and almost toppled. Danella lifted her closer and submitted to having her hair grabbed in a relentless fist. “I suppose if Magnus has taken you back, it’s not up to me to throw stones,” she said gruffly, casting a half shamed, half defiant glance at Jade. “You must have resented the time he spent on all of us, when you were just newly married, after all. I know I would’ve. And if I helped to send you off the rails,” she added hurriedly, as though wanting to get it over with, “I’m sorry.” Untwining the baby’s hand from her hair, she added with relief, “Look, Rose-Lee, here comes your daddy.”

Glen had left the water and was running towards them. “Hello, love,” he said, bending to kiss his wife. “The water’s great. Want to go in?”

Jade rose, picking up her towel. “See you later,” she said. She didn’t want to spoil her new, tentative rapport with her rather prickly sister-in-law by sticking around with Glen while Danella was in the water. Danella’s possessive streak had caused enough problems already.

G
len suggested they all go out for dinner at a nearby tourist hotel. “My shout,” he told Magnus. “Mrs. Gaines offered to babysit instead of cooking tonight, and your mother said she’d enjoy an evening out.”

Magnus looked slightly surprised at that. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it, too, won’t we, Jade?”

Inwardly doubtful, she had no choice but to agree.

Jade felt locked in to a number of uneasy truces. Danella, perhaps mellowed and relaxed by a day freed of the stress of caring for a baby, was making an effort at being, if not friendly, at least normally courteous. Mrs. Riordan treated Jade with chilly graciousness. And Magnus was giving a careful performance, she decided, as the considerate husband, although he seemed reluctant to touch her. It was as though that torrid interlude in the study had never happened.

For herself, she was abnormally conscious of the masculine grace of his every movement, of the faint scent of pine aftershave that teased her nostrils as he opened the car door for her, and the warmth emanating from his body while he drove, his arm inches from hers. Mrs. Riordan had elected to go with her daughter and son-in-law in their car, following behind.

“You and Danella seem to be getting along,” Magnus said.

“Fairly well,” Jade agreed. “I think that having a day with her friends helped. She needed some time off.”

“From being a mother? She still seems too young for it.”

“Perhaps she’ll always seem young, to an older brother.” Jade paused. “I imagine motherhood is like marriage—no matter how well prepared you think you are, the reality is different from your expectations.”

“Is that how marriage was, for you?” He looked at her.

“Wasn’t it, for you?” Jade countered.

“In the end, yes. I suppose you’re right.”

* * *

When they arrived at the hotel they sat in a shaded courtyard for a pre-dinner drink. They must, Jade thought, look like a normal family party on a night out. Did other families have similar strains and tensions? Perhaps they did. Maybe most of them put up some kind of façde in public.

At the other side of the table Glen was talking to Mrs. Riordan and Danella. He seemed eager to get on with his wife’s relatives, Jade reflected. Mrs. Riordan was looking reluctantly interested, leaning forward slightly in her chair, her sticks hooked over its arm.

Magnus leaned over and brushed away a moth that whirred close to Jade’s glass as she set it on the wrought-iron table. “I could get a cottage on the shore of the Hokianga Harbour for a week,” he murmured. “It’s fairly remote, but quite comfortable. You did say you’d like a quiet place.”

A cottage where they could be alone. Her heart quickened at the thought. “It sounds fine,” she said.

“We can have it for a week, anytime in the next month or so.”

“Longer than our honeymoon,” Jade said. They’d snatched three days then, a long weekend at a luxury hotel in Taupo.

It had rained most of the time, but the rain hadn’t mattered. They’d been discovering each other in every way, delighting in finding that they both enjoyed cryptic crosswords and walking in the rain, hated tomato sauce, opera and the colour mauve. Delighting, too, in the more intimate discoveries that they made in the wide bed where they spent the three precious nights.

* * *

Magnus said, breaking into her thoughts, “You haven’t finished your drink. Do you want to bring it in to dinner?” He was on his feet, and Glen and Danella were helping Mrs. Riordan up, arranging her walking sticks.

Jade picked up her glass and emptied it. “I’m ready.”

The dining-room was discreetly lit and the table set with a red linen cloth and gleaming silver. Magnus, studying the menu, said, “I suppose you’d like the avocado and shrimp starter, Jade?”

Glen smiled at her. “You like avocados?”

“Love them.”

That was another of the things she and Magnus had found out on their brief honeymoon—Jade was passionately fond of avocados, which Magnus heartily disliked, while she turned up her nose at the chocolate ice-cream sundaes that he found irresistible.

She ordered the avocado followed by a lamb dish, and perhaps it was the bottle of wine they shared, or the effect of the surroundings and the novelty of dining out, but by the time the waiter presented the dessert menu, Mrs. Riordan seemed almost mellow, Danella was sparkling, and when they left the restaurant after lingering over coffee and liqueurs, Jade was feeling both stimulated and relaxed.

On the way home, as Magnus followed the red tail-lights of Glen’s car, she found herself humming some half-remembered tune.

Magnus turned briefly. “You sound happy.”

“I’d almost forgotten what it was like.”

Magnus said soberly, “Me too.”

“Oh, Magnus!” Impulsively she stretched out her hand and touched his on the steering wheel. “I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

He turned his hand and gripped hers, and his foot trod on the brake, bringing the car to a sliding halt at the side of the road. “If you mean that—” he said.

“I mean it.”

His fingers were cool and hard, curled about hers. “You should be careful about your promises,” he said strangely, “in case you can’t deliver on them.”

Jade’s voice was husky, unsure. “I want to!”

“And I want you to,” he said. “Heaven help me.”

“Magnus—?” The intensity of his gaze, even in the near-dark of the interior of the car, almost frightened her. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. He couldn’t mean that he didn’t want her any more. This morning had dispelled any thought of that. Instinctively she leaned towards him, her face lifting.

Magnus made a low sound like a groan. One hand thrust into her hair, tilting her head as he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her without inhibition, without mercy. She felt an anger in him, and a driving need that she tried to meet, letting him delve into her open mouth, arching her body to his when his arm dragged her closer. Her taut-stretched throat began to ache under the onslaught of his kiss, and the hold he still retained on her hand moved to her wrist and became painfully tight, but even as her hand throbbed she didn’t protest, partly because she didn’t think that this hard-edged, headlong passion would acknowledge protests, and partly because despite those small discomforts, her blood was racing, and a slow heat was unfolding in the pit of her stomach, melting hotly through her limbs.

Magnus broke off the kiss so abruptly that she gasped, shivering in his suddenly slackened hold. He released her hand, and shifted back into his seat as she automatically rubbed at her wrist to restore the circulation. He said unevenly, “Did I hurt you?”

“You didn’t intend to.”

“You’re very confident.”

She stared at him, a faint unease stirring. “Of course.”

“
My God,
but you take a lot for granted!” he said.

Unease turned to fear. She squashed it quickly, deliberately. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but...I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” He sounded almost accusing. “Never mind,” he said, and gave a short, harsh laugh as he turned from her and restarted the car. “The others will think we’ve broken down if they don’t see our headlights.”

Frustrated, Jade sat back in her seat, watching the leaping shadows of the trees pass by, the shivering ladders of ferns momentarily lit by the glare as the lights swept the curving banks lining the road.

They arrived at the gates of Waititapu only yards behind the others, and at the garage Magnus excused himself to go and help his mother out of Glen’s car.

Inside, Mrs. Gaines reported that the baby was soundly sleeping, and came forward to help Mrs. Riordan to bed. The hallway seemed full, and it wasn’t until she was at the top of the stairs, on her way to her room, that Jade realised Magnus hadn’t followed, although Glen and Danella, their arms about each other, were right behind her.

It was hours before he came up, and then she heard him dimly in the next room, through the mist of exhausted sleep.

* * *

Danella and Glen and the baby left after lunch the following day. Jade, standing on the terrace beside Magnus to wave them goodbye, felt herself relax slightly as the car swept down the drive. She hadn’t realised until then that she’d been so tense during the visit. But things could have been worse.

She said, as she turned to go inside, “Danella’s very lucky.”

“Because of the baby?”

“And because she has a kind and considerate husband.”

“Glen has a capacity for getting people to like him. Especially women.”

“He’s not a womaniser.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Struck by his curt tone, she asked him, “Are you jealous?”

Magnus shook his head. “Envious, perhaps, of his ability to get on with almost anyone. It’s a rare gift.”

“You have other gifts,” Jade said.

He looked startled. “I won’t ask you to name them.”

“I will if you like.”

Magnus laughed and shook his head, standing back to allow her to precede him inside.

“Do you want me?” she asked him as he joined her, the house seeming dim after the brightness outside.

He stared down at her. “Want you?” he repeated softly, his brows lifting.

“If you’re going to work,” she said, “shall I help?”

“Actually, I thought I’d go for a swim.” After the slightest of pauses he added, “Would you care to join me?”

It was a peculiarly formal invitation, but Jade leapt at it. “I’ll go and get changed.”

* * *

She tucked a towel about her waist, over the one-piece swimsuit, and padded barefoot down the stairs. Magnus was waiting for her in the hall, wearing dark briefs and with a towel slung about his neck. He had broad shoulders and long, muscular, tanned legs. She thought that he didn’t look like an accountant. Of course, part of his time was spent on the farm rather than in the office.

He watched her coming down to him, his eyes unreadable. When she reached him he didn’t touch her but asked, “Did you bring sunscreen? It’s quite hot.”

“I’ve already put some on,” she said. “It’s waterproof.”

He put out his hand and touched a finger to her skin, trailing it from the edge of her jaw down the side of her neck to her shoulder, and examining the faint greasy film left on the tip. “Right,” he said, “let’s go.”

Stilling the sudden beating of her pulse, Jade took a quick breath and followed him to the door as he opened it for her.

* * *

When they had reached the sand he asked, “Straight in, or sunbathe first?”

She felt hot and sticky and with a residue of tension from preserving the tentative truce between herself and Danella. “Straight in,” she said, “for me.”

He actually smiled, briefly. “Come on, then.” He held out his hand and she put hers into it and went racing with him into the water’s cool embrace.

Once they reached a swimmable depth, he released her hand but stayed near, watching for breakers and riding over the unbroken crests to deeper, calm water.

Jade turned onto her back, keeping herself afloat with tiny movements of hands and feet. The sky was an intense, throbbing blue, wispy white clouds drifting across it. Nearby, Magnus was treading water, his hair sleeked close to his head. He caught her gaze and then shook his head and dived like a seal, with a swift, economical and almost silent movement.

Jade closed her eyes. After a moment she was aware that Magnus had swum away from her. She was too good a swimmer for him to imagine she’d try to drown herself.

Once he’d taken her out from the hospital, driven her into the city for a visit to the art gallery. It must have been a difficult afternoon for him, because she’d been unable to muster any interest in the exhibition, and the crowds had made her nervous. They’d only stayed for half an hour, and although Magnus had tried to conceal his exasperated disappointment, she’d felt it as they left the crowded gallery and waited to cross the road to where he’d parked. Cars and a large yellow bus streamed downhill, and on a blind impulse, she’d suddenly lunged forward, pulling herself from his surprised grasp, into the path of the bus.

She remembered the hoarse sound of his wordless shout, the high, anguished screech of the brakes as the bus driver slammed them on, the sickening crunch of the car behind crashing into the back of the bus.

Something had thumped into her back and she went sprawling, and then amid the cacophony of hoots and angry obscenities she’d been hauled up and dragged to the footpath by a whitefaced, flint-eyed Magnus whose hands were hard and angry as he held her arms, turning to fling apologies, explanations and promises of compensation at two outraged and badly frightened drivers.

When they’d gone at last, he’d turned to her and his face was still pale, still furious.
“What in the name of hell did you think you were doing?”
He gave her a fierce little shake.

“You should have let me,” she whispered. “It would be all over, now.”

“It wouldn’t be all over for me!” he rasped. “Or for the poor sod who ran over you! How do you think he’d feel? Try to think of someone else for a change, will you, instead of wallowing in self-pity!”

She’d stared back at him and felt the hopeless tears well in her eyes, hot and heavy.

Then suddenly Magnus changed his grip, his arms coming around her, holding her tightly. “Oh, Jade, Jade,” he murmured. “Please,
please
get better.”

It had been a long time after that before he’d taken her out again. And then, he’d accepted with something like relief her request that they take Annie, too. She thought that he hadn’t been all that anxious to be alone with her.

* * *

“Jade
—Jade!
“

She opened her eyes. Magnus’s voice said, “You’re drifting. I think it’s time we went back to shore.”

Jade turned over, her arms moving as she looked towards the beach, further away than she’d realised. “All right,” she said, and began swimming in a leisurely crawl.

When they emerged from the water and flopped onto towels, she found she was panting. Out of condition, she thought, burying her head in her arms and trying to make her breathing slow. The sun was warm on her back. A gull screamed overhead.