The Lost Wife (3 page)

She’d been a trainee receptionist in the Larsen offices when they’d first met. Only nineteen, yet brimming with determination to better herself after her difficult start in life, she’d been so grateful for the chance of such a ‘glamorous’ job when she’d barely had any qualifications under her belt. But she’d been studying hard at her local adult education facility to remedy that. When Jake had walked
through the revolving glass doors one day, wearing a single-breasted black cashmere coat over his suit, his lightly tanned skin and blond hair making him look like some kind of mythical hero from one of those magical folk tales that had at their roots the trials and travails of life and the story of how the handsome hero and beautiful heroine overcame them together, Ailsa almost forgot to breathe.

As he’d walked up to her and her colleague, her much more confident fellow employee had whispered under her breath,
‘It’s the boss’s son … Jake Larsen. He’s come over from Copenhagen.’
But even before her colleague had told Ailsa his identity her heart had already turned over inside her chest at the arresting sight of all that sculpted Viking beauty and the spine-tingling charisma that Jake exuded. She’d
never
been so fascinated by a man before. And especially not a man who was clearly light years out of her league, who wore the mantle of authority and power as though it was a natural component of his DNA. Yet he’d warmly introduced himself to her, the most junior and in-experienced of his staff, as though she were no less important than one of the firm’s directors, she recalled. When he had followed up his welcome to her with a near-incandescent smile—a smile that had wiped every thought clean from her head—she’d found herself well and truly under his spell …

‘Blast!’ She dropped a stitch, patiently unravelled the multi-coloured wool, then cast on again. The logs in the burner hissed and spat and she glanced mournfully across at the beautiful Norwegian pine standing in the corner. It poignantly reminded her of a shy young girl at a party, waiting to be noticed by a boy and asked to dance … Once upon a time, in another life, Jake would have happily volunteered to help her dress the tree, singing lustily along to the carols playing in the background and teasingly
increasing the volume of his voice when she protested he was singing out of tune.

It hurt that he wouldn’t discuss the baby’s death with her.
Ailsa had hoped such a discussion would help them be a little easier around each other and truly be able to move on. They hadn’t had a prayer of being able to do that after the accident and then leading up to their divorce, when they’d both been so wounded, hurt and angry, blaming each other for everything. She’d even hoped that such a mutually frank discussion might at last help her to sleep better at night.

‘Oh, well …’ Murmuring under her breath, she sighed softly. When he leaves tomorrow I’ll just carry on as normal. It’s not all bad … I’ve still got Saskia. And the business is doing well … better than ever, in fact.

She bit her lip, trying hard not to cry. Sniffing determinedly, she wiped her eyes and lifted her gaze to the tree again. Her daughter might not be around to share in the joy that decorating a Christmas tree could bring but it wouldn’t stop Ailsa from taking on the task herself. After all, it was something she excelled at. She ran a very successful business designing and making beautiful things—everything from tree decorations to hand-knitted sweaters and patchwork quilts. Plus, she and Saskia had been collecting and making decorative odds and ends the whole year for this season.

Feeling her spirits lifting a little, she put her knitting away and instead of dozing in the armchair, as she normally did, for the first time in months she went upstairs to bed …

His hand fumbling for the clock beside the bed, Jake groaned when his sleep-fogged brain registered the time. Realising that he must have slept the sleep of the dead, he
tried to fathom why. Like Ailsa, he had become a veritable insomniac over the years following the accident. Sitting up and arranging a plump pillow against the iron-bedstead to support his back, he was just in time to hear the radiator in the room click and hum into life. Breathing out deliberately heavily, he wasn’t surprised to see the plume of steam that hit the icy air.

Was the house usually this perishingly cold in the morning?
He couldn’t help feeling a spurt of annoyance shoot through him at the thought that Ailsa could have chosen to live in much more luxurious surroundings, with under-floor heating and every available comfort. Instead she had stubbornly opted for this too isolated cottage. Charming as it was, it wasn’t the home he wanted his daughter to grow up in …

Rubbing his hands briskly together to warm them, he diverted this disturbing line of thought by wondering how soon he could get a flight back to Copenhagen today. Mulling over the possibilities—or
not
as the case might be—he shoved aside the patchwork quilt that covered the silk-edged woollen blankets and strode over to the window. Lifting a corner of the heavily lined floral curtain, Jake stared out at the incredible scene that confronted him with a mixture of frustration, disappointment and sheer bewildering astonishment.

As far as the eye could see and beyond everything was deeply blanketed in brilliant diamond-white. And fierce gusts of wind were making the still falling snow swirl madly like dervishes. Unless he could sprout wings and fly there’d be no getting out of here today. In any case, all the planes at the airport would surely be grounded in such Siberian weather.

‘Damn!’

He stood there in black silk pyjama bottoms, his
hard-muscled chest bare, and willed himself to come up with a plan. But even as he seriously considered phoning his helicopter pilot back in Copenhagen he remembered the lack of service yesterday for both landlines and mobiles in the area. The current extreme weather conditions didn’t bode well for the service returning any time soon. The helicopter option was clearly off the agenda. As he bit back his increasing frustration, a tentative knock at the door made Jake’s heart race.

‘Jake, are you up and about yet? I was wondering if you’d like a cup of tea?’

Instead of answering, he crossed to the door and pulled it wide. Her dark hair flowing down over her shoulders, slightly mussed as if she’d had a restless night, Ailsa stood in front of him like some wide-eyed ingénue in a kimonostyle red silk dressing gown. She barely looked out of her teens, let alone the mother of a nine-year-old. Disconcertingly, that old sense of fierce protectiveness that he’d always felt around her came flooding back.

‘Never mind me. You look like you could do with a hot drink to warm
you
up,’ he told her gruffly. ‘Why doesn’t your heating come on earlier? Have you seen the weather outside? It’s freezing in here.’

‘The boiler is on a timer. And, yes, I have seen the weather. I don’t think the snow has let up all night. But it’s not surprising you’re cold, standing there with barely a stitch on!’

Jake couldn’t prevent the grin that hijacked his lips. ‘You know I don’t sleep with much on. Or had you forgotten that?’

‘You didn’t say whether you wanted a cup of tea or not,’ she persisted doggedly, clutching the sides of the silk dressing gown more closely together and concealing her face by letting her hair fall across it.

But not before Jake saw that she was blushing. He experienced a very male sense of satisfaction at that. It was good to know that he could still get a reaction from her, despite all the muddied water flowing under the bridge between them …

‘I definitely wouldn’t say no to a hot drink of some kind. But let me take a shower first and dress before I join you downstairs.’

‘Okay.’ The slim shoulders lifted, then fell again before she turned away. As Jake closed the door on Ailsa’s retreating back, she swung round again. ‘Shall I cook breakfast for you as well?’

He hesitated. Purely because he’d just noticed the smudged violet shadows beneath her eyes that clarified his belief that she probably hadn’t slept. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ he said huskily.

A fleeting smile curved the pretty lips he’d so loved kissing—still
dreamed
of kissing from time to time, whenever he tortured himself with thinking back to what they’d had.

‘It’s no trouble.’ She continued on her way down the landing and the gentle womanly sway of her hips made Jake’s heart ache.

E
MERGING
from the living room, flustered and hot after making up the fire with some freshly cut applewood logs, Ailsa brushed her dusty hands down over her jeans and glanced up at the very same moment that Jake descended the staircase. No matter how many times she’d seen him … lived with him, loved him … it still gave her heart a jolt to be confronted with the sheer physicality of his presence. He was dressed much more casually this morning than yesterday, his long muscular legs encased in softly napped light blue denims, and he wore a white tee shirt beneath a black V-necked wool sweater. His sun-kissed hair looked as if it had been finger combed rather than brushed, and when he turned towards her and smiled his clear blue eyes were no less a magnet for her than they’d always been.

She didn’t even notice the cruel scar on his cheek because her attention was so consumed by his gaze.

‘I’ll put the kettle on again and make some tea. I’m sorry if I’m a bit behind with the breakfast but I had to make up the fire. Did you sleep all right?’

‘Like a baby,’ he drawled. ‘That’s one hell of a comfortable bed.’

‘When you consider that most people spend half their lifetime in bed, a comfortable one has got to be pretty essential, don’t you think?’
Argh! She was babbling because
she was suddenly inexplicably nervous around him.
And, however innocent, the last topic in the world she wanted to discuss with her charismatic ex-husband was bed!

When Jake merely grinned instead of commenting, as though he knew very well how uncomfortable she was, Ailsa quickly tore her glance away and headed down the hall to the kitchen. Her house guest followed her. She quickly washed her hands, then flicked on the switch to boil the kettle again. She was reaching for a couple of pottery mugs from the dresser when Jake pulled out a chair at the breakfast table and sat down. Knowing that his interested gaze trailed her every move, she grew more and more discomfited. Although she was tense and on edge in his company, she knew that if she turned round right then her ex wouldn’t be displaying any such similar tension. When he
did
relax he turned it almost into an art form. His athletic body knew how to lounge to mouthwatering effect … even in a hard-backed kitchen chair.

Ailsa bit back a sigh. Deciding to bite the bullet, she made herself bring up the subject that had been at the forefront of her mind since waking that morning and seeing the breathtaking result of last night’s heavy snowfall.

‘If you were hoping to get to the airport today I don’t think much of your chances.’

‘Neither do I,’ he agreed. The smooth skin between his brows puckered. ‘Have you checked to see if there’s a phone line yet?’

Ailsa grimaced. ‘Yes, I have … it’s still out, I’m afraid.’

‘Damn!’

The harsh-voiced comment didn’t do a lot for her confidence. Had he come to dislike her so much that the thought of spending any more time than necessary in her company was abhorrent to him?

‘I feel just as frustrated that I can’t talk to Saskia,’ she
murmured. Realising that the kettle had boiled, she swallowed down her hurt, then busied herself making the tea. She took Jake’s over to him at the table. ‘Help yourself to sugar. I’m going to get on with cooking your breakfast.’

‘Are you going to join me?’

‘I don’t eat much in the morning. I’ll probably just make myself a slice of toast.’

‘Just toast? Is that all you have for breakfast?’

‘Usually, yes.’

‘Then it’s no wonder you’ve lost weight.’

‘Anything else you’ve noticed about me?’ she asked, stung. It hardly made sense since they weren’t together any more, Ailsa knew, but the notion that he might find her skinny and unattractive upset her. Yes, she’d always been on the slender side, but before the accident she’d had some nicely rounded curves too. Curves that he’d professed to
adore.
And when she’d been pregnant with Saskia, and then their son, he’d loved her womanly shape even more.

Did he spend his time adoring some other woman’s curves these days?

Jake’s steady, unwavering glance told her he was considering the question deeply. ‘Yes. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Her arms went protectively around her middle. ‘Events have inevitably shaped me, and I’m very aware that I’m a little too thin and tired-looking. I’m twenty-eight, but sometimes I feel more like a hundred.’

‘That’s just crazy talk.’

‘It’s not that I even mind really.’ She shrugged. ‘As long as I have the energy to work and take care of Saskia, that’s all that matters.’

Ailsa hadn’t realised that he had risen to his feet until he stood in front of her, tipping up her chin to make her look at him. His eyes were such a searing sapphire-blue
they were nearly the undoing of her. Had his lashes always been that long and lustrous? He was standing so close that surely he must hear the sound of her galloping heart?

‘You might be tired, but you’re not too thin and you certainly don’t look old before your time. As a matter of fact I thought when I saw you yesterday how incredibly young you still are. Perhaps you were too young when I married you, hmm?’

Softly smoothing back her hair from her forehead, the palm that glanced against her skin was slightly rough edged, yet infinitely soft at the same time.
Like velvet.
Along with his deep, mellow voice, it almost lulled her into believing that everything that was wrong between them could be set right again.

Where had that dangerous notion sprung from? The idea was as self-destructive as hoping for sanctuary in a burning house …

As if coming out of a trance, Ailsa stepped back from Jake to cross her arms protectively over her chest, almost as if guarding her heart. ‘Are you saying that you regret our marriage?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not saying that at all. Why do you always have to go on the defensive and believe the worst?’

Now
her
gaze was unwavering. ‘Because some days it’s hard to believe in anything good any more,’ she told him honestly.

‘It grieves me that you feel like that.’ Sighing heavily, Jake narrowed his gaze. ‘We had some good times when we were together, don’t you remember?’

‘We did … But then we made the painful mistake of believing we had a wonderful future in prospect … you, our children and I. Look what happened to that particular little fantasy.’

Why did she do this? Go for the jugular every time?
Hearing the despair in her voice made Jake feel as though his heart was being slashed to ribbons again … just as his hands had been in the accident, when he’d reached for Ailsa to protect her from the splintering glass and jagged metal that the drunken driver had recklessly and devastatingly reduced their car to, killing their beloved baby in the process. He’d already had to bear the unbearable … how
long
did the fates intend him to suffer?

In an agony of pain and frustration he squeezed his eyes momentarily shut. When he opened them again Ailsa had already moved back to the stove to cook breakfast. Staring at the glorious waterfall of long dark hair that waved down her back, he wanted to step up behind her, pull her too-slender form hard into his body and never let her go. Instead he glanced out of the window in front of her to see an even heavier curtain of snow descending from the cobweb-grey skies.

‘Is there to be no end to this godforsaken weather today?’

He made no attempt to disguise the anger and despondency in his tone, and Ailsa glanced round at him. ‘I know you can’t wait to be gone, to be back in Copenhagen again … but you’re going to be utterly miserable if you can’t accept the fact that right now you’re stuck here for a while. Just as I have to accept the fact that Saskia won’t be with me for another week.’

‘Make me feel even worse than I do already, why don’t you? Don’t you think I feel bad enough, showing up here without her? My mother and she were so adamant they wanted to be together for a little while longer, and I thought why not? Where’s the harm? I thought surely you’d understand for once, but instead you’re regarding me like I’ve committed the crime of the bloody century!’

‘Jake, I—’

There was a loud hammering on the front door that made them both start.

‘Who the hell is that?’

There was only one person it could be in this unbelievable weather, Ailsa realized. And she knew his appearance probably wasn’t going to help ease the current friction between her and Jake. Wiping her hands down the front of the apron she wore, which was patterned with tiny red robins in honor of the season, she hurried out into the hall.

Stamping his feet on the doorstep, trying to shake off some of the frost and snow that caked his boots and fur-lined parka, was the handsome, dark-haired son of the farmer who was her closest neighbour.

‘Good morning, Ailsa.’

‘Linus, what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve brought you some eggs, milk and bread to help tide you over until you can get to the shops again. Nothing can move out there except the tractor. Are you okay? I was worried about you and Saskia being here all on your own.’

‘I’m absolutely fine, thanks—and Saskia’s still with her grandmother in Copenhagen. It’s very good of you to come and check up on us like this.’

‘What are neighbours for?’ A friendly grin split his lips, showing well-tended white teeth. ‘Just a second and I’ll go and grab those provisions.’

As she waited for him to return to the impressive red tractor that was steadily being drowned in even more layers of thick snow Ailsa clapped her hands together to warm them. The frosted air was literally like
ice.

‘Shall I take it through to the kitchen?’ her visitor suggested, returning with a medium-sized cardboard container.

‘Yes, please.’ Forcing a smile to her lips, Ailsa sensed apprehension seep into the pit of her stomach at the thought that he was going to come face to face with her ex-husband.

There was nothing but casual friendship between her and the farmer’s son—she’d never even remotely felt like advancing their association into anything more meaningful—but somehow, even though they’d been apart for a long time, she knew Jake would immediately jump to conclusions. The
wrong
conclusions … He’d always had a propensity to be jealous. But, although
he
had clearly entertained the possibility of another relationship, after that reference he’d made to women thinking he looked ‘piratical’, Ailsa
hadn’t.
How could she
not
welcome in a friendly neighbour who had been so thoughtful? That was just plain bad manners in her book. The least she could do was make Linus a cup of tea to warm him up before sending him off on his journey home.

But as soon as they arrived in the kitchen Jake’s aloof air easily conveyed his suspicion and even his annoyance at the presence of the other man. His glacial glance was colder than the icy weather outside as he silently surveyed the stranger who followed Ailsa in.

‘Jake, this is my neighbour Linus—he’s very kindly brought me some provisions from his farm. Linus, this is Jake Larsen … Saskia’s father. He came to let me know that Saskia was staying with her grandmother a bit longer and now he’s stranded here.’ She subconsciously gnawed her lip at the realisation that Jake might well be annoyed that she’d given the other man a little
too
much information.

‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Linus frowned before quickly setting the box of provisions down on the table. He stole a brief glance at Ailsa before recovering his surprise and politely extending his hand towards the other
man. ‘From Saskia, I mean. She talks about you all the time.’

‘Is that a fact?’

Although Jake paid deference to good manners and shook the other man’s hand, the gesture was clearly reluctant. For a second all Ailsa could hear was the beating of her heart in tandem with the stolid ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece. Lightly touching Linus’s arm, she made herself smile, as though everything was perfectly normal and her ex-husband
wasn’t
wearing an expression that would repel even the most dogged comers.

‘It is.’ Her visitor’s smile was awkward.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Linus, and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea?’

He shrugged, clearly discomfited by Jake’s frosty reception. ‘That’s kind of you, but I’d better not stay … there’s still plenty to do on the farm before the daylight goes. But thanks for offering. Maybe I’ll drop in again to see how you are in a day or two?’

‘Are you sure you don’t want a hot drink? It’s freezing out there.’

‘I’ll be okay. I’m used to working in all weathers, and I’ve had a big breakfast this morning to help sustain me.’

‘All right, then.’ One eye on Jake, Ailsa clamped her teeth anxiously down on her bottom lip. ‘Thanks so much for bringing those provisions. That was thoughtful. I owe you.’

‘Don’t be daft. It was my pleasure. To tell you the truth it was nice to have an excuse to drop round and see you. Sometimes work is relentless, and I don’t get the time to visit as much as I’d like.’

His awkwardness had vanished, and now Linus’s smile was broad. She was a little taken aback by it—especially
in front of Jake—but she privately owned to feeling pleasure too at being so warmly regarded.

His glance briefly moved across to her ex. ‘It was good to meet you,’ he said.

‘You too.’

The reply was uttered without expression, and Ailsa thought it was just as well that Linus wasn’t staying longer, because she definitely sensed that her brooding ex-husband had hardly welcomed the idea.

‘If we don’t meet again I hope you have a safe journey home.’

This time Jake said nothing at all. He simply looked at the other man as if he wished he would disappear.

Linus smiled faintly at Ailsa, then turned and went out into the hallway. When she returned to the kitchen, after waving him goodbye, she clenched her fists down by her sides and stared hard at Jake. There wasn’t so much as an
ounce
of remorse on his striking face for his distinct coolness towards the other man, she saw. Her blood pumped with indignation.