The Guilty Wife (2 page)

"The kitchen is in the back.' Lucie pointed. 'Perhaps you'd like to make some coffee while I go and change?'

'Sing out if you have any difficulty and need a hand,' he called after her as she went into the bedroom. Her eyebrows rose a little; did he expect to help her dress? But Lucie found that she could have used some help; though it was easy enough to undress, putting on a clean bra by herself was impossible. She had to give up and just pull on a loose tracksuit, easing the material over her cast. She went back into the sitting room, where Seton was waiting. His eyes went over her, lingered for a fraction of a second too long, and she knew he'd noticed she was without a bra.

'Here's your coffee.'

'Thanks.'

Going across to the window, she sat on the deep, padded sill, unaware that the sunlight shining through lit her head like a brilliant halo. Her hair was loose now and hung thick and straight to her neck, the sun turning it into a cascade of molten gold. Glancing up, she saw that Seton had his eyes fixed on her, rapt, arrested. Lucie gave him a questioning look and he blinked, and said after a moment in a slightly unsteady voice, 'Do you work here, in Hay ford?'

'Yes, hi an office.'

'As a secretary? You won't be able to type with that wrist, surely?'

Lucie gave a small grimace. 'Nothing as grand as that. I just check invoices against goods, that kind of thing. I expect they'll find something for me to do.'

"But you must take some time off, give your wrist a chance to mend.' And he frowned in concern.

'I'll phone them tomorrow, tell them what's happened.'

'You promise?'

She nodded, her eyes smiling. 'I promise.' She hesitated for a moment, then, fear from past experience pricking her, felt compelled to add, 'But you really mustn't worry about me; I can take care of myself, you know.'

'You shouldn't have to,' he said brusquely. 'Look, I've taken a week off work so I'll be around. Use me. If you need to shop, go to your doctor, or back to the hospital. Anything. Just tell me and I'll be here.' He saw the surprised uncertainty in Lucie's eyes and, holding up a hand, said quickly, 'I'm insisting on this. And if you say no I shall just sit in the car outside your fiat and won't go away until you agree.'

Lucie laughed. 'Are you always this autocratic?'

His eyes, more blue now than grey, crinkled into an attractive grin. 'Only with people I come close to killing.' He stood up and went to the phone, tore a sheet off the scrap pad and wrote on it. 'Here's my parents' number. Call me if you find you need anything. At any time. Promise?'

'All these promises you're demanding I make,' Lucie said on a flippant note. 'I'm not used to being made such a fuss of.'

Coming over, Seton leaned a hand against the wall and smiled down at her. 'Well, I think you'd better start getting used to it.' She didn't speak and he walked to the door, then turned. 'You won't want to cook tonight; how about sharing a Chinese take away?'

Lucie hesitated, knew that she ought to refuse, but found herself saying, 'I'd like that.'

He let himself out and Lucie watched from the window as he left, lifting a hand to wave to her before he got in the car. She watched him go with mixed feelings. He was a very attractive man, not the kind she came across very often. A man it would be easy to fall for. There was something about him that had got to her, and from the way he'd looked at her once or twice she thought that he might feel the same about her. The thought excited Lucie but made her nervous, too. She hadn't much experience of men, and what she had was all bad. But probably she was wrong; Seton was most likely just being kind, and once his week's holiday was over and her wrist improved she would never see him again.

It didn't work out like that. Her heart gave a jolt the minute she opened the door to him that evening and saw his smile again. Immediately she felt happy, excited, as if something wonderful was about to happen. They sat long over their meal, talking in a relaxed, comfortable way, not as virtual strangers but as if they'd known each other for ages. It was Seton's ease of manner, his ability to start and hold so many topics, and the way he subtly drew her out to talk about herself that made it so comfortable.

Lucie responded with more enjoyment and animation than she'd known for years, perhaps had ever known. She told him a great deal about herself, of the Open University course she was taking and her hopes for the future. But she didn't tell him everything, glossing over her past and quickly bringing the subject back to him. In turn Seton told her of his love of sport and travel, then totally disconcerted her by saying that he was a practising barrister. Thankfully, Seton was refilling their glasses and didn't notice the effect that piece of information had on her. Lucie was struck by how strange it was that she should be here with him. A barrister, of all things! And he was so much more polished than anyone she'd met before, so socially confident and assured. She couldn't imagine him ever being unable to handle a situation. And it wasn't an acquired confidence but something that had been bred into him, a kind of arrogance, if a profound belief in the principles and values handed down to one could be called arrogance. He was, to put it bluntly, in a class light years from her own.

That knowledge, and the fact that he was a barrister, ought to have put her off, or at least have acted as a warning, but his attraction was too great for her to heed it. Lucie liked the way he continued to look after her, and she liked the way the candlelight cast shadows on his face, accentuating the leanness of his high cheekbones, the fan of his eyelashes and the laughter lines around his mouth when he smiled. He had a good voice, deep, well modulated, educated but not over the top, and he knew how to tell an anecdote to get the best out of it, to make her laugh richly.

When the evening was over, when Seton could find no excuse to linger any longer, he moved reluctantly towards the door and said, 'You're quite sure there's nothing else I can do?'

'Quite sure. You've already been kind beyond the can of conscience.'

She was standing near the front door, waiting for him, her fair hair a silken sheen hi the light of the lamps she'd lit. Coming close, Seton said softly, 'If you think that's the only reason I came, you couldn't be more wrong.'

Lucie was aware of his closeness, of his masculinity, and for a moment became nervous again. Holding out her right hand, she said with formal politeness, 'Goodnight, Seton. Thank you for the meal.'

He looked at her, then disconcerted her again by taking her hand and raising it fleetingly to his lips. 'Goodnight, Lucie.'

Closing the door behind him, Lucie leaned against the wall, feeling enchanted by that unexpected gesture and yet strangely low now that he had gone. For a while she had felt feminine and pretty and—cherished: a sensation that had never come her way before. But she had liked it, oh,
how
she had liked it. And how she had liked him. She went to move away, but there was a sharp double knock on the door panel, just near her head. Slowly Lucie reached out and turned the knob, let the door swing open. Seton was standing there, one arm up against the doorframe. He said, 'I forgot to ask. Do you believe in kissing on a first date?'

'No, definitely not.'

'Nor do I.' Coming inside, he shouldered the door closed. 'In that case, we'd better call this our second date.' And, taking her hi his arms, he drew her to him and kissed her.

When Seton raised his head at last, Lucie kept her eyes tight closed, afraid of breaking the spell. Because it couldn't be true, it couldn't be real. No kiss, no simple coming together of a man's and a woman's mouth, could possibly be that wonderful. She lived it again: the sensual warmth of his lips, the dizzying effect on her senses, the discovery deep inside her of awakened need—a need that could so easily have flamed into fierce passion and desire.

'Hey,' he said softly against her mouth. 'Have you gone to sleep?'

Still with her eyes closed, Lucie smiled. 'No, but I think I'm dreaming.'

'Is that good or bad?'

She looked at him, then said huskily, 'Oh, it was very good. Do you always have that effect on the women you kiss?'

'What effect?'

Slowly she reached up to touch his face, letting her fingers trace the line of his jaw. 'Devastating,' she admitted honestly.

He gave a sigh of satisfaction and pleasure. 'Thank God for that! It would have been terrible if it had all been onesided.'

Her eyes widened. 'You—you mean it was like that for you too?'

'Of course.' Seton grinned. 'But perhaps we should do it again and make sure.'

It was what Lucie wanted more than anything else in the world, but some note of caution made her say, 'This—

you... It's all happening so fast. I don't
know
you.'

Seton laughed. 'Well, I don't know you either, but I'm willing to take a chance.' Her face changed, became stricken, and he said quickly, 'Lucie! What is ft? I was only joking.'

'Yes—but you
don't
know me.'

'So we'll get to know each other. We'll do that old-fashioned thing they used to call courting. We will go out together, and we'll take our time.'

'And—and this?'

Realising what she meant, he held her closer and said softly, 'I won't rush you into anything. I'll let you set the pace. But I would like to kiss you again. Now. May I?'

But he didn't wait for her to agree; his hands were already cupping her face, tilting her head so that his lips could seek hers, so lightly at first, softly exploring, tracing with tiny kisses the length of her upper lip, gently biting at the fullness of the lower one. Then, using the tip of his tongue, he made her open her mouth and let him hi, and suddenly his lips weren't gentle any more, but hot and forceful and demanding. Lucie gave a small moan and closed her eyes, letting him take her with him on a deep spiral of pleasure, where the world was lost and the only sensations were those of his closeness, of the flame of passion that erupted through her veins—the need, the desire, the knowledge that for her nothing in the world had ever been as wonderful as this, that nothing else mattered so much.

Seton's shoulders hunched as he kissed her, his breathing quickened and he said her name over and over again, his voice thick, the murmured name mingling with her own gasping sighs. His kiss deepened with passion until he drew back suddenly, remembering his promise. Lifting his head, he held her against his chest and she could feel the beating of his heart.

Tm afraid,' she said, with an honesty he couldn't possibly understand.

'I know, but there's no need to be, my darling. I'll take care of you.'

'Please—I think you'd bettor go now.'

'You don't trust me, huh?' He smiled tenderly down at her. 'Well, maybe you're right; I've never found myself in this kind of situation before.'

'What kind?'

His eyes crinkled and he gave her lips the merest touch with his. 'Wild about you, of course.' And then he opened the door and was gone as Lucie still stood with eyes open wide in astonishment. Seton came to collect her the next morning, buoyant, on a high, reaching out to kiss her as soon as he arrived. Lucie, too, was exhilarated by excitement, but was also full of nervous tension. She could see happiness opening before her but was afraid to grasp it, so she held him off.

'No! Don't touch me,' she cried out, knowing that she would be lost if he held her. But he put his hands on her shoulders and said, 'Lucie? What is it?'

"This—this attraction you feel. It could be just a chemical thing, something that's hit us out of the blue.'

'Ah, so you admit it hit you too,' he said with satisfaction.

Ignoring that, Lucie said, 'How do you know it won't go away as suddenly as it came? You might wake up one morning and hate the sight of me.'

'If I woke up with you beside me it couldn't be anything but wonderful—perfect,' Seton said simply. She tried to argue with him, to point out that something that had happened so quickly couldn't possibly last. But Seton merely laughed and pulled her into his arms.

Lucie gave a sigh of frustration. 'Oh, you big fool! Why won't you listen to me? Take me seriously?'

But then he kissed her and immediately Lucie was lost again, and somehow she knew that she always would be, that whenever he kissed her it would always be like this, a total domination of her mind, her heart and her body. And yet she accepted it gladly, glorying in it, knowing that it was the same for him. He was, she observed, unchangeable, and he proved it in the next weeks as he saw her as often as he could. That first week he was around all the time, driving her wherever she wanted to go, taking her out to eat, solicitous about her injured wrist. And after the first week, when he had to go back to London to work, he put a great many miles on the Jaguar as he drove down to take her to dinner and the theatre—places that she would never have gone to normally. He didn't seem at all short of money, and although he didn't throw it around he was always very generous, booking the best seats at the theatre or cinema, tables at well-known restaurants. Although he obeyed the rules she'd set down for them to get to know each other better and not to rush things, Seton was quite capable of trying to break down her defences. Often, when they said goodnight, he would kiss her so passionately that it almost broke her resolve, but somehow she managed to push him away, to send him home empty and unfulfilled, as frustrated as she was herself.

It was a long, hot summer, and one day, when they'd known each other about six weeks, Seton hired a boat for the day and rowed her down the river that meandered through the old town, making sure she had cushions to make her comfortable, although her wrist was almost mended now. He'd brought a picnic hamper and dangled a bottle of wine over the side to keep it cool until they came to a quiet spot of trees and dappled sunlight. There Seton moored and helped her onto the bank.

He laid a rug down on the grass and they ate and drank, listening to old, trad jazz tunes on a cassette player. He had taken off his shirt because of the heat and, although she tried to resist, Lucie found her eyes drawn to his broad, smooth chest and the muscles that rippled in his shoulders and arms. The slight breeze made the leaves above them move, casting shadows that played across his body, first highlighting a shoulder, then the tiny, fascinating nipples, then the length of his back as he turned away from her to repack the hamper. It was erotic, sexy, as if some mischievous Cupid had deliberately set out to tease and tantalise her senses. Lucie's throat tightened and she felt a fierce surge of longing, an emotion so strong that almost of its own volition her hand lifted and she touched his back, letting her fingers trail down the length of his spine. She felt a great quiver of awareness run through him before Seton turned swiftly to face her. The need for her was there in his eyes—deep, intense concupiscence. A need, she knew, that was mirrored in her own.