Marriage at a Distance Read Free Page B

suddenly, looking down at her with something like horror. He whispered harshly, ‘Oh, dear God…’
    Then he began to move inside her, to some stark, driven rhythm of his own, until, at last, his release was torn from him.
    He rolled away from her and lay with his back turned to her while his ragged breathing steadied. Then he got up and went into the bathroom, and she heard the shower running.
    A ritual cleansing, Joanna thought, to wash away all contact with her. And she turned her face into the pillow and wept.
    She supposed she must have cried herself to sleep, because the next time she opened her eyes it was sunrise. She was alone in the bedroom, but she could see Gabriel sitting on the balcony, in his robe, watching the sun come up, a dark silhouette against the passionate sky.
    She slipped out of bed, put on the crumpled nightgown rescued from the floor and went to him.
    ‘Gabriel.’ Her voice barely rose above a whisper, and she saw his back stiffen in awareness.
    ‘Go back to bed.’ He didn’t look round at her. ‘You’ll catch cold.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’ She forced the words through a throat aching with tears. ‘What have I done wrong?’
    ‘Nothing,’ he said quietly. ‘The fault is all mine. I should have stopped this bloody marriage at the outset—never allowed it to happen.’ His sigh was harsh, almost anguished. ‘Dear God, what a mess. What a total—damnable shambles.’
    It was as if he’d turned and struck her. She went back into the bedroom, pulled the sheet over her head, and lay like a stone until the servants started moving about.
    And then she got up quietly, to pull the remnants of her pride around her and face the first day of the rest of her life.

CHAPTER TWO
     
    J OANNA stirred in the chair and shivered. The hopeful fire had burned down, and she replenished it with a couple of fast-burning beech logs.
    But the real cold was inside her, in her bones. In her heart.
    She shook her head in irritation. Why was she thinking these things—allowing herself to remember—probing into old wounds?
    Perhaps, she thought, grimacing, because they’d never properly healed the first time. Now there’s a dangerous admission.
    Wrapping her arms across herself, she began to walk slowly up and down the room, head bent. Her hair brushed her cheek and she combed it back with impatient fingers. She was still wearing it in the same sleek mid-length bob. A change, she decided abruptly, was well overdue.
    Something short, she thought, and businesslike, be-fitting her job-seeking status.
    She had filled in for the secretary more than once at the estate office, so she knew the rudiments of word-processing and the preparation of spreadsheets.
    What she should look for, she thought detachedly, was a position similar to the one she’d filled here, but minus the personal involvement. Housekeepers who could drive and had basic secretarial skills would surely be in demand. And didn’t the National Trust employ people to live in their properties and care for them?
    I would like to do that, she thought. I would like to care for the fabric of another old house, as I’ve looked after this. It’ll be handed back to Gabriel in good shape.
    She had marked time for the past two years, but if that led to a career then the time would have been well spent after all. It was only a pity she couldn’t find a suitable post before she was forced to confront Gabriel again.
    Gabriel. Every pathway in her mind seemed suddenly to lead back to him, she thought angrily. But that was understandable, in a way. After all, in another forty-eight hours he would be here, taking possession.
    Another uncontrollable shiver went through her as the words lodged in her brain. For a brief nightmare second she could almost feel his physical presence. She could feel his hands touching her, as if she were some rare and delicate object which had taken his fleeting interest but which he would decide, in the end, not to buy. Her head