A Whirlwind Marriage Page 15

  ‘What was it you wanted?’ she asked tightly, purposely keeping her arm linked through Wilmer’s as she met the granite gaze without the flicker of an eyelash.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Zeke smiled a grim smile that wasn’t a smile at all. ‘It’ll keep until you’re less busy.’ The tone was insolent and insulting, and as Wilmer tightened still more Marianne pressed his arm in warning, but it was too late.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Wilmer said sharply. ‘We’re having lunch, that’s all.’

  ‘Sure you are.’

  It was lethal and meant to provoke, and now Marianne said hastily, ‘Please, Wilmer, I’ll join you in a minute, okay? Just give me a moment or two with him.’

  ‘Him?’ Zeke looked ready to explode as she walked over to the taxi, but with the memory of a breathlessly sexy voice in her head Marianne found she didn’t care. There were double standards and there were double standards, but this was something else! ‘I’m not a “him”, I’m your husband,’ he said icily.

  ‘Well?’ Wilmer had started to walk slowly down the street as she reached the taxi’s window, and Marianne’s voice was low but cold. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘You phoned last night,’ Zeke grated tersely.

  She certainly had! ‘I left a message with your…friend,’ Marianne said pointedly. ‘There was no need to talk further. I merely wanted to thank you for the mobile phone.’

  They stared at each other for a moment and she saw he was furious, his features rigid. She waited for him to speak, and then when the silence stretched and lengthened began to turn away.

  ‘This is an example of the great love you have for me?’ he bit out savagely in the next second, inclining his head down the street in the direction of Wilmer’s stiff back. ‘It didn’t take you long to accept a little comfort, did it?’

  ‘It’s not like that.’ She glanced at him, her blue eyes sparking. ‘And who are you to talk anyway?’ she added bitterly.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘What do you think it means?’ She was trying desperately to maintain her poise and keep her voice low, but she was so angry she wanted to hit him. ‘The little cheerleader you invited back to the apartment last night was there just to talk business, I suppose?’ She raised her eyebrows sarcastically, her eyes glinting.

  ‘The what?’ And then his eyes narrowed and his mouth compressed before he said, his voice curt, ‘Suzy is the wife of the guy I was playing squash with when I fell and broke my ankle last night. She joined us at the hospital and they insisted on seeing me home and getting me a meal before they left. She answered the phone whilst Andy was standing by in case I needed any help in the shower.’

  She knew her mouth had fallen open in a slight gape as her eyes left his face and took in the plaster cast on his left foot, but she had never felt so awful in all her life.

  She had jumped to the worst possible conclusion, she realised painfully, without considering that there might be a different explanation. And she had objected because he didn’t trust her!

  ‘I…I’m sorry.’ She raised her eyes back to his tight face as she spoke. ‘I thought—’

  ‘It’s quite obvious what you thought, Marianne.’ It was icy. ‘And I think your lunch date is getting impatient.’

  ‘He’s not my lunch date, not in the way you mean anyway,’ she said feverishly. ‘He’s Mrs Polinkski’s son; I work with him.’ She could tell by the look on his face he didn’t believe her.

  ‘How cosy,’ he snarled savagely.

  ‘We’re just friends,’ she said desperately. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Very good friends, I’d imagine, from the way you were looking at each other,’ he said brusquely. ‘You know he’s crazy about you? But of course you do,’ he added with cynical bitterness.

  ‘Zeke, listen.’ She didn’t know how to reach him.

  ‘Have you slept with him?’ he asked in a strange voice.

  ‘Slept with him?’ She was aghast. ‘Of course I haven’t slept with him.’ How could he ask that. How could he?

  ‘But he wants you in his bed.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘Is he part of the freedom you’re asking for, Marianne? A tall, young, blond Adonis willing to fall at your feet in humble adoration?’

  The bitterness was so acidic she could taste it, but her angry retort was checked before it left her lips, the recollection of how she had felt last night suddenly very real. Jealousy was like a canker, eating away at everything good and souring even the best of memories with its destructive influence.

  She had been jealous of Liliana, and again last night, and she had felt like hell both times. Admittedly she had thought she had good reason, but so did Zeke right now. And she could appreciate his suspicious resentment of Wilmer in the circumstances; that was understandable—normal, even. It was the other side of the coin, his fierce obsession with keeping her utterly to himself, that had been so detrimental to their marriage.

  He had called himself unlovable, and she knew the fear he had that she would leave him for new interests or men stemmed from his loveless childhood; she could even understand his forebodings up to a point. But giving in to them—and him—was not the answer, although she was beginning to wonder if there was an answer.

  ‘Wilmer does want me, yes.’ She bent slightly as she spoke through the taxi window. ‘He’s made that very plain. But he also knows there is no hope at all because I have made that plain. To sleep with another man I would have to love him with all my heart, that’s the way I’m made, and my heart is irrevocably yours. You don’t believe that but it’s the truth. I can’t prove it to you beyond what I’ve said and done already, but if it’s going to take years and years of us living apart until we’re middle-aged or beyond to convince you then you are more of a fool than I thought.

  ‘I’m not going to not have friends because you see them as a threat, neither am I going to vegetate and lead a monotonous life when I can use my brain to good purpose. You have to accept that for us to have any future together.’ She stared at him pleadingly.

  ‘And if I can’t?’ Zeke said grimly. Their eyes met and held for some moments before he repeated bitingly, ‘If I can’t, what then?’

  ‘Then you’ve ruined my life as well as yours,’ she stated fiercely. ‘Think about it, Zeke.’

  He had started to say something else when she turned and walked away, but she didn’t check her steps, neither did she glance back towards the parked taxi.

  Marianne thought about Zeke and worried about him all the time for the next few days. How bad was the fracture to his ankle? Was he able to sleep? Was he eating enough? He would loathe and detest being anything less than one hundred per cent fit, that was for sure, and patience was definitely not one of his virtues.

  Eventually she telephoned Sandra Jenkins, Zeke’s secretary, at home and poured out her concern.

  ‘He’s fine, Mrs Buchanan, don’t worry,’ Sandra said reassuringly. ‘Like a bear with a sore head, but he’s been like that ever since you two parted,’ she added ruefully.

  ‘You won’t mention I phoned?’ Marianne entreated.

  ‘Not if you don’t want me to.’ Sandra sighed, and there was a moment’s silence before the secretary said, her tone tentative, ‘Mrs Buchanan, it’s none of my business, but you do know he thinks the world of you, don’t you? I’ve worked for Mr Buchanan for ten years now, and the girlfriends he had before… Well, let’s just say when he met you I saw a side to him I’d never have dreamt existed. He really loves you.’

  ‘Thank you, Sandra.’

  Marianne’s voice had been husky, and again the secretary hesitated before she said, ‘I hope you both work things out, Mrs Buchanan. I’d hate to see two lovely people lose each other.’

  Marianne changed the subject then, asking after Sandra’s family to combat the pain in her heart, and they chatted for a minute or two before ending the call.

  ‘He really loves you.’ Sandra’s words rang in her head as she made herself a cup of cof
fee. If only it was as simple as that. She wasn’t sure if Zeke loved her too much or not enough. Whatever, the end result was the same. They were separated, and somehow, since Christmas when he had given her the envelope containing the deed to the Bedlows’ property, she was losing the ability to think they would make it.

  She had caught herself once or twice lately thinking in terms of a future without him, and it scared her to death that she could accept that. But maybe she would have to. Perhaps she would have to learn to live alone permanently? She shivered, her blood turning to liquid ice. But she couldn’t, she mustn’t give in to the temptation to capitulate to his terms. She would be miserable and ultimately it would be the death knell on their love. She recognised now that for the last few months of their marriage she had been getting more and more resentful and bitter, and she didn’t want to go back to being that person again.

  ‘Oh, what a mess.’ She spoke out loud, rubbing her hand wearily across her face. She loved him. She loved him with an all-encompassing love that wanted the best for him as well as herself. But what if he really was unable to escape the darkness and come into the light? The thought was so gut-wrenchingly painful she couldn’t bear it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS another three weeks before Zeke contacted her, but Marianne had been determined the first move would come from him.

  She had gone over and over their last words in her mind until she could have screamed, but one thing was absolute. He had to decide how he saw the future with regard to their relationship, and he had to see it clearly.

  The Saturday morning in early February was damp and cold, but Marianne had spent it at the library, researching current data on haematology and serology. She had found she needed to do something constructive to avoid dwelling on Zeke every spare moment, and the fact that she had taken her A levels over four years ago meant she was behind the times on scientific developments, which could change month by month. She found the research absorbing, and facts and figures were buzzing in her head during the walk home to the bedsit in the drizzly rain.

  Once ensconced in front of the small gas fire she found her eyelids closing, and she must have slept, because when the buzzer sounded she awoke with a start, totally disorientated for a moment.

  Her wristwatch told her it was three in the afternoon, but the murky weather had already darkened the sky to charcoal, and she switched on the light as she clicked the intercom and said, ‘Yes? Who is it?’ in a voice still groggy with sleep.

  ‘Zeke.’

  Just one word but it was enough to send her heart racing and the blood singing through her veins until she thought her ears would pop. ‘Just a moment.’

  She leant against the wall and took several deep breaths in an effort to gain control. He was here. Now. She flicked the switch to open the door downstairs and then breathed deeply a few more times, telling herself she was being ridiculous.

  She only had time to run her fingers through her hair and smoothed down the bubblegum-pink cardigan before his knock sounded at the door to the flat. She opened it at once, her calm face and quiet demeanour betraying none of the surging panic and excitement she was feeling inside.

  ‘Hallo, Marianne.’

  Hallo, Marianne. Just like that. Smooth and cool. The words and the tone in which they had been spoken—along with his imperturbable face—registered like a punch in the solar plexus, but she managed to reply in like vein, her voice equable as she said, ‘Hallo, Zeke. How’s the ankle?’

  ‘Fine.’ He didn’t smile and neither did she.

  It wasn’t fine, it couldn’t be, but she didn’t argue the point, merely standing aside and gesturing for him to enter.

  He was limping slightly as he walked into the room but she knew better than to fuss, merely asking, ‘When did you have the plaster off?’ as she closed the door and turned to face him.

  ‘Yesterday afternoon.’ Zeke could never be bothered with trivialities and his tone made this quite clear.

  She flushed slightly as their gazes held; he looked good enough to eat and the magnetic quality to his dark good looks had never been stronger. His black hair was damp from the misty rain outside and longer than he normally wore it, indicating he hadn’t bothered to get it cut recently. A few errant strands had dared to curl down on to his forehead and it softened the harsh lines of his face considerably. She felt her heart turn over.

  He looked big and dark and controlled, his grey eyes narrowed and glittering as they fixed on her and his mouth taut in the chiselled bone structure of his face.

  ‘How are you?’ His voice was soft and it sent a shiver snaking down her spine.

  ‘Okay.’ She managed a smile but it was difficult.

  ‘Ask me how I am,’ he said grimly.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘As miserable as hell.’

  Her heart jumped up into her throat before subsiding back into her chest, where it began to thump against her breastbone so hard it hurt. She wanted to say something but her mind had frozen; all she was conscious of was the look on his face and the nearness of him.

  ‘I love you, Marianne. I can’t live without you and I can’t take another day of this damn separation,’ he said huskily, his voice deep and low. ‘When I saw you with that guy…I wanted to do murder. If I’d been able I’d have been out of that taxi and had him by the throat when you first walked through the door of the supermarket.’

  She stared at him, stunned by the naked emotion in his voice and the way he was allowing her to see his vulnerability. ‘It…it was a good job about your ankle, then,’ she managed at last, trying to alleviate the intensity of the moment. She had wanted her voice to sound light and teasing but it was merely shaky.

  He nodded slowly. ‘If I was noble and self-sacrificing I’d let you go; you know that, don’t you?’ he said bitterly. ‘You deserve someone like that boy, young and fresh and with no hang-ups. Someone you can have fun with, act crazy with, someone with no responsibilities or ties of any kind. You said once there was more to life than Buchanan Industries and of course you are absolutely right. But I have commitments to the people who work for me, Marianne, whose livelihoods are tied up with the success or otherwise of the business.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said quickly, her voice trembling. ‘And I wouldn’t want you to give up any part of your business. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. But…’

  ‘Yes?’ His eyes hadn’t left hers for a moment.

  ‘You could let go a little more, delegate at times,’ she said carefully. ‘You have some good executives working for you—they have to be good to survive at Buchanan Industries! You needn’t be there so early in the morning and work so late.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He still had made no move towards her.

  ‘And…and me?’ She didn’t want to ask, she just wanted to fly into his arms and believe all was well, but she couldn’t. She needed and loved him more than life itself, but she was still frightened of the future. ‘You would be happy for me to go to college and train for a career, Zeke?’

  A muscle moved in his hard jaw but the devastating grey eyes didn’t blink. ‘You want the truth?’ he asked grittily.

  She nodded, terrified of what she was going to hear.

  ‘I don’t want you to see or speak to anyone but me,’ he ground out painfully. ‘That’s the truth. I’m working on it, Marianne—hell, you couldn’t call me anything I haven’t called myself—but I’m not there yet and I can’t pretend. But…’ He paused, and for the first time since he had walked into the bedsit she saw his face relax a little. ‘I know that would be no good for you and you’d be unhappy, desperate. Reason says I want you to be everything you want to be, and my heart says the same thing; it’s just in here—’ he tapped his forehead with a hand she saw was shaking ‘—when I start thinking, imagining what it would be like if you left me—’

  ‘I won’t.’ She moved to him then, but still he didn’t take her into his arms, his body rigid. ‘I couldn’t.’

  �
�You can’t say that,’ he said bleakly.

  ‘I just did.’ She stared up into the dark handsome face and found herself wondering for a moment how this man, this powerful, fabulously rich, wildly handsome man, who only had to snap his fingers to have women fighting over him, could be so destructively insecure. And what he saw in her that made him love her so passionately. ‘Could you leave me?’ she asked gently. ‘Could you walk away from me for someone else?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Why?’ she pressed softly. ‘Why is it different?’

  ‘It just is,’ he ground out with painful flatness.

  ‘Zeke, if you hadn’t come here today, if we had carried on living apart for months, years, decades, I still wouldn’t have wanted anyone else but you,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t you see?’

  ‘I’m trying.’ It was wrenched out of him, and now he pulled her violently into him, crushing her mouth beneath his as his hands moved hungrily over her body. ‘Believe me, I’m trying.’

  Marianne responded blindly, the lonely weeks since Christmas making her desire white-hot as she tangled her fingers in his dark hair, matching the urgency of his need movement for movement, kiss for kiss, as they stripped the clothes from each other in feverish haste.

  ‘I’ve missed you. Hell, how I’ve missed you.’ He held her trembling body away from him for a moment, his arms outstretched and his hands spanning her slender waist as he drank in the sight of her womanly curves and hollows. ‘You’re so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, my love,’ he said huskily.

  ‘So are you,’ she whispered shakily, gasping at the air as the powerful masculine body in front of her filled her vision and took away her breath.

  And then she was in his arms again, their hands and lips moving over each other and creating burning rivulets of desire. She could feel the thrust of his body against her softness and as his knee parted her legs she pressed into him, accepting his manhood into the moist warmth between her thighs as he lifted her off her feet and she wound her legs round his hips.