Borrowed Wife (17 page)

He rolled
away to undress and she followed, her arms clinging to him, her lips searching
for his, and when he came back to her they were already too lost in excitement
to wait. At the back of her mind she mourned, wept, but she could never fight Logan. She wanted to be part of him—she always had wanted to be part of him, wanted to
melt into him and stay there—so she wrapped herself around him, going where be
led until the world exploded around them and she flew off into an expanding
universe.

He called
her back, held her close and the usual storm of trembling engulfed her as she
whimpered gently against Logan’s shoulder as he held her fast.

‘Oh,
Abbie!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘What am I going to do with you? It’s like a
long, melancholy battle in the dark—no end, no hope.’

She knew
that and she buried her face against him until the trembling slowed and the
room looked light again. She was lifeless, just a part of him, and there was no
joy in her mind.

‘Come
on.’ Logan lifted her into his arms and walked to the shower and this time she
simply acquiesced, standing subdued and obedient while he showered
them
both. Now she couldn’t go. She
was lost, a mere extension of Logan, a bewildered victim in a struggle to the
end. He bent his head and kissed her cold lips and for a second her own despair
seemed to show on his face.

She
stayed in the bathroom to get dry and when she came out, a white bathrobe tied
around her, Logan was already dressed. Her clothes were gone too and she knew
that he had put them all back in the wardrobe.

‘I’ve
ordered breakfast up here for you,’ he said quietly

 ‘It
should be obvious to you that I have to have breakfast with Fenella. We have
things to discuss and, apart from the fact that you would be bored, I’m not
asking you to come and eat with us and get upset. You obviously distrust me.’

Abigail
didn’t answer. She sat at the dressing table and began to dry her hair, her
eyes avoiding him as she prayed that he would just go and let her recover in
her own way and by herself.

‘l can’t keep you out of it
all the time, Abigail,’ he pointed out, coming to stand behind her and watching
her in the wide mirror. ‘We’re invited to dinner at Grant’s club tonight, as
you know. She’s going to be there.’

She looked up at him then,
meeting his eyes in the reflection of the glass. He looked somber. There was
none of the amused satisfaction that he had shown after making lovemaking at
the flat and she quickly looked away. She didn’t understand him; maybe she
never had.

 ‘I expect I’ll cope,’ she
told him quietly, her slender hands wielding the brush, sweeping it through her
shining hair.

 A spasm of pain crossed
his expression and his eyes gleamed over her from her downcast face to the
graceful movement of her hands and the blue-black shine of her hair. I34

 ‘There’ll
be a lot of people there,’ he reminded her almost apologetically. ‘It’s not going
to be any intimate dinner party.’

‘It
doesn’t matter,’ Abigail said dully, and he shrugged, turning to leave.

‘By the
way,’ he murmured as he moved to the door, ‘I phoned the hospital this morning.
I thought you might like to know how your father is. He’s fine.’

It was so
unexpected that she spun round, her wide eyes searching his face. Why had he
done that? It astonished her. She couldn’t work out his motives and she just
stared at him in silence.

His grey
eyes narrowed, icing over as his somber looks vanished into anger.

‘Don’t
even bother to ask!’ he said coldly. ‘I can see your mind working. I can see
you asking yourself if I called the hospital hoping to find he’d had a
relapse.’

She
hadn’t thought that at all and she looked at him steadily.

‘Such a
thing never entered my mind,’ she assured him slowly, talking at least one
chance to strike a blow for herself. ‘Don’t judge everyone by the devious
working* of your own mind. Some of us have much more straight forward and
simple thoughts. I was just surprised. Thank you for phoning and thank you for
telling me, and if you think that’s just the sweet manners of a simpleton then
you’re probably right. I’ve proved this morning what a fool I am, otherwise I
would be downstairs now, booking my flight back home.’

Abigail
turned away and continued to dry her hair and few a moment Logan watched her,
the annoyance easing from his face and the somber look returning mow strongly.
She ignored him and after a second be simply turned and left, closing the door
quietly behind him I35

She
stopped pretending then, her right restraint leasing her, and the dryer rested
on the glass top of the dressing utile as her head fell forward to her hands
and her mind gave itself up to grief. Not only did she love him still, she loved
him more than ever.

She had
not thought it possible to feel even more strongly about Logan than she bad
felt when she’d first known him but the years had added a yearning and a imager
that now threatened to destroy her. She was not nineteen now. There was no
romantic haze to her dreams. She needed Logan as part of herself. He was
essential to her very existence and this time when it was over she would not be
able to face a new life bravely without him. Ken her faith in her father was
gone. This time there would be nothing but emptiness.

CHAPTER EIGHT

After
breakfast, Fenella went to have a rest, and
therefore, she realised, avoiding her would be comparatively easy. Abigail had
this unwanted information from the talkative waiter when he came to collect her
tray. Logan had gone out. She had that news from the same source and she
lingered in her room and on the balcony, her eyes on the sea, her mind
frantically searching for comfort.

There was
no comfort, though. She wasn’t even angry anymore and when another waiter came
and told her that her husband wanted her to join him for lunch she went
downstairs like an obedient shadow, no expression on her face at all because
she could not show her grief and Logan was too astute to mistake grief for
either anger or outrage.

It was a
silent meal and she knew that be had asked her to join him merely for
appearance’s sake. Once again there was a dark, serious expression on his face
and after the meal he made his excuses and left her. She didn’t know whether he
was going to Fenella or going to his own room but, whatever he was doing, die
could not go upstairs and simply wait for the evening’s ordeal to catch up with
her.

She went
to the beach and walked in the hot sunlight, the breeze blowing her hair around
her and cooling hear face. Memories tried to surface but she squashed them
immediately, making her mind blank, seeing only the sky and sea, passing other
people as if they did not exist, Abigail felt as if she did not exist either.
She was not ever really worried about the dinner at Grant’s club tonight. She
felt too numb inside to be concerned about a face-to-face meeting with Fenella
Mitchell.

When she
came back into the hotel garden she glanced up at the balcony that connected
her room to Logan’s. He was there, standing quite still, watching her, but he
gave no sign that he saw her. He simply looked distant, cool and unreachable.

He was
still there when she reached her room and he came to the French window as she
walked in from the corridor.

‘Eight o’clock tonight,’ he
stated, simply looking at her, and she nodded her agreement, waiting for him to
leave.

‘Take
care in the sun,’ he muttered when she said nothing at all.  ‘It’s hot, not
what you’re used to. If you’re going to the beach to walk, wait for the sun to
die down a little.’

‘I didn’t walk for long,’
Abigail assured him, turning wearily away from his grey-eyed stare.

‘You walked for an hour,
back and forth,’ he corrected her, and her head shot round as she faced him
with annoyance. ‘How do you know? Haven’t you anything better to do with your
time than spy on me? Did you think I would sneak
off?’

‘I was
watching to see that you were safe,’ he snapped, anger racing across his face.
‘Or maybe I can’t keep my eyes off you,’ he snarled furiously. ‘Eight o’clock.
Abigail.’

He walked
off, bristling with anger, and she threw herself on the bed. Perhaps she should
have a rest too. She felt worn out. It was a long time to eight o’clock and by
then she knew she would be strung up tightly. Sleep seemed to be a good way out
of things.

Abigail awoke in good time
to get ready and she started at once because she knew she would need every kind
of defense she could muster for tonight. Why didn’t Grant and Logan get on with
this deal? Why hadn’t they signed the papers already? Because Fenella had only
just arrived, she reminded herself. Now there was nothing to stop them and
after that her whole life with Logan was over.

She had a
turquoise dress, one that she had bought not long ago to attend a dinner with
Brian. In the event she hadn’t gone because there had been yet another over at
the office and as usual her own plans had had to be shelved.

When she
was ready she put the dress on and she could see why she had bought it. The
colour was perfect for her black hair. The dress was off the should-molded to
her slender shape, swirling out around her from the waist down, and it gave her
a good deal of satisfaction to know that Logan had not bought this for her. All
the same, he had bought the narrow diamond necklace she wore with the matching
bracelet. They brought back painful memories but she kept them on all the same.

Studying
herself in the mirror, she thought she looked too young even in this finery and
on an extravagant impulse that she did not usually possess she rang reception
and asked if there was a hairdresser on the hotel staff. There was, and when
eight o’clock came round Abigail was as sophisticated as she was ever going to
be, her hair swept up and swirled in a loose cascade of curls around her head.  

 Logan had rung her room to
say that he would meet her in the foyer, and she gathered her gauzy turquoise
wrap and down to join him. He had not been prepared to come and escort her
apparently but it was no surprise, Fenella was going with them and she could
not facing being left to wait by herself.

The stairs opened out at
the bottom to wide, shallow room an Abigail went down into the well-lit foyer.

She was the focus of many
eyes. She was nervously aware of it, her anxiety making her pale, almost
ethereal and shy as she dared to look up as Logan was coming to meet her. His
eyes intently on her, his face serious and still. His crystal grey glance swept
over her, lingering on every curve of her body, studying her face and the
swirling curls of her hair.

It made heart flutter and
then thud into an inexhaustible beat. She could see raw desire on his face and
she was sure that anyone watching would see it too.

It there
had been love there she would have fallen at his feet but there was nothing but
a blazing need that made his eyes flare like silver lightning.

‘Where is
she?’ Abigail did not give him time to greet her, instead her eyes darted round
the foyer, looking for the woman who would outshine her in every way.

‘She’s
already left,’ Logan said tightly. ‘Pete Cassidy asked to escort us so I got
rid of him. I sent Fenella ahead and I would wait for you.’

‘You let
her go with him?’ Abigail looked up at him in surprise and he gave a very grim
smile as he heard her astonishment. It was obvious that she had expected him to
stay close to Fenella, equally obvious that she – believed that Fenella was his
mistress. ‘She can take care of herself,’ he said icily. ‘Fenella doesn’t need
any sort of protection. The younger Cassidy recognised that on sight. He went
off in a subdued frame of mind.’

‘I can
take care of myself too,’ Abigail protested as he took her arm and led her to
the taxi that waited by the steps. He never missed an opportunity remind her
that he thought her incompetent, she thought

‘We’ll
not be putting that to the test, though, he murmured sardonically, glancing
down at her beautiful face and her slender shape in the lovely gown. ‘Wild
obliviation have never influenced me. You stepped out of the bright cloud of
morning, a flower fairy. Fenella could hold her own in a black hole and defeat
the magnate force. If he tries any of his tricks with her, he’ll be savaged.’

Probably,
Abigail thought grimly. No doubt the two of them would make a very stunning
couple but she knew who Fenella would attach herself to the moment they arrived
at this club. Logan settled her in the car and then ignored her for the whole
of the journey. Luckily it was not far, because his deep silence and his
expression only added to her nervous tension.

Whatever
emotions he felt, he was holding that in tight check. When he had taken her arm
his fingers had sent an electric current of desire to her own skin and he was
furious with himself for wanting her. His rage keeping him silent, and she knew
that if she possessed any sense at all she would have been feeling triumphant
at this victory.

She felt
nothing of the sort, though, because in spite of her breathless awareness of
his feelings she knew that they did not spring from love. Love was kind,
gentle, it forgave. Logan would never forgive and one day his desire would
fade. Perhaps if she had stayed with him it would have faded already.