The Marriage Replay (2 page)

Running down a long black-and-white checked marble floor which oddly made her think of that strange game of chess in
Alice in Wonderland
—Sorrel swept towards the destination she was seeking in double-quick time, barely making it into the nearest cubicle before she was wretchedly and horribly sick.

It was several long minutes before her insides calmed down and she risked returning to the solicitor's office.
When she did, her face was almost as chalk-white as one of the smooth marble busts to be found in any museum, and her limbs felt no stronger than fragile sheaves of corn.

Reece was on his feet the moment she entered, his expression grimly concerned.

‘Are you all right? What the hell happened?'

Automatically he'd come over to her and put his hand behind her waist, to lead her back to the chair she had so abruptly vacated. Sorrel knew that if she dared reply at that moment it might open the floodgates on her tears, and she would embarrass herself in front of her husband and his solicitor all over again. All she longed for, all she really wanted, was for Reece to put his arms around her and tell her that he was taking her
home
.

But she and Reece didn't even share a home any more, she painfully reminded herself—and probably wouldn't again after the outcome of this meeting. So her longing would have to go unanswered.

‘It was just the stupidest thing…the smell of the coffee, that's all. It's never happened before. I'm sorry.'

Sorrel didn't see Reece's own face practically drain of colour. Returning to his seat, he didn't sit down but formidably remained standing. His commanding presence was even more riveting in this solemn, almost funereal room. She gazed up at him in genuine bewilderment.

‘What's the matter?'

‘Did it even occur to you that you might be pregnant, Sorrel?' he asked, emerald eyes glittering hard.

The truth hit her like a thunderbolt shooting out of the sky. The queasy churning stomach she had had for days now; the acute tingling sensation in her breasts; the need to have all the windows opened in whatever room she
was in else otherwise she'd feel as if there wasn't enough air to breathe. Never having been pregnant before, Sorrel had put all those symptoms down to the fact that she was mourning her doomed relationship. She'd been heartsick and in despair, because despite everything—the rows, the tension, the sometimes seemingly relentless periods of deep unhappiness—she loved Reece almost more than life itself.

And her periods had never been completely reliable anyway. Two or three months could easily go by without her having one or being alarmed by the fact.
But the night before the row to end all rows she and Reece had loved each other long into the night.
And because he'd been away for a whole month, and their need for each other had almost been bordering on desperate—in spite of their marital difficulties—they hadn't given a thought to using protection…

‘I'm—I'm not! I can't be!'

Helplessly she glanced across at Edward Carmichael, who had linked his perfectly manicured hands together and was frowning deeply—just like a prosecutor in a medieval court, having just found Sorrel guilty of witchcraft.

Her voice rose. ‘I've just had a bit of an upset stomach, that's all!'

‘Have you seen a doctor?'

His voice still sounding remote, as though nothing would ever make it warm towards her ever again, Reece kept his piercing gaze focused on Sorrel's stricken face.

‘No. Why should I have? I was—I was upset about all this…about us. I didn't think it was due to anything else.'

She was stunned, the full impact of the possibility of pregnancy starting to permeate her brain.

‘I think under the circumstances that I should leave you two to talk, Mr Villiers.'

Rising to his feet, the solicitor glanced reprovingly from one to the other.

‘Take as long as you like. Just tell my receptionist when you're ready to see me again.'

As the door closed firmly shut behind him, Reece didn't quite know what to do with the plethora of strong emotion that was running wildly through his veins.
Sorrel was pregnant.
He needed a moment for the idea to sink in. She was going to have a baby. His heart felt as if it was on a white-water ride, hurtling towards inevitable rapids. It was very
definitely
heading into even more dangerous waters when a new and unwelcome thought ruthlessly impinged itself upon his already assaulted mind.

‘Is it mine?' he demanded, his tone furious and condemning.

Her gaze didn't waver for even an instant from her husband's angry yet undoubtedly handsome face, but the hurt that his cruel reaction engendered momentarily sucked all the breath from her lungs—like the wave of heat that hit mercilessly when you stepped out of an air-conditioned hotel lobby onto the baking pavements of Crete or Rome.

‘I can't believe you would ask me such a dreadful question. Of course it's yours! Are you suggesting that I've been seeing someone else behind your back? What are you trying to do? Make a mockery of our entire marriage?'

‘Right now I don't know what to think. I thought I
knew you, Sorrel, but I was wrong. That all changed when you walked out on me three months ago.'

Shocked at the bitterness that was lacing his accusing tone, Sorrel shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘And you don't think that might have anything to do with the selfish, unreasonable and totally stubborn way you've been acting? You'd rather believe I left you because I was seeing another man than imagine for even for one second that any blame might lie at your own door? I walked out on you, Reece, because I was sick of being made to feel like a second-class citizen in this marriage! The psychologists are right when they say it takes two to make a relationship work. As far as I can see all you've ever been concerned with is doing what
you
want to do, and my needs and wants can go hang!'

‘That's a damn lie, and you know it!' Scraping his fingers harshly through his hair, uncaringly dislodging its previous order, Reece glared at her. ‘What the hell are you complaining about? Anyone would think you had difficult circumstances to contend with! We live in the lap of luxury, Sorrel. You have the opportunity to travel the world on a regular basis. I'm not asking you to stay at home and live in squalor while I try and earn a crust—all I've ever asked is that sometimes you travel with me so that I can spend time with you. Is that so damn unreasonable?'

‘And what about
you
staying in our home sometimes, and spending time with
me
? When you're travelling you can't make a proper home, and I told you that I need that. I need to put down roots—not just be aimless!'

‘You knew what I did for a living when we met. You thought it was glamorous and exciting then. You
also knew the demanding hours I had to work and you accepted them…or at least you seemed to. As far as your own career was concerned, you said yourself your heart wasn't in it, and I don't blame you—but it must have occurred to you somewhere along the line that I wasn't the kind of guy who could easily stay at home and play happy families with you, Sorrel, so don't act like some innocent injured party who didn't know the score!'

Nothing had changed.
Three months apart and Reece clearly had developed no intention or even any desire to discuss what Sorrel wanted. That was why the only solution to the stalemate they had reached was to instigate divorce proceedings.
He was right and she was wrong.

For a moment Sorrel had forgotten the added dilemma that she now faced—the fact that she was quite likely pregnant with their child. Nothing was working out as she'd hoped. When she'd allowed herself a fantasy about having children, she'd always dreamed that news of her pregnancy would be greeted with joy from her husband. Faced with the reality of her situation now, nothing could be further from that hope.

Sorrel was heartbroken for her child. To be a newly born infant of divorced parents who couldn't reconcile their differences…
how tragic
. Her throat threatened to close with pain; her soft blue eyes could not hide her hurt and distress.

‘And what about the baby?'

She prayed he wasn't going to suggest the unthinkable. Reece would be an utter stranger to her if he did. Whatever his opinion, Sorrel was determined she was going to keep her baby and raise it on her own—no matter
what
she had to do.

Presenting her with his back, her husband slid one hand into his trouser pocket and strode thoughtfully away from her. Pausing for a moment, as if he needed to be clear in his own mind about what he was about to propound, he turned back to face her, as if reaching a conclusion that met all the rigours of his brief but razor-sharp investigation.

‘The baby changes everything,' he told her, his voice resolute.

‘W
HAT
do you mean?' Her voice strained with nerves, Sorrel's hand instinctively strayed to the still flat plane of her stomach beneath the brown cotton chinos she wore with her cardigan and jacket.

‘I mean that now there will be no divorce.'

‘You're changing your mind because of the baby?'

‘What else did you expect? Whatever my feelings are towards you, Sorrel, I have no intention of walking off into the sunset and turning my back on the child. Did you imagine for even one second that I would still divorce you under the circumstances?'

She hated his coldness. Hated and feared it.
What kind of a home could their precious baby have if there was no harmony there? If their father no longer loved their mother but instead
despised
her?

Getting to her feet, Sorrel felt her limbs were weighted down by sorrow. Brushing a trembling hand through the shimmering fall of her soft blond hair, she wished she didn't feel so vulnerable and afraid. Yet beneath her fear and vulnerability she sensed a new strength of purpose flood her being. Reece was not going to have everything his way. She would fight for her child's and her own happiness as long as she had breath inside
her, and until she could make things right again for them both.

‘It's not just your decision Reece,' she heard herself state clearly. ‘If I decide that I don't want to stay married to you then nothing you say or do can change my mind.'

‘If you
don't
stay married to me, Sorrel, then there is no way on this earth that you're going to keep me out of the picture and get full custody of our child. I'd take you to every court in the land if I had to… Am I getting through to you?'

‘Is that some kind of a threat?'

Her chest had never felt so tight with dread, and she stared at Reece in alarm and disbelief, hardly recognising him as the man she loved. ‘Are you telling me that you'd actually take me to court to get custody of our baby?'

He shrugged his wide muscular shoulders, as if her shocked question barely needed an answer it was so obvious.

‘What do
you
think? Do I strike you as a passive by-stander, Sorrel? Surely you know me better than that? My wealth can buy me the best damn legal representation in the country, and I won't hesitate to employ it if you even make the smallest move towards filing for divorce. In contrast, apart from a little part-time modelling, you're effectively a woman without regular employment or recourse to money except for what I give you. Who do you think has the strongest case? Think about it. And while you're thinking I'll go and find my attorney to tell him that I've changed my mind about the divorce. After that I'm driving you back to Suffolk to pick up your things and bringing you back home.'

‘But why would you take me to court for custody of our child when you've already made it perfectly clear that you're not interested in staying at home and playing “happy families,” as you so disdainfully put it?'

He seemed to consider her words for a long moment, and then answered her, barely demonstrating even the most fleeting flicker of emotion. ‘Women don't have a prerogative on changing their minds, Sorrel. Now that you're pregnant I have to face facts, and the facts are that I helped create that baby in your womb and therefore I have a duty to help raise him. Do you think I'd just let you walk away and bring up the child on your own? Did you seriously believe for even a moment that I wouldn't have something to say about that?'

Swallowing across the pain in her throat, Sorrel felt her head swim with unhappiness. ‘I'm not without recourse to money!' she told him, stung. ‘I can get more regular modelling work if I choose to—just like that—' she clicked her fingers ‘—tomorrow!'

‘But for how long? You're pregnant, remember?'

Furious crimson surged into her cheeks. ‘I'm not coming back to Pimlico with you, Reece. I want to stay in Suffolk with Melody.'

‘You don't have a choice, Sorrel. Your last option ran out when I found out that you're carrying my baby. You're coming home with me and that's all there is to it.'

‘But you said you had to catch a train to Edinburgh! Surely you're not going to break a lifetime's habit and put off one of your precious meetings just for me?'

Throwing her a frosty, almost contemptuous glance over his shoulder, Reece wrenched open the door with
force. ‘All my plans are on hold until you are back where you are supposed to be,' he told her icily.

‘Who do you think you are, telling me where I'm “supposed” to be? I make my own decisions about that, for your information! I'm a grown woman, and where I want to be is with my sister in Suffolk…not with you!'

He made a brief about-turn at her angry declaration. Raising one disdainful dark blond eyebrow, he curved his lips upwards in a sardonic grin. ‘You are
my
wife, Sorrel, expecting
my
child, and any judge in the world will quickly and rightly deduce that in terms of your best interests—yours and the child's—your place is with me. End of discussion.'

Before Sorrel could utter another word, either in protest or in her own defence, Reece had exited the room and shut the door firmly behind him….

 

She stood in the bedroom, gazing out through the slatted glass doors at the perfectly square roof terrace with its huge terracotta pots rioting with spring blooms, and the trailing ivy drifting across the whitewashed stone walls that stood behind them. There was a chrome table and chair set arranged in a central position on the smooth marble tiled floor. Everything appeared precision-perfect and untouched. Just as though it was waiting expectantly for a photographer from one of those stylish homes magazines to come and capture it for next year's spring edition. Just the way it had appeared on the morning Sorrel had packed her bags and left.

Apart from the gorgeous pinks, yellows and blues of the cascading flowers, it seemed even more soulless and unappealing to her jaundiced gaze than ever. She told
herself that she might have viewed it with some pleasure if she had returned home under completely different and more unified circumstances with Reece. But how could she view this cold showpiece house as a home at all when her relationship with her husband was about as amicable as two prize-fighting boxers stepping out into the ring for the championship title?

‘Well?'

The sound of his voice startled her as he came into the room behind her. Sorrel knew instantly what he was asking. He wanted to know the result of the home pregnancy test she had purchased from the chemist on their way back home from Suffolk. Part of her wanted to lie to him…to do anything she could to delay giving him an answer, so furious and hurt was she at his unyielding and frighteningly bitter attitude towards her. As if she was some kind of criminal instead of the woman that loved him.

Slowly she turned around to face him, her arms folded protectively across her chest, subconsciously sending out a signal that this was her space and he'd better not transgress it.

‘It was positive.'

Inhaling deeply, Reece mentally steadied himself. It took every ounce of the iron-clad determination he had in him not to go to his wife, persuade her down onto the big double bed positioned mockingly between them and make love to her with all the desire, need and desperation in his body. Just because she'd done the worst thing she could possibly do in leaving him, it didn't mean that Reece had stopped physically desiring her.

Sorrel was the only woman he'd ever met in his thirty-nine years he'd known on sight he wanted to marry. The
only woman he could envisage spending the rest of his life with. Becoming a father might not have been part of his immediate future plans, but he would stand by his wife and child and provide for them as conscience dictated. No amount of protest or resistance from Sorrel would prevent him from meeting his responsibilities with all the rigour and attention to detail that he applied to everything in his life to keep things running smoothly.

Still, he took no pleasure in the thought of what the future might bring. They should have been enjoying completing two and a half years of blissful marriage and looking forward to more of the same. Instead a situation had arisen that could only help make Reece's relationship with his wife more brittle and remote than ever.
And he wasn't about to easily forgive her for walking out on him either.

When she had left, Reece's fury had known no bounds. It didn't matter that he'd guessed almost immediately that she had gone to her sister's, or that he'd made Melody swear that she would contact him if Sorrel were in any kind of difficulty or need whatsoever. It hadn't stopped him from feeling devastated that she had walked out on their marriage without even giving him a chance to make recompense. So, even though she now found herself pregnant with their child, Reece's resentment towards her had not softened one iota.

He had waited a long time to fall in love, and he hadn't been in a hurry. There were some things in life definitely worth waiting for and in Reece's opinion Sorrel Claiborne had been one of them. When he'd seen her walk through the door at a post-performance party in a popular London theatre three years ago—even though
she'd been on the arm of another man—Reece had felt desire crash through him with such force that it had almost knocked him off his feet.

She'd been breathtakingly lovely, in a gauzy pink camisole and skirt, one of the spaghetti straps of her top every now and again slipping down over one perfectly smooth pale shoulder, giving Reece a provocative glimpse of the gentle swell of her breast. But it had been her face, her honest-to-God, heartstoppingly beautiful face, that had captured his attention and kept it that night. In his opinion, artists and make-up companies alike should have been breaking down her door in droves to get her to model for them with such a face.

The fact that now Reece appeared to be seeing all his hopes and dreams where she was concerned turn into bitter dust was something he was just going to have to learn to live with. Sorrel would remain his wife. He was
adamant
about that, whatever the current state of his feelings towards her. And, as far as parenthood went, there was no question that they wouldn't make the best job of it that they could—even if their personal relationship could never be what it might have been.

Wiping his hand across his brow, Reece sighed with relief that at least decisions were being made and that to some extent the deadlock between them had been broken. Even if those decisions didn't immediately suit his errant wife.

‘You'll have to get a medical check-up with your GP—that's the next thing. Leave it to me. I'll see to it.'

Sorrel's eyes stung from her determination not to cry. She fiercely pushed down the need that arose inside her to beg him to hold her, to forgive her for walking out
and not letting him know that she was OK, to swallow her stupid pride and at least make some move towards a compromise even if Reece wouldn't.
They were going to have a baby.
If ever there was reason to bring some love back into their situation then surely this was it?

But as Sorrel saw the distance in Reece's glance become wider and deeper than one of the world's vast oceans, the words she longed to be able to say stayed unhappily locked inside her heart. She squared her shoulders, preparing to take more caustic mental blows. ‘I can do that myself. I know you doubt my ability to function without your guidance, but even
I
—feeble--brainedwoman that I am—know how to punch out a number on a phone and make a doctor's appointment!'

‘Let's not turn this into another slanging match, Sorrel. It really doesn't matter
who
makes the damn doctor's appointment as long as it gets made! It's not some master plan I have to try and control you! Getting checked over by the doctor is the sensible and right thing to do. You don't take unnecessary risks where something like a pregnancy is concerned. I only want to make sure that you and the baby get the proper attention you deserve.'

He shrugged his shoulders—the wide, impressive kind that any woman young or old would love the opportunity to cry on—his whole demeanour denoting frustration and anger. Just as though he'd resigned himself to never expecting any kind of softness or tenderness from Sorrel ever again. The sorrow that created in his wife's heart was immeasurable.

‘What are you implying?' she asked, unable to keep her resentment at bay despite her sadness. ‘That I might
do something to hurt myself or my baby just to get back at you in some way?'

‘Stop being so paranoid! I'm not saying that at all. I simply want to remind you that we're in this together, and I don't intend to stand on the sidelines and see you struggle through it on your own.'

‘Oh? Since when did you care about me doing things on my own?' Sorrel's mouth twisted with unhappiness. ‘Let's get one thing clear from the start, Reece. I've no illusions about having to cope with this pregnancy on my own. You'll be away working, just like you're
always
away working, and I'll simply have to get on with it like I usually do. Don't pretend that it's going to be any different because you've just found out that you're going to be a father!' Her slender shoulders slumped a little and a shadow of pain seemed to pass across the dazzling blue of her irises. ‘And I've no doubt that when the baby comes not much will change for you there either. Except this time there'll be two of us waiting at home for you to deign to remember we exist.'

‘Now you're being ridiculous! OK, so neither of us actually planned this baby, but now that it's clear we're going to be parents I fully intend to be as good a father as I can be to my son or daughter. I can't believe that you'd think otherwise…but then I obviously give you far more credit than you deserve.'