The Marriage Replay (7 page)

‘OK.'

‘And in the meantime why don't you take a holiday? Get some sun? It would probably do you the world of good!'

With Jenny's cheerful, well-meant advice ringing in her ears, Sorrel left the modelling agency offices and walked out into the surprising blaze of sunshine pour
ing down on a busy King's Road. Feeling her spirits rise in spite of everything, and determined to take further steps towards her own healing, rather than go back to an empty house she decided to hang around for a while and maybe do a little shopping. She wouldn't overdo it, because she was still suffering with fatigue after her ordeal and she'd been strictly advised to take things easy, but right now Sorrel wasn't interested in spending precious time browsing clothes shops. She'd much rather seek out a wonderful little bookshop she knew of, tucked away down a very exclusive little Chelsea side street. It was there in the past that she'd often discovered some of the most fascinating and unusual books on history and music that were Reece's favourite reading material….

 

At first he'd panicked when he'd arrived home and found the house devoid of his wife's presence. With his heart in his mouth, Reece had climbed the stairs two at a time to her bedroom and wrenched open the wardrobe doors. Finding her clothes undisturbed, the suitcases empty and her toiletries and make-up still scattered along the marble surround in the bathroom, he had allowed himself to breathe more easily.

For a few disturbing minutes there he had seriously believed the worst—that Sorrel had left him again…only this time for good.
She hadn't wanted him to go to lunch with Angelina.
But after the angry words they'd hurled at each other in the middle of the night, Reece hadn't felt like placating her this morning either. Work was work, he'd told himself, and life couldn't come to a standstill just because they had suffered this tragedy—
or
because Sorrel was suspicious there might be
something more than just professional interest between him and the opera star.

She couldn't have gone far.
Maybe she'd simply needed some fresh air and had gone for a walk in the park near their home? He'd give her another hour, he decided. If there were no sign of her by then, Reece would go out and look for her.

Suddenly feeling drained of energy emotionally, he kicked off his shoes and dropped down onto the sumptuous bed that they no longer shared. Putting his arm behind his head, he lay there for several minutes just staring up at the ceiling. The sun poured in through the huge glass panels that made up one wall in a soporific beam of light and made him drowsy. Finally, weary of thinking, Reece turned onto his side, breathed in the familiar scent that Sorrel used and which lingered so evocatively on the pillow, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

 

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, Sorrel put down the bookshop carrier bag that she'd brought upstairs and stared at the still, sleeping figure of her husband stretched out on the bed. She was struck by a wave of emotion so powerful that her whole body started to tremble. With his eyes closed in sleep and his hair dishevelled as a small boy's, her love for him submerged her with almost unbearable longing.

He was so strong, vital and handsome that
any
woman would be seriously elated to come home and find him there like that—caught in a moment of exquisitely poignant vulnerability, for a short time the veneer of success and ruthless ambition tamed in the surrender of sleep.
If only he'd hear her out properly and they could
settle on some agreement about the way they'd live their lives in future,
Sorrel was thinking.
If only he'd come round to seeing the benefits of family life, he might relent and let them try for another baby…
But how was that possible if he really
didn't
love her any more?

Her heart jumped guiltily as Reece suddenly opened his eyes and stared at her.

‘Where have you been?' he asked, his voice still edged with sleep.

‘I needed to get out of the house.'

Heat seared her cheeks and probably gave her the first tinge of colour she'd had all day. Her fingers fiddled with one of the pale blue buttons on her jacket. It was extraordinary to her that she could still feel so vulnerable in front of this man, but his undoubted masculine beauty, his strength and sheer animal magnetism, could sometimes simply stop her in her tracks.

‘I went for a walk and did a little shopping.'

‘Oh?' Moving himself up into a sitting position, Reece drew his legs up to his chest and linked his arms round them. ‘I hope you didn't overdo things. You know you've still got to take things easy for a while.'

‘I know. How did your lunch go?'

She was just making conversation, Sorrel told herself. Not fishing for information about what he and Angelina had talked about. It was already a sore subject, and she really didn't want to bring it up again and make things worse.

‘It went just fine.'

His surprisingly relaxed gaze swept casually up and down Sorrel's appearance with an intimate interest he didn't bother to disguise.

She'd taken extra care with her clothes today because
she'd been going to meet with her agent. Instead of more casual garb, she wore a pretty blue and white long cotton skirt, a white broderie anglaise blouse, and a sky-blue fitted jacket. With her long blond hair tumbling free and lapis lazuli earrings at each earlobe, she knew she was looking better than she had in days—even if Jenny
had
professed that she looked peaky and had clearly lost weight.

‘You look like summer,' Reece commented, smiling. ‘Was there a reason you got all dressed up?'

Feeling helplessly guilty that she'd gone to see her agent without mentioning it to him, Sorrel carefully avoided his probing glance. ‘I just wanted to cheer myself up…that's all.'

‘It was a good idea. Want to come over here and talk for a while?' he invited, patting the space on the bed beside him.

Overwhelmed by his soft-voiced invitation, Sorrel panicked and reached for the bookshop carrier bag she'd left on the floor instead. ‘I bought you something,' she said quickly, the heat in her cheeks deepening.

Taking the bag from her, Reece put it to one side and grabbed her hand before she could move away. ‘I'll look at it later,' he promised, and tugged a little on her hand, giving Sorrel no choice but to capitulate to his suggestion and join him on the bed.

‘What do you—what do you want to talk about?' she asked nervously, tucking a honey-blond curl around her ear.

Reece was thinking that he would willingly forego talking simply to just sit here a while and gaze at her. He truly believed she had the most amazing skin and eyes that he had ever seen. He hadn't been lying when
he'd told her that she looked like summer—and what better way for a man to wake from sleep than to find such a vision of loveliness before him?

‘Anything…everything,' he said idly, stroking his fingers around her delicate jaw.

‘Are you going away again soon, Reece?' she ventured, her glance a little strained.

‘What do you mean?'

‘You had lunch with Angelina. You must have discussed business? Are you going to promote her next tour?'

The truth was Reece hadn't committed to any such thing. Not yet anyway. He'd told a surprised Angelina that he would think about it and let her know. When the singer had pressed him for a reason for his apparent reticence he'd finally relented and indicated to her reluctantly that he was having some personal problems at home. After that the fiery Spaniard had been all sweetness and light, her dark eyes warm and understanding as she'd advised him to take all the time he needed to sort things out—if anyone was going to promote her tour then it would be Reece and no one else.

‘Nothing's settled as yet, so in answer to your question…no…I'm not going away again soon.'

Touching Sorrel's lips with the pad of his thumb, Reece slowly lifted his gaze to hers. ‘Does that make you happy, Sorrel?' he asked, his voice hypnotically velvet.

‘I
DON'T
want you to turn down work just for me.'

Sensing her withdraw behind that wall of ice she seemed so intent on keeping erected between them, Reece slid his hand behind her neck and deliberately brought her face closer to his.

‘Could you stop fighting me for just one damned minute?' he asked, emerald eyes beseeching.

She stilled, and her shoulders slumped a little. Unable to halt his next action, Reece covered her surprised mouth with his own, the softness and the taste of her lips exploding onto his senses like honey from an enchanted forest, stirring all his need, passion and longing into a roaring flame that he prayed would never be extinguished.

God, how he'd missed this!
She felt and tasted like no other woman… No one else could immediately elicit such exquisite mindless joy for him at a single stroke. She could make him her slave if she wanted to…that was her power. With the intoxicating scent of summer flowers flowing over him, his tongue twining with hers, sharing heat and ardour with the woman he desired beyond all others, Reece felt all his cares washed away in
the sweetest sea of sensation he could dream of swimming in.

Sensing Sorrel's shuddering capitulation to the hungry possession of his lips, he experienced the first genuine moments of happiness he'd had in a long, long time. But all too soon it was over. It was Sorrel who broke the kiss…her breathing feathering over him in softly heated gasps as she pulled away, her eyes dazed and darkened, her lips with a glaze of moisture on them from their mutual exchange of passion.

‘What was that for?' Her plump lower lip quivered and Reece longed to taste her mouth all over again.

‘Do I need a reason to kiss my wife?'

The genuine smile he gave her in return to her question was warm and far too alluring for words. Some of the ice around Sorrel's heart had melted as if beneath the force of a blowtorch under his flawless and arousing expertise, but she was still afraid to yield to him completely. No agreements had been reached between them as yet. They hadn't even really discussed the impact of the tragedy they had suffered. How were they going to reconcile their differences unless they
really
talked about what they both wanted once and for all?

As unexpected and pleasurable as Reece's kiss had been,
one kiss does not a future make,
Sorrel realised sadly. They might share a passion that could melt the polar icecaps, but if in everything else fundamental they were complete opposites how
could
their marriage continue with any success?

Yet at the back of Sorrel's mind she heard Jenny's voice urging her to ‘take a holiday, get some sun' and she couldn't help but wonder if Reece had been right when he'd made the same suggestion? Perhaps they
should
go to the house in the Algarve and get to know each other all over again? A tiny flicker of hope burst into flame inside her heart and almost begged her to take a chance.

‘No…you don't need a reason.' Her reply was verging on shy, and she let him play with her fingers and circle the pad of his thumb round and round her palm. His teasing touch elicited tiny and powerful explosions of pleasure all over her body. ‘Reece, I was wondering…'

‘What were you wondering, sweetheart?' He smiled again, and for a moment Sorrel was struck speechless by his power to unravel her so completely with even the smallest seemingly innocent gesture.

‘What you suggested a while ago…about us going away for a while to the house in the Algarve…? I've been thinking…I've been thinking that I might like that after all.'

Catching his breath in surprise at this unexpected olive branch, Reece brought Sorrel's hand up to his lips and kissed it…slowly and tenderly. When his gaze met hers again, the dazzling emerald of his eyes seemed to shine with even more clarity and brilliance.

‘I'll see if I can book us on a flight out to Faro tomorrow,' he promised.

‘So soon?'

‘What have we got to wait for? We've only got ourselves to please.'

His words painfully and unwittingly reminded Sorrel that, yes…they
did
only have themselves to please—because there was no longer a baby to look forward to. And the light in her eyes faded a little as she met her husband's openly pleased glance.

‘OK.' She rose up from the bed before he could stop her and went to the door. ‘I'll pack later. Right now I'm going to go and phone Melody before I start fixing dinner. See you downstairs.'

 

It was only later, when she was standing at the centre island in the big modern kitchen peeling carrots into a colander, that Sorrel wondered what Reece had been doing in her bedroom. It puzzled her. He'd removed all his clothing from the built-in wardrobes to the room he was occupying down the hall, so what reason would he have had to be in there? And why had he fallen asleep on the bed?

Recalling his kiss, she stopped mid-peel and touched her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the blazing, tingling imprint of his sexy and persuasive mouth against hers—still remember the way he'd kissed her, so slow and deep and taunting that a girl would honestly be ready to surrender not just her body but her heart and soul to him. It was one of the things Sorrel loved best about his lovemaking. He knew how to take his time, how to take her to the highest peak and give her the utmost pleasure first, before taking his own. Selfish was one thing Reece had never been as a lover…

‘Sorrel?'

His voice caught her unawares, and she blushed guiltily as if he could tell at a glance just what she'd been thinking about before he appeared. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, shirt unbuttoned and jeans hanging low across his taut lean hips, with the merest tantalising glimpse of manly belly button, and the sight of him caused Sorrel's womb to ache almost unbearably. She leaned against the worktop to regain a sense of bal
ance. Clearly not long out of the shower, his golden hair glistened damply, and his effortlessly sexy smile found its target immediately and set free a cage of butterflies in her stomach.

‘What is it?' She started to peel the carrot in her hand at an almost frantic pace.

‘We're in luck. I've booked us first-class flights out to Faro tomorrow at noon. By the time we arrive and pick up the hire car we should get to the house around six or thereabouts. How does that sound?'

‘That's great.'

‘I've rung Ricardo and Ines and told them to expect us, so the house should be all ready and waiting.'

The Portuguese couple that Reece employed to look after the house for them when it wasn't in use—and also to housekeep for them when it was—lived in a small traditional farmhouse about two miles from their own place. It had been quite a while since Sorrel had seen them both, and her heart lifted a little at the prospect of seeing them again. The couple had always been so kind and helpful—they could never do enough to make them comfortable, it seemed, and Reece trusted them implicitly.

‘So all we have to do is pack?'

‘That's right.' He came into the room and stood at the other side of the island to observe her. ‘What are you doing?'

She shrugged a little self-consciously. ‘I was just making us a shepherd's pie with some beans and carrots. Is that OK?'

‘Honey, I don't want you tiring yourself out cooking. You've already been out shopping today when you
should have been resting. Why don't we just order a take-out?'

‘I thought shepherd's pie was one of your favourites?' She couldn't prevent the small thread of hurt that wove through her voice.

‘It is. I'd just really prefer you not to have to cook right now. Oh…by the way, I loved the book…thanks. It's one I was going to order myself. You must have read my mind.'

Touched at the unexpected compliment, Sorrel raised her head to smile at him. But he was already walking out through the door, whistling beneath his breath as he went…

 

Reece was in his room packing when the phone rang on the bedside table. Aware that Sorrel was taking a shower, he sat down beside the opened suitcase he'd left on the bed to answer it.

‘Hello?'

‘Reece,
mi querido
! It is Angelina here. I was so concerned about you when we met for lunch earlier today that I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I rang up to tell you that I really think that you must take a holiday—you and your pretty wife. You have clearly been working too hard and it makes sense for you to go away and get some rest…yes?'

Genuinely touched that the renowned singer should spend time thinking about concerns not her own, Reece stared out though the glass panels at the perfect arrangement of terracotta tubs, and the chrome table and chair set out on the patio, and frowned. Ordinarily he would register the sight and not be disturbed by it. But right at that moment for some inexplicable reason the pristine
arrangement of flowers and garden furniture upset him. So much so that he experienced an almost overpowering desire to go out there and mess it up a little.

‘As a matter of fact we're going to do just that, Angelina.' Diverting his attention determinedly back to his caller, he sighed. ‘We're flying out to Faro tomorrow and we're going to stay at a house we own nearby.'

‘You are flying out tomorrow to
Faro
?'

She sounded shocked. Reece drew his dark blond brows together in a frown. ‘Is there something wrong with that?'

‘No,
querido,
far from it! I have a villa in Almancil, near Vale do Lobo, and Emmanuel and I are flying out there this Saturday! But this must be fate, yes? So, you must give me your number there and I will ring you and make arrangements for you and your wife to come to my house and have dinner with us. But how wonderful!'

His feelings were mixed on whether it would be wise to give Angelina his Portuguese phone number, and Reece rubbed at the crease between his brows and sucked in a lightly troubled breath.

He wondered what Sorrel would think about an invitation to dinner at the sultry diva's luxury residence? Would she think that he'd planned the whole going to the Algarve thing just so that he might ‘bump into' Angelina? But then he remembered that it had been Sorrel, not he, who had instigated their trip, and he breathed out again with relief. If Sorrel got to meet the star properly, he reflected, she might come to see that actually Angelina wasn't the slightest bit interested in Reece as a potential conquest but genuinely thought of him as a friend. In light of that, what harm would it do to give her the telephone number?

 

They arrived at the house Reece had christened Paradise na Terra—Paradise on Earth—at around six-thirty in the evening. As expected, Ricardo and Ines had worked hard in preparation for their visit.

The old converted farmhouse, with its huge immaculately mown lawned gardens, roof terrace and traditional architecture, very much reflected old style grace and beauty on this slightly cooler spring evening when Reece and Sorrel drove into the courtyard. A dazzling array of exotic plants and flowers perfumed the air and the house fair shone with love and devotion even before they took a step inside. It had been a bumpy flight out from Heathrow, and—her nerves already strung tight at the thought of spending uninterrupted time with her husband, given the tense situation between them—Sorrel was very glad to just arrive and be able to sit down.

Leaving their suitcases in the open covered porch outside the first reception room, Reece led Sorrel to the nearest couch and told her to put her feet up. Concerned that she looked particularly pale and tired after their long journey, he knew she really needed to listen to his advice and just rest until it was time to eat.

Heading into the large, colourful kitchen, in which Ines's invaluable local knowledge of all things domestic had contributed to the design, Reece was gratified to find a meal ready and waiting on the kitchen table and a bottle of local wine with a corkscrew and two large wine glasses standing beside it. Helping himself to some black olives, he shrugged off his jacket and stared out of the window, his attention captured by the beauty of the serene landscape and the blazing orange sun preparing to set, hovering above the hills on the horizon.

A peace of sorts descended on him. He couldn't quite
put his finger on it, but he couldn't discount the feeling either. Maybe he and Sorrel were right where they needed to be? Reece thought. Maybe here, somehow, some way, they could finally begin to mend what was broken between them? This enforced break of theirs was perhaps what had been needed all along?

If only Reece hadn't been so determinedly stubborn that his work should come first. Away from the bustle of city life, the constant travelling and wall-to-wall meetings that denoted his daily experience in general, he might remember what it was like to be content with the simpler things in life. Like taking a walk in the woods or watching the sunset. He might learn how to enjoy just ‘being' instead of ‘doing' for a while, and not constantly try to seek happiness in the sometimes hollow rewards of his ambition. He might also get to reacquaint himself with the company of the beautiful, quixotic woman he had fallen in love with.

‘I'm hungry,' Sorrel announced behind him as she padded barefoot onto the large square tiles of the terracotta floor.

She too had removed her linen jacket; underneath she wore a simple long white broderie anglaise shift dress. With her honey-blond hair swept up behind her head, and exquisite tendrils floating loose around a face more or less bare of make-up, she appeared very young and very sweet.

A strong jolt of awareness and protection knifed unexpectedly through Reece's chest as he studied her. For a moment he experienced a flash of how she'd looked the night she had lost the baby—in a white nightgown not dissimilar to the dress she was wearing now, but stained horribly and sickeningly with blood… His insides re
acted with abhorrence at the jarring memory and for a moment he was so stricken he couldn't speak.