The Marriage Replay (9 page)

‘I promise I will enjoy your lovely cooking tonight, Ines. I will make a great effort especially for you. But right now I think I need to get out of the sun for a little
while. Do you mind?' Sorrel squeezed Ines's plump bronzed hand with genuine apology. ‘I'm feeling a little tired, and I might just go and have a lie-down.'

‘Is there anything I can get for you, my child? Perhaps a long cool drink? I will bring it to your room.' Ines immediately bustled away in search of the kitchen.

As she turned away herself, towards the house, Sorrel felt Reece's hand on her arm.

‘Are you OK?' he demanded, clearly concerned that she needed to lie down.

‘Yes, I'm fine,' she assured him, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘I've just got a slight headache, that's all. I'm not used to the sun yet.'

‘Then go and rest. I'll come in and check on you later,' he said, and let his arm drop to his side.

 

She hadn't been lying when she'd told him that the sun had made her feel tired. But emotion was also weighing her down, making her feel weary and permanently close to tears. In the little chapel today, when she had lit the candle and offered up a prayer for her baby, Sorrel had wondered how she was supposed to go on living when a permanent cloud of sadness seemed to be dogging her every step. She and Reece were still no closer to resolving their difficulties—and how long would he wait, she wondered, before he thought enough was enough and concluded that perhaps a divorce
was
the only real solution to their problems? He was a dynamic, vital man, with a man's healthy needs, and no doubt there'd be no shortage of interested women to help him meet them should he decide to end their marriage.

Closing her eyes against the pain of her own tormenting thoughts, she turned her face into the pillow
and prayed for sleep to give her a brief respite from her seemingly endless sorrow.

It was a terrible dream—even more graphic in content than when she had experienced the real thing.
Clutching the bedcover to her as sweat trickled down between her breasts and clung to her forehead, Sorrel finally threw the sheet aside, sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Staring down at her long pink nightgown, which was made out of the same material as a T-shirt, she at last woke up to the fact that everything was as it should be. There was no distressing sight of blood, as there had been in her dream, and she wasn't in any kind of physical pain. No. It was the
emotional
and
spiritual
pain that was threatening to take her breath away.

Crossing her arms in front of her stomach, Sorrel leant forward and rocked to and fro in a keening rhythm as old as time, trying desperately to contain the grief and distress that poured out of her heart. She was like a wounded animal run to ground, with not a single solitary person to care that she was so distressed or hurt. Her very soul cried out for strong arms to hold her, to witness her pain without words and merely be an ally in the searing silence until such time as she could breathe again and return to herself.
Reece.

Without even realising that she had got to her feet, Sorrel headed for the door and went out into the quiet corridor with its cool tiled floor. In her bare feet she found herself walking towards the room a little way down from hers, opening the door and staring at Reece's prone figure beneath the single Egyptian cotton sheet on the bed, outlined only by the light of the moon that shone through the uncovered window and the dim light
that illuminated him from the corridor behind her. One bare golden arm was flung out by his side, and the sheer strength and beauty of the man made her shiver violently.

Suddenly unsure whether she should have come to him after all, Sorrel nearly jumped out of her skin when Reece opened his eyes, propped himself up on one elbow and studied her with immediate concern reflected across his compelling face. ‘What's wrong?'

Hesitating for only a moment, Sorrel shut the door behind her and moved across the room to stand beside the bed.

‘Will you hold me?' she asked him. Her throat almost closed with pain on the words.

Needing no more entreaty than that, Reece reached out for her hand and pulled her down next to him. ‘Get in,' he said hoarsely.

Climbing beneath the sheet, heavy with the warmth from his vital strong body, Sorrel lay down with her back to him and let him pull her tight against his chest. As his heat and strength enfolded her, the familiar male scent from his body saturating her senses and the fine silken hairs on his muscled arms feeling like heaven beneath her fingers, Sorrel started to shudder with the force of emotion that swept through her.

‘Let it out, baby,' Reece crooned next to her ear. ‘Let it all out. I'm here now…I'm here.'

E
VERY
quiver, every shudder, was like a knife carving his heart into tiny little pieces. Holding her hard against him, he held onto her slender trembling body like a lifeguard held onto someone who was nearly drowning. Reece wanted to weep, too—not just for the tragedy that had befallen their expected baby, but also for the loss of the trust and the love they had once shared so passionately.

Feeling the whisper-soft hair that spread out on the pillow beside him touch his skin, Reece breathed Sorrel in, closing his eyes to the pain and the pleasure of her closeness…a closeness he had missed more than anything he had ever lost in his life before.
Only the loss of his mother matched it.

‘Try and sleep now, honey. I'm here for you, and I promise you I'm not going anywhere.'

Touching his lips to her hair, he made a silent vow that, come earthquake, thunder or flood, he would hold her tight to him for the rest of the night if she allowed it. As Sorrel continued to sob into the pillow Reece knew that no other words were necessary….

 

Bright sunlight streaming in through the uncovered window made Sorrel open her eyes extra slowly. There was some kind of weight pinning her down, and when she realised that it was Reece's arm anchored across her chest she couldn't help but release a gasp. She had slept as if she'd been heavily sedated, hardly stirring a muscle. Now it shocked her to remember that she had come into his bedroom of her own volition—in search of comfort and solace because of the soul-searing nightmare that had punctured her sleep.
And he'd held her and kept her safe all night.

Unsure of what she would say to him when he woke, she stared up the ceiling, trying to buy some time and wishing that her head didn't throb so much. But, as well as the ache in her temples, there was another part of her anatomy that was waking up to an ache, too—but this one wasn't painful. The physical need that seemed to be gripping her because of the intimate proximity of her husband's strong, fit, warm body took Sorrel by complete surprise. It had been such a long time since they had shared a bed that she'd forgotten how arousing it could be—especially first thing in the morning.

Slightly moving her leg, she felt the naked muscle of Reece's strong thigh brush against her, and heat just seemed to pour into her from everywhere. He groaned softly beside her as he started to surface from sleep, and as he moved his arm his hand glanced against Sorrel's breast beneath her nightwear. An electrical shock couldn't have stunned her senses more. Biting her lip, she hardly dared draw breath, even as her nipple hardened into a small tight pebble. Then he was raising his head and smiling at her, his expression downright lascivious.

The effect was the equivalent of an explosive sexual broadside on a libido slumbering peacefully in relatively calm waters. Blinking back the searing effects of the riveting emerald gaze that was practically blinding her with its intensity, Sorrel's intended smile of greeting barely made it to her lips. ‘Good morning,' she said huskily.

It
had
to be a good morning if Sorrel was back in his bed, Reece thought with no small amount of fierce pleasure.
And she was there of her own free will.
Remembering the events of the night with an undeniable throb of warmth in his chest, he stroked back a deliciously wanton honey-blond curl from his wife's pale, smooth brow and felt a rush of helpless heat flood his loins when he saw her pretty blue eyes turn that smoky shade that told him she was aroused.

‘Good morning to you too, beautiful.'

‘We should get up. I'm in desperate need of a cup of tea.'

‘And I'm desperately in need of…a kiss.'

Before she could respond to such an unexpected declaration, Reece lowered his head and planted a slow, burning kiss on Sorrel's surprised mouth. As his velvet tongue stroked her into compliance, her heart went delirious with delight, her hips turned soft and needy, and the ache in her breasts almost made her want to crawl out of her skin.
The man must have taken lessons from no less than a master seducer,
she concluded dazedly, her lips throbbing and clamouring for more of the same wicked treatment. Even in the morning Reece tasted good. He smelled good, too—all warm and musky and deliciously, gorgeously masculine.

‘Hmm…that was nice.'

He was circling one of her breasts with his fingers, watching the nipple pucker and grow tight beneath the pink material of her nightwear with absorbed fascination. Letting out a shaky breath, Sorrel frowned. As explosively arousing as his touch undoubtedly was, she wasn't ready for this sexual bombardment of the senses he was drugging her with.
And what could she do about it anyway?
She still had nearly three weeks to go before she could safely make love. They'd both only end up feeling frustrated, and how would that help either of them?

Feeling doubt and sudden fear shiver through her, Sorrel deliberately dragged her glance away from the hot, simmering promise in his eyes. ‘I've got to get up.'

‘What's your hurry, angel? We're on vacation…remember?'

‘I—I need the bathroom.'

‘Sure you're not just running away?'

In the middle of circling her aroused nipple, Reece stopped his sensual teasing and successfully trapped her gaze. Unsettled by the suspicion she saw lurking there, Sorrel pushed herself up into a sitting position and threaded her fingers nervously through her dishevelled blond hair.

‘Running away?'

‘From us…from intimacy. We don't need to actually go all the way to enjoy being intimate, Sorrel. There are lots of things I can do for you to make you feel good.' His honeyed words started an ache down deep inside her that begged her to allow him to demonstrate.
Oh, how she thrilled to hear him suggest that he still wanted to please her sexually!
But underlying Sorrel's
pleasure, threatening to drag her straight back down into the murky darkness, was a deep feeling of inadequacy and fear. Not being able to bear the child of the man she loved struck at the most profound core of a woman's femininity. How could she possibly deserve pleasure when she felt so bad about herself? She clearly wasn't good enough in some way, or else why would this terrible thing have happened to her?

Was she being punished because she'd wanted too much of her husband's time and attention? Reece had always told Sorrel that he worked hard for her, too, because he didn't want her to be denied anything her heart desired.
But what if her desire was to have a baby and a husband who was home more often than he was away? A husband who wanted to be an integral part of the little family they'd created?

‘I…I enjoyed you holding me last night, Reece, I really did. But I'm not ready for anything more intimate than that. To tell you the truth…I'm so
scared
of us being intimate again. I've got all these terrifying feelings inside me about losing the baby and not feeling good enough, and I don't know what to do with them. My own body betrayed me, and sometimes I think the fear is making me crazy! Please don't think I was using you in any way…I—I just needed you to hold me for a while.'

‘Why didn't you tell me what was wrong? I could have helped you, Sorrel. I still can. We can even see someone while we're in Portugal. I have lots of contacts…people I can ask for advice to find the best person to help. You're not in this alone, honey…I've been trying to tell you that all along. Don't shut me out. Now that I know what you're feeling I won't pressure you.'

He'd registered the pain behind her words with staggering regret. Yet he couldn't deny his own frustration at not being able to be intimate with his beautiful wife. There was fear underlying
his
frustration too. If they left it much longer to reach out to each other what hope would there be for their future together? Reece wanted to demonstrate to her how much he cared, how much he shared her sorrow, but at the end of the day he was only a man—and God knows his patience was testing him to the max when it came to not being able to touch Sorrel in the way he longed to touch her…

A little of the tension that had gathered between her shoulderblades left her, and Sorrel allowed herself a soft sigh. She could tell that Reece was disappointed with not being able to get as close as he apparently desired, but she saw understanding and compassion in his eyes, too, and that gave her tremendous hope. And the truth of the matter was that some part of her knew he had suffered their loss as deeply and as tragically as she had. His commitment to his work might have blinded him to some of Sorrel's more heartfelt needs, but Reece wasn't by nature a cold individual. If he said he was hurting then it must be true. Only Sorrel didn't know how to reach out to her husband and comfort him…not when she couldn't even comfort herself.

‘Thank you. I'm glad that you understand how I feel. I
do
need some help, Reece…but let me seek it out when I feel ready. Is that all right?'

‘We'll take it one step at a time. Nobody's pushing you to do anything you're not ready for. We've been to hell and back, Sorrel, and I know things aren't just going to slot back into place as easily as we might wish them
to. But if we work together we can make some important headway, don't you think?'

Oh, God! If he only knew how much she would like that!
Struggling to find her feet again and win back her self-esteem on her own clearly
wasn't
the answer. And if Reece was more than willing to make the difficult journey back to wholeness with her, then Sorrel knew she could get well again.

She smiled shyly at him. ‘Yes…yes, I do. Shall I go and make us some tea now?'

For answer, Reece tugged on her arm and pulled her back down beside him. ‘Let me hold you for a little while longer first, huh?'

 

He was lying on a sun-lounger by the glistening pale blue water of the swimming pool when he heard the phone ring. Reluctant to move from the drowsy reverie he had fallen into, Reece walked across the terrace and through the opened patio doors of the living room in his bare feet.

Angelina Cortez was the owner of the hypnotically diverting tones that greeted him, and automatically Reece swept his gaze towards the other side of the terrace, where Sorrel was in conversation with Ricardo as he watered the surrounding plants. He told himself he shouldn't feel the least bit guilty that a valuable client was ringing him at his private house when he was on vacation, but he knew that Sorrel wouldn't see it like that.

Ever since she'd come into his room the other night, and Reece had held her tight as she'd wept, the glances she had given him had been as wary and trepidatious as a young doe that suspected it was being stalked by a
predator—as if she hardly dared believe that they could make the important headway that Reece had talked about.

Yet there had been an unexpected breakthrough when Sorrel had admitted that she was scared and didn't feel good enough. For a few moments there she had let him into her private world of pain and admitted that she needed help. The fears she had articulated to him had cut Reece to the quick. She was such a stunning, lovely young woman, with so much to offer, and yet right now she felt none of those life-affirming things. Losing the baby had opened a wound deep inside her, and he wondered if it would ever be healed. What was worse, he barely knew what was the right thing to do to help her—and if ultimately it would be the help she truly needed at all…

‘Did you have a good flight out?' Reece forced himself to ask the Spanish singer now, as she told him that she and her small son were both now in Portugal.

‘Perfect! It is so good to be here and in my lovely villa again! I am ringing to remind you of my invitation to dinner,
mi querido
. Can you and your wife come tomorrow night at seven? Do you have a pen? I will give you the address.'

When Reece came back out onto the terrace by the pool, Sorrel had settled herself in the sun-lounger beside his and opened her book. She glanced up at him from behind her sunglasses as he sat down. ‘Who was on the phone?'

Unable to prevent the tension that snaked across his midsection, Reece tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible.
He'd told her a while ago that he wasn't prepared to walk on eggshells around her, but wasn't that
what he was doing now?
The thought couldn't help but infuriate him.

‘A client.' He picked up the newspaper that lay on the little wrought-iron table between them and glanced unseeingly at the front page.

‘You told them you were on holiday?' She looked perplexed—that familiar little worry line appearing between her brows.

‘This is a very important client, Sorrel. There are some people I can't simply ignore.'

His words were laced with underlying annoyance, and Sorrel wondered if he was resenting this enforced vacation with a wife who every time he tried to get close just seemed to push him away. Not only that, but she was actively preventing him from getting on with his work…the job he loved.

Unhappiness descended with a vengeance. ‘You know what we've been through—yet you would still put your client's needs first?'

Reece could hardly believe what he was hearing, when just the other morning in bed she had agreed that they would work together to try and sort out their problems.

‘Dammit, woman! What the hell do you want from me?'

Throwing the unwanted newspaper aside, Reece pushed to his feet and stared down at Sorrel with a furious gaze. At the other side of the terrace—out of the corner of his eye—he saw a surprised Ricardo make a discreet exit.

‘I'm doing my best here! Isn't it enough for you that I've taken the time out to be with you as well as expressing my desire to try and put things right? Must every
damn thing I do or say to you be some kind of test I have to pass before you deign to show me a little affection or respect? If this is the way you intend to carry on, Sorrel, then maybe you were right—maybe we
should
have gone through with the damn divorce!'