An Interrupted Marriage (Silhouette Special Edition) (12 page)

Magnus’s hand smoothed the wet hair back from her cheek. “That tired you.”

“Don’t fuss, Magnus.” Her voice was muffled against her arm. “I have to get used to swimming again. Real swimming, in the sea.” She turned and sat up, squeezing water from her hair. “That was good.”

Magnus was reclining on one elbow. Jade lay back on the towel, her knees raised, her breasts still rising and falling rather rapidly. Her skin tingled, pleasantly stimulated by the salty water that was fast drying on her body.

She turned her head and found Magnus examining her, from her sand-dusted feet to the shallow valley between her breasts where droplets of water still lay. His gaze seemed to linger there before it travelled slowly to the line of her throat, touched on her mouth and finally met her questioning eyes.

His mouth twisted. “You’re as beautiful as ever,” he said.

Why did that seem to anger him? Jade’s lips parted, and she moistened them with her tongue, tasting salt. “Magnus?” she whispered.

Something leapt in his eyes. “Don’t look like that!” he said harshly.

Jade blinked, and dragged her eyes away from him. How had she looked? Apprehensive? Bewildered? Aroused? She was all of those at this moment. She knew he wanted her, too. But there was a new and disturbing quality in his kisses, in the way he touched her and looked at her, that had never been there before. It was almost as though he didn’t dare to touch her for fear of igniting something within himself that he might not be able to control.

When she looked at him again she found that he was sitting up, his forearms laid across his knees, his frowning gaze on the glittering horizon. The hand she could see was tightly clenched. He had the look of a man fighting some private, internal battle.

She wanted to reach out to him, run her hands over the taut curve of his spine, feel the texture of his skin, the strength of his fingers twining into hers. But his aloof, impenetrable posture was a deliberate attempt, she felt, to shut her out.

“Magnus,” she asked him, “how soon can we go to this cottage on the Hokianga?”

At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he briefly turned his head, but without looking at her. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

Her stomach went hollow with disappointment. Then an alien, white-hot emotion took her over, and she sat up abruptly. “Why?” she demanded, her voice hard. “You have something more
urgent
to do, I suppose! What is it this time?”

He turned to her. “Jade—”

But she was beyond listening. “Whatever it is, obviously it’s more important than me, more important than our marriage. When are you going to have time for that, Magnus? And how long do you think I’ll wait?” She jumped up, scooping the towel into her hands and giving it a vigorous little shake, uncaring if Magnus was showered with sand.

He stood up, too, glaring at her, his voice full of raw impatience. “You don’t understand.”

“Understand?” Jade gave a bitter little laugh. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me, Magnus?”

“All right,” he said, his eyes glittering. “I will.” He hauled a breath into his chest. “I
know
that I was partly to blame—if I’d taken more notice of your needs, if I’d not expected so much of you, if I’d given you half the attention that I gave to my family—I can provide excuses till the cows come home. But if the two of us are alone, I can’t promise to behave like a civilised human being.”

At first bewildered, she rapidly sorted out an explanation. Subconsciously he was angry with her for withdrawing from life, from their marriage, into a world of her own. He had enough insight to analyse his own feelings and recognise them for an unfair and unreasonable reaction, but one that he couldn’t entirely control.

But Magnus was no sadist, and he wasn’t a bully, either. “I’m willing to take the risk,” she told him huskily. If they were ever to get their relationship back on track, she didn’t see them doing it easily at Waititapu, with the constant demands made on him by his business and his family, the lack of real privacy, and not least the memories of the past that hung about it. “I’m not made of glass, Magnus,” she said.

His eyes went very dark suddenly, and his cheeks blanched. “What are you saying?” he demanded hoarsely.

“Saying?” Jade took a step backwards, her feet sinking into the warm sand. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “that I’m saying I know you’re angry with me, but I’m strong enough now to take it.”

Her chin lifted. “But I’m angry, too, Magnus. I hadn’t realised it until now.” It was true, she hadn’t recognised her tightly reined-in rage for what it really was. But it was there, smouldering beneath the surface. He
was
being unfair, and unreasonable, and his self-accusation held more than a grain of truth. She wouldn’t have been human if she’d failed to resent his preoccupation with everything, everyone, except her, in the time they’d spent together. She said, her eyes defiantly holding his, “It’s one of the things we need to...resolve.”

The colour gradually returning to his face, he deliberately looked away for a moment before returning his steady gaze to hers. “I don’t want to be responsible,” he said sombrely, “for making you ill again.”

Jade shook her head. “No chance. We need this...holiday, Magnus. To clear the air between us. So, when do we leave?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, finally. “As early as you wish.”

* * *

The last part of the trip was made on a car ferry from the little town of Rawene. Here the harbour was broad and tranquil, and a faint breeze ruffled Jade’s hair and made Magnus’s shirt cling to his body when they got out of the car to lean over the low side and gaze at the water.

The bushy hills were a soft, shadowed green, and lazy mists lay in some of the hollows. The harbour, a long, fretted waterway from the unseen ocean, reaching deeply inland, had once been a source of timber and spars for the British navy. By the end of the nineteenth century the vast forests of mighty kauri trees had been cut down, and now only remnants were left for tourists to admire.

The ferry glided to a halt, and the metal ramp clanged down. A large, battered truck began revving its engine, and Magnus touched Jade’s arm. “Come on, we’d better not hold everyone up.” They returned to their car.

In Rawene they’d had lunch and bought boxes of groceries that now sat in the back. Slowing at another small settlement, Magnus said, “Any last-minute thing you need?”

Jade shook her head. “No, I’ve brought everything, I think.”

He drove a little further and slowed again at a yellow signpost, then turned off the main road, eventually arriving at a wooden gate barring access to a winding drive.

“I’ll get it.” Jade got out and swung the gate wide, closing it when Magnus had driven through. The drive was cut through rough scrub, and when she got back in beside him, she asked, “Are you sure there really is a house here?”

He slanted her a tight smile. “I’ve been here before, with the owner. You’ll be surprised.”

She was, when they finally arrived at a long, low cottage built on a slope that commanded a breathtaking view of hills graduating in a series of lowering humps to the wide sweep of the Hokianga, now ablaze with the midday sun, a shining sheet of breathing silver.

Magnus unlocked the door and led her into a large open living area furnished with cane loungers and big Indian cushions. “The kitchen’s over there,” he said with a nod. A high counter separated it from the rest, and a round table was set near a bay window overlooking the sea. “The bedroom’s here.”

He shouldered open a door, and Jade saw a large room, with a broad dais on which a king-size mattress had been laid, covered with a heavy cotton quilt. One wall featured a built-in dressing table and a wardrobe with a mirrored door. “And the bathroom’s through here.” Magnus had put down the cases he was carrying and opened another door. “And the spa room, off it. There’s a toilet and shower near the laundry, too.”

“One bedroom?” Jade queried.

“There is a guest room downstairs.”

“I...didn’t realise there were two levels.”

“Being on the slope, there’s room for a basement. You don’t notice it from the drive.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, lounging against the doorway to the bathroom. “Are you having second thoughts about sharing a room with me?”

“We’re married, aren’t we?” She faced him, looking into his eyes. It was silly to be suddenly shy of the idea. She’d been eager enough to resume sharing their room at Waititapu, but so much seemed to have taken place in the last few days, she was nervous at the thought of spending the night in this king-size bed with Magnus.

He straightened, strolling across the room to stand in front of her, his eyes alert and challenging. “Yes, we are,” he said. “And I don’t intend you’ll ever forget it again.”

Jade winced visibly. There had been times, during her illness, when she scarcely remembered her own name. But she supposed it must have hurt Magnus if he thought she could have forgotten the intimacy that they’d shared. “Magnus—” she said, putting out a hand to place it on his shirt front, her eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry!”

He raised his own hand and held hers in a crushing grip, his eyes glinting down at her. “Yes,” he said, “I believe you are. And so am I. The trouble is, I’m also bloody furious, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to overcome that.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “You can’t help it...I understand.”

“Do you?” He shook his head. “I wish I could say the same.” His eyes went narrow, and he lifted his other hand and traced the line of her lips.

Jade frowned, puzzled. “You can’t?”

“I can’t,” he confirmed. “Believe me, I’m trying. Logic says it was understandable but my heart won’t listen to logic. My heart—feels betrayed.”

As if he felt he’d said too much, he abruptly released her and turned away. “I have to turn on a generator and water pump,” he said, “so that we can have our home comforts. When the water’s heated, which should be in a couple of hours, how about a spa bath?”

“Together?”

“The whole idea of this week is to do things together, isn’t it?”

He sounded grim rather than teasing, but Jade swallowed and said, “Yes, if that’s what you’d like.”

“No,” he said, “if it’s what
you’d
like.”

“Then—I think I’d prefer it after dinner. I thought I’d cook something special for us.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

She did feel hot and sticky, though. It had been a long journey. “I suppose I could have a cold shower. We’re quite a long way from the harbour, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but there’s a water-hole we could walk to. It’s not like the sea, of course. But refreshing. And very private.”

“I’ll put on my swimsuit while you do things with pumps and generators,” she said.

He looked amused in a sardonic way, but said nothing as she turned away from him to open her bag.

The route to the water-hole was through a couple of hundred yards of twiggy manuka and shady tree ferns. She could hear the rushing of swift water before the path ended in a small, grassy space. A narrow, fast-moving stream foamed over scattered boulders into a deep pool between ferns and creepers and hanging branches. The water was clear all the way to the pebbled bottom, and overflowed into a miniature foam-edged waterfall before breaking up again and tumbling downhill to disappear at a bend hidden by overhanging bush.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me!” Jade exclaimed. “It’s lovely!”

Magnus smiled. “I thought you’d like it.”

She walked onto the rock slab that overhung part of the pool, and looked back at him. He was bare-chested, having stripped off his shirt before leaving the house. His hand was on the fastening of his jeans.

Jade wore a light pair of cotton trousers and a T-shirt, and she dropped the towel she carried and pulled the shirt off quickly, revealing the top of a scanty apricot bikini, then hesitated as she realised that Magnus hadn’t moved but was watching her with a peculiarly analytical expression on his face.

Deliberately, she turned to face him, and slipped off the trousers.

Magnus grinned rather wolfishly and pulled down the zip of his jeans.

Jade didn’t wait to see if he wore anything underneath, but stepped to the edge of a flat, sun-warmed rock, pausing there to survey the depth and nature of the pool, assessing if it was safe to dive.

Then a strong, bare arm came about her waist, and Magnus said in her ear, “Take a breath.”

Instinctively she obeyed as they plunged in feet first, his arm still locked about her, and the clear water closed over her. The world was cold, quiet, her eyes closed and her hair drifting about her head. She found she was clutching his shoulder, could feel the powerful movements of his naked thighs against hers as he brought her back to the surface.

“Breathe,” he said, and when she’d filled her lungs his cool mouth found hers, and they sank again into a world where sound and sight didn’t exist, where there was only sensation—the coldness of the water contrasted with the warmth of their mingled breath, the hard planes and muscled surfaces of his body moving against hers in a muted, weightless, erotic dance.

When they surfaced again and he abruptly released her, she was gasping. She moved her arms, kicked herself away from him, drinking in gulps of air. Magnus stayed where he was, but watched her, his eyes hungry and heavy-lidded. His body was lightly tanned, and a dark-coloured pair of tight-fitting swim briefs sat on his hips.

Jade wrenched her gaze away and contemplated the trees and ferns around her. A tui called throatily somewhere nearby, but she couldn’t see the bird. Against the sky, leaves lazily stirred in a faint breeze. The water burbled into the pool, eddied around the edges and spilled over the rocky lower lip. It was cold on her skin, almost cold enough to hurt. She closed her eyes, floating near the bank, holding onto a branch that swept the water, her legs moving gently.

After a while she opened her eyes and found that Magnus was stretched out on the flat rock beside their discarded clothes, face down with his head in his arms.

The sun played over his nearly nude body, and her eyes involuntarily followed the line of it from his feet along the length of his legs to the taut curve of his behind sheathed in the skimpy garment, and the shallow depression of his back to the powerful shoulders and arms. He was beautiful like that, a perfectly sculpted masculine form, but with the warmth of real flesh, the dampness making it gleam in the sunlight. His face was hidden from her, but as if he’d sensed her scrutiny he raised his head and looked at her, then shifted his upper torso a little, propping himself up with one arm on the rock, his cheek resting against his hand.