The Disobedient Wife

Oh, dear heaven…

Without realising it, she was aware now that she had walked into his trap, baited by his cruel reminder of the slave she had been to her own physical desire for him during their brief marriage.

Opening her eyes, she saw those strong features graven with wanting and desire and, above all, determination. Driven by fear—of herself more than of anything he might do—somehow she managed to utter in a voice that trembled, ‘Aren’t you forgetting that it isn’t just you, me and Matthew any more?’

If she had been struggling for her freedom then nothing else could have been more effective in securing it, because he pushed her roughly away from him. The expression on that hard face was oddly smug, however, as though he had gained some victory in a game that could only be won round by round.

‘In that case, darling, you’re obviously in danger of being as unfaithful to him as I have apparently been with Lauren. And if you’ve got any illusions about running off with him and taking Matthew, I’d advise you now not even to entertain the idea. You’re coming back to me, Kendal, sooner or later, so you’d better start getting used to the idea.

‘And the next time I call I want to see my son—here—’ he stabbed a hard finger towards the floor ‘—where he belongs, with his mother—for the time being—if it isn’t too much trouble! Not with some hired help who’s paid to step in whenever his mother decides she’s too busy to care for him herself!’

His words cut her to the quick so that she almost wanted to lash out at him. But despite her quickly roused temper—even after the way he had wronged her while she had still been living with him—she had never quite degraded herself by striking him.

‘How dare you?’ she breathed, choking on the thought that he might even consider that she was anything but a good mother to Matthew.

‘Yes, I dare,’ he uttered with soft intimidation. ‘It’s my legal right as your husband and—more significantly—as your child’s father. And talking of rights—I intend to claim them. And we’ll start with visiting rights—as of now! I’ll be away from tonight on a conference that’s going to take at least till the middle of next week. But I’ll be round again next Friday afternoon at two. Be here, and see that Matthew’s here as well. I intend to take him home with me for as long as I desire to have him. And you’re coming with him!’

‘No!’ Panic strung her voice at the mere thought of what he was suggesting. Of course he could see Matthew, but there was no way that she was going back to the matrimonial home that she had run from in such hopeless despair a year ago.

He took no heed of her startled objection, though, only added, ‘And if you don’t like it, then I’m afraid, my dearest, you can darn well lump it, because those are the conditions. And if he isn’t here, Kendal, there’ll be hell to pay!’

He stormed out then, leaving her standing, alone and shaken, listening to the angry growl of the Porsche she presumed he still drove. That determined thrust of power as he pulled away reflected his mood, breaking the stillness of the day, before he turned the corner and the growl became a roar and then faded away altogether.

After he had gone, Kendal found it impossible to concentrate, her earlier enthusiasm for the Arkwrights’ job having totally deserted her.

Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

The question screamed through her brain as it had done so many times during those first six months after she had taken Matthew and fled.

She had gone first to a hotel—because she hadn’t wanted to burden the newly separated and unhappy Chrissie—then to the comfortable, moderately priced accommodation she had rented to the mutual benefit of herself and an old school-friend who had taken a temporary job away from London. But Jarrad had persisted in pursuing her, which had eventually driven her to Scotland—but of course she knew why. There was no mystery to it. He wanted his son, to be with him, see him grow up.

She could understand that. Didn’t it hurt and distress her enough that she had had to deprive her child of a normal family life because of his father’s infidelity, just as she and Chrissie had been deprived because of their own father’s infidelity to their mother? But, whether she desired it or not, Jarrad also wanted her, Kendal, and she knew now that it wasn’t just so that she could be a mother to Matthew.

She flopped down onto a chair, dropping her head in her hands to try and banish the shaming memory of the sensations that had flared so dangerously to life in her again the instant he had touched her, sensations she had hoped crushed by time and the torturous reality of his affair with Lauren. But they hadn’t been, and she had to admit now that it wasn’t just a one-sided thing—that powerful sexual chemistry that governed everything he said and did. It was totally reciprocal, and always had been, right from the first day they had met.

She had tried to ignore it at first—this mutual and terrifying attraction—to ignore the feelings that had come to startling life within her from the first moment she had seen him at Chrissie and Ralph’s wedding. He had been Ralph’s boss after all. But even without knowing that she wouldn’t have failed to recognise those qualities that had made Jarrad Mitchell a leader—successful as well as immensely wealthy. The determined purpose, the daunting self-confidence and the compelling energy with that cool, unmistakable air of command.

These were qualities she had known and feared, had always been wary of, because hadn’t her father been as successful in his own field? And just as Chrissie had fallen for and married the first man who had come into her young life, Kendal herself, conversely, had always been the cautious one. Her distrust of men had kept her aloof, with the result that she had had no more than brief, uninvolved, and certainly non-intimate relationships with the opposite sex by the time she’d met Jarrad. Nor had any other man she’d met tugged so vibrantly at her senses.

Which was why, when he’d taken her hand during their introduction after the photo session, it had been like putting a match to blue touch paper! she thought drily now.

She had managed to treat him with only polite reserve at Chrissie’s wedding, to dodge his persistent attempts, during those weeks that had followed, to get her into his life. Because he’d made that intention clear, sometimes turning up at Chrissie’s, sometimes telephoning her when she’d been in the office, sometimes appearing at some social gathering where she’d happened to be, although he’d always seemed to have some practical reason for being there.

Yet, during all that time, though her physical impulses had been urging her to give in and go out with him—plunge in with both feet and embark on the most dangerous and exciting adventure of her life—her strong-willed determination—which she had often employed to control what she knew was a naturally impetuous nature, and which had kept her from getting hurt—had won. So that at last, it seemed, he had lost interest.

That was until nearly a year later, when she had been sent by her firm to use her design skills on the newly constructed, beautifully appointed home of a new client, only to find that it was him.

He had been so impeccably formal then, that she hadn’t dared to question his motives. And it was just as well, she had thought with an absurd and shocked dismay at the time, as almost immediately she had discovered why she had been hired.

He was thinking of getting married, he’d told her, and wanted the best possible taste for the house he’d had specially built for his bride-to-be. He’d seen some of Kendal’s artistic expertise at the home of a friend who had just happened to be one of Kendal’s clients—as well as having seen it at Chrissie’s—and he was giving her an entirely free hand with the decor.

She hadn’t wanted to do it. She had still been daunted by the formidable strength of her dangerous fascination for him. And, as well, she’d been stupidly hurt that he could have pursued her as he had and now expected her to decorate his home for the woman he’d chosen to be his bride when she’d shown—and only for her own self-protection—that she wasn’t interested. It had been like the ultimate put-down. Besides, she’d wondered what sort of woman he was marrying who would welcome having her entire furnishings chosen by someone else.

As she could give her boss no good reason for not going ahead with the job, however, she had had little choice but to accept it.

He had continued to treat her then only as he would have treated any business associate. In fact during those times when he had cause to contact her he had been almost exasperatingly aloof, which, she acknowledged with bitter irony now, had been the surest way—if he’d wanted to get her into his bed—to make her drop her guard. And he had known that, known how fragile her immunity to him was by the time he’d first invited her to lunch.

When he did, however, it was purely on a business basis, although over that first lengthy meal in that elaborate restaurant, she caught snatches of the humour that could twist his hard mouth into a devastating smile; saw glimpses of what she wanted to believe was the lonely man behind the forceful dynamo she’d originally feared. The orphaned boy come good who, despite all his riches, had no real family of his own. The youth who had made it through a tough secondary school and an even tougher neighbourhood to emerge a bright scholar with eventually a university degree, bringing all his knowledge of business systems management into a company that seemed both high-flying and secure.

When it collapsed, he was in a position to take it over, engaging Ralph as the company accountant and the efficient Lauren, who had been an up-and-coming manager, as his second-in-command. And the rest, as they say, was history…

All this Kendal learned not only from snippets he dropped in casually at that lunch but from other lunches that followed, and from Ralph. She had been keen to pump her brother-in-law dry, thirsty for every trickle of knowledge he could convey to her about his enigmatic employer. She warned herself that he was marrying someone else, that the only reason he was seeing her at all was because he needed her artistic skills, that she meant nothing to him beyond a simple means to an end—and that he meant nothing to her, either. But the warnings and the false convictions fell on deaf ears. She was already desperately in love with him.

Both Chrissie and Ralph knew, of course, how crazy she was about him, although she didn’t say a word to them. She worked swiftly and diligently, praying for the day when the job would be finished so that she wouldn’t have to face him again—be reminded of what she had missed by snubbing him as she had originally—so that she could retreat from the folly of her hopeless emotions.

And then the lunches became the odd dinner, not in the formal hotel restaurants where he had taken her to discuss business but in cosier, more intimate little places, where they shared amusing anecdotes and exchanged confidences. And where, in spite of all that—the intimacy and the romance and the laughter—he would resort to talking about his forthcoming marriage as coldly as though none of it mattered.

And afterwards, walking her back to the car, he would resume that air of exasperating detachment until she wanted to scream with frustration, forget that he was someone else’s and throw herself into those cold, indifferent arms. Sometimes she thought, with hurt and embarrassed mortification, that he knew exactly how she felt, and that he’d only engaged her after he’d decided to marry because he knew how hard he could make her fall and wanted to punish her for rejecting him as she had. The male ego being what it was, she convinced herself of it.

Only on that last day, when she called to inspect the result of the work she had put in progress, had there been any change in his attitude towards her, and then only by chance, she thought at first. She could only laugh at herself for her stupid naivety now.

They were in the master suite—of all places!—having gone through every room together so that she could satisfy herself that everything had been done according to her original plans. While he was distantly complimentary that day, praising her taste and her professional abilities, she felt as though she was dying inside, thinking that it was over, that she would never see him again.

Then she came round the bed, after checking that everything was in place in the dressing room and the en suite bathroom, only to trip over a corner of the duvet, and somehow—she didn’t quite know how—she wound up in his arms.

He looked at her for a moment, as though seeking the mutual desire burning in her eyes that she couldn’t have kept from him even if she had wanted to, her mind and body not just willing, but silently begging for the kisses he had so cleverly denied them both. Because it had been calculated, that moment of surrender, right down to the nth degree—and by a man who only played to win!

But, as she had learned through experience—and to her cost, she reflected bitterly now—one kiss between them could never be enough, just as that first kiss proved not to be. Because it hadn’t been just a tender exchange of feeling between two people who might have been falling in love, but a blinding, explosive union of man and woman in a hungry meeting of mouths that had only imitated the true act, and that had had her pushing away from him in sudden realisation of the seriousness of what she was allowing to happen.

‘You’re getting married!’ she had protested, on a breathless sob.

‘Yes.’ He’d sounded cold, totally remorseless in comparison.

‘Then don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?’ she remembered saying, perplexed, hurting to think he could simply use her and then walk away.

‘Unfair?’ He looked as though he didn’t fully understand. ‘Unfair to whom?’ he queried.

‘Well, to me. Her…’ she uttered, shaken by his total lack of morals. But he merely shrugged.

‘Not if I haven’t asked her yet. And I haven’t,’ he surprised her by saying then. ‘I only said I was thinking about getting married. There is a difference. Whether I do or not depends on you.’

‘On me?’ She wasn’t able to follow, so taken aback was she by this sudden turnaround of events.

‘Wise up, darling.’ He laughed then, and told her the truth. Getting her to decorate his home had been the only way he knew to become part of her life without her running away from him, and he laughed again later, when she accused him of trapping her by deceit.

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I only wanted to show you what you were too afraid to realise you wanted.’ But this was only much later, among the soft, virgin folds of the duvet where he had made her his.

One week later, he slipped an engagement ring on her finger, and they were married within six more. Three months after that she was expecting Matthew, passionately happy and content…

Now she blinked angrily at the tears that stung her eyes, glancing down at her watch.

Blast Jarrad Mitchell! she thought. Matthew was all that mattered to her now! And, grabbing her keys, she darted out through the French doors to collect him, as though just the whisper of his father’s presence in her life again could have the power to spirit the little boy away from her.

Tony telephoned the next morning. He had tickets for the theatre that coming Saturday, he told her, given to him by a grateful client.

’I thought you might like to go,’ he suggested, and Kendal could imagine him sitting there behind his disorderly desk with his pleasant face hopeful—though not unduly concerned—beneath his wiry and equally disorderly brown hair.

She tottered on the brink of accepting when he told her the name of the show, but only for a moment. She didn’t want an involvement with Tony—or with anyone else for that matter—to which a date like that might inevitably lead. But, more importantly, and the main reason she resisted his offer—which was the reason she gave—was because she had left Matthew once too often during the past week—and this coming weekend she was determined that nothing was going to come between them.

The sight of him tugged at her heartstrings as she watched him put the last of three bricks on top of the others in a precarious little tower on the worn, though serviceable carpet, then clap his hands with a delighted squeal.

She was going to spend every second alone with her son. And if she did take this job in the States, she ruminated—found herself a nice place to live—she might eventually be able to work from home and employ a part-time nanny for Matthew so that they would never really need to be parted. Until then, though, she was forced to leave him as she had this week. And next week wasn’t looking much better…

It wasn’t so much that that put an uneasy look in her eyes as she replaced the receiver after speaking to Tony. It was the thought of Friday week. Next Friday, when Jarrad would be round to fetch Matthew for the afternoon, his insistence that she go with him…

The phone, when it shrilled again, startled her so much that she almost spilled the warm milk she had been pouring into Matthew’s beaker.

‘Kendal?’

Relief and something else swept over her. What was it? Disappointment? Surely not! she thought, amazed, silently berating herself for the way her voice shook when she answered her sister’s call.

‘Are you all right?’ Chrissie sounded baffled. ‘You sound…well…out of breath.’

Kendal forced a laugh. ‘Probably because I rushed to answer the phone,’ she bluffed, hoping Chrissie wouldn’t guess how much she was letting Jarrad get to her after all these months!

‘I’m going away for a few weeks! That’s what I’m ringing to tell you! I’m going to tour Europe! Isn’t it exciting? And I’m leaving in the morning!’

‘What? How? Who with?’ Kendal pressed, almost equally infected by her sister’s tangible excitement.

There was a brief pause. And then Chrissie surprised her by responding with, ‘Ralph. He telephoned yesterday—late last night! You know he’s been working for that firm abroad? Well, he’s coming back—but he’s taking a few weeks’ holiday first. And, oh, Kendal! He’s asked me to go with him! For us to get back together! He said he regrets all that’s happened and wants us to try and sort things out!’

‘That’s great!’ Kendal could almost have wept with the emotion that welled up inside her. Chrissie deserved happiness. She only hoped that this time things would work out for her and Ralph.

‘I’m sorry to be going. At a time like this when… Well, you know…when you might be getting so much hassle from Jarrad…’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Kendal was quick to reassure her. Whatever Jarrad cared to throw at her, she could handle it! she assured herself, though with more rebellion than conviction.

‘And you won’t hold it against Ralph if he does come back?’ That excited voice of Chrissie’s couldn’t hide the smallest suspicion that her older sister might harbour some grudge towards Ralph for running out on Chrissie as he had. But why should she? Kendal reflected. It was only the strain of the situation into which Jarrad’s insensitivity had plunged them that had split them up. Ralph hadn’t been premeditative or ruthless. Nor had there been another woman…

‘Of course not,’ she exhaled, the memory of Jarrad’s betrayal making it difficult to keep her voice steady. And, wishing fervently suddenly that she could protect her little sister from the weight of anything like the misery of her own heartache, she uttered, ‘Oh, Chrissie, be careful!’ She couldn’t bear the thought of her sister getting hurt a second time.

‘Don’t worry,’ Chrissie chided emphatically, but Kendal always did—and not without good cause. Chrissie’s volatile nature meant that she didn’t always deal with situations in the positive way she should, and Kendal hadn’t forgotten how desperate her sister had been when Ralph had left her last year—nor the attempted overdose that, mercifully, had failed.

They spent a few moments chatting then, with Kendal offering to take time off to drive her sister to the airport, but Chrissie wouldn’t hear of it. After she had hung up, Kendal felt remarkably depressed.

She was happy for her sister, of course she was. But the thought of a few weeks without her wasn’t a prospect she was looking forward to very much. She was glad, though, that she had managed not to let her own anxieties about Jarrad trickle through, because she didn’t want to worry Chrissie, and she was relieved that she had managed to send her sister off with almost as much enthusiasm as Chrissie herself.

Chrissie rang Kendal briefly from the airport the following afternoon. Then every day for most of the following week Kendal kept herself occupied with Matthew and her work for the Arkwrights, popping round once or twice to water Chrissie’s multitude of plants.

As the week progressed, though, she found herself growing more and more agitated, and by Thursday she was uncustomarily snappy. She knew it all centred around the fact that the following day was Friday, when Jarrad would be calling round.

Dropping Matthew off with the dependable, indispensable Valerie, she spent the morning in a turmoil, wondering what excuse she could give to Jarrad about not accompanying him back to the house with Matthew.

She couldn’t face going there. Perhaps, she eventually decided by way of a compromise, she might suggest they went out somewhere—the three of them. Somewhere where there were people, where she wouldn’t have to be alone with Jarrad. The power of his physical attraction—and after all he had done—still terrified her, and she realised that she was still much too vulnerable to go anywhere with him alone.

He arrived grossly and unexpectedly early, just as she came off the phone from making a succession of futile calls about some wall covering she was trying to get hold of for the Arkwrights, at the end of a morning that had seemed to race by. It still wasn’t time, though, for Valerie to bring Matthew back, as it had been arranged that she would do so at two o’clock, and Kendal started as Jarrad strode in without knocking, just like the last time, through the open patio doors.

‘You’re early,’ Kendal accused, the telephone clattering back onto its rest evidence of the aggravating morning she had endured.

‘I wouldn’t dream of incurring your wrath by even daring to presume to be, darling,’ he murmured, the very sight of him taking her breath away.

He had obviously come straight from the office, the immaculate silver-grey suit and white shirt enhancing the tan that gave a vitality to those already healthy features. She wondered if he had been on holiday somewhere with Lauren, then told herself she didn’t care.

‘Well? Are you both ready?’

So he expected her to drop everything, did he? Just like that!

A toss of loose red waves signified her agitation. ‘Do I look it?’ she asked crisply, and felt his gaze tug over her uncombed hair and flushed features, then move disconcertingly to the rather gaping V of her cotton shirt.

‘You’ll do,’ was all he said drily, and then, with a glance towards the lounge door, ‘Where’s Matthew?’

Kendal caught her breath. Of all the nerve…!

‘He isn’t back yet. I—’

‘Back from where?’ he interrupted, his tone inexorable. ‘The minder’s again? Or have you palmed him off on your little sister this time?’

‘I don’t palm him off on anybody!’ she threw back, furious. She loved Matthew. More than anything. Anyone! ‘And, if you must know, Chrissie’s gone away with Ralph! They’re back together! So you see, Jarrad, you didn’t quite succeed in destroying them completely—even though you tried! And, yes, Matthew’s with Valerie,’ she finished more calmly, in spite of the daunting menace in his face that told her he didn’t like being reminded of what his cruel actions had done to her sister’s marriage.

With those black brows drawing together, all he simply said was, ‘What—still?’

‘Yes, still,’ she said pointedly, looking up at him with challenging defiance. It was her business how she ran her life! ‘I told you. You’re early. I asked her to have him back here by two.’