Yesterday's Husband. Angela Devine
of that feeling left, Emma,’ he said softly. ‘Your own behaviour killed any love I had for you. All that’s left is a certain reluctant but quite powerful physical attraction. I imagine three months or so of indulging that should burn it out pretty effectively.’
Emma closed her eyes briefly and shuddered.
‘And then?’
‘And then we can get a divorce. After all, I might want to marry someone else, someone I can love and respect.’
At these words she felt a jolt of horror as sickening as if she had just plunged ten floors in a lift. Her eyes flew open.
‘Do you have someone in mind?’ she demanded.
‘Perhaps,’ he said with an enigmatic shrug. ‘Or for that matter you might want to marry again.’
Emma’s face contorted into a stark smile.
‘I don’t think so. After what I’ve been through, I’m not wonderfully keen on marriage any more.’
Richard gave her a mocking smile and raised his glass of champagne.
‘Then once I set your company in order you can dedicate your life to making money and having lovers, the things which you are wonderfully keen on. Can’t you, darling?’
‘You’re such a swine, Richard,’ she breathed.
‘I’m glad you realise it, Emma. Well, what’s your answer?’
Emma’s entire body was shaking, but she tried to fight down her anger and think coolly and rationally. She had worked hard to build up the firm to the point where it was now, and if it hadn’t been for the collapse of the Sawford bank she knew it would have been a prosperous business. Besides, there were people who worked for her, people who depended on her for their livelihood. What would happen to their jobs if she let the company go bankrupt? However much she hated Richard at this moment, loyalty to others urged her powerfully to accept his offer. But beneath that there was another reason: an insane, unwanted flare of longing to be in Richard’s arms and in his bed again. It wasn’t going to be permanent, she knew that, and it would probably bring her more pain than pleasure. But the sight of him had awoken all the old, clamorous physical need for him and perhaps the emotional need too. Even if she couldn’t find love in his arms, maybe she could find a temporary quenching of the flames that scorched her. She bowed her head in bitter assent.
‘It seems I have no choice.’
‘Look at me, Emma. Tell me what you’re going to do.’
Their eyes met—naked, burning with hatred and with something else.
‘I’m going to come back to you as your wife,’ she said through her teeth.
‘Good,’ murmured Richard as blandly as if she had just agreed to become his shorthand typist. ‘Then I suggest you eat some of this excellent food and after that well go for a little stroll on the beach together before bed.’
Alarm bells rang noisily in Emma’s head. She looked down at the chicken satay with as much horror as if it were deadly nightshade. In spite of the balmy, tropical air, her hands felt suddenly chill and clammy.
‘Wh-when does this reunion begin?’ she stammered.
Richard smiled lazily, his blue eyes narrowing with amusement.
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? It begins tonight.’
Emma took a sudden gulp of champagne and choked.
‘T-tonight?’ she gasped, her eyes streaming.
‘Yes. I stayed in another hotel in Sanur last night, but I’ve given orders for my luggage to be transferred to our bungalow this evening. It should be there by the time we get back from our walk.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ she said, shaking her head in a dazed fashion. ‘It’s not really happening.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Richard assured her kindly. ‘You’ll find it much easier to believe tomorrow morning after… a good night’s sleep. And don’t worry. I’ll send off faxes to my lawyers and my bank first thing after breakfast to organise the financial side of our agreement.’
Emma scarcely heard that last sentence. She was too busy panicking about the implications of ‘a good night’s sleep’ in Richard’s company. Trying hard to maintain an air of normality, she pulled one of the chicken pieces off its skewer, dipped it into the peanut sauce and ate it. To her surprise, she found it was delicious.
‘The food is still very good here, isn’t it?’ she remarked, with the half-hysterical feeling that she was dreaming and would wake up at any moment.
This time Richard’s smile seemed almost genuine.
‘Yes. I’ve often thought about this place over the years and I suppose you have too or you wouldn’t be here. Let me see, what else did we do last time we were here? Oh, yes. The trip to Penelokan. Now that really was a highlight. Perhaps we ought to set out tomorrow and see if it’s still as beautiful as ever. What do you think?’
Emma stared at him as if he had gone insane. Was he really proposing to replay every detail of their honeymoon just as if the violent quarrels, the estrangement, the hostility of the last eight years had never existed? Well, if he was, perhaps the safest thing she could do was to humour him.
‘That would be lovely, darling,’ she said in a strained voice, looking wildly round the table for some means of escape. But all she could see was the waitress bearing down on them to remove their empty plates. Shortly afterwards the girl returned with the rijstafel—a fragrant and delectable array of pork, prawns, chicken, vegetable and curry dishes around a central mound of steamed rice. Richard helped Emma to a massive serving of everything and grimaced comically when he dropped a prawn in the centre of the flower arrangement.
‘Oops, looks as if I’m still clumsy in the dining-room. Are you still as lousy at cooking as you used to be, Em?’
Emma pulled a face, torn bctwoon amusement and resentment.
‘Not quite, but it isn’t my favourite activity. I tend to buy a lot of take-aways and heat them in the microwave oven.’
‘You cooked a chocolate cake once in the microwave oven. It rose and rose and then exploded. Do you remember?’
Her lips quirked involuntarily at the reminder.
‘Yes, it was ghastly. I forgot the sugar, too. You ate it, though.’
‘"Greater love hath no man”,’ he murmured.
A terrible sense of constriction gripped her chest as if a cold hand were squeezing her heart. How could he sit there and joke about it all, as if this reunion were genuine? As if the love which had carried them through those early trials of married life were still alive and burning brightly? She caught her breath and dropped her gaze.
‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.
‘I wish you’d asked me to do anything else but this, Richard,’ she replied in a passionate whisper. ‘It’s going to be so painful, so repellent. I can’t bear it.’ The good humour died out of his face and his blue eyes were suddenly chill and merciless.
‘You’ll have to,’ he said brutally.
They talked little during the remainder of the meal and even the luscious pineapple, cantaloup, mangoes and pawpaws which appeared as dessert failed to rouse Emma’s enthusiasm. Her whole mind and body seemed to be focused on the single, alarming question—What’s going to happen afterwards?
Yet when they finally finished their coffee and rode to the ground floor in the lift, Richard did not lead her straight back to the bungalow as she had half feared. Instead he put his arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the beach.
‘Let’s go and look at the ocean.’
The touch of his warm, muscular arm on her body made her flinch. She wanted