Marriage Under Suspicion Read Online Free PDF Page A

'I have got a load of paperwork to complete. So, next time, perhaps.'
    'That might be best.'
    Did she imagine it, or did he actually sound relieved?
    My God, she thought, biting her lip. Am I really such a bitch?
    She swung back towards him, smiling brightly. 'Shall we have some more wine?'
    'I'd better not.' He sounded regretful. 'I need to keep a clear head.'
    'You're not going to work tonight, surely?' Kate made no attempt to hide her
    disappointment.
    'I have some editing to do. It won't take long.'
    Kate knelt on the sofa, reaching forward to take his hand. 'Couldn't it wait until the
    morning?' Her voice was husky, almost wistful. 'I—I've missed you.'
    He shook his head. 'I've got to make an early start to Whitmead. I need to get it done
    now.' He disenaged his hand, then ran a finger down the curve of her cheek. 'I'll be as
    quick as I can.'
    'Is that a promise?' Kate drawled the words, look-mg up at him through her lashes.
    'Behave.' He bent and dropped a swift kiss on top of her head. 'I'll see you later.' He
    collected his briefcase and went into the office, closing the door behind him.
    Kate stayed where she was for a moment, staring blankly in front of her, then she
    collected the wine glasses and took them into the kitchen to rinse them out. She could see
    her reflection in the window above the sink, pale-skinned, taut-mouthed, and wide-eyed.
    She thought, with a sense of shock, I look—frightened.
    And yet there had been nothing to be scared of— had there?
    Admittedly, it hadn't been the ideal reunion under the circumstances. Ryan's reaction to
    her unexpected turn hadn't been the one she'd hoped for. But then he was always
    preoccupied when the book he was working on reached a certain stage. Ordinarily, she
    couldn't have given it another thought.
    But life was no longer ordinary. The anonymous letter had changed all that. Those seven
    words had removed the certainties, and replaced them with doubts. And with the fear she
    saw in her own eyes.
    He'd been doing research, he'd said. But what kind of research would he dress up for?
    And the meal he'd mentioned—had he eaten it alone?
    Why didn't I ask him? Kate thought, twining a strand of hair round her finger in a gesture
    left over from childhood. Why didn't I find out exactly where he'd been? Got him to name
    the restaurant even?
    Was it, maybe, because I didn't want to hear the answers? Because I was afraid to pursue
    them?
    She shivered, and turned away from the strained face confronting her in the glass.
    Ryan might not have been overwhelmed to see her, but they were hardly newly-weds, for
    heaven's sake. It didn't make him guilty of anything. And there was no real reason for
    him to change his plans either. They were both adults with their own lives.
    And she could well do without a family Sunday at Whitmead, she told herself, pulling a
    face. The perfect roast, the home-grown vegetables, the seriously alcoholic trifle all
    ordained beforehand, and produced without a hitch, even when extra guests turned up, as
    they often did. The afternoon spent playing croquet or French cricket, or taking the dogs
    for a walk, to build up an appetite for the equally sumptuous tea. The noisy games of
    cards or Trivial Pursuit during the evening. It was all like a cliche of English country life.
    Oh, come on, she chided herself. That really is bitchy. You really don't want to go in case
    Sally and Ben are there with the children, and comparisons are drawn. Be honest about it.
    You don't want another row with Ryan on the drive back.
    And she shouldn't be derogatory about Ryan's parents, even in thought, she added
    ruefully. Because she liked them both—even if Mrs Lassiter's warmth, charm and
    unbounded energy did make her feel slightly inadequate at times.
    She simply wasn't used to the overt family affection, the candour about personal issues,
    the lively arguments, and the casual but whole-hearted hospitality.
    Her own upbringing, she thought, had been so very