The Faithful Wife Read Online Free PDF Page B

was easier to act normally if there was space between them.
    Bella plugged in the kettle she’d filled earlier. It felt more like a hundred years than a couple of hours ago since she’d heard the car arrive and had confidently expected Evie to come in out of the cold, needing a hot cup of tea.
    She shook her head slightly at his suggestion, even managing a small, condescending smile. There would be no fresh provisions; she already knew that. But she crossed to the fridge and opened it, simply to humour him.
    No one could have crammed another item in, even with a shoehorn. Her wretched sister’s doing! She’d been nothing if not thorough! She’d been out all day yesterday—Christmas shopping, she’d said. When in reality she must have come up here, stocked the fridge, made sure everything was ready.
    â€˜I can’t believe it,’ she said thinly.
    Jake standing beside her now, murmured, ‘No?’
    Bella closed her eyes. Her head spun as the warm, intimate male scent of him overpowered her, forcing her to remember how it had once been for them: the deep, endlessly intense need, the hopes, the dreams, the loving—oh, the loving...
    â€˜Aren’t you going to read it?’
    The laid-back taunt made her eyes flip open, erotic memories thankfully slipping away, extinguished by his obvious and habitual disbelief in her which released her to enquire breathlessly, ‘Read what?’
    â€˜Oh, come on, honey!’ He reached for the stainless steel handle and reopened the door.
    Bella bit her lip. Why dredge up that old endearment? Why employ that tone—half-amused, half-exasperated? The tone he’d used when he’d continually brushed aside every last argument she’d ever produced whenever she’d tried to make him see things her way.
    â€˜This is the next step in the game, I imagine.’ He indicated a rolled up piece of paper tied to a leg of the fresh turkey with a festive bow of scarlet ribbon. He removed it, closed the door with his foot and handed her the paper, his eyes coldly mocking. ‘Your cue to straighten things out, I guess. Exonerate yourself and put me in the picture—just in case I’ve lost the wits I was born with and am still staring into space, wondering why you’re here and Kitty isn’t.’
    She dropped the paper as if it were contaminated. She was going to scream, have hysterics—she knew she was; she could feel the pressure building up inside her!
    Turkey legs tied up with red ribbon! Cryptic notes he seemed to know all about! His attitude—oh, his attitude! Pitying yet contemptuous...
    The paper was back in her hand almost before she knew it, his steely fingers closing over her own. ‘Read it,’ he demanded, his voice hard, intolerant of argument.
    Hand on hand, fingers on fingers. The slight contact immediately became the core of her very existence. Every atom of her body, every beat of her pulse, was centred on his touch, the abrasive warmth of his skin, the underlying steel of sinew and bone.
    A whole year, and nothing had changed—not for her. She only had to look at him to need him, and his touch—ah, his touch...
    Her breath quivered in her lungs, fighting against the sudden, biting constriction of throat muscles, and his hand moved abruptly away, leaving her cold with a creeping coldness that invaded every part of her.
    â€˜Well?’ he prompted cuttingly. ‘Don’t you want to know what it says? Or perhaps you already know? Dictated it, did you?’
    Her eyes moved to his, locking with the black, glittering depths until she could no longer stand the pain. A deep shudder raked through her, and her fingers were shaking as she unfurled the note.
    Despite everything, he still believed she was the prime mover, that she’d set this thing up. Well, he would, wouldn’t he? When had he ever believed a word she said?
    It was the final straw, she thought, her eyes blurring