Yesterday's Husband

‘He wasn’t! I know he didn’t like the idea of our marriage’at first, but he was coming around. Why do you think he gave you that big contract on the Manly shopping centre? Because he wanted to help you!’

Richard swore violently under his breath.

‘Like hell he did! It was another one of his sneaky moves to separate us, Emma. I’m damned sure he was the one who made it impossible for me to get the materials I needed to complete the contract on time. Trying to put me out of business was his way of punishing me for daring to get involved with you.’

‘Oh, it’s easy to make rotten accusations against someone who is dead and can’t defend himself,’ she flared. ‘But do you have any proof?’

‘No, I don’t,’ he said through his teeth. ‘But I’m sure of it all the same. Frank had a bad reputation in the dirty tricks department. But in any case, whatever your father had or hadn’t done, if you’d been any kind of a wife you would have stuck by me in that crisis.’

‘Oh, would I?’ gasped Emma. ‘Even when you stormed out of the house, insulting my father all the way, and didn’t show your face for five days? And not only that but.’

‘Listen, I don’t pretend I was the perfect husband,’ growled Richard, ‘but I don’t think my faults justify the kind of revenge you took. Any decent wife would have made allowances for the way I behaved that Christmas, instead of packing her bags and running home to Daddy.’

Emma’s hand closed so hard around the stem of her wine glass that she almost snapped it. Gritting her teeth, she fought down the impulse to fling the contents in Richard’s face. Oh, yes? she thought. Any decent wife would have just looked the other way while you had a squalid affair with another woman only eleven months after getting married, would she? Well, I couldn’t do that. I hated you then, Richard, and I hate you now for the way you hurt me! But when she spoke, her words came out smooth and cold and brittle.

‘Unfortunately I didn’t happen to be a decent wife.’

Richard gave a sneering smile.

‘Not then,’ he agreed. ‘But you have another chance now, sweetheart. This time round you can get it right. Come back to me and behave exactly the way I want you to.’

‘Why?’ demanded Emma in an unsteady voice. ‘Why do you want me to do that?’

‘I told you. I want to be in control of the relationship.’

‘And if I refuse?’

Richard shrugged. ‘Then you’ll go broke.’

Emma let out her breath in a ragged sigh of disbelief.

‘That’s inhuman.’

‘Any more inhuman than the way you treated me?’

Her hands would not be still. She picked up a satay stick and set it down again, fiddled with her knife, traced patterns on the tablecloth. And all the time a blinding misery like a tidal wave seemed to be building inside her. At last she could bear it no longer and she stared at him beseechingly.

‘Richard, please! You said you married me because you loved me. If you have any of that feeling left towards me, don’t torment me like this. It’s cruel. It makes a mockery of what we once meant to each other.’

But Richard’s face was so hard and pitiless, it might have been carved from granite.

‘Ah, but I don’t have any 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.