Yesterday's Husband

скачать книгу бесплатно


‘What are you doing?’

He turned around and smiled at her, then tore a document off the printer and waved it in the air.

‘Working. I’ll have to get you to sign this in a moment. It’s a faxed letter from my lawyer concerning our agreement about the office complex.’

His voice was neutral, even friendly. As the events of the previous evening came rushing back to her mind, Emma stared at him in consternation. Had she dreamt all those torrid details of what he had done to her? Her face flushed and she darted a quick, uneasy glance at him and then hastily looked away. No, she hadn’t. That cruel, superior look of amusement around the edges of his lips made her certain that he remembered everything just as clearly as she did. Yet he chose not to refer to it. Why?

‘Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go and have breakfast on the balcony?’ he suggested.

At a loss to know what else to do, Emma agreed.

‘All right,’ she said warily. ‘Will you call Room Service and order it?’

‘I already have.’

She was still naked and did not want to endure the embarrassment of climbing out of bed in front of that disconcertingly cool blue gaze. But even as she sat hesitating, with the sheet pulled up high in her armpits, Richard turned back to the computer as if he had already lost interest in her. Feeling rather affronted, Emma slid out of bed on the opposite side, groped in her suitcase for a dressing-gown and made her way to the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later, dressed in a yellow cotton T-shirt, yellow and white daisy-patterned cotton skirt and casual sandals with her hair hanging loose, she found Richard already sitting at the table on the balcony with an array of iced juice, fresh tropical fruit, coffee and Danish pastries in front of him. Next to these was a camera, and a litter of guidebooks and maps. He smiled at her as if there had never been the slightest unpleasantness between them. The charm of that smile unnerved her.

‘ “Will you walk into my parlour?” said the spider to the fly,’ she chanted under her breath.

‘What did you say?’ asked Richard, frowning.

‘Nothing.’

‘Sit down and eat,’ he urged. ‘Then we’ll decide what we want to do with our holiday.’

The coffee was fragrant and full of flavour and the Danish pastries were unexpectedly crisp and delicious but Emma found it hard to keep her mind on her breakfast. All the time she was eating she kept darting Richard nervous, speculative glances, trying to figure out his intentions. Yet he seemed as cheerful and unruffled as if he really were just enjoying a long-awaited holiday. When at last her plate was empty, he slid one of the glossy coloured brochures across the table to her.

‘Do you fancy an excursion to Penelokan?’

Emma flinched. His question brought a rush of unwelcome memories flooding back to her as she remembered the magical blue lake set high in the mountains in the northern part of the island. Lake Batur was located in the crater of a dormant volcano and the ascent to the nearby mountain and the few days they had spent exploring the idyllic countryside around it had been the highlight of Richard and Emma’s honeymoon. For that very reason she now wanted to avoid it like a plague spot.

‘No, I don’t,’ she said in a rush.

Richard shrugged indifferently.

‘What would you like to do, then? After all, we still have quite a lot of time to kill in each other’s company.’

That casual statement touched Emma on the raw. How could anybody speak of killing time in Bali, of all places? An idyllic tropical paradise whose magic had once enchanted her so thoroughly that she had believed every minute spent there was precious and irreplaceable. And of course she had once felt the same way about any time spent in Richard’s company. Well, things had certainly changed! Her lips twisted into a cynical smile.

‘I don’t care what we do,’ she retorted. ‘Although frankly I hope we won’t have to spend too much time alone together. Perhaps we could go to see some Balinese dancing, or go shopping, or do some local sightseeing.’

She tried to keep her voice as light and indifferent as his. There was no way she wanied Richard to guess her true reason for avoiding Penelokan—the fear that she would simply crack up and weep if she had to go there in his company. Besides, if she stayed here in the south of the island, she would still be close to the airport at Tuban. If she ever got too desperate, she could always flee back to Sydney.

But Richard didn’t even seem to notice the faint tremor in her voice that marred her poise. He was leaning back in his chair with a mocking smile of triumph on his lips.

‘All right,’ he agreed lazily, picking up another pile of brochures and flicking through them. ‘We’ll do all those things. It’ll be a second honeymoon, Emma.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_861a06d0-9e8a-53d4-878e-4b3e34ecf7ef)

THEIR second honeymoon began that very morning with a swim in the nearby pool. It was another perfect, tropical morning. The sky overhead was blue and cloudless, the air was warm, moist and filled with the scent of flowers and the water in the swimming-pool sparkled invitingly. But Emma dawdled deliberately at the poolside, feeling reluctant to shed the protective cover of her thin green, cotton beach wrap. She didn’t want Richard ogling her when she emerged in her bikini. Nor did she want to be hired into playing silly games in the water as if she were really enjoying his company. And his ostentatious concern for her comfort didn’t make her feel any better disposed towards him. Even when he pulled up a cushioned banana lounge for her and ordered a couple of iced fruit juices from a passing waiter, she didn’t thank him but simply continued to glower at him. With a mocking smile, he took a swift gulp of his iced fruit juice, set down the glass and patted her patronisingly on the head.

‘Don’t seethe too hard, darling,’ he warned. ‘You’re raising the surrounding air temperature by at least five degrees, you know.’

Then, blowing her a kiss which only made her seethe even harder, he dived into the water. As she watched him cleaving up the blue pool in a powerful, surging freestyle, her simmering resentment was quenched for a moment by an unwilling spurt of admiration. At the age of thirty-five, Richard still had a magnificent bodypowerful, muscular, honed by years of hard, physical labour, it carried not an ounce of spare fat. His skin was tanned honey-gold by exposure to the sun and his fair hair was still thick and curly. If she hadn’t disliked him so much, she would have felt a throb of primitive desire at the sight of him almost naked in the clear, still waters of the pool. As it was, she tore her gaze away from him to the other occupants of the area and recognised the honeymoon couple who had been on the bus the previous day. They were disporting themselves joyfully with all the carefree abandon of youth, duck-diving, tickling each other, playing complicated games and frolicking together like exuberant dolphins. As she watched, the young man suddenly surged up out of the water with his wife giggling and shrieking on his shoulders. Then, with a growl of mischievous laughter, he sent her deliberately catapulting forward into the water. While she was still gasping and threshing and uttering laughing cries of complaint, he swam swiftly across to the poolside, reached out his hand to one of the glasses of iced fruit juice and took a long gulp.