As she stalked towards the door, he caught her by the arm, his eyes mocking and i
ntent.
‘Was it just for Mrs Johnson’s sake, Briony?’ he asked softly. ‘Or was that woman you’ve tried to bury so deeply making her presence felt again?’
‘I don’t know what you mean!’
The way he was looking at her was making her feel oddly breathless, her skin quivering under the lazy circling caress of his thumb against its softness. She tried to avoid his eyes, staring instead straight in front of her, which was a mistake, for all she could see was the hard expanse of his chest and the dark hair curling crisply there, all sorts of treacherous memories suddenly surfacing with devastating clarity.
‘I’ve got to go to Nicky,’ she mumbled huskily. ‘Please let go of me.’
He released her, but did not move away, and she was unbearably conscious of the maleness of him as she brushed past his motionless body, her face on fire with anger at the deliberately enforced intimacy.
* * *
‘But how soon will we be there?’ Nicky demanded for the third time. They were sitting in Kieron’s car heading for the new house. Briony had not made her mind up what to do about her own and Kieron had suggested that for the time being they let the flats on a temporary basis, fully furnished, until she came to a decision.
She had hardly slept, and Nicky’s excited chatter filled the silence which seemed to stretch between herself and Kieron. She had gone straight to bed as soon as Nicky was asleep, claiming that she was exhausted, despite Kieron’s request that they talk. What did they have to talk about, she wondered bitterly, apart from their son?
It was still early enough in the summer for the countryside to be fresh and green, despite the long weeks without rain, and in any other circumstances Briony would have enjoyed the outing. The powerful car ate up the miles, the air-conditioning maintaining a pleasantly cool temperature, but although she tried to concentrate on the passing landscape Briony found it impossible to relax.
The house was in a small village, Kieron had told her, adding that he would do something about getting her a small car so that she could get about. As she knew from working with Doug a newspaper editor’s life was subject to a good many pressures and demands, not the least of which was being called out at any time of the night or day when emergencies arose, and surely Kieron would prefer to be closer to the centre of town.
When she voiced these doubts he shrugged them aside, saying that the house was only a temporary measure, adding glintingly, ‘Planning on how fast you can get rid of me, already?’
She didn’t know how she was going to endure his constant presence; after one day the pressure of striving for normalcy was beginning to tell on her to such an extent that she felt continually on edge; tearful and nervy, ready even to snap at poor little Nicky.
Although they found the village without any problems, Kieron had to stop and ask the way to the house. It was down a narrow, rutted lane, a black and white timber building with a thatched roof and latticed windows peering out from beneath thatched eaves. A cat basked on the worn flags flanked by lavender bushes, and Briony caught her breath in disbelieving wonder, turning spontaneously to Kieron to comment shakily, ‘It’s beautiful!’
‘It was an old Tudor barn before it was renovated, and extended,’ Kieron informed her, stopping the car. ‘The garden’s a bit on the large side, although I’m given to understand that a gardener goes with the place. Apparently there’s even a swing in the back garden for Nicky. That should keep you climbing out of any more apple trees,’ he told his son.
They all got out of the car, Kieron producing some keys from his pocket and unfastening the gate, which Briony was relieved to see had a proper catch. Nicky was inclined to be over-adventurous at times, and she would have to watch that he didn’t stray.
She and Nicky followed Kieron up the path, Nicky tugging free of her restraining hand to run up to the basking cat, exclaiming with pleasure, ‘Pussy!’
The cat endured his attentions for several seconds with basilisk eyes before stretching and disappearing into the shrubbery, but by then a butterfly had caught Nicky’s fascinated attention, and he was toddling hurriedly after that. Kieron had unlocked the front door, and Briony made to walk past him, gasping with indignation as he suddenly swung her up in his arms.
‘What are you doing with my mummy?’
It was the first time Nicky had showed any signs of possessiveness, his dark blue eyes as stormily angry as his father’s could be as he stood in front of them.
‘I’m carrying her over the threshold of our very first home. Perhaps other aspects of our union haven’t been quite as custom dictates,’ Kieron drawled to Briony, ‘but I see no reason why this one shouldn’t be, do you?’
‘Put me down!’ Briony demanded.
‘Why?’ he mocked. ‘Are you frightened that I might carry you up those stairs and demand those conjugal rights you promised me yesterday? With my body.…’ he reminded her softly.
Nicky, impatient of these adult discussions, tugged impatiently at Kieron’s trousers.
‘Put my mummy down!’ he demanded.
With a mocking look at Briony Kieron complied. ‘Have you been teaching him to say that?’ he taunted.
To her relief the cottage had three good-sized bedrooms. Kieron came upstairs while she was unpacking Nicky’s things in the smallest of them.
‘Is it too much to hope that you’ll perform the same service for me?’
Briony pretended not to have heard him. It did odd things to her pulse rate to think of touching his clothes—clothes which had been worn next to his flesh.