You’re one of those responsibilities.
You relied on him when you were desperate and look where that got you both—trapped in a marriage that should never have happened.
‘I think you should go.’ Imogen wasn’t aware of formulating the words but suddenly they were emerging from her mouth.
‘Pardon?’
‘Look at the hours you work.’ He might be meticulous about joining her for meals but he was usually back at work in the evening. When did he get time off? He’d made time in Paris but now his business seemed to consume most of his waking hours. That and being on hand for her.
‘That’s because I’ve got deadlines.’
‘Can’t they be put back a few days? Long enough for a short break?’ She watched his eyes narrow on the coffee cup he twisted with one hand. ‘Surely nothing will go wrong if you take a weekend off? What are two days?’
Besides, it would do her good to have a few days alone. She had a lot of thinking to do. After months getting used to the idea of dying, she had to get her head around the notion of living.
Then there was this situation they were in—man and wife in a marriage that now had no built-in end date. Marriage to a man who was protective and caring but no longer desired her.
‘You should go,’ she urged, her constricting throat making her voice husky.
‘Two days,’ he mused, frowning. ‘I admit, it’s tempting.’
* * *
Two days turned into four. In fact, it would be five by the time he returned. Tonight was his fourth night away.
After the freedom of the mountains, the thrill of pitting himself against the elements on some of the region’s most treacherous climbs, Thierry had been only too ready to agree when his friends had suggested an extra night at the resort before returning to his normal life.
Yet maybe he was getting too old for this. The hot shower tonight had been bliss on his sorely tried body. He couldn’t remember feeling this level of weariness after a few days’ climbing. Or maybe he felt out of sorts because he still grappled with the bizarre soap-opera storyline his life had become.
He swirled his cognac, inhaling its rich aroma, then knocked it back in one. The shot of heat to his belly was satisfyingly definite, unlike so much in his life now. He looked up, ignoring the party going on around him, and caught the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another.
Thierry rolled his shoulders but couldn’t shift the tension that had settled there. The sense of being weighed down. But worse was the roiling morass of feelings.
Thierry grimaced. His life had been simple and perfect. Yes, he’d had a little heartbreak in his youth but that had merely left him able to play the field, enjoying freedom in the bedroom as well as in his sports. Even the yoke of the family business hadn’t taken that away from him. He’d shouldered massive burdens but he was close to freeing himself of that.
His old life had beckoned. Until Imogen.
He lifted his glass and slugged back another mouthful, ignoring the fact this liquor deserved slow appreciation. He didn’t have the patience for that. He needed something to cut through the web of emotions tangling his brain.
He’d never felt such relief in his life as when the doctor had said Imogen was safe. That she and the baby would live. But the news hadn’t just brought relief.
Cool logic told him Imogen hadn’t deliberately set out to trap him into marriage. He’d been the one to persuade her and there’d been no mistaking her utter shock at the doctor’s pronouncement. It wasn’t her fault.
Damn it all, he could even sympathise with her walking out of that Sydney waiting room and heading for adventure rather than facing more appointments and treatment. It was the sort of thing he could imagine himself doing.
Yet no amount of logic could shift the sensation that he’d got caught in a net, in a situation far more complex than he’d anticipated. Marrying for the sake of a child was one thing. Acquiring a long-term wife was another. Then there were these feelings that clogged his chest. Half-formed ideas and sensations that were totally unfamiliar.
Thierry wanted his simple life back. Even in the beginning when he’d had to work soul-destroying hours to salvage the business he’d been certain of his purpose, and what little free time he’d had was his own to use as he chose.
Now he felt tethered. Tangled. Worse, he felt... He didn’t know what he felt. Just that he didn’t like it.
After the wedding he’d put Imogen in that box labelled ‘duty’. He’d been able to deal with her as his responsibility when she was off-limits. Now suddenly that label didn’t fit and all sorts of insidious ideas were weaving their way through his brain.