Her husband had just shrugged, and Kate, who well knew her husband’s view of the gentle old man who had brought him up, wondered if Dominic knew her husband as well as he thought. Ricky had despised his grandfather, and had been contemptuous and bitter of all the money he had given to local charities, claiming that charity began at home, and that he had far more need of it.
It was while she was preparing the evening meal that an answer to the question that had been tormenting her all day presented itself to her.
Dominic was a very experienced and worldly man, no doubt he had had even more affairs than Ricky. No doubt he had kissed her simply in automatic reaction to her presence. A tiny thrill of pain sliced through her, quickly followed by the heady knowledge that he must have wanted to kiss her. And if he had wanted to kiss her, might he also not want to make love to her?
She wanted him as her lover, Kate knew that now. She also knew that she ought to feel ashamed of herself for doing so, but the tensions created by her marriage had coalesced into a violent need to prove that she was womanly and desirable.
Her preparations for the evening meal finished, she wandered into the drawing-room and picked up the book she had been reading the previous evening. It was an historical saga set during the Wars of the Roses, and the heroine, who was in love with a man fighting on the other side to that favoured by her family, had been caught near the castle of this man and taken to him. He had accused her of being a spy, and she had been forced to admit to him that she had been watching the castle purely to get a glimpse of him, because she loved him. He had not believed her, and now she was sitting in the chamber he had given her while he decided what to do with her, trying desperately to find a way to prove to him the truth of her words.
Kate read on, not really interested in the book, her mind racing ahead to when the men returned, until something caught her eye and then she read feverishly, devouring the printed page and then going back to read it again. She put the book down face-open on the floor and closed her eyes, knowing she had just found the solution to her own dilemma. Heavens, it must have been Fate that had made her pick that particular book from the library. But could she carry it off…could she do what the heroine had done? Could she go up to Dominic’s room tonight and get into his bed, to wait for him there?
As a plan it was hardly practical, she told herself. What about Ricky?
Unwillingly she abandoned the idea, her body aching with disappointment. She so longed for Dominic to make love to her, and if that was wrong, well then, it was wrong. Wasn’t it just as wrong for Ricky to marry her and keep her as a wife who was no real wife?
It was late when the two men returned, and she could smell drink on Ricky’s breath.
However, it was Dominic who apologised, and not her husband, but Kate was so used to his unreliability that she had deliberately not started the evening meal.
Sensing Rick’s mood, she made an excuse of having eaten alone earlier to get her out of sitting down with them. When he was like this Ricky could snipe cruelly at her, and she felt far too fragile tonight to cope with his sarcasm.
Half an hour after she had taken them their coffee, Ricky came into the kitchen and announced belligerently, ‘I’m going out… I’m sick to death of this place!’
‘Out…but what about Dominic?’
‘Dominic?’ His lip curled and if she hadn’t known better, Kate might almost have thought he actively disliked the man he had called his friend. ‘He’s in the study reading the diaries.’
The diaries had been written by Ricky’s grandfather and great-grandfather. Kate had read them herself and had found them fascinating, but Ricky considered them ‘boring’.
‘Where…where are you going?’
‘What the hell has that got to do with you?’ Ricky snarled, adding as he pushed open the back door, ‘And don’t bother waiting up for me… I might not bother coming back—at least not tonight.’
It was no worse than anything he had done before, but even so, Kate felt an aching coil of anger spring to life inside her. Only the knowledge that Ricky was all too likely to react physically and violently to any criticism she might make kept her silent.
She waited for half an hour and then went into the study. Dominic was seated behind the desk, engrossed in what he was reading. She cleared her throat and he looked up frowning slightly, his frown clearing as he saw her.
‘I just came to ask if you would like more coffee. Ricky’s gone out, by the way…’
Her voice died away as he frowned and glanced at his watch. ‘No coffee, thanks,’ he told her. ‘It’s almost eleven and I think I’ll have an early night. All that fresh air today tired me out—I’m not used to it. That’s what living in London does for one. I’ll just finish this chapter and then I’ll go up.’
It was only as she closed the study door that Kate realised with heart-thumping intensity what she intended to do. Quickly, before she could lose her courage, she raced upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later she was lying self-consciously in the middle of the guest room bed, waiting for Dominic to arrive.
He saw her the moment he stepped into the room, his body freezing as he snapped on the light and it illuminated her presence in his bed.
Fear and excitement mingled, making her heart leap and the blood soar through her veins as she saw the way his face changed, male desire dominating every feature, making her tremble with weakness. But even as her brain recognised that she had achieved her objective and her body reacted nervously to that recognition, his face changed, hardening, darkening, until there was nothing but contempt and anger to be read in the bitter darkness of his eyes.
Advancing towards the bed, he paused at the foot of it, to stare at her with cold eyes and a hard mouth. For what seemed like an eternity he simply studied her, his icy scrutiny making her go cold with shame and humiliation. How could she have thought she saw desire in his eyes? She had plainly deluded herself. Now, when it was far too late, she bitterly regretted the impulse that had brought her here to his room…to his bed.
‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
The harsh words cut into her like thin whips, destroying what was left of her composure.
She desperately wanted to cry, to close her eyes and open them again to discover this was all a nightmare, but some part of her stubbornly refused to allow her to avoid the consequences of her actions. She had been so desperate to prove to herself that she was feminine and desirable that she had made no allowances for this scenario, and had no idea of how to cope with it.
Instead all she could do was stammer painfully, ‘I wanted…’