SHE waited for morning.
Lying in the massive bed, feeling the bristling hatred emanating from him, she ached, literally ached to go over to him, to lay her head on his chest and to feel his arms around her, to take back all she had said. But there was too much at stake, too much to lose in a weak moment. So instead she lay there, the room as light as day as the full moon drifted past the massive windows, listening to the creaking house, every nerve taut as finally his breathing evened out.
One heavy arm moved towards her, almost instinctive in its directness, caressing the curve of her waist until she turned towards him. She’d never seen him asleep before, never witnessed the beauty of his face without tension. The taut mouth was relaxed, full, sensual lips slightly parted, dark eyelashes fanning his haughty cheeks, and he looked younger, softer, but so desirable she had to bite back the urge to kiss him, to place her lips on his. Instead she adored him with her eyes, stealing this time away from his accusing glare to absorb his beauty, to capture the delicious image of a husband who was hers in name only.
Her eyes drifted down to the rumpled sheet that lay precariously over his manhood, and she had to clench her fists, such was her desire to move it, to unwrap the parcel and claim the prize. And what terrified her most was that she knew, just knew, he would respond. There was an undeniable attraction that overrode all else. In sleep, his body would yield to her, that tumid length would harden, would awake in her hands. But what then…?
Could a marriage survive on sex alone? Was attraction enough to carry them through whatever lay ahead? Oh, she had love—but was it enough for both of them?
Such was her pain that for a moment she thought the piercing cry that filled her ears had come from her own lips. It took a moment to register it was Lily.
Quietly she slipped from Rico’s embrace. Wrapping her bath towel around her, she crept down the passage, arriving at the nursery door just as Jessica did.
‘I’m sorry she woke you, Mrs Mancini. I was just warming a bottle. I’ll take care of her now.’
‘I’ll do it, Jessica. I don’t mind getting up to her at night.’
‘Oh!’ Jessica gave her a slightly startled look. ‘Janey always…’ Her voice trailed off and Catherine did nothing to resurrect the conversation, the words hanging in the air as she opened the nursery door and padded in. She was curiously nervous about what exactly it was she was supposed do, and smiled awkwardly at Lily, who had her arms outstretched, tears streaming down her angry red cheeks as she sobbed in anguish.
‘Hush,’ Catherine begged, picking her up and trying to cuddle her. But despite her best efforts she simply refused to take the bottle, refused to be comforted. It was almost a relief when a hesitant Jessica reappeared at the door.
‘I think she wants you,’ Catherine admitted, curiously defeated by Lily’s rejection, tears glittering dangerously in her eyes as Jessica came over.
‘It isn’t me Lily wants; she just likes to be changed first.’ Registering Catherine’s frown, Jessica gestured to the change table. ‘She likes her nappy changed before she has her bottle, then she settles right down.’
‘Of course.’ Catherine’s movements were wooden her gestures awkward as she laid Lily down on the changing table, and even though she wanted Jessica to go, even though she wanted her fumbling to be unwitnessed, Catherine was silently terrified of being left alone with Lily; the full weight of the responsibility that she had fought for, starting to descend on her tense shoulders. ‘All these poppers.’ She let out a nervous laugh, pulling the legs of Lily’s baby suit closed over the clumsily applied nappy.
‘You’ll soon get used to them,’ Jessica said kindly. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’
It took a moment to register she hadn’t gone. Only when Catherine looked up did she realise Jessica still stood there.
‘Mrs Mancini?’ Her voice was hesitant, and under any other circumstances Catherine would have moved to reassure her. But, knowing what was coming, she simply couldn’t do it. ‘About that night—about the row we had with Janey…’
Deliberately Catherine didn’t turn her head; deliberately she concentrated on the poppers.
‘I feel so guilty.’
‘You have nothing to feel guilty about.’ Catherine’s voice was high, her gestures subtly dismissive as still she focused on the blessed poppers. ‘Neither of us have anything to feel guilty about, come to that. Janey and Marco were out of line, and something had to be said.’
‘But if I hadn’t walked out on them that morning…’
‘This isn’t your fault.’ Finally she met her employee’s eyes. ‘And going over it doesn’t change a thing. It’s Lily who is important now.’
‘I know,’ Jessica mumbled. ‘Except…’
Oh, God, she didn’t need this now—didn’t want to be standing here at two a.m., lifting the lid on Pandora’s Box. But she wasn’t quite ready to close it either.
‘Except what?’
‘Janey begged me to stay.’ Tears were streaming down Jessica’s cheeks unstopped, and Catherine felt like joining her. But she knew she had to be strong if ever she were to survive. ‘Janey swore she was going to change, that they both were. She said…’
‘That thing’s would be different?’ Catherine shook her head ruefully. ‘That it really was the last time? Well, let me tell you, Jessica, I’ve lost count of how many times Janey said the same to me—lost count of the times she swore things were about to change. The last thing either of us deserves is another dose of guilt. Janey made her own choices, and unfortunately we’re the ones living with them. You have nothing to feel guilty about.’
She watched as Jessica nodded, saw her dejected shoulders as she turned to leave the nursery, and knew she had said nothing to comfort her.
‘Jessica?’ Catherine called her back. ‘This wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t mine. I don’t want to hear another word about what was said that night, or what happened the morning after. We did nothing wrong.’
If only she could believe it.
Blinking back tears as the door closed on Jessica, Catherine settled back in the rocking chair she and Rico had hastily chosen, along with the rest of the nursery furniture. It felt like a film set—everything new, everything staged for tonight’s main show—and at that moment Catherine felt like the worst actress in the world.
Lily let out a low whimper which Catherine quickly countered, pulling the baby in closer. But she could barely feign affection as she held the hot body of her niece close, the soft downy hair tickling her neck as she cuddled her.
A poor substitute for a mother.