Husband Heel (Husband Series Book 3) Read online

  “Finished?” the matron asked, unnecessarily, as I approached her. Then she opened the black metal door for me, smiling her benign smile.

  “Thank you. Yes,” I said quietly, and stepped into the airlock. When we were inside, I added, “A very satisfying treatment.”

  I knew I wasn’t at liberty to book further appointments until they’d assured themselves that the young man I’d left chained in the suite was pleased with our session. My stomach turned over as I imagined him reflecting on what I’d done, but I quickly shunted that thought aside.

  I could rehash as much as I wanted when I was alone. First I had to leave this place, so I forced myself to imagine phoning Fritha and hearing her happy chatter about her teahouse Bohemian Brew, and the inevitable weekly bed-notch tally which she alternately bragged about or bemoaned, depending on her mood.

  Thankfully, such everyday matters calmed me down immediately, so by the time I arrived back in reception, I was breathing easily and as far as I could tell, all signs of trembling had ceased.

  We had to wait for Nicholas to be summoned from his waiting room and that was challenging with the matron beside me, smiling her knowing smile. But I resisted the urge to fill the space with conversation. That wasn’t my way. And despite the fact that I’d travelled very far from my habitual behavior, I was determined to retain my composure.

  That was difficult, however, as Nicholas approached. His gaze was even more watchful than usual, and instead of scanning the environment, he was zeroing in on my face, and by the look of his frown, he wasn’t happy with what he saw.

  Chapter Two

  “Mr. Aston,” the matron said as he drew closer. “Thank you for your patience.” Then she nodded to me. “Mrs. Knight.”

  I couldn’t get out of The Rock’s Spa fast enough. Nicholas had to jump forward to reach the door before I did, sweeping it open so I could exit, my heels tap-tapping on the marble tiles in a rhythm that instantly reminded me of the slap-slap of the whip.

  Don’t think about that.

  But it was too late. My face was getting hot and my head felt light. Had Nicholas’s dark hair and muscular arms reminded me of the young man? I shook my head as I strode past the hedges, wanting to shake off the oily sense of wrongness that followed me out into the sunshine.

  Again, Nicholas was forced to jump forward and open the wrought iron gate that led us onto the footpath, then I was clutching my bag against my waist as I strode for the car. I knew the cream leather interior of my Bentley would be cool and soothing and I wanted that so badly.

  In fact, I wanted to dismiss Nicholas and drive myself home but that wasn’t sensible. I was starting to shake, and was certainly in no condition to concentrate on traffic. I should be slowing my pace and allowing him time to do his job—to assess threat. But I’d almost reached the car before he did, and was impatient as he opened the back door for me.

  “Thank you,” I said, more because it was expected than out of any gratitude, because I wasn’t grateful in that moment. I wanted him gone.

  He walked around and got into the driver’s door and started the car, firing up the air-conditioning. Then, unexpectedly, he turned in his seat and asked, “What happened?”

  I continued to look at my hands in my lap and didn’t bother to say none of your business because we both knew the rules. He had no right to ask that. So either he sensed danger and was investigating that, or he’d suddenly developed an interest in my emotional life.

  I doubted it was the latter. So I shrugged. “I may have overheated during the treatment. I feel dehydrated. I want to go home and lie down.”

  That was probably the longest conversation we’d had since his initial interview, but I was so desperate to get away from him, I was babbling.

  He didn’t drive, however. Instead he reached into the back of the car beside me and retrieved a bottle of refrigerated water, which he proceeded to uncap and hand to me. I didn’t look up, but I could feel his gaze on me, continuing to observe.

  I took a sip of the water, then rested the bottle on my lap. “Are we not going home?” I’d tried to sound imperious, but we both heard the quaver in my voice.

  “What do you need?”

  I looked up then, and he was staring at me with probably the most direct gaze I’d ever encountered. Unfortunately, right at that moment I had no armor against it. I could feel my shaky barriers trembling, and was suddenly horrified by the idea that I might break down in front of him.

  I swallowed and shook my head, completely incapable of speech. Then I lifted a trembling finger and pointed at the steering wheel.

  “Are you frightened?”

  I shook my head again.

  “Then you need…comfort?”

  I sucked in a shuddering breath and closed my eyes. There was no comfort in the world that could soften what I’d just done, where I’d just gone, and how badly I felt about it. The wrongness had seeped into my skin, permeating my whole body. I could scrub myself for hours and still not feel clean.

  I was disgusting, and that thought reminded me of the look on Angela’s face when she found out Jill had been Husband Sitting—sleeping with married men for money. She’d been horrified, wondering what else Jill might be capable of, because she didn’t recognize her in that moment.

  What would she think of me?

  What would any of them think if they found out what I’d just done…

  Nicholas took the water bottle out of my hands. “Put on your seatbelt.”

  Tears squirted out between my tightly clamped eyelids and I ignored that to fumble the seatbelt on as the car pulled away from the curb. Then I put my shaking hands over my face and tried to hold it in, to not make an exhibition of myself, but it wouldn’t stay down.

  It was boiling up, pressing against my throat in sobs that I could barely suppress while my burning chest ached. Jagged memories sickened and humiliated me and no amount of trying to shut them down, to switch over to thought of my girlfriends—my lifelines—was working.

  All I could imagine was their horror, and I couldn’t bear that because I couldn’t live without them. Not now. Maybe later, when I was feeling stronger. But even then it was impossible to imagine what my life would be like without them.

  We were four shades of personality that complimented each other, that reinforced each other, that understood when no one else could. If they were gone…

  “Wait here,” Nicholas said as the car stopped. Then his door opened and closed. I heard the door locks click into place, and in that moment I realized we weren’t home. There hadn’t been time. But for some reason, I didn’t lower my hands. I didn’t look. I didn’t want to know.

  All I cared about was getting myself under control, quieting the sobs that pulled at my throat and drying up the hot tears. But I couldn’t. I cried and cried and then the door locks clicked open again and the back door across from me opened.

  My hands fell away in surprise as Nicholas slid into the back of the car with me, where he never entered. Then he locked the doors and turned to face me…with a tiny kitten in his very large hands.

  The sob that had been threatening to escape faltered into a shuddering breath, and then another as wonder settled over me.

  He reached into the seat pocket in front of him and retrieved tissues, which he handed to me, but I held them limply, doing nothing about the wetness on my face. I simply stared at the tiny tabby, squirming and trying to escape his hold.

  Golden fur.

  “Would you like to hold it?”

  I immediately shook my head. I couldn’t be trusted…

  “Alright.” His rumbling voice was more gentle than I’d ever heard it, but I still couldn’t drag my attention away from the small creature with its wide green eyes. “You could pat it,” he said, and I nodded, still not moving.

  I could do that. I wasn’t frightened to pat it. That couldn’t possibly harm it. So eventually I reached out, very carefully, to stroke the top of its tiny head with one finger. It stopped wrig
gling and snuggled down into his palms, tilting its head so I could tickle under one ear.

  Another couple of faltering breaths shuddered out as I started to relax and let myself stroke along its body, feeling the birdlike bones underneath its soft fur. Its whiskers were long and fine, and when I accidentally brushed Nicholas’s hand while I was patting, I barely noticed.

  I kept stroking in a slow even pattern to match my breaths until finally the kitten rolled onto its back and I could rub its soft underbelly and the fine hair under its chin. Minutes passed in complete silence until eventually I realized the kitten was asleep, and I stopped patting and returned my hands to my lap where the unused tissues still sat.

  Belatedly, I looked up at Nicholas.

  He was breathing evenly, staring into my eyes as if he’d been watching me the whole time, and I didn’t give a thought to the makeup smeared down my cheeks. I’d been out of control and now I wasn’t.

  I couldn’t think past my gratitude for his intervention.

  I didn’t want to consider the ramifications of what had happened between us, or what it meant to our future working relationship. I just wanted to hold onto the calm that he’d bought me.

  “Thank you.” My voice was scratchy.

  “It’s my cousin’s,” he said, as though we were discussing the day’s schedule and not the most traumatic half hour of my adult life. “I can keep it for a few days if you want.”

  I stared into his clear blue eyes, seeing nothing judgmental at all, and that surprised me. But I accepted it. It was a gift, like the comfort of the kitten, and in that moment of not being his employer, but simply a human being accepting his kindness, I noticed he was handsome.

  And that surprised me.

  I searched my memory, and realized I’d consciously avoided looking at his face. Until now…

  His eyes, which were usually hidden behind sunglasses, were beautiful, and they were gazing into mine as if there was a connection between us. His stubble and almost-scruffy dark hair seemed unutterably manly. The solid jawline. Biceps that were close enough to touch.

  And then I registered his scent, which had been there all along but I’d been so intent on the kitten. It was clean like the ocean but mixed with something woodsy and masculine.

  I must have smelt it in the past and not registered it, because it felt reassuringly familiar, and it made me feel safe, even as it created tiny swirls of disturbance in my stomach.

  “So,” he said calmly, “Home now?”

  I nodded.

  “And the little guy?” He kept staring at me until I nodded again, reluctantly.

  But I hurried to add, “I can’t care for it,” knowing I couldn’t explain that without stepping back into a childhood that I never wanted to remember. “I can’t hold it.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said, then he gazed at me for a long time, almost a minute, before he nodded again and let himself out of the back of the Bentley and got into the front again, placing the sleeping kitten carefully onto the passenger seat beside him.

  I expected to feel discomfort at what I’d done. A barrier had been crossed, but surprisingly, there was no regret because I’d had no choice in the matter. Events had played out unexpectedly, but looking back, I realized they couldn’t have been any different.

  I had to take Nicholas with me for safety.

  I had to discharge my anger before it destroyed me.

  And I had to grieve, not only for the past, but for the present, and for what I feared might come.

  In retrospect, it all seemed inevitable, and a hollow calm settled over me as I realized that my eagerness to hurt the young man, my desire to do it again, and then my shame and remorse, were all natural reactions.

  I’d never done this before. In all likelihood, most people on the planet had never done this before. So confusion was a completely acceptable reaction.

  At some point, my life would reset, and my high personal standards would be restored, but in this moment I was able to be gentle with myself, to stand outside myself as a friend would, as Jill would, and say We all do bad things. Doesn’t make us bad people. Just makes us human.

  I’d never allowed myself to knowingly do a bad thing before. I’d lied, but always to protect someone. This…release, had been the most selfish thing I’d ever done. I didn’t expect anyone to forgive me if they found out. But I had to forgive myself, because there was no way I could escape the knowledge of what I’d done.

  When we arrived home and Nicholas pulled into the driveway, I felt the beginnings of security settling over me again as I gazed at my Gingerbread Mansion as Fritha called it—perched on the edge of Sydney Harbor in leafy Rose Bay.

  The stately Jacaranda tree that dominated the front yard was currently in bloom, spreading its fragrant purple flowers across the manicured lawn, and behind that, the white plaster walls led to gingerbread shutters and a high-pitched roof.

  The demons of my marriage originated behind those walls, but now that I lived here as a single woman, I felt only the peace of familiar furniture and cherished possessions. I was sure the other girls thought of me as materialistic, but there was a peace that came from settling into a much-loved recliner or sitting at a dinner table where my best friends had eaten.

  Those classical pieces of furniture were expensive—everything I owned was, but that was simply because I wanted to enjoy the memories I’d made with them for as long as I could. Even Jill, who probably knew me better than anyone, would scoff at the idea that I was sentimental, but I was.

  The automatic garage door rose smoothly in front of us and soon we were inside and the engine was off. Yet despite my relief to be home, I was strangely reluctant to get out of the car because the emotional intimacy I’d found here would evaporate as soon as I left it. Or, at least, I suspected it would.

  Still, I had to go, so I belatedly wiped my face with the tissues Nicholas had given me, and when he opened the door, I got out straight away.

  “Thank you,” I said again, not looking at him. “I’m staying home for the day. I won’t need you again until tomorrow.”

  That was his cue to retire to the old housekeeper’s cottage beyond the pool that I’d had renovated when we’d purchased the house. It was simply referred to as The Quarters now, and Nicholas had installed a buzzer there that would alert him to any emergency. He also had surveillance equipment that monitored the exterior of the house, so there was no excuse for him to remain at my side for security reasons.

  Yet instead of making it easy for me, he said, “I’d rather be downstairs in the library. In case you need me…”

  “I’m sure I won’t—”

  “…or the little guy.”

  I glanced at the sleeping tabby held against his chest and felt a pang of tenderness that was far too close to the surface. I was better off putting myself to bed with tranquilizers for a few hours, to regain my composure, so I forced myself to look at him and say, “No thank you.” But the directness in his gaze shook me again, and although there was not the slightest bit of vulnerability in his eyes, I was reminded of the young man on the wall.

  That shook me, and I immediately turned away, but in that moment the house phone started to ring. I excused myself to answer it.

  “Missy Lou.” Jill sounded frantic. “Thank God you answered. I’ve been calling your cell phone.”

  “What’s wrong?” My heart was far too easily jolted into racing again. Jill was supposed to be on her honeymoon with Finn. What could have gone wrong?

  Nicholas had been turning away, but he now turned back to face me, raising an eyebrow in silent query.

  “It’s Lizzie. She’s a mess. Sieu’s walked out on her because the baby is a boy. Stupid slut!”

  I shook my head. “Lizzie, what?”

  “Finn’s cousin. You met her at our wedding…no wait. You didn’t. She had her baby before you could meet her…”

  I certainly remembered waiting around in my bridesmaid’s dress before the ceremony while Jill and her n
ow-husband Finn had rushed to the hospital in their wedding finery to attend his cousin Lizzie giving birth.

  For some reason, Jill had taken Angela with her, and I’d felt slighted until I’d discovered it was about a baby, then it all made sense. I wasn’t the girlfriend you called to cluck over children.

  “And Sieu is?”

  “Lizzie’s lesbian wife, the formerly sensible operations manager at Finn’s company who’s done a runner because she can’t raise a son. Stupid slut,” she added again for good measure.

  I shook my head. “What can I do?” Jill wouldn’t ring me in desperation simply to pass on news about people I didn’t know.

  “Can you pick Lizzie up and look after her until we get back? We’re stuck in Prague with closed airports. Two days max.”

  I was staring at Nicholas who was absently petting the kitten while he waited to find out what the emergency was, and as much as I wanted to remain calm, I heard my voice edge up an octave. “You want me to look after a new mother and her…what is it, month old baby?”

  “I’m not ringing Fritha. She’ll go freak-out, and what Lizzie needs is calm. You can do calm.”

  Considering the morning I’d had, that was highly unlikely. “What about Angela?” She was pregnant herself. Surely she’d be the obvious choice.

  “I rang her. She’s just spent the night with Jack up on his cattle property. They’re getting married, which is amazing!” I could only agree. I knew how much Angela loved him, and to hear that her happily-ever-after had arrived after all she’d been through was a brief window into happiness. Until Jill went on, “So of course I can’t drag her away, and Lizzie won’t leave Sydney to go to them. She’s convinced Sieu will come back to her.”

  I dragged my thoughts back from Angela to concentrate on the problem at hand, and before Jill could get into another ‘stupid slut’ rant, I cut in, “Lizzie’s family? Doesn’t she have—”

  “Her mother’s in London about to hand over a kidney to save Finn’s Uncle Joseph who has blah blah disease. I can’t remember what it’s called, and there’s no one else. Not that I trust.”