Married For Real. Lindsay ArmstrongЧитать онлайн книгу.
the house, and each piece of furniture, the desk, the lovely winged armchair with matching footstool, the bookcase, were lovingly chosen antiques.
None of it, although it was usually a haven of peace and privacy for her, brought her any peace, however, as she strode into the peach marble bathroom, ran the taps and stalked to her walk-in wardrobe. And she rifled through her clothes impatiently before choosing a pair of slim cream pants and a taupe knit top.
In fact it wasn’t until she was lying in the bath, surrounded by a sea of bubbles with her hair tied on top of her head, that she started to relax at all, and even then it was only in a limited sort of way. How am I going to cope with him in front of the children? she wondered despairingly. If they haven’t sensed my antipathy by now they must at least know we’re not the best of friends.
But although she soaked thoughtfully, then scrubbed and finally got out to dry herself on one of the outsize peach towels, no inspiration came to her. Perhaps I can only follow his lead, she mused dismally as she drew on her underwear and then her clothes and sat at the vanity table.
An avenging goddess, she thought bitterly as she studied her reflection. Damn the man! But I can’t go on thinking like that, can I? So what do I think about instead? she asked herself dryly as she brushed her hair until it shone and left it loose to float in a chestnut cloud to her shoulders. What it will be like to be married to him?
She closed her eyes briefly then smoothed moisturizer onto her skin and made up her face lightly, just a touch of foundation, a light lipstick and shaped her eyebrows with a little brush, and answered herself, No, I just can’t picture it but then again, I can’t picture how to extricate myself, either!
She stood up suddenly and caught sight. of herself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. She was five foot nine and knew that she had a willowy figure with some luscious curves that attracted men like bees to a honeypot. Her mother had had the same kind of figure.... To go with it, she had smooth skin like pale honey, luminous grey eyes with dark-tipped lashes, a well-defined mouth, and she could look thoughtful and serious, sometimes serene and happy, often impatient and autocratic but always, according to Peter Adams, amazingly good to look at.
She sighed and turned away abruptly.
What she found when she went downstairs was not exactly what she’d expected. The table was laid for dinner in the large, bright kitchen, which was normal. But it could have only taken Declan’s charm to persuade Cloris to feed him in the kitchen. And he, the twins and Daisy were working on a model galleon in the rumpus room adjacent to the kitchen, separated by a half wall. Cloris was happily attending to a leg of lamb. It was a contented, domesticated scene. She paused just inside the doorway and thought of Ben, out camping in the windy darkness rather than being here, with a little sigh. But the only living thing that seemed to afford Ben any consolation these days was his horse, Daintry.
Declan Holmes looked up and saw her. ‘Arizona—’ he straightened ‘—you look...refreshed.’
‘Thanks,’ she said briefly, bit her lip then walked into the rumpus room. ‘How’s it going?’
‘I think we’re making progress.’ He looked at the three absorbed, bent heads around him, and Arizona suddenly remembered that he’d brought the galleon for the children on his last visit.
‘That was a good idea,’ she murmured, gesturing. ‘We keep it for that rather difficult hour to fill between bath time and dinner time.’
‘Yes,’ Daisy said earnestly. ‘We’re not allowed to touch it until we’ve had our baths.’
‘That’s why we’ve been so slow,’ Richard said ruefully. ‘We could have finished it weeks ago, couldn’t we, Sarah?’
‘Sure could.’ Sarah didn’t raise her head, so engrossed was she.
‘But that wouldn’t have been right,’ Daisy began.
Whereupon both the twins raised their heads and said exasperatedly, ‘Daisy, don’t start.’
‘I only mean—’
‘Come and have a drink,’ Arizona said wryly to Declan Holmes.
‘With pleasure.’ And when they were sitting in the lounge with their drinks, he said, ‘How do you cope with her?’
‘With patience and humour and just sometimes a desire to tear my hair out. Ben—’ She stopped.
‘Go on.’
‘Ben,’ she said after a moment, ‘is finding it particularly hard to take at the moment, but then he’s finding it all hard to take. I suppose—’ she bent her head and paused in thought then shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I’m worried about Ben. I can’t get through to him.’
‘I’ll have a chat to him when he gets home.’ He stretched his legs out and looked at her reflectively. ‘In some respects you’re amazingly mature, Arizona.’
‘And in other respects?’ she countered coolly.
‘That wasn’t meant as an insult.’
‘Perhaps I’m so used to them from you I just expect them.’
‘Or perhaps you’re determined to turn everything I say into one. But before—’ his lips twisted ‘—this degenerates into a slanging match, I meant that for someone of only twenty-three you’re—capable. You run this place well, you look after the children well.’
‘That still doesn’t explain what you meant by in some respects.’
‘At times,’ he said slowly, ‘your attitude to me is, well—’ he shrugged quite naive. And sometimes, very rarely, you look young and untouched—but that’s only when I catch you off guard.’
Arizona stared at him and felt an odd prickle beneath her skin. She was saved having to make a reply by Cloris announcing dinner.
‘For a mince-on-toast type of dinner, that was excellent,’ Declan murmured to her after they’d partaken of roast lamb with mint sauce, roast potatoes, pumpkin and sweet potato, baby green peas and rich gravy followed by an apple crumble and cream.
Her mouth curved into a fleeting smile. ‘I would dearly have loved to serve you mince on toast tonight but of course I didn’t reckon on Cloris.’
‘Mince on toast!’ Cloris said right on cue and in a scandalized manner. ‘I only ever give you that for breakfast. What could you have been thinking of, Arizona?’
‘Don’t worry about it, Cloris,’ Arizona murmured with a wry look. ‘Just me being foolish, or is it naive? Okay, kids.’ She stood up. ‘One hour of television since it’s Friday night and your favourite program is due to start in ten minutes, which will give you time to give Cloris a hand! And we could take our coffee into the office, Declan. There are a few things you might be interested to see.’
Declan Holmes stood up. ‘Unfortunately I have a few calls to make, Arizona. May I use the office for those first? And your fax? We can have our little get-together when I’m finished.’
‘By all means,’ Arizona replied airily, although she was actually seething inside. ‘I have a million things to do myself—in fact I have a better idea. Let’s leave it until tomorrow!’
‘Oh, no,’ he said smoothly. ‘Later this evening will do fine.’ And he further infuriated her by helping Cloris and the children clear the table.
It was nine o’clock—she’d spun out the bedtime stories and rituals as long as she could, consoling herself that it was Friday night—before they came together again. And this time he was waiting for her in the lounge when she came downstairs, slightly dishevelled, after an energetic romp with the children before putting their lights out firmly.
‘How about that coffee now, Arizona?’