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‘I’m a man, not a monk, Genista,’ he told her harshly. ‘We both know the danger of what we were just doing.’
He drove on without a word, leaving her to stare blindly out of the car window. Had his words been a subtle reminder that although sexually she might arouse him, his reaction was purely physical, and that it would be Verity of whom he would be thinking if they actually made love?
While he garaged the car, she went upstairs, walking automatically into the room she had shared with Luke. Her case was on the bed, and seeing it reminded her of everything that had happened since she left. She started to unpack automatically, staring white-faced with shock into the wardrobe as she opened the door. Less than a week ago it had held Luke’s suits, next to her dresses—now it was empty.
‘I’ve moved my stuff out,’ Luke told her evenly, walking into the room. ‘In the circumstances—for both our sakes—I thought it better. If you want me, I’ll be within call, and I hope you won’t let what’s happened between us preven
t you from calling me if you need me, Genista. Whatever else I might be guilty of, my desire to do everything I can for you is quite genuine.’
‘I know.’ Her voice sounded husky and strained. She glanced at the large bed she had shared with Luke and would now be occupying alone, willing the tears not to fall.
‘Why don’t you lie down and have a rest?’ Luke suggested. ‘I’ll bring you a drink.’
‘I’m fine,’ Genista replied automatically, and then remembered that he might want to talk to Verity. She owed it to him to be as unobtrusive as possible. After all, he could hardly want her company.
She was undressed and in bed when he came back with a cup of tea.
‘If you want to go to the office…’ she began, thinking to offer him an opportunity of leaving her, but he shook his head decisively,
‘Work can wait. Whatever needs to be done I can do from here. I’m not leaving you alone, Genista. If you can’t sleep, call me. The doctor gave me some sleeping pills for you.’
She pulled a wry face. ‘No, thanks. I’ve had enough pills recently to last me a lifetime.’
It was not strictly true. She had been offered them, but had always refused, thinking of the child growing inside her. The nurses had understood and had not pressed, even on the nights when she lay awake until the early hours of the morning, dreading the emptiness of her future.
She dozed and woke late in the afternoon, breathing in the fresh country air through the open window. Downstairs she could hear a phone ringing and her stomach clenched. Was it Verity, ringing Luke?
To her surprise at seven o’clock he came upstairs with a covered tray which he placed beside her bed, and a bottle of wine.
‘It’s only an omelette,’ he told her, surprising her further. ‘I’m no chef, but Mrs Meadows couldn’t stay this evening. You don’t mind if I eat up here with you, do you?’
Mind? If only he knew!
The omelette was delicious and Genista had drunk two full glasses of wine before she realised it. She felt positively lightheaded; courageous enough to plead breathlessly with Luke to stay with her for another half-hour when he said that it was time she slept, but when he did eventually go she heard him leave the house and the sound of his car, driving away, and she knew beyond any doubt that pity was not and never could be enough!
Three days later she was up and about, pottering in the garden, and trying to keep out of Luke’s way. He was still working from home, and she was meticulously careful about avoiding him. Her earlier euphoria about being home had been dissipated by the feeling of strain which now engulfed her. Living in the same house as Luke, but as distant strangers, was taking far more toll of her fragile reserves than a clean break would have done. In her apartment at least she would have been able to give way to her emotions, safe in the knowledge that her weakness would not be observed, but here she felt as though she were walking a tightrope from which she would inevitably fall.
Matters came to a head one afternoon when Luke had been shut in the library since early morning. Genista went out into the garden and walked aimlessly among the flower beds, before returning to the house to change for dinner.
With pain in her heart she selected a simple jersey dress from her wardrobe in a soft shade of green, which complemented her colouring. Clad in briefs and a dainty bra, she was just applying her make-up when Luke knocked, walking in before she could reach for her robe.
His abrupt, ‘I must talk to you,’ sent shivers of apprehension quivering down her spine, but she tried to school her features into polite enquiry, praying that she would not betray the sickening sense of dread spreading through her.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ he told her brusquely. ‘It’s just not going to work out. I know you want to keep the child, and as it’s my responsibility I shall want to provide for it. Oh, I know you can manage on your own, but…’
‘But it would ease your conscience,’ Genista supplied bitterly. ‘There’s no need, Luke. I’m keeping the child because I want to. It’s a personal decision, which doesn’t involve you. As you said, financially I can manage very well. I shall probably sell the apartment and buy a small house in the country.’ Strange how the words formed themselves to make sensible sentences, ideas she had not even known she had coming logically from lips that felt numb with pain. ‘It won’t take me long to pack. I could leave almost straightaway.’
Luke made a negating gesture, his face bleak. ‘Whatever you wish. I have to go away on business myself tonight—something which has just cropped up. I’ll be gone several days, so there’s no rush. All I ask is that you leave me your address, Genista…’
‘There’s no need,’ she heard herself saying lightly. ‘I shall keep on the apartment for a while, until I decide what I’m going to do, and afterwards (they both knew that she meant after the birth), I can’t see any point in maintaining contact. You will have your life, and I shall have mine.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
If it wasn’t all so hurtful it would almost have been funny, Genista reflected later, when Luke had gone. She knew he had gone, because she heard the car drive away. Had he gone to Verity? To tell her that soon he would be free?
She had told him she would leave straightaway, but suddenly she lacked the energy to do so. Her car had been returned and was in the garage, but she could not contemplate driving it. She would wait until the morning, she decided, and hire a taxi to take her to the station. Once she was in her own apartment she could start making proper plans for her future—a future which she had to keep reminding herself no longer held Luke.
In the event the taxi firm were heavily booked and unable to collect her until the afternoon. She checked the time of the trains and estimated that she would arrive in London during the evening. With her cases packed and time hanging heavily on her hands, she walked through the rooms which had been her home for such a short span of time, storing up memories for the long, lonely years ahead.
