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Heart-achingly conscious of the yawning gap of loneliness there was in her own life, the emptiness she had filled with the make-believe fantasy that they were a family while Briony had been growing up and Marcus had been there on hand to father her, Polly took a hesitant step towards the stairs. When Marcus gave an impatient sigh and came forward to help her she said sharply,
‘No. I can manage by myself.’
How symbolic those words were. From now on she would have to manage by herself, without Briony to keep her thoughts busy and occupied, without Marcus to focus her fantasies and yearnings on.
‘It’s this room,’ Marcus informed her curtly, deliberately keeping his distance from her as Polly followed him across the landing. He threw open a bedroom door, flattening himself against the wall almost so that she could precede him into the room, making it plain to her that he had as little desire to touch her as she had to be touched by him. Although, of course, for very different reasons. She dared not allow him to come near her in case she betrayed herself and her love for him, but Marcus was keeping his distance from her to reinforce the fact that he was committed to someone else and that there was no room now in his life for her.
As she stepped into the bedroom Polly came to an abrupt halt, turning to face him as she exclaimed uncomfortably, ‘But this is your room!’
Even if she hadn’t suddenly recognised the room as being the master bedroom from the plan she had seen, the small, intimate details of Marcus’s occupation of it would have told her. His brushes were on the tallboy—the ones that had belonged to his grandfather. A towelling robe lay across the huge bed and there were more of his belongings scattered about.
‘I can’t sleep in here,’ Polly protested.
‘Don’t worry,’ Marcus assured her laconically, ‘I’m not planning to share the room with you. It just so happens that the others aren’t quite ready for occupation yet. The painters only left the other day and the carpets aren’t being laid until later in the week.’
‘But where will you sleep?’ Polly asked him in confusion.
‘Downstairs. There’s a very comfortable sofa in the sitting room. I shall be able to manage in there.’
‘Marcus, you’re over six feet tall. I’m only just over five feet,’ Polly protested. ‘If anyone should be sleeping on a sofa it should be me. This is ridiculous,’ she added. ‘I could have managed perfectly well at the hotel. If I’d known that my being here was going to deprive you of your own bedroom…’
‘What is this, Polly—an offer to share the bed with me?’ Marcus taunted her.
Immediately Polly went quiet, her face becoming pinched and her eyes haunted.
‘There was no need for that,’ she told him huskily. ‘I can’t stay here, Marcus; I—’
‘You don’t have any other option,’ he told her briskly. ‘You can’t drive and there’s certainly no way I intend to drive you.’
‘I don’t want to deprive you of your bed,’ she insisted stubbornly.
How could she sleep in it knowing that soon Marcus would be sharing it with Suzi; that a year from now their baby would be curled up in it with them? No, that kind of pain just couldn’t be borne. Not by her. Not right now, when the realisation of just how lost to her Marcus was was still hurting her so very, very much.
‘You’re wasting your breath, Polly,’ Marcus told her dryly, glancing at his watch before adding, ‘I’m going downstairs to make us both something to eat. If when I come back you aren’t undressed and in that bed I’ll…’
‘You’ll what?’ Polly challenged him tiredly.
‘I’ll undress you and put you there myself,’ Marcus told her softly, adding, when she changed colour betrayingly, ‘Yes, I thought that might be the right kind of incentive. Odd, though, really, isn’t it? The last time I removed your clothes you seemed more than eager for me to do so; in fact—’
‘Stop it. Stop it,’ Polly protested, covering her ears with her hands and turning, hot-faced, away from him.
How could he do this to her? How could he remind her of that now, when they were both standing in the room he was going to be sharing with another woman…with his wife? Polly would have thought that what had happened between them would be the last thing he wanted to refer to; that he would feel, if not ashamed of his betrayal of Suzi, then at least anxious to ignore it. In his shoes…But in his shoes she would never have done what he had done in the first place. She would never have been able to share such intimacy with someone she didn’t love.
