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He wasn’t weak or volatile like his parents.
His thoughts slewed to Elisabeth and how spectacularly he’d misjudged her. She didn’t make him feel weak. On the contrary, with her he was always aware of his vigour and the potency of his desire. But volatile? He frowned, reluctantly admitting that exactly described his feelings for his wife.
Soon to be ex-wife if she proceeded with the divorce she threatened.
Jack’s fingers curled into fists, his blood rushing faster at the thought. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to contemplate that. Because he always finished what he started? Because he wasn’t ready to end their marriage? Because he didn’t like ceding power?
His phone rang and he was tempted to ignore it. But he hadn’t got where he was by ignoring potentially important calls. He checked the number. Leanne.
‘Yes?’
‘We have a situation.’
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. Another complication? He was tempted to walk away from this latest French deal and cut his losses. ‘What does the Count want now?’
‘It’s not business.’ His PA paused long enough to make him wonder how bad this situation was. ‘It’s your wife.’
Sweat broke out across his brow and his stomach plunged sickeningly. ‘Elisabeth? Is she all right? What’s happened to her?’
‘She’s fine,’ Leanne hurriedly reassured. ‘As far as I can tell. It’s just...’
Her unaccustomed hesitation fed deepening anxiety. That was a revelation. Jack had never been a worrier, not since leaving his parents’ home and discovering that with hard work and planning, and no unruly emotional attachments, life didn’t need to be chaotic or tempestuous.
‘Sorry. Social media has been going wild. Stories are starting to circulate and the paparazzi have photos.’
Jack’s mouth flattened. ‘From the Caribbean?’
Just what he needed! He’d faced down unending gossip over the state of his marriage and his missing wife. After the recent debacle when Elisabeth had run out on himagain, it had been a small comfort to know that at least that hadn’t played out under the eyes of the world’s press.
Anger stirred anew. Elisabeth had a lot to answer for.
‘One photo from the Caribbean but others as well, of Mrs Reilly. I’ve sent some links through to you and I need to warn you—’
‘No need, Leanne.’ He might be furious and the timing might be lousy, but he’d dealt with plenty of press speculation in the past. ‘I’ll check them out and let you know if I want anything done about it.’
He ended the call and found the links she’d sent.
Slowly Jack sank into the chair he’d left, intent on his phone as everything seemed to slow, the thud of his heart, his breathing, even his thoughts.
The press had got hold of a photo of him and Elisabeth during their week together. It was taken at a distance when they’d been out for the day on a yacht. But even from a distance it was obvious from their body language that there was nothing platonic about their reunion. The way he leaned over her spoke of protectiveness and raw physical need. Her graceful neck was arched up, her lips parted as she looked up at him.
Jack’s heart quickened. They looked in thrall to each other, as if nothing else existed but the pair of them. As if Elisabeth couldn’t bear even the tiny distance between them.
He grunted with sour laughter. How a photo could lie.
He scanned his own expression and told himself he didn’t look bewitched or protective. It had been simple lust.
Grimacing, he scanned the text that rhapsodised about their secret reunion. ‘Sex in the Sand’ was a tawdry headline and he could only thank his lucky stars they hadn’t managed a photo of the times he and Elisabeth had made love on a beach. The only question was why the photo hadn’t appeared weeks before.
Then his heart stopped. The next photo was of Elisabeth stepping out onto a city street. Behind her was a glossy black door with a fanlight window above and a discreet brass plaque beside it. Helpfully, the photographer had provided a close-up of the plaque. It gave the name of the doctor, an obstetrician.
Jack’s fingers felt numb and he almost dropped the phone.
An obstetrician? Not a gynaecologist but a doctor who specialised in delivering babies.
Elisabeth, pregnant?
She couldn’t be. Yet, remembering how they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other, technically it was all too possible.
