Ruthless Husband, Convenient Wife Page 15

  ‘Especially about pyjamas,’ he agreed, undressing. He always slept in the nude, and Penny was privately certain that it was part of the reason why they made love so much. It was impossible to lie next to that magnificent naked male body and not find her thoughts straying.

  Tonight she felt tired and jangled, though. She doubted whether they would be making the bedsprings of the Angler’s Retreat squeak tonight.

  They slipped into bed and pulled the covers over them. Ryan pulled her close to him and laid her head on his chest. ‘I know today has been a strain,’ he murmured, stroking her tenderly. ‘Is that why you never went back for your checkups? Because you dreaded being back in a place where you suffered so much?’

  ‘That’s partly why,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve never been very good with hospitals in the first place. It started when I was ten. When my father had his accident.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Ryan said gently.

  She shrugged painfully. ‘There isn’t much to tell. He was coming home from work. There was a bad accident just two streets away from our house. He was taken to hospital in an ambulance. The police came to call us. My mother and I rushed to the hospital. They wouldn’t let us see him, though.’

  ‘Was he in theatre?’ Ryan asked quietly.

  Penny nodded, reliving the anguish of that terrible evening. ‘They tried to save his life, but he had been too badly injured. We waited for six hours outside the intensive-care unit. At midnight they came out and told us he had died. They let us go in to see him. It was only for a moment.’ Her eyes were wet with tears. ‘Hardly even time to realise that he was dead. Ever since then, whenever I go into a hospital, I feel sick and dizzy. Something about the smells and sounds, I suppose, must bring it all back.’

  ‘You’ve never told me any of this before,’ Ryan said, kissing away her tears.

  She shook her head. ‘I know. Then last year—the encephalitis, the miscarriage—gave me another reason to hate hospitals. They don’t have very good associations for me, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I understand. Sleep, now, my darling. Tomorrow everything will be all right.’

  He put Penny on her side and snuggled into her back, holding her close. She lay cradled in his arms, so grateful for his warmth. ‘It’s so strange to be back in Devonshire,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’m glad you’re here with me.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  Ryan was kissing the back of her neck, nuzzling in the fragrant auburn curls. It was deliciously erotic. She arched gently.

  Ryan’s arms were so strong and supportive. He held her close. One of his hands slid into her pyjama top, caressing her soft breasts, teasing the sensitive nipples into life. The other slipped into her pyjama bottom, stroking her abdomen, invading the triangle of feminine curls at her loins.

  ‘Why, Mr Wolfe,’ she murmured, ‘what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m taking your pyjamas for a test drive,’ he said, his breath warm and sexy in her ear.

  She giggled softly. She was too relaxed and happy to do anything but concentrate on the sheer pleasure he gave her. Within moments, she was moaning in ecstasy as he cupped both her breasts with one hand while the other glided across the liquid smoothness of her loins.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered, his fingers dipping inside her to make her gasp out loud. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and I will desire you till the day I die.’

  Waves of delight spread through her tired body, shocking in their intensity, until the biggest and strongest wave of all rolled her up in a ball of pleasure and had her whimpering his name, not knowing whether she wanted him to stop, or keep on forever.

  She reached behind her and felt his intense arousal against her. ‘I want you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t move.’ He slipped her pyjama bottoms down to her knees and then took her in his arms again. He covered her neck and face with kisses as he made love to her, his desire filling her, exciting her, taking away all fear and pain. With him inside her like this, big and solid and male, it was impossible to feel anything but joy.

  He loved her with exquisite gentleness until their climax locked them into a quivering knot, holding them unbearably tight.

  Then Penny felt herself slipping into sleep as though into the depths of a dark sea.

  This time, their destination at St Cyprian’s was the neurology unit.

  After a brief wait in the reception area, they were sent into Dr Brent-Jones’s office.

  Ellis Brent-Jones was a respected doctor in his field. Now close to seventy, he looked fit and tanned, his white hair and beard cropped close to his narrow head. His piercing blue eyes lit up as he saw Penny walk into his office.

  ‘Ah, Miss Watkins,’ he chirped. ‘The prodigal returns!’

  After she had left Ryan in London, she had started using her stepfather’s name, Watkins, instead of her born name, Wellcome. She had seen no reason to change it back—it had helped make it hard for Ryan to trace her, even with all the money and power at his disposal.

  ‘Hello, Dr Brent-Jones,’ she said, shaking hands with him. ‘I’m sorry I never came back to thank you for all you did for me.’

  ‘Hardly the point,’ he said with asperity. ‘Your health is the real question, young lady—especially since your fiancé informs me you took yourself off the medication I prescribed without consulting a doctor!’

  Penny gave Ryan a sharp look at the word fiancé before replying. ‘I’m sorry about that, too, but the pills made me feel awful. I hated taking them.’

  ‘Well, let’s just be grateful that you’ve decided to come and see me at last,’ the doctor said. ‘I have the results of your scan here. I want to perform some simple tests, and then we can speak.’

  The next forty minutes were not exactly comfortable for Penny, as the specialist subjected her to a minute process of pricking, prodding and tapping with a rubber hammer, designed—or so she presumed—to check that her neurological responses were all intact.

  Ryan waited outside through this indignity, much to her relief, after which Brent-Jones asked her a battery of questions, noting all her answers in tiny writing in her file.

  Apparently satisfied at last, the specialist put down his pen and called Ryan back into the office. He sat beside her, taking her hand comfortingly. Brent-Jones looked at them both keenly.

  ‘The scan results are very encouraging. The damage done by the encephalitis appears to be minimal, and there has been good healing.’

  Ryan squeezed her fingers tightly. The specialist went on, ‘The biggest danger for you, Penny, after your brain inflammation, is the possibility of what we call temporal lobe epilepsy. The symptoms vary greatly, but they can be unpleasant and even dangerous. That’s why I prescribed that medication. You took a most unwarranted risk when you stopped taking it. What if you had blacked out while driving a car, eh? What if you had injured yourself—or your passengers—or innocent people in another vehicle?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Penny said in a small voice. ‘I’ve been a fool.’

  ‘Well, the good news is that there seems to be no sign of anything like that. You seem to have been very lucky. I would prefer that you went back on the medication for another year, just to be sure. But, considering that the side-effects you describe are so severe, I’m going to recommend that you try some alternative means of preventing the possibility of any problems. There are a range of holistic treatments that can be effective, and I want you to try them. I also want you to go to a neurologist for a proper check-up every four months. There are excellent people in Tunbridge Wells, and I’m going to refer you to more than one, so you can take your pick.’

  He scribbled some names and numbers on a pad. Ryan squeezed her hand and gave her a quick smile. She could see the relief in his beautiful eyes.

  ‘About the other thing—your losing your baby, I mean,’ the doctor continued, ‘you shouldn’t be too concerned about any problems in that department. There was no damage to the reproductive system, and from what you
tell me, everything is quite normal in that respect. Any time you want to try for another baby, you can go right ahead.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Penny said, flushing to the roots of her hair.

  After a short talk about alternative therapies, Brent-Jones gave Penny a thick wad of material to read on the subject. Warmer than when he had first greeted her—he, too, was evidently greatly relieved at his findings—he ushered them out.

  They said their thanks and goodbyes in the reception area. As the doctor walked away, his secretary called to Penny.

  ‘Miss Watkins? I’ve got a note for you here from the porters’ office—you left some things here when you checked out last year. They’ve been kept for you all this time, if you’d like to pick them up.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. I wonder what they can be?’

  The secretary explained how to get to the lost property office, and Penny and Ryan walked there. Their route took them along one of the cloister-like passages that bounded the central gardens, now piled with dirty snow, and not very beautiful.

  ‘I’m so relieved,’ Ryan said, stopping to hug her hard enough to squeeze the breath out of her body for a moment. ‘What did he do to you while I was out?’

  ‘If you like, I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel,’ she replied meaningfully. ‘It involved a thing with a sharp point at one end and a rubber hammer at the other!’

  ‘Hmm, too kinky for me,’ Ryan grinned. ‘The main thing is he seems happy with the results. You ought to have changed your first name, too, baby doll—to Lucky!’

  They reached the porters’ office and a pleasant Sikh went into the store room with the ticket the secretary had given Penny. He returned with a clear plastic bag which contained a few items of clothing, a book, the red cellphone, and what looked like an envelope.

  Through the plastic, she could see that on the address side were written only the two words ‘Ryan Wolfe’.

  She stared at it blankly for a moment.

  ‘Oh, Ryan,’ she said. ‘It’s the letter I wrote you.’

  ‘Letter?’ he repeated.

  ‘I told you—I wrote to you when they discharged me. Telling you what had happened.’

  ‘Why is it still here?’

  She stared at the envelope blankly. ‘I was so confused. My brain wasn’t really working. I was having hallucinations and delusions. I must have thought that I had posted it. Or perhaps I meant to fill the address in when I got home—but I must have left it here. That’s where it’s been all this time. That’s why I never posted it.’

  He stared at her with a strange expression. ‘Can I read it?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I don’t know!’ She held the bag protectively in her arms. ‘Not here, anyway, and not now!’

  ‘OK.’ With something of his old grimness of manner, he took her arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  They got into the Land Cruiser. Penny was still holding the plastic bag tight against her breasts.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ Ryan asked her.

  She closed her eyes. ‘Anywhere. I don’t mind.’

  ‘We’ll take a drive,’ he decided, ‘then look for somewhere to have lunch.’

  Out of the city of Exeter, the roads were still slushy with snow. Thick white drifts had levelled out the hollows and bumps of the Devon landscape, making everything look surreal. Ryan drove carefully, concentrating on the roads, and she stared out of the window, barely recognising the landscape that should have been so familiar to her. After all, it was around here that she had grown up.

  Finding this parcel, with the letter she had written and never posted almost a year ago, had changed her mood. Emotions that she did not even want to recognise were perilously close to the surface now.

  Finally, she realised that they were driving onto Dartmoor, and had reached a part of the countryside that she recognised. The high, wild country near Okehampton had a special meaning for her. It was here that she had walked with Tom, when he’d first had her in his sights. These bleak granitic hills had been where he’d started his campaign of seduction with her.

  That had been long before she’d known that he had done it all before, with other clever, pretty students before her—quoting the same poetry, bringing the same bottle of champagne out of his rucksack, making her feel so special…

  The area, always sombre, was now carpeted in snow. Only where strata of rock lifted themselves up out of the moor, like ancient trolls trying to emerge from underground prisons, was there any contrast to the smooth white contours.

  Penny looked at Ryan, wondering why he had brought her here, whether he knew that this place had associations for her. He caught her glance and smiled slightly.

  ‘You see, I do listen to what you tell me.’

  ‘I told you about this place?’

  ‘You said that this was where you and Tom walked, that summer. Where you and he became lovers.’

  ‘You remembered that,’ she said, looking around her with deep violet eyes. ‘Of all the things I told you, you remembered that.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I remember every word you’ve ever said to me,’ he said. ‘Though you obviously don’t believe that.’

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’ she asked, shivering despite the warmth of the car.

  ‘I wanted to see the place,’ he replied.

  ‘You mean you wanted to make me confront my ghosts!’ she retorted.

  Ryan’s grey eyes glittered for a moment. ‘You’ve been doing so well so far. You’ve confronted two already today.’

  ‘I hate you sometimes,’ she said, glaring at him. Then her gaze was drawn to the wild hills and the dark clouds that lowered menacingly over them. ‘It was summer then,’ she said quietly. ‘It didn’t look like this. The skies were blue. The moor was green and covered with flowers. It was wild and beautiful.’

  Ryan parked the car at the side of the road, leaving the engine running so they would stay warm. ‘Why did you come here, in particular?’

  ‘It was Tom’s idea. He loved romantic places like this.’ The emphasis she put on the word romantic was bitter. Tom had chosen places like this because they put young women in the right frame of mind—not because he was a nature-lover. ‘He was chairman of the hiking club at Varsity. If he didn’t find a suitable girl in his class, chances were always good he would find one in the hiking club.’

  ‘A suitable girl?’

  ‘There was usually a new one each year,’ she said in a flat voice. ‘Sometimes they lasted longer.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder how he managed to seduce so many,’ Ryan said. ‘He’s not handsome, or impressive in any way.’

  Penny looked at him in surprise. ‘You’ve seen him?’ she asked.

  ‘I met him.’

  ‘How did you achieve that?’

  Ryan replied with a shrug. ‘It wasn’t hard. Little men with large egos are very easy to manipulate. I told him I admired his books. He was most eager to meet me.’

  ‘You are so machiavellian it frightens me,’ she gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

  ‘So what was his secret?’ Ryan asked with that slight smile.

  ‘No big secret, darling,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He just chose very innocent, very gullible young women—and said exactly the right things to them.’

  ‘Were you a virgin?’ Ryan asked, stroking her hair.

  ‘In every way. Mentally, spiritually, sexually. A silly girl, looking for a father figure. I was such easy prey for Tom. Just what he liked. He liked them tender. Didn’t like to have to do too much chewing.’

  ‘I’m sure he had never seen anyone as exquisite as you,’ Ryan said gently.

  ‘Well, that’s what he told me,’ she said drily. ‘We walked from here to Yes Tor. When we got there, it felt as if we had reached the top of the world. It was like being part of the sky. Tom opened his rucksack and brought out a bottle of champagne and a blanket. He quoted Shakespeare sonnets to me. Like I said, basic but effective. It was so easy for him.’

  ‘Were
you in love with him?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Of course I thought I was.’

  ‘Did you think he loved you?’

  ‘Yes. At first, anyway. Later, I knew he couldn’t possibly love me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because of the way he made love. He was so intent on getting what he wanted. You know the way some people eat, just grabbing handfuls and stuffing it into their mouths? That’s what he was like. I didn’t know much about sex, my love, but I knew that it wasn’t the way it was meant to be. I knew I shouldn’t feel…violated every time.’

  ‘My poor baby,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. You showed me how wonderful sex could be. You taught me how to love and be loved. You always made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Tom wanted to degrade me. He loved control, more than anything else. He wanted you to know that you were in his power—in every way. He was my tutor, and when I tried to break up with him, he made it clear that I wasn’t going to pass my exams unless I did exactly what he wanted. I was trapped.’

  A group of shaggy Aberdeen Angus cattle moved slowly past the Land Cruiser, nosing through the snow for something to graze on. Only the hardiest animals could survive up here.

  ‘Did you try to tell anyone what was happening?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘I was too much under Tom’s spell,’ she replied. ‘You have to understand that I was so naive. I was just a timid first-year student. He was a professor, the author of textbooks, much older than me—and he held all the cards. No matter how badly he behaved, I kept telling myself that he was a genius, that I must be wrong about him. So I never told anyone. Not even my mother. I just grew very, very unhappy.’

  ‘Did you pass your exams?’

  ‘Oh, with flying colours.’ Penny grimaced. ‘At the top of the class. The trouble is, I knew I didn’t deserve the high marks I got. I didn’t do any work. I couldn’t. I was too miserable to open a book. The marks were my reward for being in Tom’s bed. Other students knew what was happening, and they said things. They were angry because I did better than any of them—even the ones who really worked for it.’