'I know you have a meeting, so I think I'll have a look around the town, do some shopping,' she said lightly, banking on the fact Jake would not argue with her on the busy pavement. She pulled her hand free.
A muscular arm wrapped around her shoulders and Jake, his strong face taut, studied her with dark serious eyes. 'My home is not your prison, Charlotte, and I don't believe you will leave. Dave was right—you are an all-or-nothing kind of woman, and with you and I it cannot be nothing, as we will always have our child between us. So I am banking on the all when you get over the argument we had last night. Go shopping if you like.' His dark head bent and he brushed his lips against her hair. 'Marco will take you—and before you object, it's to make sure you don't get lost. This is a big city and you don't know your way around.'
'That sounds like a jailer to me,' she said stiffly, but in her heart she knew Jake was right.
Scornful dark eyes skimmed over her mutinous face. 'I thought we had reached an understanding this morning, but obviously I was wrong. Think what you like, you will anyway. But Marco stays.' Turning, he walked down the street.
Charlie inwardly cringed at the scorn in his expression. It was painful to have to admit, but she no longer wanted to leave Jake. Knowing he had only married her because she was pregnant did not stop her loving him and she watched his departing figure with a mixture of anger and sorrow in her suddenly moist eyes.
She didn't go shopping. She went back to the house— whether she would one day think of it as home, she didn't know.
CHAPTER TEN
CHARLIE ate a breakfast of fruit and cereal in the kitchen with young Aldo and grinned at his excellent attempts to speak English. When he left for school her smile vanished. It was a sad reflection on her marriage that her best friend and the person she spent most time with was an eight-year- old boy. He finished school at one and after lunch they had taken to exploring the extensive grounds together. He had shown her his favourite place, a cave set in the cliffs at the rear of the house, and she had told him about the fun she had rock climbing at her home in England.
Restless and on edge, Charlie rose to her feet, and with a thank you to Marta she carried her cup of tea outside to the small patio tucked away around the back of the kitchen. A pergola shaded the area, the crimson bougainvillea trailing over it giving Charlie the sense of privacy she needed, and she let the sweet morning air work its magic on her troubled mind.
A week...she had been married a week today, but her wedding day seemed a lifetime away. The woman who had stood in the gardens of the Lakeview Hotel convinced it was the happiest day of her life was no more. A cynical smile twisted her lush lips. Love's young dream was just that—a dream. It had taken Jake to show her the truth.
She never saw him during the day, and dinner was pretty much a silent affair, or a battleground. Jake tried to make conversation but she replied with icy politeness, or with a bitter sarcasm that was totally alien to her usual sunny na ture, until, finally exasperated with her, he retired to his study to work, and she retired to bed.
They shared a bed, but she was beginning to think it was for appearance's sake only, to prevent gossip among the staff. Once or twice she had awakened in the night to find his arm around her, but they had never made love since the morning after their disastrous wedding night. It was painful to have to admit, but she missed the intimacy.
She could see no clear end to the emotional mess she had made of her life unless she learnt to accept her marriage on Jake's terms. Probably thousands of couples lived in a loveless marriage for the sake of the children quite successfully. Would it be so bad?
Sighing, Charlie drained her cup of tea. It couldn't be any worse than what she had now, and it was her own fault. She could not forget the anger and hurt she felt, and it showed. Then there was her unborn child to think about—but worrying wasn't going to help either of them, and with another sigh she replaced the cup on the table and leant back in her chair. The silence had a therapeutic effect on her, and slowly she felt herself begin to relax, but that feeling did not last for long. A shadow fell across her face and she looked up to see Jake's tall frame leaning against a timber pillar of the pergola.
She was shocked. He came to bed late and was always gone when she woke up in the morning. But today was different—Jake was different, the cool control of the past week no longer evident. Instead his mouth was tight and she felt the vibration of his underlying anger across the space between them.
'Shouldn't you be out making millions?' she said sarcastically. 'Instead of disturbing my peace and quiet.'
'I'm flattered I disturb you, Charlotte, but don't worry, I am not stopping. I have no desire to spend any more time than I have to with a sulky, immature girl.' Then, surprisingly, in an uncontrolled gesture he ran a frustrated hand through his thick dark hair. 'What the hell is the matter with you?' he demanded harshly. 'This constant sniping that passes as conversation from you has to stop. Can't you lighten up occasionally, or don't you have a sense of humour any more?'