Underneath The Mistletoe Collection. Marguerite Kaye

She was relieved when he let it fall, let her wrap her own arms around herself, hug his jumper to her.

      ‘Ainsley, forgive me, but I know from how you were with me at first. I know that things between you and—and him— They could not have been conducive to your conceiving.’

      He did not ever say John’s name, she noticed. He did not call him her husband. He was being absurdly delicate. If they had been discussing one of Madame Hera’s letters, he would have been much more forthright. If she had been one of Madame Hera’s correspondents, how much more of the truth would she have told? Ainsley shuddered. ‘When we were first married,’ she said, ‘things were—were normal between us.’ As normal as they were for many of the women who wrote to her, though she was not as fortunate as Mrs J-A, for John’s idea of traditional ministering took no account of her pleasure. For some reason, it was important that Innes know this. ‘Not as it is between us. He was not a—a gentleman in the sense you explained.’

      ‘No,’ Innes said gently.

      So he had guessed that much, too. Ainsley tried to work out what it was she wanted to tell him. Not all. The memory of Donald McIntosh’s curse made it impossible to say it all, for though he had not actually cursed her, she felt as though he had. And though she knew it did not really diminish her, her flawed state, still she felt as though it did, and she couldn’t bear to reveal herself in that way to Innes.

      Ainsley felt for his hand, seeking comfort and strength. ‘He was not a cruel man, not really, though some of the things he said and did felt cruel,’ she said. ‘It was when I first discovered the debts. That’s when he accused me of failing him. Until then, I had thought—told myself—hoped—that it was just a matter of time. Then, later, when our relationship deteriorated, he could not— He could not perform.’

      It was not easy, but she had the words now; she understood so much more about herself now, and about men, since meeting Innes. ‘He blamed me. The worse things got between us— He said I unmanned him, you see. But I knew I had not because I saw him. Alone. I saw he could be aroused, only not by me.’

      ‘I remember now. You asked me about it, whether it was the wife’s fault.’

      ‘Yes. Don’t be angry. He’s dead. If he was not dead I wouldn’t be here.’

      She felt his reluctant laugh. ‘Then I won’t be angry, for I’m very glad you’re here,’ Innes said.

      ‘Are you?’

      She turned, trying to read his face in the darkness. It was impossible, but there was no need. He kissed her softly on the mouth. ‘I thought it was obvious,’ he said, borrowing her own words from earlier.

      ‘We’re neither of us very good at seeing that, are we?’

      ‘Not very.’ Innes touched her cheek, his fingers tracing a curve to her ear, her jaw, her throat. ‘It’s true, what you said earlier. There are times when I want to lose myself in you, to forget all the things I can’t resolve, but it’s you I want.’

      ‘Truly?’

      ‘You must not doubt it. You’re thinking that it’s another way of doing the same thing, my wanting you, his not. That the end result is you’re left out in the cold?’

      ‘Yes. I hadn’t— Not until tonight.’

      Innes kissed her again. ‘Never, ever doubt that I want you for one reason, and one only. Whatever it is between us has been there from the start. I have never met a woman who brings me more pleasure than you.’

      ‘If you carry on kissing me, this thing, as you call it, will be between us again, and I’m trying to be serious.’ Ainsley sat up reluctantly, pushing her tangle of hair from her eyes. ‘I did not love John. I thought I did, but I did not. I thought he gave me no option but to ignore his—our—problems, but the truth is, I was relieved to be told they were none of my business, and when our marital relations broke down, I was relieved about that, too. What’s more, what I’ve learned from being with you, Innes, has made me realise it wasn’t just John who could not perform. I’m afraid my performance was pretty appalling, too. Partly it was because I didn’t know any better. Partly it was because I didn’t want to know. It was a mess I couldn’t fix because there was simply no solution.’

      ‘You can’t possibly be sorry that he died.’

      ‘That’s what Felicity said. I would never have wished him dead, but I don’t wish I was still married to him. You see what I mean?’

      ‘I’m not sure.’

      Ainsley laughed drily. ‘I know, I’ve told this in a very convoluted way. I couldn’t give John a child, Innes.’

      ‘You don’t know that. It may not have been your fault. The chances are...’

      Nil, was the answer. ‘Slim,’ Ainsley said, because she could not say it. ‘It’s not my fault, but it feels as if it is. Do you see now?’

      ‘You mean my lands.’

      ‘You could not help the fact that you were raised without any knowledge of them. You did not know what your father was doing—or not doing—in your absence.’

      ‘My elected absence. Regardless of who is to blame, they are in a mess.’

      ‘No, you blame yourself for the problem and for failing to fix it.’

      ‘I’m not accustomed to failing.’

      Ainsley laughed. ‘Then we must make sure that you do not, but I don’t think the solution lies with making your lands more fertile. What we need to do is think differently.’

      ‘We?’

      ‘Yes, we,’ she said confidently. ‘Between your stubbornness and my as-yet-untested objectivity, we shall come up with something. We have to. But right now it’s very late, and it’s getting very cold. We’ll catch a chill if we sit here much longer, and you need to try to get a wee bit of sleep at least.’

      Ainsley got resolutely to her feet, but Innes stood in front of her, blocking her path. ‘I’m not stubborn.’

      ‘You could have taken one look at the mess of this place and turned around back to your own life, but you have not. You’ve invested a lot more than money in the future of this place. What would you call that, if not stubborn?’

      ‘Determined? Pig ignorant?’ He pulled her into his arms, laughing. ‘Have it your way. How do you fancy taking a stubborn man to your bed? Because fetching as you look in that rig-out, what I really want is to take it off you, to lie naked in bed with you.’ He kissed her. ‘Beside me.’ He kissed her again. ‘Under me.’ And again. ‘Or on top of me.’ And again, this time more deeply, his hands on her bottom through the thin layer of her nightgown, pulling her up against the unmistakable ridge of his erection. ‘You see, this is me consulting you. Over, under, beside—the choice,’ he said, ‘is yours.’

       Chapter Ten

      Dear Adventurous Wife,

      I must tell you, and other readers of this column, how very refreshing it is to hear of a marriage that is still so happy and so fulfilled after twenty-two years. Instead of being ashamed of your continuing physical desires, you should celebrate them. I applaud your wish to explore new territory, as you call it. No matter how enthralling a favourite, well-thumbed book might be, no matter how satisfying the conclusion, it is human nature to wish to read other volumes, provided that you are prepared to find some of them less—shall we say enthralling? Their conclusions perhaps even less satisfying. What matters, Adventurous Wife, is the journey rather than the destination.

       Ainsley laid down her pen, smiling to herself as she remembered some of the journeys she and Innes had taken in the past few weeks. The destination had never been anything other than satisfying, but Madame Hera was a cautious soul, and Ainsley was inclined