An Interrupted Marriage (Silhouette Special Edition) by Laurey Bright Page A

you to deal with most things for the next couple of days.”
    She’d looked up then and seen him frowning at the neat piles of ledgers and papers on his desk. Then he’d raised his head and his eyes met hers and she instinctively stood, too, her notebook still clasped in one hand, the other outstretched to him as she whispered, “I’m so sorry!”
    He’d taken her hand as though it was a lifeline, the strength of his grip almost cracking the bones. Staring down at their entwined fingers, he muttered, “He’s my father, you see....” He looked up at her, and she saw the baffled disbelief in his eyes.
    “Yes,” she said softly. “I know.” She’d wanted to take him in her arms, but this wasn’t the right moment. There were things he had to do for his mother, his family—his father. He would have to remain in control for them. “I’ll look after things here for you,” she’d assured him, and then, crisply, to steady him, “Can you drive? Or shall I get someone to...?”
    “No.” He’d dropped her hand then. “I’ll drive myself. Take my mind off it,” he added without hope.
    “If there’s any way I can help,” she said, “do let me, please.”
    “Thank you, Jade. It’s a help just to know you’re here.” He’d stooped and kissed her cheek before striding out.
    * * *
    It had been the first time they’d touched, and the first time she’d seen a hint of emotional vulnerability in Magnus. It wasn’t something he allowed to show very often. To this day she didn’t know if he’d ever let go his rigid control and cried for his father.
    Jade slid the last drawer closed, and turned to see Magnus flex his shoulders and push his chair a little way from the desk. As she left the metal cabinet he enquired, “Finished?”
    “Nearly. I’m not sure what to file these under.” She took the small sheaf of queries over to him and put them into his outstretched hand.
    He went through them quickly, giving instructions, and then passed them back. “Can you remember all that?”
    “Yes. Thank you.” She paused before turning away, and he looked up at her.
    Jade smiled. “Just like old times.”
    He said on a harsh note, “You must tell me if you’re tired.”
    “I’ll tell you,” she promised, inwardly sighing.
    He pressed a couple of keys on the computer and removed a disk from the drive, slotting in another. Jade finished the filing and went to the other desk, slipping on earphones so that she could transcribe the tapes he’d recorded without disturbing him.
    At ten-thirty Mrs. Gaines tapped on the door and brought in a tray with one cup of tea on it. Seeing Jade, she went away to fetch another.
    “Thanks, Netta,” Jade said when she returned with it and placed the cup before her.
    Mrs. Gaines jerked her head in the direction of her employer. “He forgets to drink it, quite often,” she murmured. “Do you think you...?”
    Jade promised, “I’ll remind him.”
    When the housekeeper had closed the door, Jade took her cup and strolled over to her husband’s side, leaning back on the desk so she could face him.
    She saw him press the save keys and picked her moment. “Mrs. Gaines is afraid you’ll forget your tea.”
    He glanced up, then reached for the cup. He pushed his chair away from the desk, sipping the hot drink. “How’s the typing?”
    “I’m a bit out of practice, but it comes back. I’m enjoying it. And I feel...”
    His eyes lifted to hers. “What?”
    “Well—useful, as if I’m earning the money you spent on me yesterday—at least, part of it.”
    He didn’t look pleased. “I told you, that money was earned.”
    Jade’s fingers tightened on the cup in her hands. “You know I didn’t want payment.”
    * * *
    Shortly after their wedding—a hastily arranged, muted celebration because of his recent bereavement, Magnus had confided his shock discovery that his father’s apparent prosperity had been an illusion. He’d left behind huge debts. “The farms may have to