Sapphire and Shadow (A Woman's Life) by Marie Ferrarella Page B

took the keys from the valet, pressing money into his hand. She had her hand on the door when Harry pulled her around.
    Harry clamped his fingers around her wrist. He wanted to make her surrender the keys, to surrender the superior tone he felt she used. His face was close to hers and he almost snarled. “You hate to drive in London. You said so, remember?”
    “I hate to die even more.”
    Her eyes were cold, daring him to challenge her. She was aware that the valet had backed away, unwilling to be a witness to the scene. She could hardly blame him.
    Harry opened his mouth to curse her, then abruptly shut it, shrugged and grinned foolishly. “Suit yourself.”
    He walked to the passenger side of the car on rubbery legs and all but fell in. Johanna breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes met those of a woman she was vaguely acquainted with who stood waiting with her husband for their car. Johanna raised her chin, smoothed the skirt of her gown and slid in behind the wheel.
    The party had been held at a hotel not far from their own. Johanna, her teeth clenched, her knuckles white on the steering wheel, made her way through the sparse traffic on King’s Road and turned right on Sloane Street. She nearly made a wrong turn on Beauchamp Place, but recovered in time, mentally chastising herself. Next to her, Harry sat, humming, oblivious to everything. His very presence unnerved her. They couldn’t reach the hotel fast enough for Johanna.
    Wade Masterson snapped to attention as Johanna pulled up to the curb. With agility that didn’t seem possible for a man of his bulk, he was at her side and opening the door for her. Two slightly uneven rows of teeth flashed at her as he smiled down into her face. He had already labeled Johanna as one of the most attractive women he had ever seen the moment she had checked in. The most attractive as well as one of the saddest.
    Then Wade Masterson looked at Harry and his genial smile froze a little around the edges.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Whitney. Mr. Whitney.” He turned ever so slightly toward Johanna, his considerable frame cutting Harry off. The snub did not go unnoticed. “Will you be needing any help tonight?”
    “No.” Johanna smiled her gratitude even though it pained her to have people see what she had to put up with. “I think we can manage very well.” She handed the doorman the spare keys to the car. They were enveloped in a pound note. “If you’ll just have someone put it away.”
    “Of course, ma’am.” Masterson touched two fingers to his hat. Mrs. Whitney was a lady, a genuine lady. Too bad her husband was just a miscreant.
    She took Harry’s arm, not because she wanted to, but because she was afraid that if she didn’t, he would fall down at her feet.
    Harry was busy trying to focus in on the lobby and keep the colors from bleeding into one another. “I can walk, dammit,” he hissed at her.
    But she refused to let go of his arm as she made her way slowly, deliberately, to the elevator. She felt eyes following them on their path and told herself that it was only curiosity, nothing more. People were always curious about the rich and famous. “Crawl would be more like it,” she said between clenched teeth.
    He wanted to pull away and found he couldn’t quite manage it. But he always had the strength for an icy retort. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To see me crawl.”
    She sighed as she pressed for the elevator. Almost immediately, the doors slid open before her. It was empty, thank God. “Not at all.”
    “Oh,” he stumbled as he entered and caught himself against the back wall, “the ice princess is back.”
    She reached to help him, and then dropped her hand. What was the use? The damn fool would never understand, would he? “I don’t play parts, Harry. I am first and foremost, your wife.”
    “And don’t you forget it!”
    He drew himself up to his full height. He appeared taller than five ten because of the weight he had lost. He braced