Colby's Wife. Grace Green

light on her feet as she scrambled by in the dark, leaving behind nothing but a hint of her perfume. And then... Brad’s voice, panicky, uncertain. ‘Greer—wait—’

      Greer felt her heartbeats jar. Why was Brad saying her name? But as her mind reeled confusedly, she heard Colby’s voice again, so harsh now it was almost unrecognizable.

      ‘Greer, come out this minute. If you don’t, by God, I’ll come in and get you!’

      She had never heard him so angry. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she uncoiled her body and got up unsteadily. She reached out to the tree trunk to support herself, but lost her balance. With a cry, she fell sideways against the sun-dried branches of a bush, the crackling noise echoing in the stillness, echoing and reechoing, over and over.

      Colby thudded toward her, and before she could draw a breath, he had pulled her out onto the moonlit beach.

      Brad had come out of his hiding place, too, right behind her, but she had no time to waste thinking of Brad. All her thoughts were centered on Colby...and when she saw the expression of revulsion on his face as he looked at her, she felt as if she was sliding down into a dark bottomless hole. It was obvious he believed she’d been the one making love with Brad...because Eleanor—with Brad’s cooperation—had set it up that way.

      Oh, what a sly and selfish mind her cousin had...and oh, what a swiftly manipulative one. She could have had no idea that Greer was close by; she was probably on her way now to the Westbury cottage, intent on securing Greer’s cooperation in this deception. Greer knew it was in her power to wipe the look of contempt from Colby’s face; knew that with a few quiet words, she could exonerate herself and regain his respect.

      But even as pain twisted her heart so she almost cried out with the intensity of it, she realized that his pain would be even greater than her own, if he were to find out the truth.

      ‘Oh, spare the tears,’ he said with soft menace as his steely grip on her wrist tightened, ‘spare me the tears.’ His indrawn breath was harsh...his tone cruel as he said, ‘Get inside! I have some things I want to...say... to Brad Pierson and you don’t want to be around to hear them!’

      Greer spun her blurred gaze to Brad. Would he say the words that would clear her? She could see by the evasive shift of his gaze that he would not. Oh, she was well aware that all she ought to feel for him was repugnance, but she couldn’t help feeling a faint welling of pity, too. He had had his moment of pleasure, and now he’d have to pay for it. She just hoped he felt it was worth it. At least, in her own case, she knew that Colby would never lay a hand on her.

      It might have been easier if he had, she’d often thought afterward; easier to bear a physical punishment—for a sin of which she was innocent—than to have to bear the contempt he heaped on her the following evening.

      Physical punishment might have broken her bones, but the punishment he did inflict on her—the withdrawal of his affection and friendship—had broken her heart.

      And from that, she had never recovered.

      

      ‘Greer, darling, I’ve made a pot of tea!’

      Startled back to the present, she saw Jem at the back door, and determinedly squashing her memories, she gave a quick wave, and walked along the path to join her.

      ‘The barbecue’s going to be such fun,’ Jem said. ‘Lisa has invited Colby, too. It’ll be just like old times.’

      ‘It will, won’t it!’ Greer said lightly as she tried to ignore the sudden jarring of her heartbeats. ‘Except, of course, that Brad won’t be there.’

      ‘Oh, didn’t Lisa mention?’ Jem patted her topknot. ‘Brad is coming later, in the Mercedes. He’ll be here by eight.’

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE WRAPAROUND veranda at the Pierson cottage was roofed, its wooden furniture painted sage green to blend in with the surrounding landscape...and flowers were everywhere. Orange geranium spilled from clay pots on the deck and the stairs; bowls of lupins adorned the low casual tables; and ivies, sapphire lobelia, and fuchsia trailed in profusion from hanging moss baskets suspended by hooks from the eaves.

      Normally Greer would have delighted in looking at the colorful blossoms and inhaling their sweet and spicy scents, but—for her, at least—tonight was not normal. Her love for Colby kept threatening to spill over, and she was terrified it would show in her eyes, her voice, her body language...but along with that love smoldered a burning resentment at the way he was treating her, and the constant effort to control her conflicting emotions had stimulated a pain in her temples that showed no signs of letting up...