Read Online Borrowed Wife by Patrícia Wilson - Free Book Online Page A

don’t move until I’ve seen you eat. You need sleep too but the
food comes first.’
    I can’t
sleep,’ Abigail pointed out shakily, eating as ordered even though she didn’t
feel at all like it. ‘I’ll sit on the bench at the hospital and try to rest a
bit.’
     
       ‘You’ll get into bed
and sleep. When you’ve finished this you’re going to the flat.’
    ‘What
flat?’ Abigail looked up with startled eyes at him, and he stared back at her
grimly.
    ‘Our
flat. We’ve only ever had the one and it’s still there.’
    ‘It’s
yours. It has nothing to do with me.’ There was a faint trace of panic at the
back of her voice but if he heard it Logan gave no sign. Instead he regarded
her steadily, almost patiently.
    ‘When you
married me,’ he reminded her quietly, ‘half of everything I had, became yours.
That included the flat, the house and everything else. If you don’t want to sleep
in my half of the flat you can sleep in your half’
    ‘This
isn’t the time to be amusing,’ Abigail remonstrated chokily, and he eyed her
with a certain amount of disparagement.
    ‘I’m
telling you the facts, not trying to entertain you. If you had divorced me you
would by now be quite wealthy. If I die first you’ll be rolling in money.’
    ‘Stop
it!’ Abigail said sharply. ‘I want nothing of yours at all and you know that.’
    ‘But
you’ll get it, Abbie,’ he promised softly. ‘You’re probably old enough to
handle wealth by now.’
    ‘Get
married again!’ Abigail suggested rather desperately. She wanted this taunting
conversation to stop because she knew it was just that. Logan was taunting her
even though her father was lying in a stiff white bed and clinging onto life.
    ‘I have a
wife,’ he pointed out coldly, the derision leaving his eyes. ‘One catastrophic
marriage is enough for me. I don’t need any more loose ends to tie off.’ if my
father dies it will be one thing finished,’ Abigail muttered bitterly, and she
finished her food, and he stood with an impatient movement, drawing her sharply
to her feet.  
    ‘This conversation is over,
Abigail. Now you sleep!’
    ‘l will not!’ For a second
she stood her ground but she could never have had any doubt about winning. She
was dazed, swaying, out on her feet. Stress, tiredness and then the unexpected
wine had all done their bit. She could have slept on the table with no
difficulty.
    ‘Walk to the car or I’ll
carry you,’ he warned, and she managed to get to the door, the sight of the
Jaguar like the light at the end of a tunnel. Wherever Logan was taking her she
was going to go because she could not stay upright for very much longer.
    ‘My
father...’ she began, and his hand came under her elbow, supporting her as she
moved uncertainly forward.
    ‘Leave
that to me. I’ll not let you down,’ he assured her. He never had actually. She
ran that thought hazily though her mind. Logan had never let her down. Except,
of course, with Fenella Mitchell. The thought of that kept her awake until they
were in the flat that had once been so thrillingly familiar.
    How many
times since she had left him had Logan brought Fenella here? If Fenella wanted
a baby would he refuse her too? Of course, Fenella would not want children, but
she had wanted Logan’s child—wanted it so badly.
    ‘Why?’
she whispered. She stood swaying as Logan shut the door behind them. ‘Why
couldn’t I have a baby?’
    He turned
swiftly at the pained sound of her voice, his gaze sharpening as he saw the few
tears on her cheeks. They were tears of regret. If there had been a baby she
would have had something, someone, some part of Logan.
    ‘You’re
tired, Abigail.’ His voice was curiously husky and she looked across at him
mournfully.
    ‘Why?’
she repeated in the same whisper, ‘I never did understand. I wanted a baby.
What harm could it have done, even though you never intended to stay married to
me, even though you were merely after my father?’