Her Long-Lost Husband Read online

  “Explain yourself, sir,” snapped the unctuous voice of the minister.

  Olivia saw Gregor blink slowly, almost as if he needed to close his eyes to break the link between them—not that it worked.

  As soon as he lifted those thick dark lashes the connection was made again, and it seemed as if neither of them could look away.

  Despite the distance between the opposite ends of the aisle, she could see the shadows in his eyes, and saw too the way his chest expanded with the steadying breath he drew in before he spoke the unavoidable words.

  “This ceremony cannot continue because the lady is already married—to me.”

  There was utter silence for several seconds before pandemonium erupted around her. It seemed as if every single one of the guests had something to say about the shocking turn of events, but Olivia found it hard to care—not when her overloaded emotions were finally giving up under the accumulated strain of two devastating years.

  The last thing she saw before her knees buckled and the darkness overwhelmed her were Gregor’s arms reaching toward her, and the helpless frustration in his eyes telling her better than words that he wanted to be the one to catch her as she fell.

  Dear Reader,

  Shortly after I met the man who eventually became my husband, he set off across the world to honor his commitment to undertake a spell of VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas).

  Of course, being a typical man, correspondence was patchy at best. The weeks of silence lengthened, but I didn’t start to worry until the newspapers and television began to fill with the most awful tales of increasing tension and violence in the very region where he was working, much of the hostility focusing on foreign nationals.

  Then, completely out of the blue, I had a phone call one morning and a voice I’d convinced myself I would never hear again told me he’d managed to make it home safely…and wanted to see me as soon as possible.

  So, when Livvy appeared in my head, I could relate. I knew exactly what the tumult of emotions battering her would feel like when the man she thought she’d never see again reappeared, apparently from nowhere.

  And though my personal hero returned unwounded, I knew the mixture of despair and hope that Gregor would be feeling when he saw her again, not knowing if the woman he loved would ever be his again.

  I hope you enjoy their journey as they try to find their way back together. It brought back some amazing memories for me!

  Josie

  HER LONG-LOST HUSBAND

  Josie Metcalfe

  HER LONG-LOST HUSBAND

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  PROLOGUE

  ‘THANK you,’ Gregor said distractedly, grateful that the usher had come to hold the door open for him when he’d struggled with the weight of it, but he barely heard his own words over the frantic beating of his heart.

  He’d been so afraid that he’d arrive too late, and even now as his eyes adjusted to the comparative gloom inside the church, the familiar traditional organ music died away and he heard the sonorous tones of the celebrant echoing over the heads of the couple standing before the altar.

  ‘Dearly beloved…’

  The first words silenced the soft sibilance of whispers as the whole congregation concentrated on the time-hallowed words.

  ‘We are gathered…’ This time they would probably all be gathered in the serried ranks of pews, he thought wryly, her genteel collection of Mannington-Forbes uncles, aunts and cousins on one side, all with that noticeably supercilious air that seemed to come with a hint of blue blood. The groom’s side, too, would be filled with the overfed scions of old money and even older titles, with long thin noses and barely a normal jawbone between them.

  Not that he bothered to spare a look for any of them.

  The only person who filled his gaze was the slender wraith of a woman whose delicate ivory dress made her seem almost as insubstantial as dandelion fluff…a far cry from the fun-filled, captivating woman he’d once known.

  Even from this distance he could see how much she’d changed, the differences even more obvious in person than they’d been in that artfully posed studio portrait he’d seen just this morning, but were the changes all physical? Was there anything left of the joyous, passionate woman whom he had once known? ‘…any reason why they should not be married, let him speak now or for ever hold his peace.’

  The words were obviously spoken by rote, a challenge that was thrown out at every such ceremony with little expectation that anyone would ever stand up to make a declaration.

  Well, no-one would be standing up this time, either, but only because he was completely incapable of getting out of his wheelchair unaided. That didn’t mean that the objection wouldn’t be made. He had no alternative, so he drew in a sharp breath.

  ‘This ceremony cannot continue,’ he announced, surprised by the way the acoustics in the vaulted space seemed to magnify the words until it almost sounded as if he’d shouted.

  Perhaps he had. It was difficult to be certain while he was in such turmoil. All he knew was that his heart was beating so fast that it was shaking his whole body while he waited to see what would happen, and his eyes never left the slender figure at the foot of the altar steps.

  The congregation’s response reminded him of the time he’d seen a hive of bees disturbed but, of course, these were very upper-crust bees that did little more than gasp and glare in the direction of the intruder; bees whose mutters and murmurs were easily subdued by the celebrant’s testy demand.

  ‘Why should I stop this ceremony? On what grounds?’

  He’d been focusing on that slender back and knew from her sudden unnatural stillness that she must have recognised his voice.

  He regretted the fact that things had happened this way. It had been sheer chance that had put that magazine article in his hands this morning or he would never have known what was happening until it had been too late. Obviously, it would have been so much better if he’d had time to contact her earlier, then she would have been saved this embarrassment.

  As it was he was left sitting there, his eyes almost dazzled by the rainbow of colours thrown across the skirt of her delicate dress by the sun pouring through the stained-glass windows. Then, moving as slowly and stiffly as though she were a mechanical automaton, she turned to stare at him, wide-eyed with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

  There was a strange ringing sound in Olivia’s ears.

  Unfortunately, it was nothing like the joyous peal that was due to sound from the bell-tower at the end of the ceremony.

  And that voice!

  The unforgettable husky edge to it and the so-sexy hint of an accent that had always been able to turn her knees to water, right from the very first time she’d met him.

  It could only be Gregor’s voice.

  But that was impossible.

  Gregor was dead.

  She shuddered with the dreadful finality of that thought, and guilt flooded through her anew that she would never be able to forget the first man…the only man…she’d ever loved.

  Was it guilt that had her imagining that she could still hear his voice; guilt that she was even trying to pretend that she was over her loss?

  She hadn’t needed to turn around to know that Gregor wouldn’t be there. She had done just that so many times before when wishful thinking had had her convinced that she could hear him. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d thought that she recognised him in s
ome tall dark-haired man with an almost impatient stride and quicksilver eyes.

  But in the end she couldn’t resist turning to look.

  In spite of the fact that she’d been standing beside Ashley, the man her mother had always intended as the ideal husband for her stubborn daughter, she hadn’t been able to stop herself turning to look back down the length of the flower-decked aisle.

  Her breath caught in her throat and her heart nearly stopped beating altogether when she didn’t find Gregor standing there as lean and powerful as the day she’d last seen him, but seated in a wheelchair with those unearthly pale eyes sunk into a face that was a mere shadow of the handsome man she’d once known.

  It was Gregor.

  He was alive!

  Alive, but…dear God, he looked dreadful! So pale and grey and…

  Was he sick? Dying?

  Had the confirmation of his death just been premature? He certainly wore the strained look of someone who’d been enduring severe pain — mental or physical — for a very long time.

  Dimly she was aware that there were muttering voices all around her, but they were as inconsequential as the hum of bees in a summer flowerbed when it felt as if her heart would stop beating with the culmination of two years of agony.

  Those eyes!

  As vulnerable as he looked now, the life in Gregor’s eyes had always seared her with its intensity; had drawn her to him as fiercely as the most powerful magnet. And when she realised that she was helpless to look away from him, Olivia knew that hadn’t changed, even though it had been so long since she’d last seen him; even though she’d tried to convince herself that she’d come to terms with his final disappearance from her life.

  ‘Explain yourself, sir,’ snapped the unctuous voice of the celebrant, and Olivia saw Gregor blink slowly, almost as if he needed to close his eyes to break the link between them.

  Not that it worked.

  As soon as he lifted those thick dark lashes the connection was made again and it seemed as if neither of them could look away.

  She suddenly seemed to be aware of everything about him…the way he straightened his shoulders inside the jacket he wore…the way the jacket almost seemed too small on him, as if he’d had to borrow it to be here…the stark contrast of the trousers that only seemed to exaggerate the extreme thinness of his thighs as he sat there passively in the chair.

  Despite the distance between the opposite ends of the aisle she could see the shadows in his eyes and saw, too, the way his chest expanded with the steadying breath he drew in before he spoke the unavoidable words.

  ‘This ceremony cannot continue because the lady is already married — to me.’

  There was utter silence for several seconds before pandemonium erupted around her. It seemed as if every single one of the guests had something to say about the shocking turn of events, but Olivia found it hard to care, not when her overloaded emotions were finally giving up under the accumulated strain of two devastating years.

  The last thing she saw before her knees refused to support her any further and the darkness overwhelmed her was Gregor’s arms reaching towards her, the helpless frustration in his eyes telling her better than words that he wanted to be the one to catch her as she fell.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘OLIVIA!’

  That sharp voice was her mother’s, piercing through the cotton-wool that filled Olivia’s head and letting in the cacophony that surrounded her. She’d had so many years of hearing that mixture of exasperation and disappointment that she’d grown all-too adept at shutting it out.

  This time was no different as she opted for keeping her eyes closed for just a moment or two longer while she gathered up the fortitude to face the storm breaking over her head. She would bet good money that her father would be nowhere to be found. Sometimes she’d wondered if he was merely a figment of her imagination, she’d seen so little of him during her childhood. There was little doubt that her mother had married him for his bank balance rather than his quiet love of the nature contained within the family estate, and it had always been obvious to Olivia, once she’d grown up enough to notice such things, that he eminently preferred the company of his dogs to that of his wife.

  ‘Is it true?’ That sharply demanding hiss — just too loud to be called a whisper — was Ashley’s mother. Only Phyllida Grayson-Smythe could sound that outraged that quietly, especially when the two things most precious to her might be hurt…the family name and her darling son’s feelings.

  ‘Of course not, Mother.’ That was Ash’s usual placating tone as he soothed his domineering mother. If the woman ever found out the real reason why the two of them had agreed to this wedding… ‘Olivia’s marriage ended when her husband was declared dead.’

  ‘Except I’m obviously not dead,’ said the slightly husky voice with the so-sexy hint of an accent that haunted her dreams, and Olivia finally forced herself to open her eyes, still not convinced that this wasn’t just another of the nightmares that had returned with a vengeance ever since she’d given in to the incessant pressure and agreed to marry Ashley.

  It took only a second or two to discover that she was lying full-length on the scarlet carpet at the foot of the altar steps, totally surrounded by what seemed to be every single one of the hundreds of guests.

  So, how was it possible that the first pair of eyes she met were Gregor’s, their silvery gleam darkened to pewter by concern?

  ‘Are you all right?’ It was impossible to actually hear his softly spoken question but it was so easy to read his lips, especially when she didn’t seem able to drag her eyes away from him.

  Was she all right? She hardly knew with so many emotions whirling around inside her, fighting for space with all the questions she longed to ask.

  What was the matter with him?

  Why was he in a wheelchair?

  How sick was he?

  Was his illness the reason he hadn’t come back to her after his last deployment?

  Had the report of his death been concocted because he hadn’t wanted to come back?

  Had he simply fallen out of love with her?

  Had he just not cared that her heart had been broken?

  Embarrassment at her current predicament and the fact that there would be no way of avoiding seeing highly coloured accounts of today’s events reported in the media seemed unimportant against the more fundamental emotions trying to wrench her apart.

  Finally, there were only two that really mattered — her overwhelming joy that the man she loved was still alive, and a growing anger that he could have treated her so heartlessly.

  ‘Let me up,’ she demanded, slapping impatiently at Ash’s hands when he would have prevented her from extricating herself from such a vulnerable position.

  ‘Are you sure you should?’ her erstwhile groom cautioned.

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’ It was an effort when she was quivering in every muscle, but she kept her voice firm. ‘I fainted from shock, not because I’m ill,’ she added, glad that she wasn’t having to fight with her mother’s choice of a vast billowing meringue of a dress as she scrambled to her feet.

  ‘But, Olivia… Darling!’

  She could almost hear her mother’s brain scrambling to find some innocuous explanation for this whole fiasco…some way of saving face in front of all these eminent people…but Olivia suddenly knew that there was only one possible course of action.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she began, deliberately ignoring the fact that there was a liberal sprinkling of titled relatives among the throng. ‘As you will no doubt have realised, there will not be a wedding ceremony today. There is, however, a reception ready and waiting, so those of you who have been looking forward to the day so that they can catch up with far-flung friends and relations are welcome to make their way there.’

  She concentrated hard on keeping a smile pinned to her face and trying to meet as many eyes as possible in the hope that she could fool everyone into believing that she was completely calm a
nd in control.

  Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her mother’s frantic gestures but deliberately ignored them to add, ‘I hope you all have a wonderful time and…and that you will raise a glass in thanksgiving that Gregor’s life has been spared. Thank you all for coming today.’

  She would have loved to have been able to walk away at that point to find somewhere peaceful to regain her composure, but even thinking about putting one foot in front of the other was beyond her, especially with Gregor watching her every move.

  ‘Olivia?’ Ashley wrapped a supportive arm around her, but instead of feeling comforted, she felt smothered and…and guilty. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ he muttered close to her ear. ‘Shall I get rid of him?’

  The sudden heat in Gregor’s gaze was enough to tell her that if there was any ‘getting rid of’ to be done, it wouldn’t be Ashley doing it.

  The recognition of that should have been ridiculous, especially with one man in good health and the other apparently unable to manoeuvre without a wheelchair.

  ‘No, thank you, Ashley. That won’t be necessary,’ she said distantly, as though the man hadn’t been stood beside her just a few minutes ago waiting to exchange their marriage vows.

  ‘Well, do you want me to take you somewhere?’ he offered, muttering under the cover of the surrounding hubbub. ‘The limousine is waiting outside. Where would you like to go?’

  Olivia pondered briefly, for just one moment tempted to take to her heels and ask the limousine driver to find somewhere far away where she could bury herself while she put her shattered feelings together, but then realised that it would be an impossibility until she spoke to Gregor; until she found out where he had been for the past two years and what was the matter with him that he’d had to make his appearance today in a wheelchair.