Read Fugitive Wife for Free Online Page B

upwards for her inspection. ‘Hmm,’ She bent over it, pretending absorption, one pink-tipped finger tracing the various lines on his hand as she spoke. ‘A strong headline. but then I’d expect that. A long lifeline, and quite steady too, except for your middle years which could hold some danger for you . . .’

    ‘Never more than at this moment. I suspect.’ His tone was dry. ‘Briony, what are you trying to do.’

    ‘Tel your fortune.’ she said with mock innocence. ‘Now your heart-line is realy fascinating. I would say you could get any woman you wanted, merely by asking.’

    ‘Now that is fascinating.’ he said gravely. ‘Your coffee’s getting cold.’

    ‘You don’t think I know what I’m talking about.’ she accused.

    ‘I think I know exactly what you’re talking about.’ he said. ‘And it has nothing to do with palmistry. Tel me something Briony. When we leave here; what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?’

    Her heart suddenly seemed to miss a beat at the question.

    ‘1-1 don’t have anything planned.’

    ‘No?’ His hand closed round hers, opening it palm upwards.

    ‘Now it’s my turn and I’l tel you what I see. I see the heart-line dominating the head. I see a mixed-up girl who doesn’t know what she wants. I see a dangerous craving for excitement in the lifeline, but this evens out before too long into steadiness and security and a suitable marriage.’

    Briony snatched her hand away. ‘But that isn’t what I want.’ she said unevenly. ‘And you know it. What―what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?’ She died al kinds of smal deaths while she waited for him to answer.

    ‘I think they could best be described as fluid,’ Logan said slowly at last. ‘But they certainly begin with more coffee― at my flat I think.
    Shal we go and find a taxi?’

    She had thought that he would kiss her in the taxi, but he didn’t, and she felt dashed by this; He hardly spoke either and his face was suddenly remote as if his thoughts had traveled a long way from her and she did not dare make any attempt to recal them. But by the time the taxi drew up in front of the smal block of flats where Logan lived, she was feeling thoroughly nervous and on edge.

    He didn’t put his arm around her either as they went up the stairs to the first floor, and she felt oddly chiled as he fitted the key into the lock and admitted her to a smal cramped hal. There were a couple of letters lying just inside the door and he bent to retrieve them, slitting them open carelessly with his thumbnail and running his eye over the contents while she stood, waiting. He was being so casual, she thought, as though this happened al the time, as maybe it did with him, but not with her as he surely must realise.

    She wasn’t just nervous any more either. She was definitely panicky, and suddenly and paralysingly shy at the thought of what she was doing. She had never dreamed she could behave in this way, but she’d thought that Logan would somehow make it easy for her. After al, it was last night’s kisses which had set off the chain reaction which had brought her to the flat today, she thought.

    ‘Do you live here alone?’ She tried to sound casual in her turn, but there was a tel-tale quiver in her voice, she realised with vexation.

    ‘I share with Tony Ericson, but he’s in Zambia at the moment,’ he returned laconicaly.

    So although he might have a relationship with Karen Welesley, they weren’t actualy living together.

    Briony experienced a spasm of relief at the realisation. She folowed Logan into the living room. It wasn’t large, and it was furnished in a spartan manner which suggested that its occupants spent little time there.

    The main items of furniture were a rather battered sofa drawn up in front of the fireplace and a large office desk in the window, supporting a litter of papers and two sturdy portable typewriters.

    ‘Yes, I work here as wel as at the office.’