Connie watched through half-open lids as Jared hauled his naked body from the bed. He was tanned and lean, the muscles of his back well defined. She had no recollection of falling asleep, but she must have done, because the summer light was poking through the blinds at the hotel window. The last thing she remembered was the feel of his breath, soft on her cheek.

He did not speak or look at her as he pulled on his jeans and buttoned his blue shirt, brushing his long hair back from his face with both hands as he padded to the bathroom. She heard him splashing in the sink but lay there, her body still tender and sensitive, in a blur of remembered pleasure.

12

Connie realized with a shock, as the Eurostar slid out of the tunnel on the English side, that she had barely thought about Devan in the days she’d been away. Now she felt the first stirrings of panic at the prospect of seeing her husband. He was the last person on the planet she felt able to face. He knew her like the back of his hand. Surely, surely, this time he must read something in her eyes.

Because she had changed. From being an unthinkingly faithful wife, she had morphed into a person who would willingly open her body to another man, lie naked with him, press her mouth to his in lust, and dream of him during her waking moments. Not just once, either. How could that not show in her eyes, in the way she spoke and breathed, even in the hue of her skin? She cringed at the thought.

Her next tour was in two weeks – five nights in the Scottish Highlands. Between now and then she needed somehow to remove herself firmly from Jared’s orbit and slot back into real life. Although her mind still burned with the possibility of seeing him again. Will he come to Scotland? It didn’t seem to matter to her brain that she despised herself for these perfidious thoughts. It ran on regardless, almost minute by minute, replaying those moments with Jared until she knew every one by heart.

The house was silent when Connie got home around three: no dog, no husband. Devan hadn’t answered her call about picking her up from the station – she’d had to take a taxi – or any of her subsequent texts asking where he was. She wasn’t even sure she’d told him when she was getting back, their communication having ground almost to a halt. Not that she minded his absence. It just put off the evil moment, gave her time to unpack and settle in, wash off the journey – and, hopefully, Jared – before she had to face him.