Strange Bedfellow by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

lifted her hand. “Or don't you call it moving in when another man's ring joins the ones I put on your finger? Did you think I wouldn't see it?” he blazed. “Did you think I wouldn't notice the looks the two of you were exchanging and the way all the others watched the three of us?” He released her hand in a violent gesture of disgust. Dina nursed the pain-numbed fingers, cradling them in her right hand. “And neither of you had the guts to tell me!”  
    “Neither of us really had a chance,” she responded defensively, her temper flaring from the flame of his. “It isn't an announcement one wants to make in front of others. What was I supposed to say when I saw you standing in the doorway, a husband I thought was dead? ‘Darling, I'm so glad you're alive. Oh, by the way, I'm engaged to another man.’ Please credit me for having a bit more delicacy than that!”  
    He gave her a long, hard look. His anger was so tightly controlled that it almost frightened her. It was like looking at a capped volcano, knowing that inside it was erupting, and wondering when the lid would blow.  
    “This is some homecoming,” Blake declared in a contemptuous breath. “A wife who wishes I were still in the grave!”  
    “I don't wish that,” she denied.  
    “This engagement—” he began, bitter sarcasm coating his words.  
    “The way you say it makes it sound like something sordid,” Dina protested, “and it isn't. Chet and I have been engaged for barely more than a week. At the time that he proposed to me, I thought you were dead and I was free to accept.”  
    “Now you know differently. I'm alive. You're my wife, not my widow. You're still married to me.” The way he said it, in such cold, concise tones, made it sound like a life sentence.  
    Dina was trembling and she didn't know why. “I'm aware of that, Blake.” Her voice was taut to keep out the tremors. “But this isn't the time to discuss the situation. Your mother is waiting dinner and I still have to get dressed.”  
    For a few harrowing seconds, she thought he was going to argue. “Yes,” he agreed slowly, “this isn't the time.”  
    She heard the door being yanked open and flinched as it was slammed shut. If this was a new beginning for their marriage, it was off to a rotten start. They had argued before Blake had disappeared, and now war had nearly been declared on his return. Dina shuddered and walked to the closet again.  
    Her arrival downstairs coincided with Deirdre's announcement that dinner would be served. Blake was there to escort her into the formal dining room. A chandelier of cut crystal and polished brass hung above the table, glittering down on the Irish linen tablecloth set with the best of his mother's silver and china. An elaborate floral arrangement sat in the center of the buffet, not too near the table so its scent would not interfere with the aroma of the food. Blake was being warmly welcomed home, by everyone but her, and Dina was painfully conscious of the fact.  
    As they all took their chairs around the Danish styled dining table, the tension in the air was almost electrical. Yet Dina seemed to be the only one who noticed it. Blake sat at the head of the table, the place of honor, with his mother at the opposite end and Chet seated on her right. Dina sat on Blake's left.  
    Ever since she had come down, Blake had possessively kept her at his side, as if showing everyone that she was his and effectively separating her from Chet. On the surface, he seemed all smiles, at times giving her glimpses of his former devastating charm. But there was still anger smoldering in brown eyes whenever his gaze was directed to her.  
    When everyone was seated, the housekeeper came in carrying a tureen of soup. “I fixed your favorite, Mr. Blake,” she announced, a beaming smile on her square-jawed face. “Cream of asparagus.”  
    “Bless you, Deirdre.” He smiled broadly. “Now that's the way to welcome a man home!”