Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [197]
‘Why not?’ Her voice was high and her eyes were sunk like wells into the white landscape of her terrified face.
‘Because,’ he sighed, getting irritated, ‘I’m already married.’
She almost passed out. With a roaring in her ears, the pub receded, transformed into a vision of Hell. As she watched Lorcan, his face changed from something familiar and desirable into a picture of the devil. His handsome mouth thinned into a cruel line, his exquisite nose became a pointy hatchet, his purple-brown eyes turned into red coals. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, because she didn’t.
‘I’m already married,’ he snapped, guilt making him bad-tempered. ‘I can’t marry you because I’m already married.’
‘You can’t be married,’ she insisted, trying to wade out of the nightmare. ‘You never said.’
‘Oh, come on. You must have known.’
‘I didn’t. I’d never have gone to… done the…’
‘Oh, I see, you were trying to trap me into marrying you by getting pregnant,’ Lorcan accused, desperate to turn the tables.
‘No, I wasn’t,’ she defended herself, her breath coming in squeaky, shallow gasps, ‘but I thought if we went, um, if we went,’ she forced herself to go on, ‘if we went to bed that you were going to marry me.’
‘Well, I wasn’t and I’m not. I can’t, you see,’ he added, in gentler tones.
‘I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it,’ Katherine muttered over and over, her face in her hands. Katherine Casey did not get impregnated by a man who wouldn’t marry her. It simply wasn’t part of her plan.
She peeked her face out at him. ‘We’ll have to live together. Starting from now.’ It was far from ideal, eminently unrespectable, but it would have to do. ‘I mean,’ she blustered, ‘I presume you’re separated from your wife.’
He exhaled heavily. ‘You presume wrong.’
Again she thought she was going to black out.
‘I don’t necessarily mean a legal separation.’ She was grasping at straws. ‘But you’re not together-together, are you?’
‘We live together, if that’s what you mean.’ Lorcan was looking at the door and wondering how soon he could escape.
‘What do you mean?’ she shrieked. ‘I’ve been in your flat. There was no wife there.’
‘She was away.’
‘Away?’ Katherine asked, dazedly. She remembered the plants, the spice rack, the bowls of pot-pourri dotted around the place. She’d thought Lorcan had put them there.
‘Yes, she was away those times you came over,’ Lorcan confirmed, worn out.
Katherine couldn’t speak, she could hardly breathe as the enormity of the information began to trickle through. You’re a mistress. A mistress! How on earth did that happen?
It was at times like this that Lorcan wished he’d kept his willy to himself. He’d enjoyed his time with Katherine, she was sweet. And he’d marvelled at his master-craftmanship as he’d wooed her at just the right rate, but right now he wasn’t sure if all this fall-out was worth it. And for her to be pregnant – Jesus, what a mess! One he wanted to get as far away from as possible.
Through the murk of sweaty terror Katherine saw a solution of sorts. ‘You’ll just have to leave your wife immediately. Come on,’ she said crisply, gathering confidence, ‘I’ll come with you to tell her. We’ll go now.’
Already she was gathering her bag and jacket and Lorcan was filled with panic. Sometimes Katherine could be so forceful, pushy even, as she reshaped the world into a version that suited her. Lorcan didn’t want to leave his wife, not yet, anyway. Despite his occasional infidelities, he was very attached to Fiona. They suited each other. Not to mention that she bankrolled him.
He was appalled at the idea of living with Katherine and – God above – a baby. Katherine would have him trapped in suburbia, cutting grass, going to Mass, changing nappies, converting garages, painting bedrooms and the tedious like while she went to coffee mornings, looked at conservatory brochures and contested their neighbours’ planning applications. The things that had initially charmed him about Katherine were suddenly choking him.
Besides, he’d got what he wanted from her. The thrill of the chase was over, and now he was scared.
‘No,’ he