Omega

There was a hint of provocation in her voice. He didn’t know how serious she was being. I tried to speak through him again, to ask if she favoured an unconditional truce; but Owain wasn’t having any of it.

Giselle put down her cup and rose. “You must excuse me for a few moments.”

As soon as she was gone, Marisaid, “I wanted to let you know I would be here. But there was no opportunity.”

“I didn’t know myself until we landed,” Owain replied.

“Carl told me yesterday. To give me time to pack a suitcase.”

Owain wondered if this was the only reason. Perhaps Legister was checking his own internal security.

“He’s suspicious of us, Marisa.”

She merely shrugged. “He knows we are friends. I told him we meet.”

“You told him?”

“When he spoke of you the other day. I thought it better to say we sometimes meet. That way the air is clear.”

This was a highly optimistic assumption to him. “He didn’t want to know why you hadn’t mentioned it before?”

“He asked me if we were lovers.”

Owain hadn’t anticipated this, though it was perfectly logical. He had a jittery sense of his privacy having been violated.

“He was very calm about it. As if he was asking about the menu for dinner. I told him we were simply friends. That my days were long and poor in companionship. That I had done nothing to compromise myself.”

It scarcely sounded like an unconditional assertion of her fidelity. “What did he say?”

“He raised no objections.”

“None at all?”

“He said that providing your intentions were as innocent as mine he saw no reason to prescribe future meetings.”

“Proscribe.”

“Yes. That word. He speaks like a lawyer, Owain, even to me. Nothing I do can touch him.”

He was certain the marriage was sexless, though it was not something they had ever discussed directly. It was hard to imagine Marisa submitting even to an embrace.

“We are to spend some time together when the conference is over. We will travel, see some sights.”

She made the prospect sound less than appealing, and Owain himself didn’t relish it. Was he becoming possessive of her? Perhaps he should stop it now, before they compromised one another. But it wasn’t what he wanted.

She was staring at something over his shoulder. Hastily swallowing theast of her coffee, she stood up.

Her husband was coming out of the building with Giselle.

Owain also rose, feeling like a lover caught in the middle of a tryst. Giselle looked as if she was deliberately trying to delay Legister by talking to him—about Sir Gruffydd, it became clear as they drew closer. Legister was listening but he kept his eyes on Marisa. He wore a dark overcoat and a black astrakhan hat. Owain heard Giselle assure him that his concerns about the field marshal’s health were exaggerated.

“Good morning, my dear,” Legister said to Marisa in a businesslike tone. “I trust you slept well.”

“Very well, thank you,” she replied.

“We are having a short break from our deliberations. I thought a walk might be refreshing.”

“Of course. That would be nice.”

“We’ll take the path around the lake. Get some blood into your cheeks. Did you eat breakfast?”

He addressed her as though checking the duties of a subordinate. She nodded, looking cowed. When Legister offered his arm, she stepped forward and took it.

“Stay clear of the woods,” Giselle advised.

Legister patted the pockets of his overcoat before removing a pair of black leather gloves. Without looking at Owain he added, “I believe your uncle is also surfacing for air, major.”

He walked off, taking Marisa with him as if she were a captive.

Owain watched them descend the steps, two dark figures in the snow, Marisa a head shorter.

“Thank you for arranging our meeting,” Owain said stiffly to Giselle.

“I did nothing of the kind,” she replied, but archly. “A lovely young woman. I do believe she’s rather fond of you.”

My own curiosity was intense and I impelled Owain to ask: “How long has he known about us?”

She was surprised by his bluntness. “The secretary of state? Almost certainly from the start.”

There was only amusement in her voice.

“It’s perfectly innocent,” he insisted. “We’re just friends.”

Giselle’s smile was both knowing and noncommittal.

Again I made Owain ask: “Isn’t there a risk? To your own position, apart from anything else. For colluding. He could have us all arrested if he wanted to.”

“Even if it’s as innocent as you say?”

“He may not know that. If I was in his position I’d assume the worst.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t matter to him.”

“Marisa’s his wife.”

Giselle looked thoughtful. I had the impression she was contemplating Owain’s motivations rather than Legister’s.

“You have heard the expression ‘a trophy wife’?” she asked.

Owain nodded.

“Perhaps there is something of that in their marriage. After all, Marisa wants for nothing.”

“She’s unhappy.”