Borrowed Wife Read Online Free Page A

to
retreat to the safety of Martha and the busy offices beyond. If she had, he
would never have seen her and now she would not be feeling the guilt that refused
to go.
    Abigail
had been nineteen, slender, willowy, with eyes like emeralds and long black
hair that curled round her shoulders. She had been working in her father’s firm
since she had left school the year before—He had always made, it plain to her
that she would work for him, with him and finally take the firm into her own
hands when he retired and Abigail had never thought to defy him. She was
sweet-natured, gentle and always willing.
    Not that
it would have been any easy option in defy Kent Madden He had fought his way
upwards in the business world, a property developer with a keen eye for a good
site and a drive to succeed that had brought the Madden Corporation to the top
and held it there. Abigail had been supposed to learn everything. Her father
had had visions of her bang a powerful businesswoman one day with a grasp on
the firm and the knowledge that came from starting at the bottom and working
up.
    That was
where she had been at nineteen, at the bottom and she’d loved the bustle and
gossip of the offices, the motherly severity of her father’s secretary. Martha
Bates Doing the donkey work had been fun to Abigail and she’d tried not to
think of her rather grand and frightening future. It had been many years away.
She had been content to type out invoices, make the coffee and cart around
heavy business files on demand.
    She had
been doing that when she had encountered Logan for the first time. He had been
thirty-one and alarming, handsome, hard and furious, with more anger in him
than she had ever encountered in her life before, it had been in many ways a
dramatic meeting, and sheer chance. Minutes later and she would never have seen
him; her life would have been completely different. More than that, though, Logan would never have seen her. He would never have known who she was. She would have
been safe.
    It had
been Monday morning, the start of a busy week. The board meeting in the
afternoon had been all set up and Abigail had been pushed for time. She had
prepares the room under Martha’s supervision and now she was taking in the
files they would need. There were too many to carry at one go, but she was in a
hurry. There was still a day’s typing on her own desk and she struggled through
the heavy swing-door at the end of the corridor with her arms full, the files
piled so high that she could barely see over the top of them.
    She heard
the voice as soon as she opened the door but it was too late to back out: the
door had closed behind her and the files were in danger of dropping to the
floor.
    ‘Keep
looking over your shoulder,’ the dark and furious voice threatened, ‘because
I’ll always be there! And I’ll get you. Five years! That’s how long it will
take. Start counting now, and remember they’re inevitable, your fate and my
promise!’
     
    The door
of her father’s office slammed shut, the sound reverberating along the
corridor, and Abigail moved instinctively to the wall, well aware that a blind,
raging force was bearing down on her. He didn’t even see her, he was so
inflamed with fury that he simply bumped into her, knocking her shoulder and
almost making her lose her balance. There was no chance at all for the files;
they cascaded to the floor, scattered like a pack of cards and he didn’t even
stop.
    It was
only as he reached the heavy door at the end that it seemed to sink in that he
had created a certain amount of chaos. By that time Abigail was on her knees,
trying to gather the files into some sort of order and he stopped, looking back
and seeing her frantic actions, her slender arms reaching out to set things
right. She didn’t look round and a curious expression crossed his face for a
second. She didn’t even look annoyed—no sharp words, not even an irritated
glance. She was just picking things up as if he had