5Romance had returned to my life. I felt like a princess in a medieval tale. A brutish ogre had carried me off and forced me into a false marriage. Now my knight in shining armour had arrived to rescue me.
I wish I could say this was a true reflection of the facts. My marriage was not false and my husband no ogre. His only fault was that he had a job that called him away too often and for too long. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder but, in my case, it made my heart turn traitor.
Ben's presence was not the only attraction. He did look exactly like a knight ought to. There was something chivalrous about him. From the moment he arrived to take over the Investment Division, the swooning began. When I first realised he had taken an interest in me, I experienced a strange feeling of triumph. I had been the damsel who had conquered the dark knight's heart.
Although I reveled in the experience of being found attractive, I certainly never intended for my heart to turn me into a traitor. The first inkling I had that his interest was serious when an exquisite bunch of two dozen red roses from a secret admirer found their way into my office on Valentine's morn. When he came round to pick up some reports he invited me to lunch.
That was how our lunches together began. I reasoned that there was nothing odd in two colleagues spending their lunch hour together. I had a few more qualms when he invited me out for dinner but I quickly suppressed them. That evening I felt like a princess as I got ready. Then he arrived looking every inch a virtuous knight. He even had a trusty stead, a newly-polished BMW. I remember enjoying the evening but I cannot remember why.
Afterwards he drove me home. He was saying good-bye to me at the gate and suddenly he was kissing me. He ended up staying the night.
When I woke up the next morning I saw him lying there. As I stared at him, I realised that the only thing I knew about him was that he was attractive. Perhaps I knew some of his hobbies but I had none of that deep knowledge that I had of my husband. A wave of revulsion flooded over me. I ran to the bathroom and vomited my innards out. Then I left.
I ended up in the park. I had nowhere else to go. No-one I could confess my shame to. I had betrayed my husband. I was a traitor. I had taken the marriage vows I had made and ripped them to shreds with my own hands. When I came home to an empty house that evening, the only thing I had to be grateful for was that my traitor's heart was utterly spent.
That night I e-mailed David. The next day he was back.
When I found him in the living room, all I could do was sob. Contrary to anything I had a right to expect, he held me. Afterwards he suggested we go away together.
That holiday was a difficult one for both of us. We fought, we cried but in the end we survived. I had betrayed our marriage, but his love repaired it. It still seems incredible.
A little while ago a friend recommended a historical romance to me, knowing how much I enjoy them. I read about the first one hundred pages and discovered it was about a married lady having an affair with the king. The author went to great pains to describe the romance of their first encounter. I put the book down. Adultery is not romantic.