Passionate Protectors?

by Anne Mather

  ‘So Mr Howard—is your father?’ She tried to unscramble her thoughts as the joy inside her began to spread like wildfire through her veins.

  ‘Mr Howard Brennan, yes. I can show you my birth certificate, if you want. And Julie’s, too.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said on a little wail. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this? Why didn’t you explain at Arcadie?’

  ‘Because in the kind of job I’ve been doing you keep personal details to a minimum. I learned that in the Army. You don’t form relationships with the client. I was trying hard, against tough odds, to be disciplined, and stay away from you until the assignment was over.’ His mouth twisted. ‘And we both know what happened to that good intention.’

  He took her hand. ‘Anyway, darling, I thought you knew—that you’d guessed who I was and what I was about. Or some of it, at least. You said so.’

  ‘I was talking about Julie.’ Her fingers clung to his. ‘I thought you and she were practically engaged,’ she added with a little wail.

  ‘And, that being the case, I was still trying to get you into bed?’ Ash’s tone was wry. ‘You can’t have a very high opinion of me.’

  ‘I didn’t know you. You’d done too good a job of keeping me at arm’s length. I was just trying to make sense of it all, and failing miserably. I was so completely wretched I couldn’t think straight.’ She paused. ‘And that’s an explanation, not an excuse.’

  She hesitated again. ‘Tell me something now. Why did you come here tonight—if you meant to walk out again?’

  He said with sudden harshness, ‘I’m not even sure what I intended. I only knew that I needed to see you one more time. That I was gasping for you like air. But if you hadn’t come after me, Chellie, I would have given you back your life and disappeared.’

  ‘And I would have found you again,’ she said. ‘Some time—somehow.’

  There was another round of applause from the basement, and Ash rose to his feet, pulling Chellie up with him.

  ‘I think it’s time we were on our way,’ he said. ‘Any moment Angie’s gang are going to be pouring through here looking for the disco, the loos, or more drinks. They could trample right over us.’

  ‘But I can’t leave now,’ Chellie protested. ‘I’m supposed to be here to sing. I’ve got to see Jordan and explain—that’s if he’ll ever speak to me again.’

  ‘He’ll be fine. Angie’s putting him straight at this moment.’

  ‘The Westlakes are friends of yours?’ She gulped. ‘Of course. They would be.’

  He grinned. ‘Relatives, actually. Angie’s mother and mine were first cousins, and pretty close. Why? Did you think I was gatecrashing?’

  ‘I don’t know what I thought. All I could see was you. All I could hear in my head was your name. It was like a miracle.’

  Chellie paused suddenly, her eyes widening. ‘Except it’s nothing of the sort—is it? It’s not even a coincidence,’ she added on a note of breathless accusation. ‘You arranged for me to be here. Ash Brennan—you set me up.’

  ‘Just a little,’ he admitted. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Considering I was going to call Laurent tomorrow and beg him to tell me where you were.’

  ‘Oh, my love,’ Ash said softly. ‘My sweet love.’ He paused. ‘We could go back to your house, but I’d rather not run the gauntlet of the other girls yet. I need to have you strictly to myself.’

  Chellie halted, staring at him. ‘You even know where I live?’

  He nodded ruefully. ‘I asked Vic, my former partner, to keep an eye on you. We were in the Army together, you see, which is where we got the idea for the business, and we went through a lot together, so we’ve always been close.

  ‘Besides, I was terrified you’d marry that idiot who came looking for you just to spite me,’ he added, his mouth twisting. ‘And I was hungry for any morsel of information about you—that you were well—that you were happy.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘Yes, to the first. Not very, to the second.’

  ‘Well, he was right,’ she said. ‘And, after all, I have said more than once that I need someone to watch over me. So I can hardly complain when it happens.’

  ‘I’m staying at a hotel temporarily,’ he said. ‘Will you come back there with me?’

  ‘Anywhere,’ she said. ‘As long as we’re together.’

  ‘Oh, I can guarantee that,’ Ash said. ‘In fact I shall have serious trouble ever letting you out of my sight.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ she said sedately, and went out with him into the night.

  She’d expected a decent room—Ash was too fastidious for anything else—but not a penthouse suite in one of the capital’s most prestigious hotels.

  ‘Well?’ Ash finished ordering champagne from Room Service and put the phone down.

  ‘Very well.’ She gave her surroundings another long look. ‘Are you quite sure you gave back your share of the money?’

  He shrugged. ‘You had it straight from the horse’s mouth. And you can always check my bank account later.’

  ‘Later,’ she said, ‘has a nice sound.’

  ‘Want to check the rest of the accommodation?’

  The bed in the adjoining room was king-sized, and it was hard to notice anything else, but Chellie was determined to try.

  ‘Heavens,’ she said. ‘How many channels on this television set?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘And I have no plans to find out.’

  Aware of his eyes following her, Chellie felt suddenly shy. She walked to the row of fitted closets and flung open a door. ‘Oh.’ She swallowed. ‘You’ve brought rather more than a shirt and a pair of jeans this time.’

  ‘I came prepared for a lengthy campaign.’

  ‘You certainly did.’ Her fingers slid along the rail and met silky fabric. ‘And what’s this?’

  She just managed to catch the black dress as it slipped from its hanger. Turned to him with it spilling from her hands, her lips parting incredulously.

  ‘You—took this?’

  ‘I had to have something,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t think you’d miss it. And it had some good memories for me.’ He paused. ‘Would you rather I threw it away?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘In fact, I might even wear it again sometimes—birthdays—anniversaries—times like that. Create some more memories for both of us.’ She let it drop to the floor. Unfastened the silver dress and sent it to join the pool of black at her feet. Stepped over both of them towards him.

  She whispered, ‘Darling—do we need champagne? I’m—really not thirsty.’

  He stared at her, raw hunger in his eyes, harsh colour burning along his cheekbones.

  He said huskily, ‘But we might be—later.’ And cancelled the order.

  An hour had passed before Chellie stirred in his arms, her body sated, her heart full.

  She said, ‘So you weren’t just a figment of my imagination after all. I did wonder.’

  ‘I’m total reality,’ Ash returned drowsily. ‘Give me a few minutes, and I’ll prove it to you all over again.’

  She kissed his naked shoulder. ‘Do you know, I was actually nervous? Isn’t that ridiculous?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I was nervous too.’

  ‘Under pressure?’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘What happened to the cheroots?’

  ‘I’ve given up smoking. All part of the reformation. If I’m going to be a family man, I want to live to enjoy it.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. She paused. ‘Is that what you’re planning?’

  ‘It was,’ he said slowly. ‘But now I’m beginning to wonder all over again if I’m being very unfair.’

  Chellie sat up and glared at him. ‘You gave back a small fortune and went to all this trouble to find me—and you’re having second thoughts?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it. Unless you’ve decided you don’t want me after all.’

  ‘I hardly believe it myself, but I’m trying to be unselfis
h.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Chellie, you have a God-given talent as a singer. I saw suddenly how they reacted to you this evening. You were tearing the heart out of them. And it made me think—how can I take her away from this? Is marriage to me any kind of fair exchange?’

  He shook his head. ‘Dear God, you’ve just escaped from your father. Do you really want to replace him with a husband before you’ve had time to breathe? What the hell have I got to offer in return?’

  He took her face gently between his hands. ‘I want you to have your chance, Chellie. The life you said you wanted.’

  ‘You’re the life I want.’ She smiled back at him, her eyes warm and tender, a lump gathering in her throat. ‘If you still want me. Singing is secondary. Although I suppose it could be handy as you’re temporarily out of work. And spending everything you’ve got on expensive hotel suites and ladies to go with them.’

  ‘Don’t tell Dad I’ve no job,’ he said. ‘He thinks I’m his partner in his new brokerage and boat charter business, and is paying me accordingly. Why did you think I packed in the security game? I’d had enough of the high-risk activities and never staying anywhere more than a few days. I wanted a life too.’

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘You see—you really were my last assignment.’

  ‘So, where do we go from here?’ She spread her fingers across his chest.

  ‘How about a crash course in getting to know each other—no secrets—no half-truths? Just the two of us, talking and loving. And alone.’

  ‘It sounds perfect,’ she said. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Dad’s looking at this new boat and wants me to give it a trial in the Bahamas. I—I hoped you might come with me.’

  She sighed happily. ‘It sounds like heaven. And I’ve been learning to cook too.’

  ‘I’m seriously impressed.’ There was tender laughter in his voice. ‘But I meant everything I said about your singing. I want you to be free to follow your star. It would be wrong to tie you down.’

  ‘I could be a working wife,’ she said. ‘At least until the babies come. Then I can sing them lullabies.’

  ‘Ah, darling,’ he said. And found her mouth with his.

  ‘We do have one remaining problem,’ he resumed, some time later. ‘Your father. He’s not going to be happy about this.’

  ‘The more you let people go, the more they want to come back to you,’ Chellie said softly. ‘He hasn’t learned that yet, but I have hopes.’

  ‘I have hopes too,’ he said. ‘And dreams. And you’re at the centre of each one of them.’

  She drew him down to her and kissed him.

  ‘And we’re going to make all our dreams come true, my love,’ she whispered. ‘You and I—together.’ She smiled. ‘And now you can order the champagne.’

  But Ash’s arms were already tightening round her. ‘Later,’ he said.

  A Passionate Protector

  By

  Maggie Cox

  The day MAGGIE COX saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loved most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life – besides her family and reading/writing – are music and films.

  Look out for a marvellous new novel from Maggie Cox, Surrender to Her Spanish Husband, available in September 2010.

  To all my boys: Gary, Conar, Sandy and Luke – you have my heart.

  Chapter One

  SITTING on a wrought-iron bench in Hyde Park, Megan Brand was uninterestedly nibbling at a cheese and ham sandwich when it started to rain. At first she couldn’t be bothered moving. It was almost surreal to stay put as the rain gathered strength, streaming in rivulets down her hair and face, drenching her thoroughly as people scurried to and fro before her eyes. Opening umbrellas, pulling coats up over their heads, suddenly directionless, they were like lots of little mice scuttling round a cage, desperately doing their utmost to avoid getting wet.

  At some point, almost as if coming out of a trance, Megan decided that being cold and wet and soaked right through to the skin didn’t have a lot to commend it and, shivering, she got up and resigned herself to heading home. So much for her grand plan to while away the rest of the afternoon just sitting. Breaking up her sandwich, she threw the remainder to the little grey squirrels that had been keeping her company while she ate. She looped her damp ebony hair behind her ears and strode as purposefully as her limp would allow off towards the park exit and home.

  As she turned into the Bayswater Road her eyes scanned the array of art displayed against the railings, a ritual that had taken place every Sunday for as long as she remembered, with artists of every ilk, nationality and diversity displaying their wares to the interested public. As she stopped to stare at an oddly appealing seascape that somehow tugged at her heart, a strong resurgence of need and longing rose up inside her.

  Ten years ago Megan had secured a place at one of London’s top art colleges. Her whole future had lain before her: an unknown, exciting, soon-to-be experienced realm of limitless possibilities…But that had been before she’d run into Nick. Confident, good-looking, and a charmer to boot, he had had no hesitation in applying some of his ruthless ambition in pursuit of the shy art student who’d never been the object of such persistence until Nick Brand clapped eyes on her. Eventually she’d been worn down by his relentless tactics. He’d charmed Megan into his bed, then marriage, and finally—his pièce de resistance—into surrendering her precious place at college.

  ‘Time you got into the real world, my love,’ he’d said confidently, secure in the knowledge that his malleable little wife knew better than to argue.

  It hadn’t been easy, relinquishing her dream, but in those days she had operated on the belief that loving someone ultimately meant making sacrifices. Compromising your own needs to keep your partner happy. Funny, though, how it had been her that had done all the compromising. Nick hadn’t sacrificed anything that you could honestly notice. He’d still acted as though he was a free agent even after they’d married. What a twenty-four-carat fool Megan had been.

  Her breath escaped in a little cloud of steam as she hovered in front of a seascape, her presence alerting the young woman with the silver star-shaped nose-stud who was running the display. The girl turned away from adjusting the tarpaulin she’d been trying to fix in place to protect her work and placed her hand confidingly on Megan’s arm.

  ‘I did that down in Cornwall last winter,’ she explained, gesturing towards the scene. ‘A place called Rock. Smashing surf, if you like surfing.’

  Megan felt the heat rise in her cheeks, immediately ill at ease with the unexpected attention. She felt like the proverbial drowned rat, painfully aware that her hair must look like rats’ tails while her inadequate skirt and jacket were plastered to her body as if she’d just crawled out of a river.

  ‘How much is it?’

  She’d already decided she wanted to buy the picture. She’d put it in her room at Penny’s flat and maybe think about visiting that place at the end of the summer. Rock—it sounded romantic. As far as Megan was concerned, the coast—any coast—was always best visited out of season. There was a kind of magic about it then, when all the tourists had finally gone and the beaches were more or less bare.

  The girl named a figure that was about what she had expected to pay. She slipped her bag off her shoulder and reached in for her chequebook.

  ‘A present for someone, is it?’ the girl asked cheerfully.

  ‘For me.’ Megan smiled briefly back and refused to feel guilty that for once in her life she was spending her money on herself.

  Penny Hallet stirred the pasta again, gesturing towards th
e postcard she’d left on the kitchen worktop with the long wooden spoon she’d been using to stir. ‘I really think you should give him a ring. It could be just what you need.’

  Picking up the plain white postcard to examine it, Megan cautiously turned it over to read the advertisement printed on the back.

  ‘Where did you get this?’

  Penny’s blue eyes were mutinous. ‘I “borrowed” it from Mrs Kureshi’s noticeboard at the newsagents. I didn’t have a pen, so what’s a girl supposed to do?’

  Glancing up, Megan pinned her friend with a slightly disapproving gaze. ‘You mean you stole it. How is the person who put it there supposed to get any business if you come along and steal his postcard?’

  Penny’s face was a picture. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Megan! Don’t you ever break the rules?’ Rolling her eyes heavenwards, she shook her head and shrugged. ‘Never mind. Don’t answer that question. I already know what the answer is.’

  ‘Hmm, no name.’ Megan’s attention was back on the postcard. ‘Just initials. “KH”. Could be a woman.’

  ‘Could be.’ Penny sucked in her cheeks and blew them out again. ‘But my money’s on a man. Anyway, male or female, what does it matter as long as they know their stuff?’

  ‘But going back to painting—it’s been so long…And this—“Let painting open the way to healing and inner peace”—what do you think it means?’

  ‘Why don’t you just give the number a ring and find out some more? What harm could it do? If you want things to change you’ve got to start helping yourself. This could be a good thing for you, Meg, I’m sure of it. You need some pleasure in your life again and I know you’d love to get back into some painting. Besides…’ Penny caught the doubt flitting across Megan’s face and decided to push her advantage home. ‘You hate that tedious job at the bank, working for Misery Guts, and all you do after dinner each night is go to bed with a book. I know sixty-year-olds who have more fun! Right now you’re twenty-eight going on ninety!’