by Faith Martin
‘I just want to try and make things clearer for you,’ he said. ‘Please, just hear me out. It’s simple, really.’ He took a slow, long, breath. ‘Hillary, I love you and I want us to be married. I really think we’ll be good together, and good for each other. I want to live with you full time, like proper grown-ups, either at my place, or we can buy another place together, I don’t care which. I’m not asking you to sell the Mollern – it’ll make an ideal holiday home, and we can spend weekends on her whenever you like. I know you love her. And I’m not asking you to give up your job, or do mine for me, or run your world around me, or mother me, or do any damned thing that you don’t want to do.’
He paused, then smiled a shade helplessly. Something about his sudden air of vulnerability tugged at her heartstrings. She swallowed a hard, tight lump in her throat, and wished that she could sit down.
‘I’m not Ronnie Greene. I don’t feel the need to tom cat around, and I wouldn’t be unfaithful to you,’ he swept on. ‘I’m ambitious, yes, but I’m straight as a die and you know that. I won’t hurt you. But … and this is really what it all comes down to, Hillary,’ he said, taking a step closer and looking down into her wary, troubled eyes, ‘if you can’t trust me when I say all this, then we might as well call it quits.’
Hillary winced.
‘Yes. I know. It hurts, doesn’t it?’ Steven said. ‘That’s the only thing that’s given me hope.’ He put a gentle finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. ‘I think you love me too.’
Hillary opened her mouth, then closed it again.
He smiled a little sadly. But he didn’t really need to hear her say it. He knew how hard it was for her to open up.
‘But I need an answer, sweetheart,’ Steven Crayle said gently.
Then he kissed her.
Then he left.
And for a long while Hillary Greene simply stood where she was. And thought.
She thought about women’s lib. She thought about growing old alone, and whether she was letting that niggling little worry influence her. She thought about her own fears. She thought about Steven Crayle and admitted to herself that she loved him. And believed him when he said that he loved her, but then she wondered if love was enough.
But mostly she thought about Ronnie Greene, and the scars that the bastard had left. Just how much she’d let them affect her life, for so many years.
And when she’d thought about all that, it all came down to one, simple question: was she going to let Ronnie Greene ruin what might be her last chance at real, personal, happiness?
When she put it like that, Hillary finally realized that the answer was equally just as simple.
Was she hell.
By the same author
A Narrow Escape
On the Straight and Narrow
Narrow is the Way
By a Narrow Majority
Through a Narrow Door
With a Narrow Blade
Beside a Narrow Stream
Down a Narrow Path
Across the Narrow Blue Line
A Narrow Point of View
A Narrow Exit
A Narrow Return
A Narrow Margin of Error
Walk a Narrow Mile
A Narrow Victory
© Faith Martin 2015
ISBN 978-0-7198-1974-2 (epub)
ISBN 978-0-7198-1975-9 (mobi)
ISBN 978-0-7198-1976-6 (pdf)
ISBN 978-0-7198-1607-9 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Faith Martin to be identified as
author of this work has been asserted by her
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988
