‘That still doesn’t make me…feel very good,’ she said desolately. ‘Or present you in a very good light!’ she added with more spirit.
He smiled lazily down at her. ‘On the other hand I know a way to make you feel very good. What a dilemma for you, Elvira Madigan!’ he said with a sardonic glint in his eye. ‘But it’s up to you.’
He released her, waited for a moment, but when there was only confusion in her eyes he took her hand and led her towards the drinks table.
They didn’t stay until the bitter end but close to it, and the only good thing to come out of the rest of the party was that she sold a kite unseen to Archie McKinnon.
And while they maintained a friendly front for the rest of the evening, the tension in the Range Rover on the way home was tangible.
She glanced at him a couple of times beneath her lashes and saw a side of him she hadn’t seen for the past couple of weeks. The hard side of Brett Spencer, and it made her shiver inwardly. Then she cautioned herself to take it into account should she ever decide to marry him. Although, she thought with a tremor, perhaps the offer of that privilege was about to be withdrawn?
She soon discovered it wasn’t.
They went into the house by the front door and she hesitated in the hall. ‘Goodnight. It was a nice party,’ she said lamely.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at her impassively, his gaze lingering on the faint blue shadows beneath her eyes—and his mouth tightened for a moment. ‘You look more stressed than you did when I came home. Look, forget Chantal and think about Simon. But most importantly, think of yourself.’
She swallowed.
‘You know,’ he continued, ‘it’s come as a bit of a surprise to find that you have such reservations about me, Ellie. It makes me wonder why you didn’t move on years ago.’
Her eyes widened. ‘If…if this seems like ingratitude, it’s not that at all.’
‘Blow gratitude,’ he said roughly. ‘It’s the last thing I want. But it might be worthwhile remembering that I’ve always done what I could for you and Simon.’
There was sudden anguish in her eyes. ‘I do remember that, Brett, but this is marriage you’re talking about. It’s—’
‘It’s something we can make heavy weather of, Ellie, or not. I’m in favour of “not” but I have no doubt it’s what we should do. Go to bed,’ he said, sounding weary himself, and he turned away.
Ellie got up late on Sunday morning, just as Simon returned from Martie’s place. Brett was working in the study although he came out to get a cup of coffee.
‘You guys look as if you had a late night,’ Simon observed.
Ellie smiled feebly.
‘Good party, Mum?’
‘It was very good!’ She tried to sound enthusiastic and winced inwardly as Simon shot her a piercing little look.
‘Great food and great music,’ Brett supplied as he poured his coffee. ‘By the way, Archie rang a bit earlier. He wanted to know if he could come over and see your kites, Ellie.’
‘Oh. Well, sure!’
‘Good. I thought you’d say that so I invited them this afternoon. Why don’t we take some tea and stuff up to the park and give him a demonstration?’
‘Them?’
‘He’s bringing Delia and Grace, Delia’s daughter—she’s about your age, Simon.’
‘Ripper! I mean, I feel like flying kites in the park, although girls aren’t much good at it usually. Which ones shall we take, Mum?’
‘You choose, Simon,’ Ellie said slowly and looked around the kitchen. ‘I better do something for afternoon tea.’
‘Ellie,’ Brett said firmly, ‘you don’t have to get into hausfrau mode. I thought it would be a nice, relaxing break for you this afternoon.’
‘Just one cake, perhaps?’ she suggested.
‘Let her,’ Simon chimed in. ‘She loves cooking, I think she finds it therioptic.’
‘In that case—’ Brett looked at Simon amusedly ‘—I bow to your greater knowledge of your mum, mate—if you meant therapeutic.’
‘That’s it!’ Simon was unfazed. ‘A bit like speech therapy only occupational. Takes her mind off things, in other words.’
‘Would you two,’ Ellie said dangerously, ‘get out of my kitchen before I’m tempted to use a few choice words myself?’
‘Uh-oh! A conniption coming on!’ Simon warned. ‘I’m gone—hey, Mum, don’t forget how much I love gingerbread!’ was his parting shot. Brett followed him out after casting Ellie a look full of wry humour.
It was a perfect day for kite-flying.
Clear skies, a light breeze and not too hot. The park had sweeping views of the river, and Ellie unpacked a minor feast on one of the tables. A gingerbread cake, wafer-like savoury sandwiches and pikelets with cream and strawberry jam. There were a flask of tea and soft drinks for the children.
‘If I’d known you were going to go to so much trouble I’d have brought something myself,’ Delia protested laughingly.
‘She likes doing it,’ Brett commented.
‘Don’t start,’ Ellie warned and turned to Delia. ‘This is only a fraction of the trouble you must have gone to yesterday and—’ she grimaced ‘—I have to admit it’s true. I enjoy it.’
‘A woman of many talents!’ Archie remarked, helping himself to a pikelet.
‘How on earth you remain so thin is a complete mystery to me,’ his wife said ruefully. ‘He never stops eating!’
‘I’m still growing,’ Archie replied as he examined one of the kites and his eyes started to shine with enthusiasm. ‘Can’t you see the boy in me?’
They all laughed and Grace, who was as fair as her mother was dark and as pretty as a picture with shy blue eyes, took her stepfather’s hand lovingly. ‘Can you show me how to fly one?’
Simon stepped forward. ‘I will, if you like. Why don’t we try the butterfly? It’s one of the easiest to handle and it looks great.’
They had two hours of glorious kite-flying. Ellie was in her element. She had on her cargo shorts and a floral blouse and as she demonstrated her expertise she felt as free as a bird, lithe and lissom—almost like a girl again but not only that. It was when she was flying the kites she’d designed and made that all sorts of fantasies claimed her. That one day she’d be acclaimed for her work with speech-impeded children; that one day she’d fly over the Serengeti in a balloon or sail the South Pacific or at least see the icy peaks of the Himalayas…That one day she’d see her son in Guinness World Records as was his dream.
Today, though, the fantasy went in a different direction. That one day she’d be the confident, slightly mysterious, ever fascinating woman Brett Spencer couldn’t get enough of. As opposed, she thought as her kite soared, to the woman who ran his home efficiently and was already in place…
Several times she felt Brett’s eyes on her, taking her in from her wind-tangled curls to her bare toes; once looking slightly amused as she and Archie discussed up-draughts and down-draughts and the right wind velocity to get a kite to spin. But there was no way he could read her mind, she assured herself.
Two hours later she also realized with a pang that Simon had fallen in love for the very first time. Girls hadn’t featured much in his life until now but Grace, after she’d got over her shyness and proved an apt pupil, had changed that.
And she was watching them frolicking without a care in the world with a lump in her throat.
‘Those two have really hit it off,’ Brett said from behind her.
She turned to him. ‘Haven’t they? I may no longer be the only woman in Simon’s life.’
‘Would that be so bad if you were the woman in my life?’ he asked barely audibly.
Her eyes widened at the concept and his understanding of the situation, but she was saved from answering as Archie came up to tell them he would like to buy not one but two kites—one for Grace as well.
And shortly afterwards they packed up and went back to the house where Brett invited the McKinnons
to stay for drinks.
They stayed for about an hour and it was so pleasant, Ellie felt more relaxed than she had for days.
But finally Archie stood up and drew Delia to her feet. ‘Well, beloved—’ he kissed her ‘—we should go but—do you think we’ll be able to tear Grace away?’ Grace and Simon were watching television together in the den.
They all laughed and it was arranged that Grace would receive an invitation to the school play.
But although Simon watched the car all the way down the drive, he was reticent on the subject of Grace McKinnon. In fact they were all reticent, Ellie noticed, but as if a peace of sorts had descended on the house after a lovely afternoon—or, more accurately, on herself and Brett. She made macaroni cheese for supper, then she went out to water the garden.
That was where Brett found her, barefoot and enjoying the smell of damp earth.
‘I can’t get over what you’ve done for this garden.’ He looked around. She was watering the herbs and the air was fragrant with, not only damp earth, but pepper-mint and rosemary, thyme and dill. ‘Enjoy yourself?’
‘Yes. They’re very nice. Why did Delia only marry Archie three years ago? You said something last week about always thinking they were made for each other. And they do seem to be.’
He pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘I guess you don’t always see what’s right in front of you. Archie was always crazy about Delia but she…I don’t know, maybe she wanted to spread her wings. Then she fell for a married man, had Grace, but when it came to the crunch he didn’t leave his wife.’
‘Nice that it’s had a happy ending,’ Ellie commented and moved along to the roses.
Brett followed, untangling the hose for her where it had got into a knot. ‘It took him at least three years to convince her that he didn’t feel sorry for her.’ He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands.
‘He told you that?’
‘Yes, he did. Could that be the problem with us, Ellie?’
For a moment the spray of water strayed to the path. ‘There’s a vast difference between you and Archie McKinnon, Brett,’ she said eventually.
‘Because he was always in love with Delia? Possibly, but pity doesn’t come into it now, with us.’
‘Pity must have come into it to start with,’ she said and moved to the hibiscus hedge. The hose tangled itself once more.
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered as he straightened it and wiped his hands again. ‘Would you mind standing still for while, Elvira Madigan?’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that.’
‘I told you once before I thought it was a pretty name.’
‘It’s also a tragic name.’
‘Ellie…’ he paused and studied her bent head with a frown ‘…are you feeling tragic?’
She swallowed something in her throat. ‘No, of course not.’
‘What, then?’
She glanced up at him swiftly, then she said straightly, ‘When you see two people in love like that, it’s probably quite natural to feel a little discontented, that’s all.’
‘I see. So you could never imagine feeling that way about me?’
She opened her mouth to say that wasn’t the problem, but saw the trap. So she said nothing, and moved on.
Only to have the hose taken out of her hand and the water shut off at the nozzle.
‘Brett, I haven’t finished.’
‘Well, I’m tired of untangling hoses and having this conversation on the run.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him with something unusu-ally grim in his expression. Then he sighed and his expression changed to quizzical. ‘You’re a hard woman to deal with, you know? OK, back to the drawing-board.’
Her lips parted. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Wait and see.’ He released her. ‘By the way, Chantal called on the phone this morning while you were asleep.’
‘She did? What…about?’
‘Apparently, she underestimated Dan Dawson when you and she cooked up the plan to get him off your back.’
‘Ah. Oh, well—’
‘Exactly what advice did you give him?’
‘I…er…told him to be persistent but not too obvious,’ Ellie said awkwardly.
Brett grinned.
He moved his palms on her shoulders and bent his head to kiss her very delicately until her lips parted be-neath his. Then he drew her closer and his kiss deepened. When they stopped he was breathing heavily and she was trembling like a taut bow line in his arms, her body ready to sing to any tune he liked to call.
‘How persistent do I have to be, Ellie?’ he asked with a tinge of irony.
Her breath came in a little jolt and colour flooded beneath the clear skin of her cheeks.
But the interrogation wasn’t over, she discovered as he said then, ‘You do realize only Simon stands between us going to bed right now?’
It was all too true but brought her no comfort in any sense. Physically it was a form of torture to contemplate going to bed with him and knowing it couldn’t happen. Mentally it was a form of torture to even attempt to tell herself, Forget about ‘couldn’t’ happen, ‘shouldn’t’ is the operative word.
And, sensually, she was lost in the heaven of his hard embrace, the roughness of his jaw against her cheek, the wisdom of his lean, strong hands that touched her exactly where she wanted to be touched, needed it desper-ately, even…
It was sheer hell as he gradually released her.
‘But Simon won’t always be around.’ He touched his fingers gently to her cheek—and walked away.
The next morning, Gemma Arden rang to say that her day wasn’t going as planned and could she postpone their lunch? Ellie agreed but it turned out that Monday fortnight was the soonest they could fit together.
It was on Tuesday that Ellie remembered Brett’s remark about ‘back to the drawing-board’ and his advice, when she’d queried it—to wait and see.
On Tuesday evening, she began to see the light…
At dinner of roast pork and all the trimmings, Brett made a series of suggestions. That on Saturday they and the McKinnons go to the movies. A new comedy had hit town and Simon was delighted with the suggestion, although he posed the question of whether the adults would enjoy it.
‘You know Archie,’ Brett said wryly. ‘Sounds right up his street! How about you, Ellie?’
‘I would love to see it,’ Ellie said simply.
‘Done, then. If we go to a matinée, we could have a meal afterwards. Next thing—’ he helped himself to some more of the pork crackling she’d crisped to perfection ‘—I think we should hire a cleaning lady.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind—’ Ellie began.
‘I do,’ he said firmly. ‘You have too many talents to be a good little handmaiden to two messy blokes so I propose someone who comes in twice a week to do the heavy cleaning and the ironing. We won’t interfere with your therioptic cookery—that would be like shooting ourselves in the foot,’ he said gravely. ‘What do you reckon, Simon?’
Simon looked at his mother with new eyes. ‘Sec-onded!’ he said crisply.
‘And last but not least,’ Brett went on, ‘I’ve been offered a dog.’
‘Yes!’ Simon shot up from his chair.
‘What kind of a dog and who by?’ Ellie enquired.
‘One of my staff. They have eight little Blue Heeler puppies to dispose of in about two weeks’ time.’
‘Uh-h-h!’ Simon closed his eyes in sheer bliss. Since a Blue Heeler with black points had been used in a series of motor car ads, Simon had longed for one himself. ‘Mum?’ He turned to her, his blue eyes pleading.
Ellie hesitated, conscious of Brett’s rather narrowed gaze on her as well. What if we leave? It ran through her mind. What if we have to move to a unit? Why are you doing this—tying me down like this, Brett Spencer?
‘Mum, I swear I’ll look after it—hey! They run dog-training classes on the cricket oval every Saturday morning. I bet you I
could make it as smart as any dog you know.’
Ellie stared into his blue eyes. In fact, Simon had been dying for a dog for years. She’d refused for the same reason she should be refusing now—just in case they had to move. But was it not another facet of his life? And how could she refuse the one breed of dog Simon would be devastated to miss out on?
She sighed inwardly. If they did move on they’d just have to move to a place that took dogs…‘OK…’
She received a bear-hug of pure joy from her son but Brett said nothing. Was it her imagination, though, or did she see a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his grey eyes? she wondered. He went out shortly after dinner so she was unable to put it to the test or take issue with his methods.
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday evening he arrived home with a desk-top computer and enquired whether either of them would have any use for it.
Simon and Ellie looked at each other.
‘Could we ever!’ Simon pronounced.
‘Simon—’
But her son went on blithely, ‘The situation is, Brett, that Mum and I have done a computer course together, and I get to use them at school, she does at work, but so far we haven’t been able to afford one of our own. We’ve got a fund going—hey! Let’s make it a joint ven-ture! We’ll contribute our fund towards it.’
‘Simon,’ Ellie said firmly, ‘our fund at this stage would contribute to about one twentieth of a computer. And it’s very important work Brett does so I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone else on his computer.’
‘The situation is, Ms Madigan,’ Brett said smoothly, ‘when we ordered computers for the laboratory, we over-estimated our needs so this one is redundant. On discovering this, I purchased it at a discount thinking that this…household could probably use one. As for my “very important work”, I will be doing all that on my new laptop.’
‘May I have a word with you in private?’ Ellie said to Brett.
‘Sure,’ Simon replied for Brett. ‘I was just going to nip over to Martie’s anyway. When will dinner be ready, Mum?’
‘Dinner?’ Ellie looked at him distractedly, as if dinner were in league with flying to the moon. ‘Uh—in an hour.’
Convenient Brides Page 45
