The Real Fantasy

by Caroline Anderson

  He had to get to her. Nothing else mattered. She might only have one chance.

  As he turned into the high street a police car shot past him, siren wailing, and turned up the practice road. He followed it, skidding into the car park and hitting the gravel at a run.

  Hands trembling, he unlocked the back door and flung it open. ‘Linsey? Where are you?’ he shouted, terror clawing at him.

  ‘Up here,’ Linsey called, and he ran four steps at a time up the double flight, the policeman hard on his heels.

  He almost fell over them.

  A man was lying face down on the landing floor, white with pain, and Linsey was sitting on him, holding his arm at an unnatural angle behind his back. In the background Matthew was aware of another insistent beep, like the alarm at his cottage.

  He reached for Linsey. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her, lifting her up as the policeman took over, handcuffing the man’s hands behind his back.

  He screamed.

  ‘Be careful. I might have broken his arm,’ Linsey said in a curiously flat voice, and turned to Matthew. ‘Could you turn the oven off? I think the turkey’s cooked.’

  ‘Are you really all right?’

  She dredged up a small smile. ‘I will be. I thought he was going to fillet me with that knife.’

  A shudder ran through her and Matthew’s face hardened. ‘I could kill him,’ he said softly.

  Linsey smiled wryly. ‘I nearly did. I was so tempted. The knife was just there, but I thought, What will it achieve? Nothing.’

  ‘So you broke his arm instead.’

  ‘That was an accident. I only had one chance. The oven-timer went off and he spun round, thinking it was the alarm. I jumped him and yanked his arm up—rather too hard, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ Matthew growled. ‘It’s giving me great satisfaction to know he’s in pain.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ she reproached him.

  ‘So it might be. It’s how I feel. When I think what he could have done to you—’

  He broke off, his jaw working, and Linsey felt her eyes fill. ‘Matthew?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Hold me?’

  He stood up and came over to where she was lying on the sofa. ‘Are you sure? I didn’t want to crowd you after—you know.’ His shoulders lifted a fraction, his eyes creased with concern.

  ‘I’ve told you before—you never crowd me. Please—just hold me. I need you.’

  He perched beside her on the edge of the sofa, his arms coming carefully round her and lifting her against his chest as tenderly as they would an injured child. ‘Oh, God, Linsey, I thought I’d be too late,’ he said unsteadily, and, burying his face in her hair, he dragged in a shuddering breath.

  Her arms slid round him, clinging to him, and finally she felt safe enough to let the healing tears fall. When she finally hiccuped to a halt Matthew lifted his head and gave her a ragged smile, and she saw that his cheeks were wet

  ‘Don’t tell me you care,’ she teased, her voice uneven, and he tipped his head back and fought for control.

  ‘Oh, God, Linsey, if you only knew how much...’

  She laid her hand on his shoulder. ‘I wish I did,’ she said softly. ‘I wish you’d tell me. I’ve loved you so much for so long, I don’t think I can bear it any more if you don’t love me.’

  He stared at her in amazement. ‘Not love you? Of course I love you. I thought you found me such a pain.’

  Her brow creased. ‘A pain?’ she said, puzzled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Always there, following you round, trapping you—’

  ‘It was that lunatic that was the pain, not you. I never wanted to get away from you.’

  His breath came out in a shaky whoosh. ‘I thought you were bored with me.’

  She laughed in surprise. ‘Bored? How could I be bored?’

  ‘Easily. I’m not exactly the world’s most exciting person.’

  Her face fell. ‘Is that what you think? That I’m expecting you to entertain me? Matthew, I love you. I don’t care about being entertained. I just need to know you’re there for me—’ She broke off, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I need you with me. I’m nothing without you.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. You’re beautiful and vivacious and intelligent and kind and funny and gifted medically—you’re wonderful. What the hell do you see in me?’

  She smiled mistily. ‘Your eyes. I used to dream about your eyes. I was obsessed by you, did you know that? I had to close my eyes if anybody kissed me because their eyes were the wrong colour.’

  ‘You’re in love with my eye colour?’ he said hollowly.

  She laughed and pulled him down against her. ‘Amongst other things. You’re quite a nice person, really, when you try, and you’ve got a wonderful voice, and you’re super with patients, and you’ve got the most interesting bathroom I’ve ever been in—Oh, and I forgot—you don’t have genital warts.’

  His face was a picture. ‘Damn it,’ he began, and then he laughed, hugging her up against his chest and nearly cracking her ribs. ‘You have no respect at all. And none of those are good reasons.’

  She could hear the hesitation in his voice, the uncertainty. She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair, cradling his head against hers. ‘Did I tell you what a wonderful lover you are? How generous and thoughtful? Or that I know you’ll never let me down, and you’ll always be there for me, putting me first, no matter how inconvenient? Did I mention how for the first time in my life someone has actually cherished me and made me feel fragile and precious instead of huge and ungainly?’

  ‘You aren’t huge and ungainly!’ he protested, lifting his head away and peering down at her.

  ‘I’ve always felt it before. And loud and clumsy.’

  His grin was slow but worth waiting for. ‘You can be clumsy sometimes,’ he admitted. ‘Just a tad. And you don’t ever give up.’

  ‘Oh, no. Not if I want something.’

  His face became serious. ‘And do you want me? I mean really want me, warts and all, for the rest of my life?’

  ‘Oh, Matthew, you know I do,’ she whispered.

  ‘No, I don’t. I know you want me now, but I don’t know that you always will. No one else ever has. They’ve all got bored, like Judy got bored with Rhys—’

  ‘Please don’t compare me with Judy,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m nothing like her, and if you think I could ever do that to you then there’s no point in us going on. I’m a one-man woman, Matthew—and you’re that man. I haven’t wanted anyone else since I first saw you. You looked at me, and I swear I could have walked across the water to you.’

  He laughed awkwardly. ‘You were drunk.’

  ‘I’d been drinking,’ she corrected him. ‘Not that much. I knew you were special, even then.’

  ‘I used to fantasise about you,’ he told her, ‘and you were beautiful and meek and submissive—’

  She laughed helplessly. ‘Me? Submissive?’

  His grin was wry. ‘You can see why you were such a shock to me. The real fantasy was a bit stronger than the pale imaginings of my youth.’

  ‘I should hope so. Submissive?’ She chuckled. ‘I should think not. I hope you’re not expecting me to be a subservient wife, are you?’ she added, and then could have bitten her tongue. Had he mentioned marriage? No, she didn’t think so. Oh, Lord, what if he hadn’t meant that?

  ‘Good God, no,’ he said in horror. ‘I’m expecting you to be a thoroughly aggravating and difficult wife. You’ll challenge every decision I try and make, question my judgement on every issue and generally interfere with the smooth running of our matrimonial home at every turn. What else could you do? You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.’

  She snuggled closer. ‘Just so long as you realise what you’re getting.’

  ‘Oh, I realise,’ he murmured. ‘And I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.’

  His lips brushed hers, just gently. Too gently. He was being careful and considerate, sh
e realised, not knowing what the rapist had done to her.

  ‘He didn’t touch me,’ she said quietly.

  Matthew went still. ‘What?’

  ‘The rapist. He didn’t touch me. You don’t have to be careful. I’d rather you weren’t. I’d like you to drive me out of my mind with need for you so I forget all about it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Quite sure. Make love to me, Matthew—please?’

  He needed no second bidding. He scooped her up in his arms, carried her into the bedroom and slowly and methodically drove her out of her mind.

  For once she didn’t interfere or take charge or question what he was doing; she just lay there, eyes fixed on him as she spiralled higher and higher. He took her to the brink again and again, and then finally went over the edge with her.

  Then he laid his cheek against hers and their tears mingled on the pillow...

  ‘You’ll forgive me for not being there, won’t you?’ Rhys said gently. ‘It’s just that weddings and I don’t get on at the moment.’

  Linsey kissed his cheek. ‘We understand. Please don’t feel bad about it. And thank you so much for your present.’

  He smiled—a little quirk to a mouth that smiled too rarely. ‘My pleasure. Just enjoy yourselves.’

  He had given them the weekend—paid for the honeymoon suite and all meals in a lovely hotel in the New Forest. It was unbelievably generous, and to make it possible he was covering the practice from Saturday morning to Monday morning. Tim was doing Friday night, because, as he said candidly, it was no good if the groom was going to be too tired to be any use.

  The wedding was very simple. Tricia was there, staying with her parents in Salisbury and delighted to meet Matthew at last.

  ‘Keep her in line, please. I’ve spent two years training her to be tidy; don’t let her throw it all away.’

  ‘How could something so tiny have such a dominating influence over you?’ he said to Linsey later over dinner, courtesy of Rhys.

  Linsey laughed. ‘Only her body’s tiny. Her determination is enormous. You think I’m bad? If she wants something, she gets it.’

  Matthew reached over, picked up her hand and twiddled her wedding ring. ‘I haven’t noticed you exactly failing to get what you want.’

  She smiled lazily. ‘Darling, I’ve hardly started.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Oh, God. Why did that sound like a threat?’

  She laughed—a throaty, feminine laugh that made his body clench. ‘Relax. You’ll love every minute of it.’

  Matthew wasn’t at all sure he liked the sound of that...

  EPILOGUE

  LINSEY lay sprawled across the bed, her body slaked. Her mind, however, was restless. There was something she and Matthew had to talk about.

  She turned on her side and faced him, running a finger gently over his chest and down to his tummy-button. Idly she picked the fluff out of it. ‘Matthew?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘You forgot again.’

  He cracked one eye open, his brow furrowed for a moment, then he dropped his head back and sighed. ‘Damn. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s the second time this week. You’re getting careless.’

  He opened his eyes again and turned towards her. ‘I am? What about you? You could have reminded me.’

  ‘You made me forget my own name. I was past caring about birth control.’

  He smiled—a feral smile of great masculine satisfaction. ‘That good, eh?’

  She punched his shoulder. ‘You know it was. It always is. Don’t change the subject.’

  ‘What is the subject?’ he asked softly.

  She looked down, away from those eyes that understood her all too well. ‘Are you doing it on purpose?’

  ‘Forgetting? No.’

  She ran her hand over his chest. ‘I just wondered.’

  ‘Wondered what?’

  She shrugged. ‘If you’d changed your mind.’

  He lifted her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. ‘About what?’

  ‘Babies,’ she said flatly.

  He searched her eyes. ‘Do you want a baby?’

  She swallowed. ‘Only if you do. I wouldn’t want to do anything you didn’t want—’

  His laugh cut her off. ‘That’s priceless,’ he said when he could speak. ‘You manipulate me, engineer my life, boss me about—you make Mussolini look like a regular sweetheart, and then you tell me you don’t want to do anything I don’t want to do? Since when?’

  She scooted up the bed and folded her arms. ‘Not about such a major issue,’ she said grumpily. Heavens, was she really that manipulative?

  He reached up and rolled her down against him, cradling her head against his chest. ‘Darling, if you want a baby, we’ll have a baby.’

  ‘But eighteen months ago you wanted a vasectomy.’

  He chuckled. ‘Only fleetingly. Three kids were a bit much all at once. One at a time I could probably cope with. Besides—’ he ran his hand up her thigh, absently caressing the soft curve of her tummy ‘—the caveman in me quite fancies the idea of you swollen with my child.’

  She sighed with relief. ‘I’m glad about that,’ she said quietly, ‘because the first one’s due in eight months.’

  He went very still then shifted his head and peered at her. ‘It is?’

  She watched, breathlessly as the smile lit his eyes. ‘Oh, darling...’ His hug was bone-cracking, but she didn’t care. She had one more thing to ask.

  ‘About my maternity leave.’

  He shifted and looked at her again. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can Tricia do it?’

  His eyes widened. ‘Tricia? The demon Tricia?’

  She giggled and punched him. ‘You like her.’

  ‘I do?’ he said in astonishment. ‘She’s worse than you.’

  ‘Mmm. You’ll feel you got a bargain in me if she’s around.’

  He hugged her. ‘I did get a bargain—and yes, Tricia can do your maternity leave if she wants so—just until we get another doctor to take over from you.’

  ‘I don’t want to give up work, Matthew.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Matthew? Matthew, don’t ignore me!’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he said drily. ‘I wouldn’t dare...’

  In THE IDEAL CHOICE

  Rhys meets his match in Tricia.

  Watch next month for their

  enthralling romance.

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-7027-5

  THE REAL FANTASY

  First North American Publication 1997.

  Copyright © 1996 by Caroline Anderson.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

 

 

 
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