Warren pursed his lips in thought. 'Ask them if six-thirty this evening will be convenient.'
'All right.'
She went off to make the phone call, afterwards joining Warren on his tour round the building. He asked a lot of questions, she noticed, and his whole attention seemed to be given to what he was doing. His emotions appeared to be under complete control, and anyone seeing him would never have imagined that he had just been faced with the news that he was an expectant father. She tried not to wonder what kind of father he would make be-cause she would never know; and she certainly wasn't going to give him an opportunity of finding out, either.
Promising to give the owner a quick decision, they left the building and walked to the car. 'What did you think?' she asked him.
Warren nodded. 'It's got everything I asked for. And the area isn't bad.' He looked around him frowningly.
'But there's something missing.'
He gave her a quick look and nodded. 'Yes. Though I can't put my finger on it.'
'It's too quiet. Too secluded. You'd think that would be an advantage. I did at first. But there aren't any eating places conveniently near, or a pub for a lunchtime drink. And it's a long walk to the shops for anyone who has to buy food and stuff in their lunch-hour. Apart from that, though, it has everything you itemised.'
'Is this the place that someone else is interested in?'
'No. That's the one you'll be looking at tonight. I made your apologies and told them you'd be there at six-thirty.'
'We'll be there,' Warren corrected her.
Miranda stiffened. 'You don't need me.' 'I want you there,' he said forcefully.
For a moment she thought of resisting, but it wasn't worth arguing, so she shrugged and said, 'All right. I'll meet you there. Perhaps you could drop me at the Tube station now; I want to go into central London.'
'What for?' His voice was sharp.
Her eyes widened at his tone, but then she realised and bit her lip. 'Not—not that. I have to pick up a lamp I ordered.'
'All right.' He unlocked the car and drove her to the station, but as she went to get out he caught her hand, waited until she looked at him and then held her gaze. 'I'm trusting you, Miranda.'
She nodded in unspeaking acceptance and got out of the car.
It was a day that Miranda wished had never happened. If only she hadn't been sick, then Warren might not have become convinced of the truth and faced her with it. He might have made up his mind about which premises he wanted to buy and that would have been the end of their relationship. He hadn't needed to go out that early, she thought resentfully, and then wondered if he had done it deliberately because he was suspicious and hoped that something like this might happen. Hoped? Somehow that seemed a strange word in the cir¬cumstances. And his immediate offer of marriage. Weren't men supposed to do everything they could to avoid getting caught in this sort of trap? But Warren had been almost eager to know the truth and had been convinced that the baby was his even before she'd admitted it.
She tried to think straight and work out what was best to do, but it was impossible to come to any decision that wasn't clouded by emotion. Her shopping done, Miranda went home and lay down on her bed, intending to make up her mind once and for all, but almost immediately fell asleep, not waking until it was time to get ready to go and meet Warren again.
Although he didn't say anything while they were being shown over it by the owner, Miranda knew instinctively that Warren liked the building they went round that evening. The size and amenities were roughly the same as the one they'd seen that morning, but there was more brick and wood than glass and plastic, giving the place a warmer, more welcoming atmosphere. Miranda certainly knew which one she'd prefer to work in, and evidently Warren felt the same, for he immediately clinched a deal with the agent, subject to the usual surveyor's inspection.
Outwardly he was quite calm when they were with the owner and agent, but Miranda sensed that inwardly he was pleased and excited at finding what he wanted, and when they were alone he let it show. 'It's exactly what I was looking for,' he exclaimed. 'And it was a stroke of luck that I was able to see it and grab it while the other interested party was still dithering.' He grinned at her. 'Thanks to you. If you hadn't taken the job off my hands I might never have found somewhere so suitable—and cer¬tainly not as quickly.'
'It's what you were paying me for,' Miranda pointed out prosaically.
But Warren was on too much of a high to be put down. Putting his arm round her waist, he said, 'Let's go and celebrate. Where is there to eat around here? I know, how about—'
'No, thanks,' Miranda cut in. 'I'm glad you like the place. Goodnight.'
She began to walk away from him but Warren overtook her and stood in front of her. 'Celebrating alone isn't any fun, Miranda.'
'So call up a friend. I'm sure you've got a book full of numbers.'
With a sharp sort of sigh, Warren took her arm and marched her along to the car. 'Get in,' he ordered. And when Miranda looked at him defiantly, he added, 'Don't argue, Miranda, I'm not in the mood.'
He stopped at a Chinese take-away and made her go in with him while they waited for the food, then drove to Docklands and pulled up outside her building. Miranda started to protest but he cut her short. 'We're going to sort this out once and for all. So just shut up and accept it.' And when they got in her flat he didn't act like a guest, instead finding glasses and helping to set the table as if he lived there.
Resentful of such high-handed behaviour, Miranda determined to sulk, but found she was so hungry that she soon forgot. Warren started talking enthusiastically about how he intended to extend his business once he moved into the new building, and Miranda listened in growing fascination at his innovative ideas and the way he'd thought things through. 'I want to get into Europe as much as possible,' he told her. 'There's great scope there, and now that the Eastern countries are open they're going to need help to bring themselves on a level with the West.'
'But they might not be able to afford such sophisticated programming as yours—or your expertise.'
'I'm aware of that, but something could be worked out,' Warren said with certainty. 'It's important that they get started as soon as possible.'
'Would you be willing to subsidise them, then?' Miranda asked curiously.
'As much as I can,' Warren said without hesitation. Then he saw the surprised expression in her eyes, and gave a twisted smile. 'You're right, it's not entirely altruistic; if I help them now, then possibly they'll come to me when they're ready to progress further.'
And possibly they wouldn't, Miranda thought, so it had to be kindness rather than investment for the future. She gave him a musing look, thinking how little she knew him.
'Finished?' She nodded. 'Then let's go and talk.' 'There's nothing to talk about,' she returned defensively.
But Warren ignored her, and, getting up from the table, went over to the settee, evidently expecting her to follow and sit beside him. But Miranda remembered the last time they'd sat together on the settee and instead chose to curl herself up on a chair at a safe distance from him.
She waited for him to speak, determined to squash any suggestion he might make. Warren watched her playing nervously with her handkerchief, constantly knotting and unknotting a corner, then said, 'I'm sorry that we find ourselves in this position, Miranda. It's entirely my fault, of course.'
Lifting her head, she shook it decisively. 'No. It—we're equally to blame.'
'Then don't you think it's right that we should sort out the problem together?' he said, seizing on her answer.
'No!' Angry at falling so easily into his trap, Miranda said, 'It's my life and I'll make my own decision.'
'But you've already made it.' He paused, watching as her cheeks filled with colour. 'And don't tell me again that you're going to have an abortion, Miranda; if you were going to take that course you would have done so as soon as you found out. You may not have admitted it to yourself yet, but you can't bring
yourself to destroy it. You're just not that type of person. Can you?' he insisted.
With a jolt she realised that he was right, and shook her head. 'No.'
'So—do you want to keep the baby when it's born?'
She gave him a startled look. 'Of course. What other alternative—?' She realised that he meant adoption and said vehemently, 'If I'm going to have it, then of course I want to keep it. I'm not going through all that for someone else's benefit.'
Warren burst into laughter and Miranda gave a reluctant grin as she realised what she'd said. 'It may not be the best reason in the world for keeping a child, but it will do for a start,' he told her. 'Now, having made up your mind about that, how about deciding to marry me, too?'
'No,' Miranda replied at once, and uncurled her legs to sit tensely on the edge of her chair, her hands gripping the arms.
'Why not? What have you got to lose?'
'My freedom for a start?'
'You'll be losing that anyway when you're tied to a child,' he pointed out.
'I don't know you.'
'So we'll have plenty of time to get to know one another once we're married.'
'And if we find we can't stand each other; what then?'
'Then at least we'll be satisfied that we had a darn good try for the child's sake. And he'll have a father who isn't just a name on a piece of paper.'
Miranda got agitatedly up from the chair. 'No, I refuse to even discuss it. It just wouldn't work. We'd be getting married for all the wrong reasons.'
Pushing himself to his feet, Warren came over to her. 'We made a mistake. We'd be doing our best to put it right. How can that be wrong?'
Miranda lifted her clenched fists and put her arms across her chest, as if guarding herself against him. Lifting deeply distressed eyes to meet his, she said, 'It would. You know it would.' Then, angrily, 'You're not supposed to be like this. You should have run a mile when you found out I was pregnant.'
'I'm sorry not to have come down to your expectations,' Warren said with heavy irony.
She shook her head in confusion. 'I didn't mean it like that. Oh, I suppose I ought to be grateful that you want to do the honourable thing; make an—an honest woman of me.' She gave a bitter laugh. 'But it isn't necessary. I don't need you!'
Warren's lips twisted. 'Maybe you don't. But maybe our child will. And have you thought that perhaps I might need him—and you? Or don't my feelings come into it?'
Miranda turned startled eyes to stare into his. Perhaps he's ready to settle down, she thought. Perhaps he wants a family now that he's so suc-cessful. And to have the child he would be willing to take her as well.
'You could—you could visit us,' she said uncertainly.
'Would that be trying our best?'
Agitatedly Miranda turned away and went to the window, staring out at the lights of a boat making its way down river with the tide. Coming up behind her, Warren put his hands on her shoulders and gently began to massage them. 'We're not incom¬patible, Miranda. We both know that. That night on the boat was good for us, wasn't it?'
'Was it?' she said bitterly, remembering.
'It was for me. I thought it was for you, too.'
She didn't answer, fighting back tears, and Warren turned her to face him. Cupping her face in his hands, he gently touched his lips against her eyelids. 'Don't cry, Miranda. Everything will be fine, you'll see.' Then he took her mouth, kissing her with deep concentration. Miranda stood pas¬sively for a few moments, but then she sighed under his mouth and put her arms round his neck. Only then did Warren lower his arms to draw her to him. Moulding her to his body, they stood silhouetted against the light as he kissed her as a woman should be kissed, with both tenderness and passion.
'It can be good for us again, Miranda,' he murmured against her neck.
A great tremor ran through her and she raised her head to look at him through eyes darkened by desire. 'We don't have to get married,' she pointed out unsteadily. 'We could—we could try living to¬gether. That wouldn't be so—so final. If we found that we'd made a mistake we could easily just walk away from it.'
'Too easily. I'd always be afraid that at the first row I'd find you gone. No, if we're going to do this then it has to be a total commitment, Miranda. I don't do things by halves and I don't think you do, either.'
His face was set into stern, indomitable lines. He was so sure of himself. So strong. And he would take good care of her, she knew that. But he didn't love her; and that was something she would have to live with. Although he might come to, in time. Familiarity could breed love as well as contempt. But would it, in their case? If only he hadn't been so obviously chagrined to find that he'd spent the night with her. If that hadn't happened she would have happily accepted his offer in the hope that they would gradually come to love each other. The hope would always be there, something to work for. But as it was she would go into this marriage knowing it was doomed from the start, that Warren had only offered it because it was the right thing to do. Fear filled her heart and she went to turn away from him but Warren held her still. She felt contained by his strength, trapped by his determination. She ought to fight, she knew, but somehow all the fight had gone out of her. Without looking at him, Miranda gave the briefest of nods. 'All right. We'll—we'll try.'
He kissed her on the forehead, but when he bent to kiss her lips Miranda quickly moved away from him. Unsteadily she said, 'Today... All this.' She made an enveloping gesture with her hands. 'It's all been a bit much. Please, would you go now? I'm—I'm very tired.'
Realising from her agitated tone that she'd had enough, Warren nodded. 'OK. Have a good rest and tomorrow night we'll go out and have a double celebration.'
'What? Oh, yes, of course.' She managed to smile at him. 'I'm sorry, all this has happened so quickly.'
'I know. Don't worry; you'll soon get used to the idea.' Warren gave another self-mocking grin. 'Who knows; you may even get to like it.' Taking hold of her shoulders, he pulled her to him to kiss her. 'Goodnight, my sweet. See you tomorrow.'
Away from his overwhelming determination, Miranda had far more than second thoughts. But at least her talk with Warren had cleared her mind on one thing: she was going to keep this baby. On that score there had never really been any question; it was only the fact that an abortion was almost expected of a girl in her situation that had made her dither about it at all.
But marriage to Warren? By the next morning Miranda had made up her mind that she'd been a complete fool to agree and that when he came that evening she would call it off. But during the day a huge basket of spring flowers arrived from him, filling the flat with colour and freshness. And when he arrived that evening he looked so devastating in his evening suit that Miranda lost the initiative, and he'd taken her mouth in a long kiss before she could get out the speech she'd prepared.
'You look beautiful,' he told her, his eyes going appreciatively over the simple blue sheath dress she was wearing.
'Warren, about last night...' Miranda began, trying to retrieve the situation.
'We'll talk about it later. I've booked a table at Stringfellows.'
He hurried her out and there was no time to really talk until they were sitting at a table in the night¬club, waiting for their meal. Then Miranda said nervously, 'Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.' She scratched at the tablecloth with her fork. 'Warren, about—about what we decided last night. I'm sure that after sleeping on it you must have come to the same conclusion that I have. That—that it's a completely impractical idea and wouldn't work. Of course, I really appreciate you wanting to—to do the honourable thing, but it really isn't necessary and—and—'
'Are you saying that you've changed your mind?' Warren cut in as she sought for words.
Miranda took a deep breath of relief. 'Yes.'
He seemed quite unperturbed. 'Well, that's a great shame, because I've arranged for us to go and visit my parents the weekend after next. I rang them today to tell them of our engagement and they're very
much looking forward to meeting you.'
'Your parents!' Miranda stared at him in horror. 'You didn't tell me you had any parents.'
Warren burst out laughing. 'Most people have them, you know.'
'You didn't tell them that I'm. ..? You didn't tell them about...?'
'No.' He put a reassuring hand over hers. 'I thought we'd leave that till later. And I think that next weekend you'd better take me up to Norfolk to meet your parents, don't you?'
She raised trouble-filled eyes to meet his. 'Warren, I'm not sure that I can go through with this.'
'Yes, you can,' he said firmly. 'Because I'm going to be with you all the way.' Then he grinned at her. 'But tonight we're going to forget everything but the fact that we're out to celebrate our engagement. And as we're engaged—' he reached into his pocket '—I think you'd better wear this.' And he took hold of her left hand to slip a ring on to the third finger. 'Your fingers are so small,' he mur¬mured. 'But I think it will fit.'
It did, perfectly. It was a beautiful ring of two rubies set into an 'S' shape of diamonds. Miranda stared down at it but her vision became blurred and she had to lift her other hand to wipe away sudden tears. 'I'm sorry,' she said huskily. 'I'm not usually as—as weepy as this.'
'I know. Come on, let's dance.'
By trying to think of it as an ordinary date, Miranda managed to enjoy quite a lot of that evening; it was only when she noticed the ring and reality intruded that pleasure disappeared. But she certainly didn't enjoy their visit to her home that weekend. If it had been a real romance, then there would have been no greater pleasure in the world than introducing the man she loved to the people she held most dear. But this was such a sham that she felt herself to be deceiving her parents, which made her feel cheap and unhappy.
But if taking Warren to meet her parents was bad, going to meet his the following weekend was far worse. At her home Warren had been completely at ease and both her parents had liked him im¬mediately, but she was completely on edge and had been terribly ill that morning, which hadn't helped.
CHAPTER ONE Page 13
