CHAPTER ONE

by The Devil's Kiss (html)

  Putting on the robe, Miranda pulled the belt tightly round her waist. 'I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so terribly sorry.'

  His voice curt, Warren said, 'Well, you'd better make up your mind, Miranda, and fast, because you're my wife and that's what you're going to be—in every sense of the word!'

  They cut short the weekend and went back to London the next morning. When they reached Warren's flat he just dumped the cases and went to work, not coming home till late. The same went for the next few days. The company was moving into the new premises so he had every reason to work hard and to just fall into bed when he came home, tired out. From the first night Miranda had slept in the spare-room, but she knew it couldn't last. Warren wasn't the kind of man who would let this go on indefinitely. And she didn't want it herself. She wanted to be properly married, to be a wife to him, not have this terrible tension be¬tween them.

  Instinct told her that the coming weekend would decide the matter, and Miranda made up her mind that she must either instigate their lovemaking, or at least meet him halfway, so that he didn't have to force the issue.

  On Saturday Warren went in to work but said that he would be home in time for dinner. That was all he said but there was a great deal of determination implicit in his tone. But halfway through the afternoon he rang to say that there was a problem and he would be late after all. Miranda had been trying to gear herself up to face him all day, and felt an immediate snapping of tension when he said he would be late. At seven she went to make herself a meal but found that she suddenly disliked every¬thing in the house. A craving for something hot and spicy filled her, a craving so strong that she put on her coat and walked half a mile or so to an Indian tandoori restaurant where she ordered the hottest curry on the menu. Bearing in mind her resolution to meet Warren halfway, Miranda de¬cided it wouldn't do any harm to try and relax by having a couple of drinks with the meal so ordered half a bottle of wine as well.

  The air struck very cold when she came out of the restaurant. It had rained earlier but now there was a frost and the ground was slippery if you weren't careful. Miranda had eaten so much that the waistband of her skirt felt tight—or perhaps that was just the first sign of the baby growing. Her problem with Warren had filled her mind so much that she hadn't given much thought to the baby; hadn't bought anything for it or even chosen a name. But there would be plenty of time for that; right now she had to go home and face a husband who was about to demand his conjugal rights. The archaic term caught at her sense of the ridiculous and made her laugh. Suddenly it didn't seem such a terrible ordeal any more. OK, maybe Warren didn't love her, but he'd married her, hadn't he? And he wanted her. What more could she ask for?

  He would be home soon; might even be there now, wondering where she was.

  Filled with an overwhelming need to be with him, to be close to him, Miranda began to hurry eagerly home. There were a couple of steps leading down from a high kerb. Miranda's booted heel slipped on a patch of ice and she tumbled down the steps. For a few moments she lay on the ground, startled and winded, but was already getting up when a couple of people hurried over to help her. Having assured them that she was all right, Miranda hurried on her way again, but taking more care where she put her feet this time. She was almost in sight of her own street when the first pain ripped through her stomach. She gave a cry and stood still, holding herself, then tried to go on, to get home. But the second pain was even worse than the first and made her catch hold of a lamppost to hold herself up. She was near the Tube station and there were people about. Two women came up to her, asked her if she was all right. Miranda turned an agonised face towards them. 'My baby! Please help me.'

  There had been an accident somewhere and the ambulance was delayed. By the time it came Miranda knew that it was too late. They took her to a hospital and did their best for her, and were kind when they told her she'd lost the baby. 'The fall,' the doctor told her. 'And too much spicy food on an empty stomach.' So it was her fault, her fault.

  'Is there anyone we can ring for you?' a nurse asked when the doctor had gone.

  'My—my husband.' And she gave the number. 'Of course. We'll call him right away so that he can come and be with you.'

  'No! Please—just tell him, but say that there's no need to come. Say I'm asleep or something.' The nurse gave her an odd look. 'Are you sure?' Miranda nodded wearily, her hair clinging to her

  pain-damp face. 'Yes. I'll—I'll see him tomorrow.'

  'Perhaps that's best. I'll give you something to make you sleep.'

  She took the sleeping-pills gratefully, and when Warren heard and came to see her anyway she was indeed asleep and unaware that he took her hand and sat by her bed for a long while before going home again.

  But the pills weren't very strong and Miranda woke early and lay looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to face the day. As soon as the ward began to stir, she got up and went into the bathroom to dress. All right, so the baby was gone, she kept telling herself. Well, she'd never really wanted it in the first place, so maybe she deserved to lose it. Only losing the baby meant losing Warren, too, and that she didn't think she could bear.

  'I'm feeling fine now so I'm going home,' she told the ward sister who'd just come on duty.

  Having been a nurse too long to be surprised by anything, the woman merely nodded. 'All right, but you'll have to sign this form.'

  A form for everything, Miranda thought cyni¬cally; and did they have a form to cover her lost baby? Going outside she hailed a taxi, but instead of directing it to Warren's flat in Pimlico, she gave the Docklands address.

  The flat hadn't yet been sold and most of her things were still there; they had been going to put them into storage until they could find a house, but there hadn't been time before their rushed wedding.

  Dropping a cushion on the floor by the big window, Miranda sat in her favourite place, where she could see the shipping on the Thames. The sense of time¬lessness that the river gave her had always been a great comfort in times of stress, but now there was no comfort to be found. She had destroyed her baby, however inadvertently, just as surely as if she had had an abortion. Somehow she would have to learn to live with that. And somehow she was going to have to find the strength to let Warren go; to make a clean break so that at least he wouldn't hate her so much. Although she was sure he would never forgive her about the baby. He might come to look back on this marriage as just a past nightmare, but he would never forget the child. And nor would she. Miranda stared unseeingly out at the river, her heart full of grief and despair.

  A key turned in the lock and Warren came through into the sitting-room. His face was very grim and he looked terribly tired, as if he hadn't slept all night. 'I thought I'd find you here.' He came over and stood looking down at her, his hands thrust into his pockets.

  'I didn't do it on purpose. I really didn't,' Miranda said wretchedly, then looked away, unable to bear the condemnation in his eyes.

  'Maybe you didn't,' Warren said heavily after a moment. 'Not consciously, anyway. But subcon¬sciously I think you were fighting against it—and our marriage.' He gave a harsh laugh. 'Only that you were fighting openly, of course.'

  Miranda opened her mouth to tell him that she had been hurrying home to him, that she had really been going to try, but realised that there was no point now, and he wouldn't believe her anyway. Her hands tightened into nail-hurting fists and she could only say, 'I'm sorry.'

  'You're sorry!' Warren was suddenly angry. 'Is that all you can find to say?' Swinging round, he suddenly crashed his fist violently against the wall, then stood there for a moment, his eyes closed as he fought to control his pain and grief.

  Miranda wanted to get up, go to him, put her arms around him and give what comfort she could, whatever he cared to take. But the knowledge that it was all her fault, and that he would rightly spurn her with bitter contempt, held her back. So she stayed where she was, her face drained of colour, and waited until he'd recovered sufficiently to turn and say coldly, 'S
o what of us now?'

  Taking a deep breath, Miranda said, 'I suppose we'll go back to where we were—' she looked up to find Warren's eyes fixed on her intently '—before we met.' His eyes flickered and he looked away. Her voice raw with pain, Miranda went on, 'It shouldn't be difficult to have the marriage quashed in the circumstances. Then you'll be free again.'

  'As you'll be.'

  'Yes.' The word was said on a long sigh of unhappiness.

  'What will you do?'

  'What?' She tried to smile and shrug. 'Oh, I'll be fine. I'll get a job, soon be back in the swing of things.'

  Warren stood looking down at her, his face un-readable. 'Are you sure this is what you want?'

  'Yes, of course.' But the smile slipped woefully. 'You—we only got married because of the baby; now it's—it's gone, there's nothing to keep us together.'

  'No.' Taking the key to the flat from his pocket he dropped it on the floor beside her. 'You'll want this back.' He turned away, walked over to the door, hesitated. 'We may never see each other again, then.'

  'No.' Miranda's eyes were fixed on him hungrily, the word little more than a breath.

  Warren's mouth twisted. 'So this is goodbye.' He seemed about to say something, while Miranda waited breathlessly, but then he shrugged. 'So long, Miranda.' And went out of the door. A moment later the front door slammed and she knew that he was gone forever.

  For a few minutes she couldn't take it in, just sat staring at where he'd stood, but then a great cry of loss burst from her lungs and Miranda dropped to the floor and curled herself into a ball, weeping agonisingly.

  'Miranda.'

  It took a while for his voice to penetrate, but when it did Miranda stopped crying abruptly. Warren had come back and was standing by the doorway. All her previous resolution and strength lost under the tide of grief, Miranda got up and ran to him like an arrow from a bow. Throwing herself into his arms, she sobbed, 'Please don't leave me! Oh, please don't leave. I love you so much! I know you don't love me, but I'll try so hard to make you happy. And we can have another baby and you'll love that, and—'

  'Hey! Hey.' Warren put his hand in her hair and held her a little away from him. 'What did you say?'

  'I—I love you,' Miranda answered simply. 'I don't want you to go.'

  Lifting his finger, Warren wiped a tear from her cheek. 'When did you find that out?'

  'I don't know. Weeks ago, I think.'

  'Why didn't you tell me before?'

  She shook her head and looked away. 'I didn't want to—embarrass you. I know you don't love me. That's why I tried so hard to be strong and let you go, just now. But you came back.' She lifted eyes full of hope and fear to meet his. 'Why did you come back?'

  'What's all this about knowing I don't love you?' Warren countered.

  She was silent for a long moment and her voice full of pain when Miranda finally answered, 'I've always known. That night on the boat; when you woke up in the morning you thought I was asleep, but I wasn't. I saw and heard you. You said, "Hell, no!" and you turned away with such a look of anger and dismay on your face that I knew you wished it had never happened.'

  Putting his arm round her waist, Warren led her over to a chair, sat in it, and pulled her down on to his lap. 'I wished it hadn't happened that way,' he corrected her. 'That day we met,' a reflective smile came into his eyes, 'I went to meet you de¬termined to have the row of the century. But as soon as I saw you I had the wind completely taken out of my sails. You bowled me over.'

  Miranda gave him an astonished look. 'You could have fooled me.'

  'I intended to. I still thought of you as a preda-tory headhunter, remember? It wasn't until we went up to York that I realised I wanted to get to know you better, much better.'

  Miranda sat up straight, staring at him. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

  'Definitely. I knew that you already had a boy-friend, so after getting off to such a bad start I thought that my only hope of getting anywhere with you was to start all over again and take things slowly. But then we got stuck in the snowstorm and things very rapidly got out of hand. When I woke in the morning, I realised that neither of us had been prepared for what happened, for which you'd rightly blame me, and also that you were quite likely to turn on me and accuse me of getting you drunk and taking advantage of you. So you see, when I woke up I thought I'd lost my one chance of hap¬piness—and that was what I was cursing about.'

  Miranda's eyes had widened in growing wonder. 'That was why? But I thought—I thought you were angry because you disliked me so much and wished it had never happened.'

  'And I thought you were so cold towards me the following morning for the same reason. And I also thought you were in love with your boyfriend and were angry that you'd been unfaithful to him.'

  'But then I broke with Graham.'

  'Which was the best news I'd had since we met,' Warren said with certainty. 'And when I finally made you admit you were pregnant I knew that I had to grab you before that silly pride of yours made you decide to go it alone. Because I wanted you so much, Miranda. You hadn't been out of my thoughts since the day we met.'

  She gazed at him, still not quite able to believe it. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

  'Because I was afraid of frightening you off. You were an ambitious career-woman; you seemed to have your life all mapped out. And I wasn't even sure that you wouldn't suddenly change your mind and have an abortion, let alone want a new man in your life.'

  Leaning forward, Miranda kissed him lightly. 'There would always be room for your love in my life,' she said simply. Her eyes filled with regret. 'I wish I'd known on our wedding-night; then I wouldn't have been afraid of seeing you turn away from me again.'

  Warren smiled at her. 'How about if we have an¬other wedding-night?'

  She smiled delightedly. 'Of course. In a couple of weeks. But not at the same place.'

  'As a matter of fact I was thinking of having an¬other wedding as well. A real one this time; in a church with all the trimmings. With a cake,' he added with a grin.

  Miranda smiled back at him mistily, unafraid now to show the deep love that shone from her eyes. 'I'd like that.' She picked up his hand and kissed it, held it against her cheek. 'But even if we do get married again, I don't think I'll ever be closer to you than I am at this moment. I only wish—' Her voice broke.

  'I know.' Warren put his arms round her and gathered her to him as they sat and grieved for the child that they had lost, and thought with hearts full of hope of the children that were yet to come.