One Husband Required!

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Yes, Daddy,’ replied Katy, with the air of someone who had rehearsed their lines carefully. ‘I’ll go upstairs and wash my face and get changed!’

  Ross waited until Katy had pattered her way upstairs before he walked over to Ursula and stood there for a moment or two, still studying her.

  ‘Jane was here,’ he said suddenly.

  Ursula blinked back her surprise. ‘Yes, she was. But how did you know?’

  He shrugged. ‘The scooped-up gravel on the path which looked like someone had been running away? The fact that she’d misled me about what time she was dropping Katy off? But mainly from the look on your face when I walked in,’ he answered quietly. ‘So what did she say to you, Ursula?’

  Ursula choked back the tears which had infuriatingly started to prick at the back of her eyes. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I’m not moving until you’ve told me,’ he said stubbornly.

  Oh, what the hell? Who was she shielding? And protecting? ‘Nothing that wasn’t true!’ She swallowed. ‘I know I’m nothing but an underpaid nanny! And I know I’m only part of your lives because I’m so dependable! A plump, boring old spinster with too much time on her hands who’s never had a better offer!’

  He nodded sagely at this. ‘That’s what she said?’

  Ursula moved away from him to stand by the window, looking down at the garden without really seeing anything. ‘Pretty much.’ She turned round then, determined to look him in the eye ‘Anyway, it is true, isn’t it, Ross?’

  There was no denial. No reaction whatsoever. Just that calm, unflickering gaze fixed firmly on her face. ‘Don’t insult me, Ursula,’ he said quietly. ‘Not without giving me the chance to answer back, and I can’t answer back—not here and not now.’

  Which was precisely why she wanted to leave. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  He narrowed his eyes as he took in her tense, hunched shoulders and gave a brief nod. ‘Okay, Ursula,’ he sighed. ‘I can see that you want to go home.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  URSULA didn’t hear from Ross for two whole days.

  She told herself that she didn’t expect to. That he was far too busy building bridges with his daughter. That he wasn’t expecting her back to work until next week—so she wouldn’t hear from him.

  And she was lying to herself.

  She had expected him, of course she had. So much that needed to be said had not been said. She had been left with a sense of unfinished business, and an uncertain future. His behaviour both before and since Ireland had baffled and perplexed her—leaving her veering wildly between hope and despair.

  Ursula felt that she could cope with anything he threw at her—she’d endured enough knocks in life to have faith in her own strength of character. It was the not knowing that was worse than anything—because her imagination took her to places she would rather not go. She found herself wondering what resolution this fresh crisis might have brought about between Ross and Jane—even though the logical side of her nature told her that the marriage was almost certainly over.

  But Ursula needed facts, not silence. Like a fish caught floundering around in the shallows, she needed to be set free again—and Ross was the only person who could do that.

  So where was he?

  He was waiting for her on the second night as she was on her way home from her French Appreciation class. Sitting outside her flat in his car, his shoulders all bunched up as he huddled in the front seat, like a private detective.

  Ursula recognised the car from the end of the street, and by the time she reached it her heart was thundering loudly in her ears. She couldn’t decide whether to pretend she hadn’t noticed him or whether to breeze up to the window and put on an airy, indifferent voice as she said hi!

  But in the end she didn’t have a chance to do either. He must have seen her through his rear-view mirror, because by the time she drew level he had already climbed out and was leaning against the bonnet of the car, an unfamiliar glitter lurking at the back of the dark eyes. Something in his expression both unsettled and excited her, and Ursula’s heart thumped some more.

  It had only been two days, but it felt like a century since she had seen him. So for once she allowed herself the luxury of looking at him properly, in a way she didn’t trust herself to do too often, in case she found herself drooling.

  But today she was determined not to drool. She stared at him, carefully keeping her expression neutral.

  He had clearly just flung on the first clothes which had come to hand—a pair of black denims which had faded to charcoal-grey and a pale grey tee shirt which had green ink spattered over the front! He hadn’t shaved, either—and the faint blue-black shadow which darkened his jaw made him look mean and keen and lean. All man. And very distracting.

  Ursula swallowed. And found herself asking the very question she had been determined to avoid. ‘So where have you been hiding for the last two days, Ross?’

  The dark eyes studied her thoughtfully. ‘Mind if I refuse to answer that until we get inside? On the grounds that it isn’t really a subject I want to discuss on your doorstep.’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  Her question produced a wry smile. ‘Everyone has a choice, Ursula. You could walk into your flat right now and slam the door in my face, and tell me you never wanted to see me again, and I wouldn’t try to stop you.’ He paused, very deliberately. ‘Not if I thought you really meant it.’

  And, of course, Ross knew her too well. Well enough to know that she wouldn’t dream of slamming a door in anyone’s face. Let alone his.

  And that dark spark in his eyes was starting to make her feel very rattled... ‘Wh-where’s Katy?’

  ‘Oliver’s agreed to babysit.’

  ‘Oliver? Mr Organised? Since when did your partner take to babysitting?’

  ‘Since I told him that I had something I needed to do. Urgently. Where have you been?’ He wasn’t smiling.

  And neither was she! Ursula wasn’t into playing games just for the sake of it, but who the hell did he think he was, turning up out of the blue after everything that had happened and asking her questions like that?

  She reached into her handbag and withdrew her keys. ‘Out,’ she replied succinctly.

  ‘I know that,’ he said darkly. ‘I’ve been trying to ring you all evening.’

  Something very close to anger began to bubble away inside her. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said insincerely, and unlocked the door. ‘How tiresome for you.’

  ‘So where have you been?’ he repeated, following her inside.

  She turned around, surprised by the stubborn note in his voice. ‘To my French Appreciation class.’

  ‘Oh.’ He met her eyes, and his mouth twitched. ‘Is the doorman still after you?’

  ‘No. He’s marrying a woman from Algeria and going back to live in Marseilles.’

  ‘Hard luck.’

  She turned on him. ‘Don’t even attempt sarcasm with me, Ross Sheridan,’ she warned. ‘Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘No?’ he queried softly. ‘Then just what are you in the mood for, Ursula?’

  There was a pause as their gazes fused. A distinctly knee-trembly sort of pause, but now was not the time to respond to the invitation which had deepened his voice to pure velvet. How dared he? ‘The truth!’ she challenged.

  ‘Ah, the truth,’ he echoed, with a faint smile, as he noted the defiant way she was staring at him. ‘That’s a pretty vast and complex subject... Where would you like me to begin?’

  ‘How about where you left off the other day?’ she suggested. ‘When Katy disappeared.’ Just as things had been starting to get interesting. And that had been his word, not hers.

  ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully, and walked over to the patio doors, where he stared up at the stars which were just beginning to dot the indigo sky. He stood there perfectly motionless for a moment or two, and when he turned to face her again his face looked entirely different. Ca
lm. Less troubled. As though he had made up his mind about something.

  He moved back across the room until he was standing directly in front of her, and Ursula found herself captivated by the dark blaze in his eyes.

  ‘You know, it’s little more than a week since I kissed you, Ursula,’ he said slowly. ‘And I don’t remember ever being bewitched by a kiss like that before. I’ve barely slept a wink since.’

  ‘You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better—’

  He carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I was racked with guilt that it had happened, and regret that it had stopped! And when you flew out to Ireland for your sister’s wedding I spent the whole time thinking, Why the hell didn’t I go with her?’

  Ursula blinked with shock and pleasure. ‘Did you?’ she questioned. ‘Honestly?’

  ‘I certainly did. I also spent the next few days torturing myself with images of what could happen to you over there.’

  ‘Like what? Getting run over by a tractor?’

  ‘Like you losing your heart to someone else,’ he glowered. ‘People do stupid things at weddings; they fall in love. I thought, What if Ursula meets some devilishly good-looking Irishman who’s looking for a woman with a heart of gold and a silken-soft body? Who recognises a treasure when he sees one and falls head over heels in love with her? And what if Ursula falls in love with him—what then?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t, did I?’ she said flatly.

  He allowed himself a small smile. ‘No, I know you didn’t. Not this time, anyway. But it set me thinking about whether I was prepared to risk letting something like that happen. And I wasn’t. I decided it was time to come to some sort of resolution—for everyone’s sake.’ He stared at a photo of Amber in her wedding dress. ‘Do you remember me telling you that I thought Katy was unsettled?’

  Ursula nodded, trying without success to quash the hope which was rising in her heart.

  ‘Well, Katy and I had a long chat while you were away in Ireland. I told her that I was thinking of asking her mummy for a divorce, and I asked her what she thought of the idea.’

  Ursula’s throat tightened. ‘And?’

  His smile was edged with sadness. ‘She surprised me by asking why it had taken so long.’

  ‘Didn’t she mind?’

  ‘Part of her did,’ he admitted, with a painful shrug. ‘The part which would like all mummies and daddies to live together happily ever after. But she knows that isn’t going to happen. She also said that she won’t let me get married to anyone else without her approval.’ He paused, as if waiting for a response, and when there was none he continued.

  ‘So I telephoned Jane in Australia straight away, and told her that I thought we should tie up all the loose ends and start proceedings to end the marriage. We agreed to a swift, no-blame divorce. She seemed absolutely fine about it. But then Katy must have sent her the fax—’

  ‘The one which said that you were in love with me?’ asked Ursula, blushing furiously. ‘Jane told me about it.’ She met his eyes. ‘What else did it say?’

  He shrugged, his face reflective. ‘It was sent with all the innocent faith of a child. Katy told her mother that she was glad I had found someone to care for. Someone who cared for me. And that you make me happy.’ He paused. ‘Which you do. Very much. You always have done.’

  But his words flustered her. They were too close to her dreams, and Ursula had seen enough of life to know that dreams like this just didn’t come true. She tried to concentrate on facts, not wishes, and her mouth puckered with bewilderment. ‘I don’t know why Katy sent it—’

  ‘Don’t you, Ursula?’ he queried softly. ‘Don’t you really?’

  ‘She shouldn’t have sent it,’ she added stubbornly.

  ‘Maybe she shouldn’t,’ he agreed, with a candour which made Ursula’s heart crash with disappointment. ‘But send it she did—and Jane just couldn’t cope with the thought of there being someone else in my life. That was why she flew over to England.’

  Ursula frowned. ‘To put a stop to it?’

  ‘To try.’

  Ursula’s laugh sounded slightly hysterical. ‘Even though there was nothing to put a stop to?’

  ‘Wasn’t there?’ he questioned steadily.

  ‘Of course there wasn’t! We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of!’

  ‘Maybe not. But I’ve had some pretty shameful thoughts,’ he admitted, his eyes glinting with wry humour. ‘Haven’t you?’

  Well, she wasn’t going to answer until she had asked a question of her own. ‘Wh-what s-sort of thoughts?’

  ‘Oh, thoughts about all the things I’d like to do to you...’ He let the words trail off suggestively, his eyes locking hers in their velvet-dark snare so that she couldn’t have looked away even if she’d wanted to.

  And she didn’t want to.

  Something in the atmosphere shifted and changed, and the tension which had been fizzing quietly between them now threatened to spill over. Ursula felt the skin on her arms ice into goose-bumps. Something was about to happen between them, and she knew that she had to grab onto it with both hands. Because it was now or never...

  Instinctively, she slanted her eyes at him in a look she had never used before. It was a look of pure provocation. ‘What kind of things?’ she queried breathlessly.

  He smiled, his eyes darkening in response to the unspoken invitation he read in hers. ‘Well, this, for a start...’ He drew her into his arms with an ease which suggested arrogance, but his gaze was soft as he looked down at her and she could read the tenderness there. And that swung it for Ursula. Because tenderness you couldn’t fake. Tenderness was for real.

  ‘That’s why I’ve stayed away these past couple of days,’ he told her softly. ‘I’ve been holed up with lawyers, and they’ve been talking to Jane’s lawyers. I’ve instructed them to start divorce proceedings as of today.’ He traced the outline of her lips with a fingertip. ‘I wanted to do everything properly, Ursula. And I wanted you to know exactly where you stood.’

  ‘And where’s that?’ she dared to ask. ‘Where do I stand, Ross?’

  ‘With me,’ he said simply. ‘By my side. That’s all.’

  By his side. The only place she had ever wanted to be. And he must mean it, because Ross never said anything he didn’t mean. She rested her hands against the solid wall of his chest, as if to reassure herself that he really did exist. And he did. He really did. ‘Oh, Ross,’ she said brokenly. ‘Ross.’

  ‘I think I’d better kiss you now,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I th-think so.’

  He lowered his head to claim her in a slow kiss which was a stamp of pure possession. The world dissolved, until there was no longer any reality other than Ross. Ross touching her. Ross exploring her—his lips roving over her mouth, her face and her neck as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And Ursula kissed him back and nibbled at his earlobes and sucked on his fingertips. Just as he was doing to her.

  He kissed her until she was breathless and pliant, running his hands down the sides of her body like a sculptor moulding clay, his fingers lingering with undisguised pleasure on the soft, curving flesh.

  ‘Is that good?’ he whispered unsteadily.

  ‘It’s better than good...it’s bliss.’ She sighed, her breath warm against his neck. ‘I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.’

  He pulled her even closer, their bodies fusing, making it seem so natural for her hips to fit snugly into the hard cradle of his. And he gave a low laugh as he felt her shiver. ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘Petrified,’ she admitted honestly. ‘But it’s the most wonderful feeling—I can’t describe it.’

  ‘You don’t need to, sweetheart—I’m feeling it, too.’ He framed her face between his hands and looked down at her. ‘Ursula.’ He said her name unevenly. ‘Sweet, beautiful Ursula. I can’t decide which is better—tasting you or touching you.’

  Neither could she, but fortunately he seemed more than capable of doing both at th
e same time. Her eyelids drifted to a close and she tipped her head back as he began to trickle tiny little kisses all the way down her neck, but then Ursula was suddenly consumed with panic.

  Because she had waited twenty-eight years for this moment, and she wanted to do it properly. She wasn’t going to think of Jane, or compare herself to any of the other women he must have been intimate with before his marriage, but neither could she bear the thought of them fumbling around on the sofa like teenagers. What if he couldn’t get her bra off without a humiliating struggle? What if the sofa she had bought very cheaply from a warehouse sale gave way beneath them?

  ‘Ross?’

  He lifted his head reluctantly. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’

  ‘Not here,’ she said simply.

  He understood immediately. A smile touched the corners of his lips, and quite unexpectedly he bent to scoop her up into his arms. ‘Where’s your bedroom?’

  Ursula hadn’t been picked up since she was about seven years old. Although she might not have looked the part, the old-fashioned action made her feel like a delicate little flower. But she wanted him in one piece. ‘Ross! For goodness’ sake, put me down!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But you’ll damage your back!’

  ‘You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,’ he boasted silkily.

  He had obviously worked out by a simple process of deduction which was the door leading to her bedroom. ‘I find myself wanting to kick the door down, in best barnstorming tradition,’ he murmured.

  ‘What’s stopping you?’

  He smiled. ‘Now I know that I have you completely in my power, Ursula—for you to have suggested something as uncharacteristic as that!’

  He opened it instead, his eyes widening when he saw the bed, which was embarrassingly covered with a number of furry toy animals. ‘A single bed?’ he murmured. ‘Oh, wow!’

  ‘Are you worried we won’t fit?’ she squeaked anxiously.

  His eyes sparked lazily. ‘Oh, we’ll fit perfectly, sweetheart—you can rest assured of that.’ He tenderly brushed Pooh Bear, Roland Rabbit and friends onto the carpet.