by Kim Lawrence
The baby in her arms made a gurgling sound and looked up at her trustfully. It was the sort of expression guaranteed to make any female all warm and mushy and Hope was no exception. I’ll probably end up an old maid with cats, she thought sadly.
‘Isn’t he a cherub?’ Lindy sighed, touching the small rounded chin of her nephew.
‘Hold him if you like.’
‘Can I?’
One problem solved. She wasn’t a fit person to hold an infant just now. She was displaying all the classic symptoms of shock: shaking, cold sweats, a tendency to tremble and a brain that wouldn’t function. Her other problem was larger and much more difficult to dispose of. She decided to wade in, regardless. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was asked to be Joe’s godfather.’
‘You know what I mean. Why are you wearing fluorescent green socks?’ She couldn’t let this detail go unmentioned any longer. The flash of colour against the sober hue of his suit was distracting.
‘I told you before, I’m colour-blind. What’s your excuse? Why are you so terrified of babies?’
His question distracted her from the main subject. ‘What? Oh, they’re so unpredictable, I suppose. And I was always so clumsy as a kid.’ She frowned as she recalled her long, ungainly limbs. ‘You can’t drop babies. Don’t change the subject.’
‘You didn’t drop Daphne.’
‘Who’s Daphne?’ Lindy, who had been unashamedly eavesdropping, leaned across to ask.
Lindy didn’t take the hint when Hope frowned at her. ‘Orphan lamb that needed hand-rearing,’ she explained in an exasperated voice.
At this point Anna returned to collect her son. ‘The vicar’s ready,’ she told them.
The babies behaved impeccably throughout the ceremony. Hope made the required responses, all the time overpoweringly conscious of the deep baritone of the man beside her. To be thrown together on this inescapably emotional and intimate occasion was death by slow, painful inches. The battle in her beleaguered brain was titanic. He belonged to someone else, so there was no way in the world she could permit herself to respond to the searing attraction she always felt in his company. On the other hand, she didn’t have any direct control over the way she felt. She wouldn’t have wished this situation on her worst enemy!
‘The vicar and his wife are coming back to the house with Mum and Dad. Alex says he’ll take you.’
‘No! No, he won’t.’ Let them stare. There were limits to what flesh and blood could stand. ‘He’ll want to be alone with his wife.’ Where was Rebecca? She hadn’t seen her yet amongst the press of people.
‘Wife!’ Anna turned to Alex with a look of shocked query, but he didn’t break his thoughtful silence.
‘Don’t fuss, Anna. I feel like walking. It’s only half a mile.’
‘Walking!’
‘For God’s sake, you sound like a parrot.’
‘You’ve noticed that too, have you?’ Adam came up behind Hope and slipped an arm about her waist. ‘Leave the girl alone, Anna, there’s nothing like a brisk walk to clear jet lag.’
Jet lag might have cleared, but her other problems weren’t resolved by the time she reached the Old Rectory. Try as she might to polish her tarnished scruples, she couldn’t get past the number one dilemma: she loved Alex Matheson and she always would.
She stamped her shoes on the flagstones outside the door and tried to detach the stray leaf her heel had speared. The noise that spilled from the house was a warm, friendly sound. Hope had never felt so lonely in her life.
‘Don’t bother ringing; the French doors around this way are open.’
She stifled a cry as Alex emerged from the shadows cast by the trunk of an old gnarled tree.
‘You were hiding,’ she cried accusingly.
‘I was waiting.’ The expression in his eyes made the weakness that had begun in her legs pool in the pit of her belly. ‘I was waiting for you.’ She had to strain to catch the soft words.
‘That was kind of you.’ Impersonal was hard to achieve, but she didn’t do badly—under the circumstances.
‘I’m not a kind man, Hope.’
You said it, she thought bitterly. He wasn’t about to make this easier. ‘We’d better go in; it’s cold.’ She felt his presence behind her as she followed the pathway to the side of the building.
The French doors in question led to the dining room. There was a long table in the centre of the room, spread with white linen cloths and covered with a mouth-watering display of food, a fire blazed in the cast-iron grate, and a large Christmas tree was crammed with tinsel and childish trinkets.
She heard the door close softly behind her. ‘I see Anna’s stayed traditional,’ she said, admiring the festive tree. ‘This looks lovely, doesn’t it? It makes you hungry just looking,’ she lied brightly. ‘No.’
Hope’s teeth grated with exasperation. ‘I’m trying…’ she began. ‘Oh, forget it.’ Her shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘You’d better be getting back to Rebecca.’
‘Rebecca isn’t here.’
She stared at him in astonishment. ‘Where is she?’
‘I don’t know.’
Oh, God, had they had a falling out already? Was it her fault? ‘You can’t take that sort of attitude,’ she told him sternly. ‘I’d never have taken you for a defeatist. You’ve got to fight for what you want.’
‘I intend to.’
The strength of conviction in this flat statement and the hard light of resolve in his eyes made her feel a lot less selfless. ‘Sorry,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It’s none of my business.’
‘It’s you I want,’ he declared baldly. ‘That kind of makes it your business.’
The hiss of her shocked inhalation sounded very loud in the room. ‘How dare you say that to me?’ Her voice trembled with emotion.
Alex almost carelessly trailed his finger in a bowl of avocado dip. He raised his finger to his mouth and sucked slowly and voluptuously at the creamy mixture.
It was unbearably erotic watching him. She could feel the heat creeping over her body, clouding her brain with a sensual fog. He dipped his finger in once more and offered it to her.
‘Try some.’ There was no mistake about it; he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Hope shook her head mutely. ‘I insist. Open up, good girl,’ he coaxed. His insidious voice should have carried a government health warning.
His slate-grey eyes were smoky with desire as he leaned forward in an intimate manner towards her, ignoring her small squeak of agitated protest.
‘Isn’t that good?’ he asked throatily as he withdrew his finger. ‘Did you like it?’
Like it! She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I’ll ask Mum for the recipe for you. I’ve got a sweet tooth myself,’ she babbled.
‘Then we could try—’
‘Stop it Alex!’ She caught hold of her hat and flung it aside. Stretching the tense muscles of her neck, she ran both hands through her hair and shook the golden cloud fiercely. ‘Despite what you think, I’m not mistress material. I don’t go out with married men.’
‘I’m not married.’
She stopped and stared, not believing her ears. ‘What?’
‘I’m not married.’
‘Rebecca…’
‘Rebecca married someone else, not me. In fact she married her ex-husband. She was never marrying me.’
‘You let me think—’ The anger exploded in her head. All those miserable lonely nights with only her wretched imagination as company. ‘You rat!’ she spat in a low, intense voice. ‘You low, despicable excuse for a man!’ she continued, warming to her theme. ‘Have you got any idea what I’ve been going through? Of course you have,’ she said, answering her own question. ‘You probably enjoyed it!’
Silently he pointed to his jaw. Alex was taking her flamboyant loss of control in his stride. In fact, if she hadn’t known better she would have said he looked relieved.
‘I wouldn’t lower myself,’ she yelled, suspecting he was almost amused by he
r outburst. It was tempting, though—so tempting.
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. Inspiration came in a flash. She reached forward and grabbed a fistful of the pale green dip and flung it at him. All her pent-up emotions went into the gesture. With an open mouth she watched it drip down the front of his charcoal-grey jacket onto his polished leather shoes.
He looked down expressionlessly. ‘Feel better?’ He flicked the buttons of his jacket open with an expression of distaste.
‘I was aiming for your face.’
‘What you need is a steady hand.’
Hope let out a shriek of protest as the cream hit her nose dead centre. ‘Why, you…!’
‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ The hand she’d refilled with viscous mess was captured in an iron grip. She found herself firmly propelled backwards until she was pinned against the wall. She aimed a few wild kicks, several of which collided with his shins, before she finally subsided, her chest heaving with emotion.
‘If this is going to be a contact sport,’ she complained, panting hard, ‘I think you’ve got an unfair weight advantage. Let me go, Alex,’ she said, eyeing the closed door nervously. If anyone walked in now… ‘I’m a mess. I’ve got to get cleaned up.’ Now that her temper had begun to subside she could appreciate how embarrassing her present position was.
‘Let me.’ He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe the sticky mess from her face. Even though her hands were free, Hope didn’t move as he tenderly dabbed her face clean. ‘It’s in your hair. Such lovely hair.’ His light touch and soft words spun a gossamer web of sensual lethargy.
‘It’s not natural, you know. I have highlights in the winter.’ His expression scared her. Or was it her own eager response to the primal hunger in his eyes that scared her more? ‘And I dye my eyelashes.’
‘Now she tells me.’
‘This isn’t a joke, Alex.’
‘It’s disillusioning,’ he admitted, ‘but…’
‘This isn’t funny,’ she protested weakly as his fingers moved down the graceful curve of her throat. ‘I hate you.’
Alex’s questing fingers discovered a sticky area on her throat. ‘I missed a bit.’ Then he applied his tongue to the area in question. It was only his hands under her armpits that stopped her sliding to the floor. The sensations that ripped through her body were scalding.
‘The best syllabub I’ve ever tasted.’ Hope willed her knees to take her weight as Alex placed his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head. ‘Do you want to try some?’
His throaty offer planted a clear image in Hope’s mind of her lapping up the sticky confection before it melted on the warm surface of his skin. ‘No!’ she gasped, as though he’d just made an indecent suggestion.
‘I thought you were more adventurous than that.’ The mocking note in his low, frankly wicked chuckle would have made her protest strongly had he not fused their lower bodies together without warning.
‘You’re a very bad man,’ she said huskily. The pressure against the sensitive area of her groin was indescribable. It offered her a small degree of comfort to know that his desire was no less urgently agonising.
‘I will be bad if that’s what you like,’ he promised throatily.
‘It’s you I like,’ she cried suddenly. ‘Oh, Alex.’ With a sob she linked her fingers behind his head and kissed him. A growl reverberated low in his throat as his lips parted to admit the determined trespass of her tongue.
Hope twisted sinuously to press her body closer to his. ‘You can keep the syllabub—I’ll eat you.’ The arms around her ribcage tightened painfully as she whispered brokenly in his ear.
‘Uncle Adam said we couldn’t start eating until everyone was ready. Why are they allowed to?’
‘Just look, Uncle Sam. They’ve made a mess too,’ an identical voice added.
Hope stared helplessly back at the accusing stares of Adam’s identical twin nephews, one of whom sat on the shoulders of Sam Rourke.
‘We… We…’ She cast a wild look of appeal towards Alex.
‘We were hungry.’ Alex met her reproachful glare with a very definite sink-or-swim expression.
‘So much for chivalry! Thanks a lot. And if you laugh again, Sam Rourke, I’ll…’ She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him resentfully.
‘Sam, you’ll have to keep these two away from the food or there won’t be—’ Anna stopped, her eyes widening as she took in the implications of the scene before her. ‘Oh, this is where you got to, Hope. I was about to send Adam out to find you.’
‘Alex found her. And the poor girl was starving, so he—’
‘Sam!’ Anna said, trying unsuccessfully to restrain her laughter.
‘I’m so glad I was able to provide you all with entertainment,’ Hope choked. ‘Don’t let it worry you that it’s at my expense. I thought you at least had more tact,’ she said to Sam.
This was too much for Anna, who folded up as laughter shook her.
‘I’m going to clean up,’ Hope said with icy dignity.
‘I’d take the back stairs if I were you,’ her sister called after her.
Hope followed this advice.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts. He wasn’t married. That wasn’t the only change in circumstances. He wasn’t under any illusions about how she felt either. It was a bit late to cultivate an air of mystery after she’d virtually ravished the man.
‘What happens next?’ she asked out loud. She spun around as she saw the flicker of movement on the periphery of her vision. ‘You! How did you get in?’ She’d definitely locked the door.
Alex waved a key at her. ‘Anna gave it to me. This bathroom is shared by two rooms, remember.
‘My sister’s nothing but a rotten traitor.’
‘If she hadn’t provided the key I’d have battered down the door.’ This wasn’t macho posturing; he was simply stating a fact. ‘If I’d followed you the last time you ran off we’d both have been saved two weeks of hell.’
Hell? He’d been in hell? This news made her feel suddenly optimistic. ‘Colorado at this time of the year is delightful. I even got a chance to ski.’
‘I know. I saw the pictures in the gossip columns. Is it the financier or the European prince you’re going to marry? There was some dispute over that.’
‘Neither!’
‘I think you’re probably wise,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘He was a very minor prince, and the rich guy’s dollars couldn’t buy him a chin.’
If she hadn’t felt so tongue-tied she’d have done something to deflate his intolerable confidence. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Locking the door. So we won’t be disturbed.’ He proceeded to block the door which still did have a key with his broad-shouldered bulk.
‘Give me that key—immediately!’
‘If you want it—get it.’ She stared incredulously as he dropped it deliberately down the front of his conservative grey trousers.
‘Alex!’ she said in strangled voice. ‘I can’t believe you just did that.’
‘I know it’s not original. Women in those old forties movies dropped vital items down their cleavages all the time. Call this my bid for equality between the sexes. Blushes like that can’t do your sophisticated image any good.’
‘You’re the only one who makes me blush.’
‘That’s nice,’ he said with a smug smile.
‘It’s not at all nice,’ she contradicted hotly. ‘It’s awful. You specialise in putting me at a disadvantage.’
‘It feels like that because you love me.’
‘I what?’ she squeaked in a strangled voice. She worked really hard to achieve a scornful expression, but her facial muscles wouldn’t co-operate. He knows! God, of course he knows, she told herself angrily. I haven’t been exactly subtle.
‘You heard me. And I’m not opening this door until you admit it.’
‘You’re the most arrogant man
I’ve ever met.’
‘You’ll get used to it. I’m too old to change.’
He wasn’t going to start on that tired old age-gap theme, was he? ‘You’re not too old for anything—’ She stopped, an arrested expression stealing over her face. ‘What do you mean, I’ll get used to it?’ she asked cautiously.
‘We don’t have to get married straight away. Or not at all, if you prefer it that way.’ Why hadn’t she seen it before? Under the casual nonchalance he was as uncertain as she was, and feeling his way just as tentatively. This revelation put quite a different slant on his behaviour.
‘Is this a proposal?’
‘I can’t ask you to marry me, Hope.’
After all this? Don’t let him be married after all, she prayed. ‘Why not?’
‘I can’t take the risk of you saying no. I’m not sure how I’d live my life if you weren’t part of it—the most important part.’
Nobody had ever looked at her that way. She felt as if she’d explode with sheer happiness and relief.
‘Say something,’ he growled.
She couldn’t respond. Her throat was closed over with emotion and her mind was still stunned with the power of his blunt declaration.
‘You think this is funny?’ You laid your heart and soul on the line for a woman and she laughed. ‘I’ll—’
‘Strangling me would defeat the objective, wouldn’t it? Oh, Alex, I’m not laughing—I’m crying,’ she sniffed, blotting her shining eyes with the back of her hand. ‘With happiness, you idiot,’ she cried lovingly.
‘Thank God for that,’ he breathed. His shoulders slumped with relief and he held out his arms.
With a sob, Hope walked straight into them. They closed around her as though he’d never let her go. A scenario Hope could find no immediate fault with.
‘Oh, Alex, I love you.’ Her heart-felt declaration chased away the last shadow of vulnerability from his face.
‘I told you so.’ There was a fierce, predatory gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he kissed her hungrily.
‘Hold on, hold on,’ he said, drawing away slightly. ‘Let’s get something straight. You’re not just after me for my body?’ His laughing eyes were narrowed suspiciously
