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‘Here,’ he said, pushing open the door of her room. ‘It’s got its own bathroom, but I haven’t put up the travel cot, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t know where to start—is that OK? Can you manage?’
‘Oh. Yes. That’s fine. Um—I don’t suppose you’ve got a small blanket—a fleecy one or something? And a sheet? I don’t have any bedding with me because my mother keeps some at hers.’
‘I’m sure I can find something. I’ll see you in the kitchen when you’re done,’ he said, and left them to it.
She looked around at the lovely room, beautifully furnished with antiques, and wondered who’d sourced everything. Him? It seemed unlikely. He’d probably paid an interior designer an obscene amount of money to do it, but that was fine, he had it.
He’d been outrageously successful, by all accounts, made a killing on the stock market in the early days and re-invested the money in other businesses. He had a reputation for being fair but firm, and companies that he’d taken over had been turned around and sold for vast amounts, or retained in his portfolio to earn him a nice little income.
Not that she’d been keeping tabs on him...
She sighed. ‘Come here, Josh. Let’s do your nappy.’
But Josh was exploring, investigating the utterly decadent bathroom with its free-standing white-enamelled bateau bath, the vintage loo with ornate high level cistern and gleaming brass downpipe, the vintage china basin set on an old marble-topped washstand painted the same soft grey as the kitchen and the outside of the bath. There was a rack piled high with sumptuous, fluffy white towels, and expensive toiletries stood on the side of the washstand.
Gorgeous. Utterly, utterly gorgeous. She eyed the bath longingly. Maybe later.
‘Come on, tinker. Let’s change you.’
But he ran off, giggling, and she had to chase him and catch him and pin him down, squirming like an eel and brimming with mischief. No wonder she didn’t need the gym! Even if she had time, which she didn’t. She hitched his trousers back up victoriously, mission accomplished, and grinned at him.
‘Right, let’s go back downstairs and have that tea, shall we?’
And see Sebastian again.
She bit her lip. He was being polite but distant, and she told herself it was what she wanted. Well, of course it was.
Except apparently her heart didn’t think so, and a tiny corner of it was disappointed that he hadn’t seemed pleased to see her. Well, what had she expected? She’d dumped him because he was too ambitious, too driven, too different from the boy she’d fallen in love with four years earlier, and he hadn’t even tried to understand how she’d felt.
She obviously hadn’t been that important to him then, and she certainly wouldn’t be now, toting another man’s child.
She rounded Josh up, took his hand and led him towards the stairs, but then he slipped out of her grasp and ran through a doorway.
The doorway to the master bedroom, she realised, and her heart sank.
‘Josh? Come out. That’s not our room.’
Silence.
Which left her no choice but to go in...
She pushed the door open and looked around, and the first thing she saw was the bed, huge, beautiful, piled high with snowy white linen and taking her breath away. To be fair, it would have been hard to miss even in such a large room, but it dominated the space, leaping out of her fantasies and taunting her with its perfection, and she felt her cheeks burn.
She dragged her eyes away from it and looked around.
There was no sign of Josh—but the cupboard was there in the corner, the cupboard where she’d hidden, where Sebastian had found her and kissed her the first time.
And there, in front of the fireplace, was where he’d spread the blanket covered in petals and—
‘Mummy, find me!’
She pressed a hand to her chest and sucked in a slow, steadying breath. What on earth was she doing? Why was she there? She shouldn’t be here, in this room, in this house, with this man!
With her memories running riot—
‘Mummy!’
She let out her breath, drew it in again and pinned a smile on her face, because he could always tell if she was smiling.
‘Ready or not, here I come,’ she sang, and heard the words echo down the years, ringing in the empty corridors as she’d hidden in the cupboard and held back her innocent, girlish laughter.
And then he’d kissed her and everything had changed...
CHAPTER THREE (#udaadd2fe-d1f2-5493-b3f5-7368ff97c9ab)
THEY WERE TAKING AGES.
Maybe she’d decided to unpack, or bath Josh, or perhaps she was lost.
He gave a soft snort. As if. She knew the house like the back of her hand. More likely she was exploring, giving herself a guided tour. She’d always considered the house to be her own private property. The concept of trespass never seemed to occur to her.
He went to look for her, taking the soft woollen throw he’d found for Josh’s bed, and saw his bedroom door standing wide open and voices coming from inside.
‘Josh, now! Come out from under there this minute or I’m going downstairs without you.’
Irritated, he walked in and was greeted yet again by that delectable bottom sticking up in the air. Was she doing it on purpose? He dragged his eyes off it. ‘Problems?’ he asked crisply.
She jerked upright, her hand on her heart, and gave a little gasp. ‘Oh—you startled me. I’m so sorry. The door was open and he ran in here and he’s hiding under the middle of the bed and I can’t reach him.’
She sounded exasperated and embarrassed, and he gave her the benefit of the doubt.
‘Two-pronged attack?’ he suggested with a slightly strained smile, and went round to the other side of the bed and lay down. ‘Hello, Josh. Time to come out, little man.’
Josh shook his head and wriggled towards the other side, and then shrieked and giggled as his mother’s hand closed over his arm and tugged gently.
‘Come on, or you won’t have supper.’
‘Want biscuits.’
Sebastian opened his mouth to offer them and caught the warning look she shot him under the bed, and winked. ‘No biscuits,’ he said firmly. ‘Not unless you come straight out and eat all your supper first.’
He was out in seconds, and Georgie scooped him up and plonked him firmly on her hip. She was smiling apologetically, her hair wildly tangled and out of control, those teeth catching her lip again, and he wanted her so much he could hardly breathe.
The air was full of tension, and he wondered if she was remembering that he’d kissed her here for the first time. They’d been playing hide and seek, and she’d hidden in the cupboard beside the chimney breast. He’d found her easily, just followed the sound of her muted laughter and hauled the door open to find her there, hand over her mouth to hold in the giggles, eyes so like Josh’s brimming with mischief and something else, something much, much older than either of them, as old as time, and he’d followed her into the cupboard, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.
He thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
‘You kept the cupboard,’ she said, her eyes flicking to it briefly, and he knew she was remembering it. Remembering, too, when he’d spread a picnic blanket on the middle of the bedroom floor and scattered it with the petals of the wisteria that still grew outside the bedroom window and laid her gently down—
‘Yes. Well, it’s useful,’ he said gruffly, and dragged in some much-needed air. ‘I put the kettle on because your tea was cold. It’ll be boiling its head off.’
She seemed to draw herself back from the brink of something momentous, and her eyes flicked to his and away again, just as they had with the cupboard.
‘Yes. Yes, it will. Come on, Josh, let’s go and find you some supper.’ She spun on her heel and walked swiftly out, the sound of her footsteps barely audible on the soft, thick carpet, and he didn’t breathe until he heard her boot heels click hurriedly across the hall floor.
Then he let the air out in a rush and sat down heavily on the edge of the huge four-poster bed his interior designer had sourced for him without consultation and which haunted him every time he came in here. He sucked in another breath, but her scent was in the air and he closed his eyes, his hands fisting in the soft woollen throw, and struggled with a tidal wave of need and want and lust.
How was he going to survive this? The snow hadn’t let up at all, and the forecast was atrocious. With that vicious wind blowing the snow straight off the field and dumping it in the lane, there was no way they’d be out of here in days, Range Rover or not. Nothing but a snow plough could get past three foot drifts, and that’s what they’d been heading towards an hour ago.
Maybe the wind would drop overnight, he thought, but it was a vain hope. He could hear it now, rattling the windows in the front of the house, sweeping straight across from Siberia like a solid wall.
He swore under his breath, hauled in another lungful of air, straightened his shoulders and headed downstairs.
He’d keep out of her way. He could be polite but distant, give her the run of the kitchen and her bedroom and hide out in his study. Except he didn’t want to, he discovered as he reached the hall and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen as if he’d been drawn by a magnet.
She turned with a wary smile as he walked in, and set a mug down on the table.
‘I made you tea.’
‘Thanks. What about Josh? What will he eat?’
‘I don’t know what you’ve got.’
He laughed softly and rolled his eyes. ‘Everything. I gave my PA a guest list, a menu plan and a fairly loose brief. She used her initiative liberally.’
‘I don’t suppose she got any fish fingers?’
He felt himself recoil slightly. ‘I doubt it. There’s smoked salmon.’
She was suppressing a smile, and he could feel himself responding. ‘So—shall I just look?’ she suggested, and he nodded and gestured at the kitchen.
‘Help yourself. Clearly I would have no idea where to start.’
He dropped into a chair and watched her and the child as she foraged in the cupboards and came up triumphant.
‘Pasta and pesto with cherry tomatoes, Josh?’
Josh nodded and ran to a chair, trying to pull it out.
‘I have to cook it, darling. Five minutes. Why don’t you sit and read your book?’
But reading the book was boring, apparently, and he came over to Sebastian and leaned against his legs and looked up at him hopefully. ‘Hide and seek?’ he asked, and Sebastian stared at Georgie a trifle desperately because the very last thing he wanted to play was hide and seek, with his memories running riot—
‘Won’t he get lost?’
‘In here? Hardly.’
‘Just in here? There’s nowhere to hide.’
‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ she said, her laugh like music to his ears. ‘Go and hide, Josh. Sebastian will count to ten and look for you.’ She met his eyes over the table, mischief dancing in them. ‘It’s simple. He “hides”,’ she explained with little air quotes, ‘and you look for him. I’m sure you can remember how it works.’
Oh, yes. He could remember how it all worked, particularly the finding part. She’d never made that difficult after the first time...
He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them she’d looked away and was halving cherry tomatoes.
‘Well, go on, then. Count!’
So he counted to ten, deluged with memories that refused to stay in their box, and then he got to his feet, ignoring the giggling child under the table, and said softly, ‘Ready or not, here I come!’
Their eyes met, and he felt his heart bump against his ribs. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, the tension palpable. And then she dropped the knife with a clatter, bent to pick it up and turned away, and he found he could breathe again.
* * *
‘Has he settled?’
‘Finally. I’m sorry it took so long.’
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s a strange place. Will he be all right up there on his own?’
‘Yes, he’s gone out like a light now and I’ve got the baby monitor.’
He nodded. He was sprawled on a chair by the Aga, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, one arm resting on the dining table with a glass of wine held loosely in his fingers, watching the news.
He tilted his head towards the screen. ‘The country seems to be gridlocked,’ he said drily.
‘Well, that’s not a surprise. It always is if it snows.’
‘Yeah. Well, there’s over a foot already in the courtyard and the wind hasn’t let up at all which doesn’t bode well for the lane.’
‘Which means you’re stuck with us, then, doesn’t it?’ she said, her heart sinking, and swallowed. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I should have left earlier, paid more attention to the weather forecast.’ Gone the other way and stayed in the traffic jam, and she’d have been home by now instead of putting them both in this impossibly difficult situation.
He shook his head. ‘They got it wrong. The wind picked up, a high pressure area shifted, and that was it. Not even you could cause this much havoc.’
But a wry smile softened his words, and he slid the bottle towards her. ‘Try this. It’s quite interesting. I’ve found some duck breasts. I thought it might go rather nicely.’
She poured a little into the clean glass that was waiting, and sipped. ‘Mmm. Lovely. So—do you want me to cook for us?’
‘No, I’ll do it.’
She blinked. ‘You can cook?’
‘No,’ he said drily. ‘I have a resident housekeeper and if she’s got a day off I get something delivered from the restaurant over the road—of course I can cook! I’ve been looking after myself for years. And anyway, my mother taught me.’ He uncrossed his legs and stood up. ‘So—how does pan-fried duck breast with a red wine and redcurrant jus on root-vegetable mash with tenderstem broccoli and julienne carrots sound?’
‘Like a restaurant menu,’ she said, trying not to laugh at him, but she had to bite her lips and he balled up a tea towel and threw it at her, his lips twitching.
‘So is that yes or no?’
‘Oh, yes—please. But only if you can manage it,’ she added mischievously.
