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She stared at him, dimly knowing that he was wrong, that you could never entirely blot out the past, but he was so forceful, so convincing that he carried her along with him on a tide of optimism and confidence. ‘No,’ she said, on a high of courage. ‘I’m not afraid.’
A great light of happiness came into Seton’s eyes. ‘Then, will you marry me, my darling, my love?’
Lucie nodded, her voice too choked up to speak. And silly tears came into her eyes before she was finally able to say, ‘Yes.’ Then more firmly she said, ‘Yes, I will marry you.’
But in the dawn of the following morning, when Seton had left her bed and Lucie was alone, when she no longer had his strength and will-power to carry her along on a tidal wave of optimism, then all the doubts and fears came crowding back. Because she hadn’t told him the truth about her past—not all of it. She hadn’t told him that she had been to prison. For three long years. And now she was terribly afraid that one day he might find out, that the past might come back to haunt her.
CHAPTER ONE
AS LUCIE sat on the terrace watching her son as he played in the garden, the sun warm on her face, her thoughts drifted back to that summer five years ago when she and Seton had met. Now she could laugh at the fears she’d had then, knowing that marrying Seton was the best thing she’d ever done.
They had been such happy years; she knew herself to have grown in confidence, to have blossomed in the certainty of Seton’s love for her. At first she had been almost afraid to trust this happiness, so many bad things having happened to her in the past that she’d felt it too good to be true, had been petrified that something would happen to take it all away from her. But as time passed, when Seton didn’t suddenly change, when his parents were so warm and welcoming, treating her like a loved daughter, when she met his friends and found they accepted her as one of themselves, and—most of all—when she soon became pregnant and gave birth to Sam Lucie finally put aside her fears and became the happy, contented woman she now was.
During the first year of their marriage, she and Seton had lived in London, in his old flat which was within easy reach of his chambers, but they’d begun house-hunting as soon as she’d become pregnant, spending their weekends driving around the countryside, and had found this house almost by accident.
It was an old dower house that had been empty for some time: Georgian, built of ivy-covered stone and set in almost an acre of ground on the edge of a pretty village. Lucie had fallen in love with it at once, even though it had been neglected and would need a lot of tender, loving care lavished upon it. But she had love in abundance now and together they had transformed the house into a beautiful home set in an even lovelier garden.
Seton still had to go away quite a bit, whenever the courts were in session, but he was at home as often as possible, openly delighting in his marriage, as much in love with Lucie as ever. He was away now, not due home until that evening. Glancing at her watch, Lucie saw that it was only four o’clock, nearly three hours before he would be home, but already she was impatient to see him.
‘I’m thirsty.’
Sam climbed onto her knee and made a grab for Lucie’s glass of wine but was firmly given some orange juice. ‘No, this is yours.’
‘When can I have wine?’
‘I’ve told you—when you’re as tall as Daddy.’ He smiled at her, knowing that she was fobbing him off, not believing that he would ever be as tall as the father who towered above him. His smile was so like Seton’s in the way he looked at her sometimes that Lucie’s heart lurched, overpoweringly full of love for them both. Having drunk his juice, Sam slipped off her lap and went over to the nearby sun-lounger, lay on it and was almost instantly asleep.
Getting up, Lucie moved the parasol until the shadow it cast protected him from the sun’s rays. Raising her hand, she pushed her hair off her cheek. She wore it shorter now, only down to her neck, but it was still straight, just curling inwards to frame her face. Looking down at her son, she felt a great wave of love and protectiveness. She was so glad she’d married Seton. So glad. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and she lifted a finger to wipe them dry.
‘Hey, what’s this?’
Lucie turned at the sound of his familiar voice and found her husband framed by the open French windows. ‘Seton!’ With a joyful cry she ran to him and he caught her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and spinning her round, then bending his head to kiss her, still holding her off the ground.
‘Daddy! Daddy!’
Looking down, Seton saw that Sam had woken and he, too, had come running to greet him, clamouring for attention by pulling at his trouser leg. Laughing, he put Lucie down but kept his arm round her waist as he stooped to lift Sam so that his little face was level with his own. He was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek and the clasp of two chubby arms that went round his neck.
‘You’re home so early! I didn’t expect you for hours.’
‘They agreed to settle out of court, thank goodness. So I was able to get away and surprise you. And I find you in tears! What on earth’s the matter?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, I was just getting maudlin.’
‘I’d better kiss you into feeling better, then.’
‘You’ve already had enough kisses.’
‘Nonsense. A man can’t have too many kisses. You remember that, Sam.’
‘OK,’ his son said happily, and gave him another, very noisy kiss, which made them laugh.
‘Sit down and I’ll get you a drink,’ Lucie invited. ‘Then you can tell me about the case.’
Seton sat down in her vacated chair, Sam on his lap, and accepted the drink gratefully. But he didn’t talk about the case, beyond repeating that it had been settled to his client’s advantage. He never did talk about his cases in detail; to Seton, being a lawyer was like being a doctor: anything told to him was always in complete confidence.
He dealt in civil law not criminal, and sometimes cases—fraud, for example—could last quite a while, so it was always good when they finished earlier than expected. Sam was looking at him expectantly, although he didn’t ask, and after a few minutes Seton smiled, reached into his pocket and brought out a wrapped parcel which he gave to the boy. Sam opened it excitedly, to reveal a brightly coloured pencil with a rubber figure fixed on the top. He gave a crow of pleasure, gave his father another kiss, then demanded that Lucie find him some paper he could draw on.
When he was settled at the table, Seton opened his briefcase and took out a bottle of scent for Lucie.
She had pulled another chair up close to his and took his hand as she leaned forward to thank him. Their eyes met, held, were full of promise. ‘How did you know I’d almost run out?’
He smiled at her lazily. ‘It’s noticing things like that that earns a man Brownie points.’ Getting to his feet, Seton drew Lucie back inside the house, his eyes already darkening as he took her into his arms to kiss her hungrily. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he muttered against her mouth.
‘It’s only been a few days,’ Lucie laughed.
‘Nearer a week. A whole week of loneliness, of wanting you, longing for you. Of dreaming about you.’ He was kissing her as he spoke, on her throat, the line of her jaw, pushing aside the top of her dress to kiss and caress the fullness of her breasts. ‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said thickly.
Returning his embrace with a passion fuelled by her own longing, Lucie said, ‘It’s so early. What about Sam?’
‘He’s happy enough for the moment. Come on. Come on!’
She let him take her by the hand and lead her upstairs to their bedroom. There was no need to draw the curtains; the house was too isolated for anyone to see. Immediately they were inside they began to undress each other, as eager for this as they had always been, time and familiarity having in no way diminished the fire that swept through them as they touched, clung, caressed.
‘My darling. My love.’ Seton was on his knees before her, taking off the last of her clothes. He kissed her deeply, so intimately that Lucie threw back her head in a long, uncontrollable moan. He rose, his hands sliding up her legs and thighs, his breath already rasping in anticipation. For a moment he held her close against him, letting her feel the hardness of his arrant masculinity, of his desperate need for her.
It drove them both wild.
‘Seton!’ Lucie moved against him. ‘I want you so much. Please. Please.’
With a groan he carried her to the bed, laid her on it and, too eager for finesse, immediately took her, entering her welcoming warmth with abandoned pleasure. Lucie arched to meet him, feeling his hot skin against her own, their panting, moaning breaths mingling as they kissed, her arms around him as she held him close.
It was always like this when he had been away, their eagerness to make love, this almost savage urgency. Lucie felt excitement flare, cried out his name as the exquisite pleasure increased, until it engulfed her entirely and the whole wonderful world was contained in this long moment of ecstatic sensuality.
They made love again later that night, after putting Sam to bed and eating a leisurely dinner together. In some ways that second time was almost as exciting as the first, because they knew it was going to happen, because they deliberately prolonged the moment until they went up to their bedroom again. Lucie bathed, put on a long white nightdress that was almost demure and sat at her dressing table to brush her hair. But Seton took the brush from her, as he loved to do, and made each stroke one of admiration and intimacy.
This time they made love far more slowly, each knowing what the other liked most, what gave them the greatest excitement and pleasure. Lucie lay alongside Seton, kissing and caressing his length, making him sigh deeply and gasp in sensual delight as he found it too wonderful to stop her but almost unbearable to wait. She smiled, knowing just how far to go to tantalise him, then bent to kiss his mouth.
It was Seton’s turn then, to tease a little, to toy with her until her fingers bit into his shoulders and she gave little, animal moans of mingled pleasure and frustration. He could wait no longer. With a swift movement he leaned back on the bed and pulled her astride him. ‘Now, my darling. Now!’ And, holding her waist, he gave her the overwhelming pleasure he knew she loved.
Moonlight played across the crumpled bed. Lucie found her nightdress but tossed it aside, wanting to feel her own nakedness against Seton’s for the rest of the night. He lay on his side behind her and put his arms round her in the protective way in which they always slept. ‘My darling.’ He kissed her shoulder. ‘My beautiful, wonderful wife. You can’t possibly know how much I adore you.’
Lucie smiled in the darkness and settled more comfortably into his hold. ‘Do you think we made a baby?’
‘I certainly hope so.’ His arm tightened round her. ‘I long for a little girl, just like you.’ He chuckled. ‘We certainly gave it our best shot.’ Pushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck, but then yawned tiredly. ‘Goodnight, my love.’
Within a few minutes he was asleep, but Lucie lay awake in the darkness, wondering if the miracle had happened and they would have another child. It was time that Sam had a brother, or the sister that Seton so wanted for him, and as all she wanted was Seton’s happiness then that was what Lucie wanted too. She loved him so much, so very much.
Sometimes, when she reluctantly looked into her past, it seemed that her life had only really begun on the blessed day when she had met him. All the years before then counted as nothing, were like some terrible nightmare from which she had woken to find herself in a living paradise. In all those years of her youth and childhood there had been only one good thing and that had been Kate Brownlow, the woman Lucie called Aunt Kate and whose surname she had taken, but who wasn’t her real aunt at all, although Seton thought she was.
Kate had been a prison visitor; she was a mature and kind woman who had recognised Lucie’s basic honesty and believed in her innocence. She had taken Lucie under her wing, encouraged her to take educational courses, and given her a home until she could find work and afford her flat in Hayford. For that Lucie was eternally grateful, and she looked on Aunt Kate as a dear relation, the only person who knew the whole truth about her, and who had sworn, albeit reluctantly, never to tell Seton.
Lucie sighed, pushing thoughts of the past from her mind. They seldom came back to haunt her now; the present was too full, too happy. She rolled onto her back and Seton’s arm went across her. He murmured something in his sleep, said it again and she understood. ‘Love you, Lucie.’
She smiled and looked at his face, lit by the moonlight. He had given many of his features to his son. His mother had shown Lucie photographs of Seton taken when he had been the same age and it was incredible how alike they looked. She was glad that Sam would look and be like him; she had been too wary of her own genes to feel confident in passing them on.
His hair had fallen forward over his forehead; gently Lucie pushed it back. Her touch had been featherlight but even so his lashes fluttered and Seton said, ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ She didn’t answer and he opened his eyes. ‘You ought to be worn out.’ Still she didn’t speak and he sighed. ‘You are an insatiable woman. At this rate I shall be a burnt-out shell by the time I’m forty.’ But he smiled as he drew her to him and began to make love to her again.
This time she slept for a while afterwards, but woke to find the room in complete darkness, the moonlight gone. Seton was deeply asleep, his breath even and regular. Lucie tried to work out how many times they’d made love since they’d known each other, but couldn’t begin to count. It was possible to work out how many days they’d known each other so intimately, but they had made love more than once in a day so often—frequently even three times or more, as tonight—that it was impossible to say.
But repetition had never staled their lovemaking. It had always been so good, so breathtaking. And the joy had always been shared; there had never been the slightest need of pretence at fulfilment, as some women she’d read about resorted to, and as some of her women friends had confided. With Seton the excitement had always been true and wonderful, both of them delighting the other, and their own pleasure the greater because of it.
Their marriage was perfect in every way. Too perfect, perhaps. Lucie knew that Seton put her on a pedestal, that his love for her fell little short of adoration. It frightened her sometimes, the force and depth of his feelings. But that was only when she allowed herself to think about it; most of the time she was just full of heartfelt thanks for having met him, for his having fallen so hopelessly in love with her.
In return she tried to make their marriage, their lives as happy and content as she possibly could. Whatever Seton had wanted she would have done; she would have devoted her life to him completely, but he’d insisted on her finishing her Open University course, and when she got an honours degree he’d encouraged her to find a job as a part-time teacher. Lucie had given that up when Sam was born, but hoped one day to go back to teaching art.
Her life was perfect, the past buried deep—and Lucie knew that she would do anything to keep it that way.
They went for a holiday to Norway, the first they’d taken abroad as a family, and it was a great success, Sam loving every minute. Lucie returned with a gorgeous tan, and the hope that she was pregnant again, which was a tremendous joy to them both.
For a while it was to be their secret, until they were absolutely sure, but the knowledge increased Lucie’s vivacity as the tan increased her beauty. At twenty-seven she was in the prime of womanhood, her body slender but rounded, her pale gold hair a fitting frame for her lovely face and eyes so full of life and happiness. It was hardly any wonder that Seton looked at her with such pride of possession, even less wonder that he couldn’t keep his hands off, that he made love to her at every opportunity.
Shortly after they got back Lucie and half a dozen of her friends—those like herself with young children and who regularly got together for morning coffee—decided to have a day out by themselves. A day off from husbands, children and responsibilities. They would go to Ladies’ Day at Ascot, have a champagne picnic, wear new outfits, outrageous hats, the lot.
‘I’m jealous,’ Seton complained as he watched her try on her outfit the day before their outing. ‘You’ll be having a wonderful time while I’m stuck in a stuffy old court listening to a man who is clearly guilty try to lie his way out of paying a hefty settlement.’ He was sitting on their bed, propped up against the headboard, still fascinated to watch her dress.
‘Tough,’ Lucie answered. ‘They only have one Ladies’ Day; you can go any time.’
‘But I really think I ought to be there to look after you. You look so lovely that you’ll have admiring men flocking around you like bees at a honeypot. And you happen to be my honeypot.’
‘For your private consumption, huh?’
‘Definitely.’
Lucie put on the jacket of her burnt orange and white suit, then added the hat, wide-brimmed but turned up at the front and adorned with big orange and white silk flowers.
He groaned. ‘Take it all off. I’m not going to let you go. You look just too lovely. Some stinking rich millionaire will probably fall at your feet, then carry you off to his yacht or his stately home.’
Lucie smiled, pretending to like the idea. ‘Sounds pretty good to me.’
Seton growled at her. ‘If any man touches you I’ll tear him apart.’
She turned to face him. ‘Such caveman stuff. Do I really look all right?’
‘My darling girl.’ Getting up, he came over to her and turned her to face the mirror. ‘Can’t you believe the evidence of your own eyes? You will outshine every woman there.’
Meeting his gaze in their reflection, Lucie said, ‘I’m not going for that. We’re just going for a giggle. But I wish you were coming. I want to share everything with you.’
Recognising an unsure note in her voice, Seton put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her towards him. ‘You will have the most wonderful time with your friends,’ he said firmly. ‘You will bet on all the races and win a fortune. You will have a most delicious picnic and drink lots of champagne. And when you come home I will whisk you upstairs, take off all your clothes except that fantastic hat and then make love to you exactly where you’re standing now, in front of the mirror.’ She flushed, as he’d known she would, in the way that still delighted him.
She moved away, began to change back into her ordinary clothes. ‘Your mother has been dropping hints about us having another baby; she’ll be so pleased when we tell her.’
‘Of course; my parents have found a new lease of life since they’ve become grandparents.’
She laughed. ‘They might not be quite so keen after they’ve had Sam all day tomorrow.’
‘And overnight,’ Seton grinned.
Lucie gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘When did you arrange that?’
‘I haven’t yet—but I’m certainly going to now that I’ve seen you in that hat.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘It’s your own fault, woman; you shouldn’t be so sensational.’ And he kissed her again.
The next day was warm and sunny but without a breeze, exactly right for all those hats. As Seton had predicted, Lucie had a wonderful time. They had a stretch limo to take them to the racecourse and set out their picnic in the car park, alongside all the Rolls-Royces and Bentleys. Because they were all women together they could let their hair down and there was a lot of laughter, especially after they’d opened the second bottle of champagne. Lucie was enjoying herself as much as the others until a photographer she hadn’t noticed came along and took a shot of them all as they clustered round the frothing bottle of bubbly with their glasses.
‘That was a good one,’ the photographer remarked. ‘It might be accepted by a paper. Give me your names for the caption, ladies.’
Lucie hesitated but decided to be cautious. ‘I don’t want my name in a newspaper,’ she said to Anna, the friend next to her. ‘Please see that he doesn’t get it.’ And she got to her feet and walked quickly away.
When she got back ten minutes later the man had gone.
‘You didn’t give him my name, did you?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.
‘No.’ Anna hesitated. ‘But Fiona talked to him, gave him her name. I think she’s a bit squiffy,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t worry; why on earth would they put us in the paper when they’ve got all these beautiful women and outfits to choose from?’
Which was very true. They packed away the picnic, walked down to watch the races, and Lucie forgot about the photographer in the excitement of picking two winners.
And Seton kept his promise—more than fulfilled it as he made love to her that night in front of the mirror, their passion for each other seeming to be doubled as they not only felt but saw themselves giving and taking such glorious pleasure. ‘Hold your hat on, sweetheart,’ Seton groaned out. ‘Because I’m going to blow your mind.’
That made Lucie start to laugh, but soon she was gasping, her eyes closing in exquisite sensuality then opening to see their straining bodies in the mirror. She moaned, the eroticism of it almost too much to bear, and then cried out in ecstasy as Seton lifted her off the ground and held her to him. They were free tonight, with Sam not there, to give voice to their excitement, to cry out the other’s name, to give full rein to a hunger that was heightened but never satiated.
Lucie woke late the next morning, able to sleep in because Sam wasn’t there and Seton didn’t have to go to work. She showered and dressed, taking her time, smiling when she saw her discarded hat on the floor. Carefully she packed it away in her wardrobe, sentimentally thinking that she would keep it for ever, take it out when they were old and grey and smile in happy remembrance of the past night.
Seton had made breakfast and was sitting in their big, sunlit kitchen reading the paper. He glanced at the back page then gave an exclamation of astonishment. ‘Lucie! Your picture’s in the paper!’
‘What?’
She looked over his shoulder as he held the paper for her to see. It made a good photograph, in colour, all of them in their chic outfits, laughing and happy as they held out their glasses to catch the fountain of bubbles like diamonds in the sun. Lucie was in the forefront, easily recognisable, the most attractive of them all, and her name was clearly given, along with the name of the village from which they all came.
Seton said, ‘How amazing. You didn’t tell me you’d had it taken.’
‘I forgot. There were so many beautiful women there, and lots of photographers going around. I didn’t think they’d ever print it.’
‘But it’s a wonderful shot. You all look so happy.’ He grinned at her and put his arm round her waist. ‘I told you you’d be the most beautiful woman there.’
She gave him a hug and sat opposite him, helping herself to cereals, looking across at the photograph as Seton read the rest of the paper. Her heart sank a little and Lucie wondered if she had changed much over the last ten years. Would anyone who had known her then recognise the same person in the sophisticated young woman in the picture? On the whole she thought not, and they certainly wouldn’t recognise the name of Lucie Wallace, of course. That thought made Lucie feel considerably better, enough to make her laugh at her fears as absurd. She was safe now—safe and secure in the world that Seton had given her.
