‘But you’re always surrounded,’ he continued, the residue of laughter clinging to his voice, ‘by children and relatives and secretaries and staff, and I can never seem to get you alone for very long, or have you entirely to myself for a while these days. And that’s why I decided early this morning, when I was flying up to Paris for a meeting with Jean-Claude, that we were going to have this weekend together. Without our usual encumbrances. A bit of private time for us, before you leave for New York. We’re entitled to that, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, we most certainly are.’ Paula gave him a small, rueful smile. ‘Coming in from the airport I vowed I wouldn’t say anything about the children, and I’ve only been here a few minutes and already I’ve – ’
Shane gently placed his hand over her mouth. ‘Sssh! I know how much you wanted to see the kids before going away, and you shall.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, giving him a puzzled look.
‘Tonight and Saturday belong to us, and then on Sunday morning Kevin will fly us down to the Riviera to spend Sunday and Monday at the villa with the brood. You’ll have to go to New York one day later, that’s all. On Wednesday instead of Tuesday. Okay?’
‘Oh darling, yes, of course! What a marvellous idea and how lovely of you to think of it, to think of pleasing them as well as us,’ she exclaimed.
He grinned at her. ‘They’re my kids, too, you know.’
‘But you’ve been coping alone with them for the last two weeks and you must have had your fill of them by now.’
‘Only too true…in some ways. On the other hand, they’ve really been looking forward to seeing you, and I don’t want them to be disappointed, or you to think I’m an entirely selfish sod. So, I’m prepared to share you with our offspring…after all, you are going to be gone from us for five or six weeks.’
Paula gazed up to him, loving him. ‘Yes, I am…’ She paused, hesitated, then asked softly, almost tentatively, ‘How’s Patrick? Is he all right, Shane?’ A worried frown knotted her dark brows together and her clear blue eyes turned cloudy and apprehensive.
‘He’s wonderful, Paula, and as happy as a sandboy, enjoying every minute of the day and having lots of fun,’ Shane reassured her, his tone very positive. ‘Please, darling, don’t worry so much.’ He put his hand under her chin, tilted her face to his and added, ‘Patrick manages very well, really he does.’
‘I’m sorry, Shane, I know I fuss about him, but he’s such a little boy and so diffident…and different. And the others can be so boisterous at times, and I’m always afraid he’ll get hurt when he’s out of his usual environment…’
She let her sentence trail off, not wanting to express the thought that anything might ever happen to their first-born child. Patrick, who was seven, was slow, retarded, and she could not help being concerned about him when he was not under her sharp and watchful eyes.
Although Shane was equally protective of their son, he was constantly – if gently – chastising her for being overly anxious. Deep down, she knew Shane was right and so she tried very hard to control her anxiety, to treat Patrick as if he were perfectly normal, like his five-year-old sister, Linnet, and his half-brother and half-sister, Lorne and Tessa, the twelve-year-old twins fathered by Jim Fairley.
Shane, observing her carefully, fully understanding her complex feelings about Patrick, said with a confiding smile, ‘I haven’t mentioned this to you before, but Linnet’s become a real little mother while we’ve all been down at the villa. She’s taken Patrick under her very small but very loving wing and, actually, without you around, she’s even turned a bit bossy. And you know how Lorne is with Patrick…he adores him. So all is well, my darling, and –’ Shane broke off at the sound of knocking, exclaimed ‘Entrez,’ and, moving away from Paula, he went hurrying to the door as it was being pushed open in response to his command.
A genial-looking porter came in carrying her garment bag and small suitcase, and Shane dealt with him briskly, showed him through into the bedroom, told him where to put the luggage and tipped him.
Once they were alone again, Shane strode over to the table, began to peel the metal paper off the champagne cork.
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘enough of the kids. They’re absolutely fine with Emily and Winston.’
‘Yes, of course they are, darling.’
A moment before, Paula’s thoughts had swung to their youngest child, and now she started to chuckle and her eyes crinkled up at the corners in amusement. ‘So Linnet’s true character has finally emerged, has it? I always suspected that that daughter of ours had inherited a bit of Emma’s imperiousness, that she also had the makings of a general in her.’
Shane glanced up, pulled a face, rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Another general in the family! Oh my God, I don’t think I can stand it! Oh well, I suppose all of my women compensate for their bossiness by being so easy on the eye.’ Winking at her, he said, ‘And by the way, Emily sends her love. When I rang her earlier this evening, to tell her I’d side-tracked you to Paris, that we wouldn’t be at the villa until Sunday, she was tickled to death about our weekend alone together. She thought it was a smashing idea, and she says you’re not to be concerned about a thing. Now, how about a glass of this marvellous stuff, before we get ready for dinner?’
‘That’d be lovely, darling.’
Paula had seated herself on the sofa whilst he had been dealing with the porter, and she kicked off her shoes, curled her legs under her and sat back, watching him.
It did not matter whether they had been apart for four days or a fortnight, she was always a little startled when she saw Shane after an absence and overwhelmed by the sheer physical presence of him. It had much to do with the force of his personality – that extraordinary charisma he possessed – as well as his height and build and natural dark good looks. Sixteen years ago, at his twenty-fourth birthday party, Emma Harte had said that Shane O’Neill had an intense glamour, and this had never been more true than it was today. He was the most dazzling of men.
Shane had celebrated his fortieth birthday this past June: he was in his prime and looked it. He had a powerful physique with a broad back and massive shoulders, and he had stayed lithe and trim; his sojourn in the sun with the children had given him a deep tan. There was a touch of grey at his temples now, but, curiously, this did not age him. Rather, in combination with his bronzed complexion, the grey seemed to underscore the youthfulness of his strong and virile face. And in contrast to his hair, there was not a strand of grey in his moustache which was as coal black as it had always been.
I’ve known him all of my life and it’s never changed, this extraordinary feeling I have for him, Paula thought, continuing to quietly observe him. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I will ever want…for the rest of my life…my husband, my lover, my closest friend.
‘Hey, Beanstalk,’ he said, using his childhood nickname for her as he walked across the room. ‘You’re a million miles away.’ He handed her the glass of champagne, sat down next to her on the sofa and gave her a quick quizzical glance.
‘Just daydreaming,’ she replied, clinking her glass to his when he held it out.
He leaned into her and fastened his eyes on her face. ‘Emma would’ve approved of this weekend of ours…she was a thorough-going romantic, just as I am.’
‘Yes, that’s very true.’
‘She was on my mind earlier today and for the obvious reasons,’ Shane went on, ‘and it suddenly struck me how quickly the time has passed since her death. It’s frightening, really, the way the years have sped by. It seems like only yesterday that she was ordering all of us around – ’
‘I was thinking exactly the same thing when I was at the cemetery this morning!’
Their eyes met. They exchanged slightly startled glances and then smiled knowingly at each other. This frequently happened, the shared thought when they were apart, or, when they were together, the sudden voicing by one of them of a sentiment that the other had been about t
o express.
As a small child, Paula had believed Shane had the ability to read her mind and that he knew her every thought, and she still believed this. But it no longer surprised her; they were too much a part of each other now and she took their closeness for granted and considered it perfectly natural that they were on the same wavelength.
Looking across at him, she said in a voice that rose slightly, as if she were suddenly surprised, ‘It doesn’t seem possible that we’ll have been married for ten years in November, does it?’
‘No…’ He lifted his hand and touched her cheek lightly. ‘But we have, and every single day I’ve been your husband has been meaningful to me, and I wouldn’t have missed one of them, not even the really bad days. Better to be with you, no matter what the circumstances, than without you.’
‘Yes, I feel the same way,’ she said and her eyes signalled her deep and abiding love to him.
Shane returned Paula’s unwavering gaze and the expression in his brilliant black eyes echoed the one in hers.
A silence fell between them.
It was a compatible and harmonious silence, one of those quiet interludes they often shared when they discovered words were not necessary to communicate their feelings.
Paula sat back and sipped her drink and unexpectedly thought of what it would be like to be without him, and she felt herself shrivelling inside, appalled at the idea. It was Shane who gave true meaning to her existence. He was the substance of her life, her rock; he was always there for her, just as she was for him. She was glad he had devised this weekend, that they had this bit of special time together before she went off on her business trip to the States and Australia. She smiled inwardly, thinking of the clever and masterful way he had planned the interlude for them, adoring him for it.
Shane, studying her, became aware that the tensions of the day were slowly ebbing out of her face, and this gladdened his heart. He frequently worried about her, knowing how hard she worked, but he never interfered. She was far too much like Emma to be any different, and protesting about her unremitting schedule would only be a waste of his breath and an irritant to her.
He eased his large frame into the corner of the blue velvet Louis XVI sofa, settled back to enjoy his drink; he, too, was finally able to relax, to let go for the first time since leaving the villa that morning. From the moment he had stepped off the O’Neill corporate jet, until Paula’s arrival in the suite, he had been busy with Jean-Claude Soissons, the head of O’Neill Hotels International in France. But he had no intention of letting business intrude any further, either tonight or tomorrow, which was why they were not staying at the hotel he owned in Paris. Whenever he wanted Paula to himself, to spend some quiet private time with her, he always took a deluxe suite at the Ritz where he knew no one would disturb him.
Now, as Paula had done a moment before, he turned his gaze inward, contemplating the next thirty-six hours and the joy they would derive from being together – and completely alone.
There was something very special between these two.
It had always been there, even as children, this spiritual oneness, this closeness, this bonding together, and what had begun in infancy had come to full flower with their sexual union as adults.
For a period of time, during Paula’s disastrous marriage to Jim Fairley, Shane had been at odds with her, but the bond between them had never really been broken. When they had patched up their friendship and had subsequently become lovers at long last, they had been profoundly shaken by the strength and force of their physical passion for each other. But they had recognized how right it was, knew they had always been meant to be together in this way, and they felt whole and complete for the first time in their lives.
Shane realized how utterly worthless his liaisons with countless other women had been, and at once understood that without Paula his life would be meaningless; Paula finally knew that Shane was the only man she had ever loved, saw how empty and loveless her marriage to Jim was, and acknowledged that to continue to live this lie would be like killing herself. And she accepted that she must end the marriage if she was to save her life – and keep her self-respect and sanity.
Expecting to meet opposition from Jim as she had, Paula, nevertheless, had been staggered by his vituperativeness and the spiteful way he had behaved once he knew she wanted a divorce. They had battled, locked horns, reached an impasse.
In the middle of one of their worst crises, Jim had done a bolt to Chamonix for a winter holiday with her parents at their rented chalet, and she had been furious with him for going skiing with the family at such a crucial time in their lives. And then he had been fatally struck down on Mont Blanc by the avalanche that had decimated the family, and she did not have to worry about getting a divorce any more because she was suddenly a widow at the age of twenty-six.
Jim’s death had come between Paula and Shane and she had sent him away out of her great and terrible guilt. But eventually she had come to her senses and had found her true self again, and had gone to him, had told him she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, and they had been reconciled immediately, for Shane O’Neill had never stopped loving her.
Two months later, with Emily and Winston Harte as their witnesses, they had been married at Caxton Hall registry office in London.
And they both knew deep in the innermost recesses of their hearts that they had finally fulfilled their destiny.
The antique ormolu clock on the white marble mantelpiece began to chime loudly.
Paula and Shane both started in surprise and glanced across at it, and Shane exclaimed, ‘Good Lord, it’s nine-thirty already, and I booked a table at the Espadon for quarter to ten. Can you get ready in fifteen minutes, darling?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Paula said, putting down her glass, stretching, then smothering a yawn behind her hand.
Shane stared hard at her and scowled. ‘You’re terribly tired,’ he said in concern. ‘How thoughtless of me to expect you to go downstairs to the restaurant. It’s a hot bath for you, my girl, and immediately. We’ll have a snack from room service tonight.’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m fine,’ Paula began and paused, yawning again. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, it has been a long day,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps you’re right about eating in the suite.’
‘I know I am.’
As he spoke, Shane stood up, reached down, took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. He laid his arm around her shoulders and propelled her towards the bedroom door. ‘I wish I’d cancelled Kevin’s weekend off and sent him with the plane to collect you this evening – ’
‘I’m jolly glad you didn’t cancel it!’ Paula cried, giving him a sharp, almost reproving look. She was fond of Kevin Reardon and was aware that the pilot’s devotion to them frequently caused him to neglect his personal life. ‘Kevin’s been looking forward to his girlfriend’s birthday party tomorrow night for weeks now. Anyway, he made a good messenger, didn’t he? It was Kevin who delivered your note to the store this morning, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it was.’ Shane grinned as he proceeded to bundle her into the bedroom. ‘Come on, get undressed and take a hot bath, and whilst you’re relaxing I shall order supper. What do you fancy?’
‘Oh anything you like…I’ll leave it to you, darling.’
‘How about a picnic…with some of your favourite things? And another bottle of bubbly.’
Paula laughed gaily. She said, ‘If I drink any more champagne I might just pass out.’
‘That’s permissible,’ Shane shot back, ‘you have your husband here to look after you.’
‘True. And a very special husband at that.’ She stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek.
Shane’s arms went around her and he caught her to him for a moment, tightening his grip, kissing the top of her dark head, and then he suddenly let go of her abruptly, stepped away from her.
‘I’d better be a good boy and go and order supper, otherwise you never know what might happen. After all, I have b
een deprived of you for two whole weeks, and I don’t mind telling you, I’ve missed you like bloody hell, my love…’
‘Oh Shane darling,’ she said slowly, very softly. ‘Yes…I know what you mean…’
It was the inflection in her voice, the sudden longing on her face that made him instantly take a step forward.
She reached out her hand to him.
He took it.
Their clasped hands tightened and they moved into each other’s arms swiftly. He bent his face to hers, seeking her mouth, and felt the sudden hotness of her cheeks, and the knowledge that she always wanted him as much as he always wanted her aroused him, made his heart begin to clatter erratically. They kissed, a long deep kiss, and he let his tongue explore her mouth, and they shared a feeling of the most profound intimacy.
Paula was suddenly trembling in his arms and together they swayed on their feet as if they were intoxicated, and of course they were – with each other – and then they half-stumbled, half-walked in the direction of the bed, their arms still wrapped around one another.
Shane stripped her of her clothes.
She went and lay down on the bed, waiting for him, and her eyes never once left his face as he flung off his own clothes. As she watched him intently she was hardly able to contain herself, wanting him so much, and when she saw how excited he was she felt a shiver trickle down her spine.
As Shane stared back into those violet eyes turning inky black with longing for him, he was possessed by such a violent desire for her it sent the blood rushing to his head and made his heart begin to pound against his rib cage. He felt dizzy and lightheaded as he walked across to the bed and stretched out beside her.
Pushing himself up on one elbow, he bent over her, looked down into her face.
She gazed up at him.
Their eyes locked and held for the longest moment of the most intense and adoring communion, and then he touched her cheek with two fingers, moving their tips across her brows, her eyelids, her nose and onto her mouth; slowly he traced the outline of her lips and parted them and rested his fingertips against her tongue. She sucked on them and the sensuality of this little act inflamed him, made the fire leap through him. Immediately, he crushed his mouth to hers. It was hard and insistent and their teeth grazed as he kissed her with mounting passion, and as he did he moved his fingers away from her lips, slid them along the elongated line of her lovely throat. They did not linger there, but moved on to fondle her voluptuous breasts, then slipped further down to flutter lightly across her flat stomach until they were finally resting between her thighs.
To Be the Best (Emma Harte) Page 6