A Christmas Affair

by Carole Mortimer

  'A little!' she scorned, glaring at him accusingly.

  His eyes narrowed to steely slits. 'I'm not drunk, if that's what you're implying.'

  Not yet!

  She gave an exasperated sigh. 'No one was suggesting you are—'

  'Weren't they?' He stood up, instantly dwarfing the kitchen.

  The reckless glint in his eyes made Cathy feel nervous. 'Ann is all alone in the sitting room—' She broke off abruptly, realising as she saw his eyes darken and his mouth firm that mentioning the other woman had not been the best of ideas at the moment. 'Dominic, we can't stay out here in the kitchen all evening when she's in the other room,' she reasoned exasperatedly.

  'You may not be able to,' he acknowledged tautly. 'But, believe me, I have no trouble whatsoever in doing so.'

  Cathy had already guessed that. Not that Ann was likely to say too much about his ab­sence; she clearly considered Dominic's be­haviour odd anyway, and would probably be relieved at the respite from the tension Dominic seemed to engender.

  'Don't you think you're behaving a little childishly?'

  'Childishly?' he repeated forcefully, his hands clenched at his sides. 'I don't even want to breathe the same air as that woman!'

  'Dominic!' Cathy gasped disbelievingly, shaken by his vehemence.

  'I've never been a hypocrite, Cathy,' he rasped. 'And I'm not about to start now. That woman goes against everything I believe in—'

  'You don't know that—'

  'I heard the same admission you did, Cathy,' he bit out harshly. 'The woman walked out on her family at Christmas.'

  'That's none of our business.'

  'Maybe not.' Dominic nodded tersely. 'But she was the one who chose to tell us.'

  'She chose to tell me,' Cathy corrected pointedly. 'And then only because she was upset and needed to talk to someone.'

  'And so she ought to be upset!'

  Cathy looked at him appealingly. 'Dominic, she looks ill,' she reasoned softly. 'She doesn't need our passing judgement on her for some­thing we really know nothing about.'

  His eyes glittered with dislike. 'Well she isn't going to get my sympathy, if that's what you mean!'

  'I just want you to be polite to her,' Cathy said exasperatedly. 'This situation is un­pleasant enough without your treating Ann as if she had something contagious.'

  Dominic's brows rose. 'You don't actually condone what she's done?'

  'I don't know what she's done,' she sighed impatiently. 'Neither of us does.'

  'We know enough to realise her children are without a mother today,' he said coldly. 'How would your two nephews feel if Penny had dis­appeared over Christmas without explanation?'

  She thought of her two young nephews, past the age now of 'believing in Father Christmas', but still young enough to appreciate this special family time together; and they would hate it if Penny weren't with them.

  'They would hate it,' she conceded. 'But they would accept it if they had to,' she said with certainty. 'Dominic, aren't you basing your re­action on your own experience—?' She broke off with a guilty gasp, realising she had spoken aloud the thoughts that had occurred to her after his earlier reaction. And from the thun­derous expression on Dominic's face it was ob­vious he would rather she had kept those thoughts to herself!

  He came a step closer to her, towering over her, despite her own considerable inches. 'What do you know of my "experience"?' His voice was silkily soft.

  Cathy hadn't felt in the least threatened by Dominic in the past, no matter what the situ­ation, and yet she felt slightly apprehensive of him now, having crossed, she knew, that un­spoken barrier that had always existed between what he chose to let her know about him, and what he chose to keep to himself.

  'Nothing, of course. But—'

  'Nothing?' he repeated scornfully. 'Oh, come on, Cathy, I can't believe you held yourself aloof from the speculation that's gone on about me all these years!'

  Cathy knew that he intended to wound, was deliberately doing so with the insult, but years of hiding her emotions came to her rescue and she didn't give him that satisfaction. She had held herself above gossip about him, but it had been because she loved him and refused to discuss him in that way, and not because of any lack of interest in him herself. She wanted to know all there was to know about him, but only if he chose to tell her.

  'Speculation because of a mystique you've chosen to nurture,' she challenged defiantly, her head tipped back to meet his gaze with steady, unblinking eyes.

  'Hell, woman, I didn't nurture it,' he flared furiously. 'I just don't see what right anyone has to stick their nose into my personal life!'

  'Exactly,' she said with satisfaction.

  Irritation scored his brow at her attitude. 'This isn't the same thing at all—'

  'Of course it is,' she dismissed impatiently. 'The more of a mystery you make of your life, the more curious you make people to know about it; it's human nature.'

  'Does this generalisation include you?' Dominic grated.

  'I've already told you, no,' she snapped irritably.

  'Never been curious, Cathy?' he taunted. 'Not even once?'

  Her mouth firmed, deeply resenting having his anger turned on her in this way. 'Oh, I've been curious, Dominic,' she bit out tautly. 'But then, I'm as human as the next person.'

  'Excluding me, of course,' he rasped scorn­fully. 'But I was very human last night, wasn't I, Cathy?' he added self-derisively. 'So even I must have my moments of weakness.'

  'We all have those, Dominic,' she said huskily, last night a vivid memory, all of it.

  'That's my excuse—what was yours?' His expression was hard. 'Or were you just taking that curiosity you admitted to a step further?'

  She saw her hand swing up in an arc of movements through an angry red haze, heard the cracking sound as her palm made contact with his cheek, her hand stinging from the con­tact, his cheek turning vividly red even as she continued to look coldly at him. 'I'm going into the other room with Ann,' she informed him distantly, turning away, not in the least sur­prised—or, at that moment, concerned—when he chose to remain in the kitchen with his wine for company.

  He could drink every bottle of wine in the cottage for all she cared, could drink himself into unconsciousness—and she hoped that in the morning he had the biggest, most painful hangover of his life!

  Ann was asleep in one of the armchairs when she entered the sitting-room, and didn't even stir as Cathy made her more comfortable, pulling across the other armchair to slide the other woman's legs up on to and covering her with a duvet. That only left the sofa-bed for herself and Dominic to sleep on, but the chances of Dominic actually wanting to sleep with her tonight were extremely remote, she felt sure.

  How could he have made that cutting remark about last night, a night that had meant some­thing to her even if it hadn't to him?

  How could it not have meant anything to him?

  He simply wasn't the type of man to go around making love to a woman on a whim, especially when the two of them had had such a close working relationship for so many years. She knew that he was upset with Ann, that he had drunk too much alcohol when he wasn't used to it, but his coldness towards her hurt none the less.

  What did she know of his private life, anyway? It had always been work between them, always, but there were times when Dominic chose to be on his own, when he ex­cluded her completely; what did she know of what he did during those times? One thing she did know: last night a man who had known exactly what he was doing had made love to her…

  Quite how she managed to fall asleep on the sofa-bed, with her thoughts in such turmoil, she didn't know, but she woke slightly as she felt the duvet being placed comfortably about her and then the warmth of a hard body as it moved up close against her.

  'We need the combined body warmth,' Dominic murmured in answer to her mur­mured protest.

  She wanted to ask 'What about Ann's body warmth?', but the heat of his body made her feel so cosily comfortabl
e that it was much easier to snuggle into that body warmth and drift back off to sleep. Even the smell of wine on warm breath didn't disturb her unduly; in fact it was rather pleasant as she turned to bury her face against the warmth of Dominic's naked chest.

  'I'm not sure this was such a good idea,' he murmured gruffly.

  Cathy snuggled even closer, her hands moving lightly across his back.

  'Cathy-!' Dominic's strangulated groan was very telling, his body tense.

  'Sleep, Dominic. I only want to sleep,' she protested in a drowsy voice.

  'That's all I wanted to do when I came to bed, but hell, woman-!' He drew in a ragged breath, his arms tightening.

  She was tired, so very tired. Lack of sleep last night, and the tension today, had made her so.

  'Ann,' she reminded huskily.

  He drew in a harsh breath. 'Go to sleep, damn it!' he rasped through a set jaw.

  'I am, I am,' she muttered drowsily, relaxing against him completely.

  'I wish I could say the same,' was his wry comment as she drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WAKING up with a feeling of complete disorientation was something Cathy was be­coming used to. Or at least it should have been. Although this morning was somewhat dif­ferent, an insistent—and persistent—noise, breaking through the warm mists of sleep she had been floating in.

  'What the hell?'

  Dominic's harsh exclamation so close to her banished any last remnants of sleep, and Cathy opened her eyes to find herself looking at his dishevelled state beside her on the sofa-bed as he jack-knifed into a sitting position.

  Their puzzlement turned to surprise as they both became aware of the fact that the in­sistent noise that had awakened them both was a loud banging on the front door, accom­panied by the occasional muffled shout.

  It was at about this time that they both also realised Ann was no longer in the room.

  Dominic was the first up off the bed, despite the fact that his reflexes had to have been dulled somewhat from the alcohol he had consumed the night before.

  'What's the woman up to now?' he muttered as he hastily pulled on his clothes.

  Cathy frowned as she stood up. 'Are you sure it is Ann?' The voice sounded distinctly mas­culine to her, even if it was muffled.

  'Who else?' Dominic gave her a sharp look. 'It would be too damned much to hope that we're going to be rescued from this place!'

  She hung back as he hurried from the room, knowing as she heard the deep tone of men's voices seconds later that they were indeed about to be rescued.

  And she was drawn between the relief of that, of being able to let the family know she was well, and the knowledge that, once they had left this isolated little cottage, Dominic would make his excuses to leave as soon as he poss­ibly could. Who knew when she would see him again after that?

  But common sense had to prevail; they were getting low on food and fuel, and Ann—Ann! Dear God, where was she?

  Her greetings were vague to the two police­men as they stood talking to Dominic in the hallway, and she hurried past them.

  'Cathy?' Dominic's puzzled voice stopped her, obviously wondering why she wasn't as delighted as he was by the 'rescue'.

  'Ann,' she reminded tautly, irritated that he could have forgotten the other woman.

  'She can't be far away.' He shook his head. 'Try the kitchen.'

  'This would be the Mrs Freeman we were just making enquiries about?' The younger of the two policemen frowned.

  'Ann Freeman, yes.' Cathy nodded dis­tantly; she couldn't hear any movements in the kitchen, and the cottage was too small for her not to be able to do so if Ann was in there. Surely the other woman wouldn't have left the cottage on her own? She surely couldn't have been so desperate to get back to her husband and children that she would have done some­thing that silly?

  'Her husband has been very concerned about her.' The older policeman shook his head.

  'Indeed?' Dominic's sarcasm couldn't be concealed.

  'Dominic!' Cathy glared warningly; whatever his personal opinion of Ann, he had no right to voice it in front of these two men.

  'As I understand it,' Dominic continued scornfully, 'Mrs Freeman had chosen to leave her family even before she got caught in the storm.'

  Cathy knew that it was his absolute fury at the woman's apparent desertion of her husband and children that was making him behave in his way, and yet at the same time she could sense the other men's disapproval of his ob­vious censorship.

  'Domestic crises are very common this time of the year,' the younger man told him firmly. 'Statistics show—'

  'Statistics don't help the people left behind,' Dominic rasped unrelentingly.

  'Mrs Freeman, sir,' the older policeman said firmly. 'If we could just locate her—?'

  'Of course,' Cathy cut in briskly, taking charge of the situation, as she could see Dominic's disgust with Ann had still got the better of him. 'She must be in here—oh, my God!' she gasped with a groan as she saw Ann lying on the kitchen floor, apparently unconscious.

  She could only stand helplessly by as the two policemen sprang into action, attempting to revive the unconscious woman.

  Cathy was racked by terrible feelings of guilt that she had been sleeping while this poor woman had been lying on the cold, lino-covered floor, and she could see that the unexpec­tedness of their discovery had finally shaken Dominic out of his unrelenting mood as he went down on his haunches beside the police­man while Ann slowly seemed to be coming round.

  It soon became obvious that Ann wasn't quite sure what had happened to her, either, although it was obvious by the expression on the policemen's faces that they were as con­cerned by the faint as she was, deciding she needed to be taken to hospital straight away.

  After that it was a blur of movement as the two policemen and Dominic helped Ann out to the Range Rover that had been their form of transport up to the cottage. Cathy asked to sit in the back with the other woman as they drove as quickly as they could to the nearest hospital so that Ann's condition could be checked out, in spite of her protests that she was fine now.

  'Are we going to be all right now?' Ann's voice was husky as she held on tightly to Cathy's hand.

  'Of course,' Cathy reassured her lightly, knowing that a lot of Ann's nervousness must be concerning her family's reaction to her when they saw her again. 'Your husband has been very worried about you,' she added encour­agingly. After all, if the husband was worried about Ann then he couldn't be too angry at her disappearance, and that had to be good news.

  Tears instantly filled the big blue eyes. 'Poor Paul. And the girls,' she choked. 'Oh, God, my poor little girls.' Sobs racked the slender body.

  The policeman sitting in the passenger seat turned to give Cathy a censorious glare for ob­viously upsetting Ann before murmuring words of comfort to the stricken woman.

  She hadn't meant to make Ann cry, only to reassure her, surely they could see that? Although, after Dominic's behaviour, perhaps they couldn't!

  Dominic sat beside her in the Range Rover, his face stony. He hadn't spoken a word since they had found Ann. Not that he ever was a great conversationalist, but this silence wasn't like that.

  His only sign of emotion was a frown as they passed his car still nose-first in the snowdrift, although other traffic was now moving slowly along the cleared road.

  Yes, the roads were now clear enough to travel along with care, but Cathy suddenly re­alised that Dominic didn't have anything to travel along in, not until his car had been pulled out of the snowdrift and the damage corrected.

  She gave him a sideways glance; did he re­alise that he was effectively stranded in Devon for the moment? Maybe that was part of the reason he suddenly looked so chillingly angry!

  'I think it would be best if you and Miss Gilbert let a doctor take a look at you,' the older policeman told Dominic as they pulled up outside the hospital.

  'That won't be necessary,' Dominic an­swered haughtily.


  'Nevertheless, I think it's a sensible pre­caution, Mr Reynolds,' the other man insisted firmly.

  Dominic's mouth twisted. 'Hypothermia didn't have a chance to set in, if that's what you're worried about.'

  Was it Cathy's imagination, or did both the other men keep their eyes discreetly diverted after that derisive jibe?

  'It isn't, sir,' the older man replied smoothly. 'But that would appear to be a nasty bump you received to your head at the time of your ac­cident, and I believe it might be sensible to have it looked at, at least.'

  Cathy knew by the man's manner that Dominic's attitude had rubbed them up the wrong way, but that the policeman was still intent on doing his duty couldn't be denied. And he had put that last statement in such a way that Dominic was going to look more than a little silly if he still refused the hospital check-­up.

  It was instinctive, despite the fact that he had got himself into this awkward position by his own stubbornness, to leap to his defence. 'I'd like to go in with Ann, anyway,' she said lightly. 'Just to make sure everything is all right.'

  'In that case it appears we have no choice.' Dominic nodded abrupt agreement.

  Thank you.' Ann squeezed Cathy's hand gratefully.

  'We radioed ahead.' The young policeman got out of the vehicle. 'So both families will have been informed of your safety.'

  So much had been going on since their 'rescue' that it had completely slipped Cathy's mind that Penny and Simon would still be worried about her, and the relief now that she knew that at least the police had thought to let them know was immense. Poor Penny and Simon, what a Christmas they must have had, worrying about them, and Jade and David too. She felt even worse about making this an up­setting time for them.

  The accident department of this large hos­pital was as officious as most, although slightly less bustling than usual, perhaps because of the time of year. Nevertheless, they were dealt with speedily and efficiently, and Cathy was quickly passed as fit, although Dominic had to have an X-ray on his head, and the doctor insisted on carrying out several tests on Ann.