by Penny Jordan
Christy held her breath, gathering the twins closer, and even the more stoical Lyn leaned tensely against her.
From the top of the stairs she heard Dominic calling her, and numbly she got up and hurried across the room.
'Can you come up here for a moment, Christy?'
He sounded calm enough, if a bit terse.
Gently reassuring the children and checking that the door was locked and there was nothing of any danger to them within their reach, she hurried upstairs.
Lorna Thomson's dark hair was clinging stickily to her face, and Christy felt a spasm of fear clutch at her stomach as she heard the other woman's moans.
'What is it?' she asked Dominic nervously, licking dry lips. 'Dominic, I…'
'It's all right. All I want you to do is to let Lorna hold on to you. Can you do that?'
The woman on the bed writhed and cried out, and Christy forgot her fear.
'Soak a cloth in cold water, so that you can sponge her face,' Dominic instructed her.
As she sat at the side of the bed following Dominic's instructions and feeling the sharp bite of Lorna's fingernails into her skin, even Christy in her ignorance could see that the birth was imminent.
A huge wave of love and awe washed over her as she listened to Dominic exhorting and cajoling Lorna. She looked at him, watching the total concentration on his face, before she turned back to soothe Lorna's damp face.
'Just one more push, Lorna. You can do it. And another…'
Awed beyond belief, totally unable to look away, Christy witnessed the almost magical moment of birth. That the baby was scarlet and daubed with mucus and blood could not in any way detract from the wonder of what she had experienced, and if anyone had asked her what the baby looked like she knew she would have said, and meant it, 'Beautiful.'
Almost from a distance, she heard Dominic saying tiredly, 'Congratulations, Lorna, you have another daughter.'
From the side of the bed, Christy watched in wonderment as Dominic placed the tiny red-faced creature flat on her mother's stomach. There were tears in Lorna Thomson's eyes as she reached out to touch her new daughter's damp, dark head.
'Christy, why don't you go down and make us all a cup of tea?' Dominic suggested quietly, drawing her to one side, and pushing her gently in the direction of the door. For a moment she stood and watched him, knowing that she was completely forgotten as he went to attend to his patient.
Downstairs the children stared at her, round-eyed, and it was Lyn who asked, 'Has our new baby come yet?'
'Yes, she has,' Christy told them. 'Your mummy needs to have a sleep now, but as soon as she's rested, I expect you'll be able to go up and see her.'
'You're crying,' one of the twins accused, and as she touched trembling fingers to her damp face, Christy realised that she was. She felt privileged and elated in a way she couldn't explain to have witnessed the birth. It was something she would remember all her life.
Unwittingly she touched her own flat stomach and felt again that wave of desolation and failure that had encompassed her when she knew she wasn't going to have Dominic's child.
They stayed at the farmhouse until Lorna Thomson's husband returned home. The buzzard had stopped, and the wind was dying down. Jack Thomson thanked them with tears in his eyes for what they had done, and Christy felt guilty that he should have thanked her when she had done so very little. The children had seen their mother and new sister now, and already Lyn was telling the twins importantly that babies weren't to be poked with inquisitive little fingers.
It was dark by the time they left, the snow freezing already. Christy shuddered, dreading the hazardous return journey.
It took them almost an hour, crawling over the hard-packed frozen snow, and when eventually the turning to the lane came in sight, she tensed as she looked in vain for a spiral of smoke from the sitting-room fire's chimney.
Sensing her tension, Dominic looked across at her. 'What's wrong?'
'I think the sitting-room fire's gone out.'
His frown deepened. 'If it has the house will be like an icebox; these stone houses always are.'
'We do have central heating, you know,' Christy pointed out as he stopped the Land Rover in front of the house. She was sliding out of her seat as she spoke, but somehow he seemed to have anticipated her, and he was there to take the back door key from her frozen fingers and unlock the door for her.
As she followed him inside, Christy's heart sank. She didn't need anyone to tell her that the heating had gone off. The air was icy enough to make her shiver.
She saw that Dominic was squatting down in front of the boiler, and realised that he was looking for the pilot light.
'You'd better come back with me,' he told her brusquely as he stood up. 'If I leave you here you'll freeze.'
If he'd put into words how little he wanted her company, he couldn't have made it plainer, and before she could stop herself Christy heard herself saying nastily, 'Won't Amanda have something to say about that?'
His eyes went cold. She'd forgotten how disapproving and quelling he could be when he looked down his nose like that.
'What could she have to say?' he asked coldly. 'You're the daughter of some old friends, whom I can hardly leave to spend the night in a freezing cold house when the temperature's already way down below freezing and still dropping, when my home is less than half a mile away.'
'Maybe your central heating isn't working either,' Christy suggested childishly. What had she been hoping? That he would deny that Amanda had any right to question his actions?
'Very likely,' he agreed coolly. Too coolly for Christy's liking. 'However, unlike you, I took the precaution of making sure that all my fires were well banked down before I came out.'
'So would I have done as well,' Christy fired up immediately, 'if you hadn't practically dragged me off before I could do so.'
Suddenly his face split in a grin she remembered from earlier and far, far happier times. Crossly she glared at him while he teased, 'You always were a cussed little brat, Christy. It must be something to do with this red hair.' He pushed back the hood of her anorak as he spoke and gently tugged one of her curls.
Heat rushed through her body and she stepped back from him instantly.
His smile faded, his face shuttered and cold.
'You've got ten minutes to collect together anything that you might need. What time do you expect your parents back?'
'I've no idea. Originally they would have come home tonight, but Dad rang and said that they would stay over in view of the weather.'
'Umm, well, if you give me the number, I'll give them a ring and tell them where you are while you collect your stuff.'
This was the old big brother Dominic she remembered from her pre-teens. She wanted to protest that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, but as she looked up her parents' friends' telephone number, she was already starting to shiver in the chill air.
It didn't take her long to collect what she wanted, and while she was upstairs she would have liked to have changed out of her damp jeans and anorak—they had had to get out of the Land Rover twice on the way back to dig it out, and on both occasions the snow had come over the top of her Wellington boots—but she didn't want to give Dominic any more excuse than necessary to criticise her, and criticise her he would if she kept him waiting, she thought bitterly.
If she was Amanda, he wouldn't be treating her so cavalierly. If she was Amanda. She punched the old velour dressing-gown she was shoving into her rollbag with unnecessary vigour and then grimaced to herself. If she was Amanda, no doubt she wouldn't be packing serviceable woollies and dressing-gown, but sheer silk undies and the sort of nightwear that no woman in her right mind ever wore to keep warm.
He was just replacing the receiver when she went back downstairs.
'Your parents were worried about you. Apparently they tried to ring this afternoon to check that you were all right. I've explained the situation to them and your mother said you weren't to worry, and th
at they would be back tomorrow after lunch.'
So she wasn't to worry, Christy thought grimly as she allowed Dominic to take her bag and then waited impatiently while he locked the back door. How was she supposed to feel, forced to spend the night with the man she loved, knowing how little he desired her? She only hoped that he gave her a bedroom with a lock on the door, so that she wasn't tempted to sleepwalk into his bedroom and betray herself completely.
'Oh, I'm not worried at all,' she assured him nastily, refusing to allow him to help her into the Land Rover, 'but Amanda might be if she knew that the two of us were spending the night together.'
He was right, she was behaving like an absolute brat, she thought guiltily, watching the angry flush of colour seep up under his skin. She only hoped that he wouldn't realise that it was sheer jealousy that was making her so objectionable.
'Spending the night together is hardly the way I would describe our situation.' He practically gritted the words through his teeth, throwing them over his shoulder at her as he started the engine. 'And even if we were, what possible reason could Amanda or anyone else have for objecting? We are both, after all, consenting adults, even if one of us isn't behaving like one.'
She had the grace to squirm a little uncomfortably on her seat. 'It's hardly my fault if everyone round here thinks of you and Amanda as an established couple,' she muttered.
One darkly raised eyebrow informed her that he suspected the truth had been subjected to some imaginative expansion.
'Don't talk rubbish, Christy. It might suit you to believe that I sublimated my need for Amanda in making love to you in the same way you sublimated yours for David Galvin, but you won't get me to swallow such an unappetising lump of fiction simply to soothe your conscience.'
'But you were dating her.' Why on earth was she being so stubbornly persistent? Dominic had turned out into the lane now and she could see his house up ahead of them in the glare of the headlights.
'Was I? You seem to know more about our relationship than I do,' he said drily. 'I thought we were simply thrown together by force of circumstances.'
'But you…'
On the point of reminding him that he had gone to London with the other girl, she suddenly realised what a dangerous path she was treading and closed her mouth firmly before she could endanger herself any further.
'Stop looking for excuses, Christy.' His voice was harsh, and edged with temper. 'What happened between us happened, and I for one don't regret it.'
He stopped the Land Rover with a jerk that made it slide forward a few feet, jolting Christy slightly against her seat belt. As she straightened her body she could feel her heart pounding like a steam engine.
'I'm tired of getting the cold-shoulder treatment. I'm sorry if I wasn't the man you wanted to take your virginity, more sorry than I can say.' He sounded tired now, and guiltily she realised what a strain the whole afternoon must have been for him. 'If you want me to apologise for making love to you, or to say that I regret it, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.'
For the first time since she had known him, he turned his back on her and got out of the Land Rover without either waiting to help her or checking that she was following him.
He had reached the door before she realised how cold she was and managed to stumble after him.
He had switched on the hall light, and its harsh glare illuminated the tension in his face. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but what could she say? That she didn't regret it either; that… but no, she couldn't say that, otherwise he might think…
What? That she might welcome his lovemaking again? That she might be agreeable to just that sort of brief affair she knew would tear her apart?
'Dominic, can't we declare a truce—just for tonight?'
He looked down at her for a long time, his eyes glittering oddly between the black fringe of his lashes. He was looking at her almost as though he resented having to do so… almost as though… her stomach lurched and she touched her tongue to her lips nervously.
'For God's sake, don't do that. Aren't things bad enough as they are, without you behaving like a provocative…' He broke off and swore as he saw her face, reaching for her, but it was too late, Christy was already backing away from him and running out into the freezing darkness, his words hammering relentlessly against her brain as past and present met and merged, and she was once again that vulnerable seventeen-year-old who had gone to him with the gift of her love and her body, and had been rejected.
'Christy…' She heard him call her name, but it scarcely penetrated the turmoil of her thoughts. The snow was too thick for her to run, but she stumbled on, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to escape.
When Dominic grabbed hold of her from behind, she cried out and turned to push him off, but her feet slipped and she fell backwards into the thick snow, taking Dominic with her.
His weight crushed the breath from her lungs, the cold sting of the snow on her face and the shocking awareness of losing her balance making her shiver convulsively beneath him.
'Christy—my God, are you all right?'
She had started to cry, huge, gulping sobs that tore at her throat until it was raw with pain from trying to drag in lungfuls of icy cold air. She could feel the warmth of her own tears on her face as Dominic levered himself up off her.
He picked her up, striding back to the house, carrying her into his study.
Oh God, if he had brought her to any room but this! Snow clung to her clothes, but he seemed unaware of it as he sat her in front of the fire and started to tug off her Wellington boots.
'Christy, I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I didn't mean…' His words were a husky, pleading sound that washed against her ears, without their meaning really penetrating. She shivered, protesting between sobs as he pulled off her socks and rubbed her freezing feet.
'Christy, listen to me… It was just my vile, abominable temper. I never meant…'
She heard him curse and the sound penetrated, her blank eyes focusing on his face.
'Come on. Let's get you out of these wet things.' He spoke to her as gently as though she was a child, and like a child she sat lethargically and let him strip her down to her underwear and then wrap her in a warm towel that he brought down from upstairs.
'You stay here. I'll go and make us both a hot drink.'
By the time he came back she had herself under control. When he came in with two mugs of coffee she said huskily, 'I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to do.'
'We all do stupid things at times.' He looked so sombre and drawn that she yearned to cradle his head against her breast and comfort him.
'It was wonderful… this afternoon,' she said half shyly, searching for a safe subject for conversation. 'So beautiful… that perfect baby.'
Something in the yearning quality of her voice must have reached him because he said softly, 'Would you like children, Christy?'
Only yours. She flushed as she thought she had spoken out loud, gratefully realising that she hadn't after all.
'Yes… yes, I would.'
His face darkened suddenly. He got up and stared down at her. 'It's no good, I promised myself I wouldn't interfere, but I can't stand by and see you ruin your life. Think of all that you're giving up by holding on to your love for David Galvin. He doesn't love you to the same extent. Surely you must see that. He'll never give you children, Christy. He already has a wife and family.'
She looked at him, curiously warmed by the fire and the coffee, wondering at the intensity in his voice.
'Have you ever been in love, Dominic?'
He frowned and turned away from her so that his face was in the shadows. 'Yes…' He sounded terse.
'And… and did she love you too?' Why on earth was she tormenting herself like this?
'Once I thought she did.' The words seemed to be dragged out of his throat under fierce pressure. 'But… but I was wrong.'
Some girl in the States, perhaps. Maybe that was even the reason why
he had come home, but she couldn't probe any further; she didn't have the right, and neither did she have the strength to sit there and listen to Dominic telling her about the woman he loved.
'I've got some reports to write up; do you mind if I do some work?'
Christy shook her head, watching as he walked over to his desk and sat down. Within seconds he seemed totally absorbed in what he was doing, leaving her free to look her fill at him.
He worked for about an hour, but she wasn't bored; The crackle of the logs and the faint sounds from his desk as he wrote, the fact that she was here with him—all these things filled her with a pleasure that was tinged with melancholy. She fell asleep while he was still working, unaware of the fact that he had put down his pen to come and look broodingly down at her. Her towel had slipped, revealing the gleaming curve of her shoulder. As he bent to tuck the towel round her she woke up.
It was a shock to find him so close. 'Are you still working?'
'No, I've finished now.' A faint smile tugged at his mouth. 'You're not my patient—remember? Do you feel hungry? Shall I make us something to eat?'
She pulled a face and said drowsily, 'I seem to have lost my appetite recently.' For a moment he stared at her, and then he tensed.
'My God, Christy, you're not…'
As his hands gripped her shoulders she stared back at him and then suddenly realised what he thought.
'No… No, I'm not pregnant…'
It was ridiculous to think she had seen disappointment momentarily darken his eyes, and she told herself that seeing things that weren't there was a very dangerous symptom.
'When I said that about you being provocative, I didn't mean what you thought, you know,' Dominic said abruptly.
'You mean you weren't trying to remind me that there was a time when I had been guilty of being extremely provocative? No, I know you weren't, Dominic. I don't know why I ran off like that… it all got too much for me, I suppose.' She shivered intensely at the memory of her own folly.
'Cold?' Dominic's hands rubbed her arms through the towel. 'I'd better go upstairs and light a fire in one of the bedrooms for you, otherwise you'll freeze tonight.'