by Fiona Harper
She couldn’t read his expression at all. He mumbled something, then circled the car to fetch her bags and loaded them in the boot. When he had finished he came and took her hand, brushing it lightly with his thumb. Even this tender gesture had her toes on fire. Only then did he look her straight in the eye.
Her heart melted. He was all messy-headed, his jaw taut and his eyes searching and all of a sudden, he reminded her of a little boy, unsure of how to act and toughing it out. She reached out and touched the stubble on his cheek. It was back with a vengeance.
He leaned towards her and kissed her lightly, his chin grazing her cheek, but she didn’t mind the roughness—it was something exquisitely Luke—then he leaned in again and this time the kiss was longer. His lips dragged against hers and she laid her hand on his chest to steady herself.
‘Morning, gorgeous.’
The smile he gave her made her heart skip. But she was hardly looking gorgeous this morning. She was wearing her comfiest jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that had been washed so many times it was fabulously soft. Pity the shape had been sacrificed to get it that way. No, he must still be looking at her through the filter of the night before, when she’d been as close to gorgeous as she was ever going to get—and even then you’d have to hail a cab to take you on the last leg of the journey.
‘Morning,’ she almost whispered back.
He was going for another kiss, but she stopped him with the flat of her palm.
‘Heather,’ she whispered.
She’d just spotted Heather’s green T-shirt in the lobby before she came out into the afternoon sunshine. It gave them just enough time to put a bit more distance between them before she could see them clearly. Her blood was pounding in her veins. She felt as if she’d been caught out. The guilty feeling swelled as Heather loped towards them, eyebrows raised.
Gaby looked at Luke, who was standing ramrod straight, and almost giggled. He was trying so hard to look ‘normal’ it was obvious things were anything but.
‘I was just opening the door for Gaby.’ He pulled the door open a little too fast and Gaby got inside. Heather’s eyebrows inched higher, but she skipped round to the rear door, climbed inside, jammed her earphones in and that was that.
Luke coughed, slammed Gaby’s door and went round to get in the driver’s side. He kept his eyes on the road ahead for a good twenty minutes before he dared glance at her. She gave him a wink and noticed him visibly relax.
Once they were on the motorway and Heather had nodded off, he became a little bolder. They talked in hushed tones—on neutral subjects, just in case. And when Heather woke up they continued in silence, both smiling as they stared at the road ahead.
Gaby breathed a sigh of relief once they were back in Devon and speeding through the country lanes. Home almost.
Then she jumped. Luke changed gear and his knuckles brushed against her thigh. Her skin was buzzing underneath her jeans. She turned to look at him, but he was staring ahead, seemingly oblivious.
Then he did it again.
She turned just her head to look at him and gave him a you did that on purpose look. Luke took his eyes off the road momentarily and grinned across at her. I know, the grin said. And Gaby wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or hit him. Just as well they were driving and she couldn’t do either.
She looked over her shoulder at Heather, who was fiddling with her MP3 player and bobbing her head as usual. Then she relaxed back into her seat and closed her eyes.
What she didn’t know was that the battery on the MP3 player had died a few minutes earlier. Once Gaby was looking in the other direction, Heather jammed it into her rucksack and turned to stare out of the window and, as she watched the fields and hedgerows whip past, she smiled like the Cheshire cat.
‘Heather!’
Luke shot past Gaby and out the kitchen door so fast she hardly had time to turn round. Gut instinct made her drop the dish cloth and run after him. She followed him down the stairs to the little jetty next to the house. Heather was inside the dinghy moored there, fiddling with the rope. At the sight of Luke she froze.
‘Heather! What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
She looked at him as if it should be glaringly obvious. ‘I wanted to go and explore the riverbank. It’s a really nice day.’
‘Do you not remember anything I’ve told you?’
Heather shrugged. Her behaviour was certainly better than it had been when Gaby had first arrived, but that didn’t do anything to alter her contrary personality. No, things like this were pure Heather and nothing was going to change that.
‘I don’t know how many times I’ve told you not to go off in the dinghy—especially not on your own. Now get out.’
Heather let out a disgruntled noise, but she did as she was told, nevertheless. Gaby watched her as she climbed the steps and headed back into the house. Luke shook his head.
‘Got an independent streak a mile wide, that one.’
‘I’d noticed.’ And she knew exactly who she got it from too. ‘It’s not such a bad idea though, is it?’
‘What, being a little madam? Not planning to take lessons from her, are you? I don’t think I could take two women like that in my life.’
She rubbed his arm. ‘No, I meant about taking the boat out and exploring the river. I could make up a picnic and we could make a day of it.’
He looked skywards and creased his forehead. ‘Maybe.’
‘Go on, it’ll do the three of us good to get out of the house and spend some time together.’
‘Okay, then. Let’s do it.’
She returned to the kitchen and started hunting for a cool bag.
They’d been out on a few ‘dates’ since they’d been back from London. And Luke had been true to his word, they hadn’t lied to Heather. The first time she’d been invited out bowling with some school friends and he had calmly told her that he and Gaby were taking the night off too and going out for something to eat. She hadn’t batted an eyelid.
Step one was to get her used to the idea of them being alone together, doing social, non-nanny-and-employer things together. And she supposed the logical progression was doing things like the river trip today, spending time as a family, sort of.
They needed to be patient and lay a foundation, so that when they told Heather they wanted to be together, it wasn’t too much of a shock. If a long term relationship was going to work, Heather had to be happy with the idea of her living here, not as the nanny, but as…what? Luke’s wife?
She went over and picked up the tea towel she’d been holding before she’d rushed outside and scrubbed a mug so dry she almost took the glaze off.
Neither of them had mentioned marriage, but surely that was where this was leading? He hadn’t actually come out and said the words, I love you or Please, marry me? but it was implied in every conversation they had that this was no fling; they were both in it for the long haul.
Getting married to Luke.
Just the thought of it made her terrified and dizzy with excitement at the same time. She only half-noticed that she’d dropped the dry mug back into the dirty washing-up water.
That night at Justin’s party, she had silently prayed for one moment of perfection and it had stretched into almost a month. What if it all got stretched to breaking point, like an elastic band, and it all came pinging back to slap her in the face?
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘JUST jump!’
Luke watched Gaby study the rough pebbly beach, the firm grey edge of the dinghy and the distance in between.
‘I can’t!’
Heather giggled behind him. The jump was only three feet or so. Who would have thought that a woman so fearless when it came to giving and loving could be afraid of a bit of water?
Of course, he could just tell her to sit down and hang on tight while he pulled both dinghy and woman on to the beach, but Plan B was going to be so much more fun.
‘Heather, hang on to the painter!’
; He turned to check that Heather had picked up the rope attached to the nose of the boat, then kicked off his deck shoes—no socks, thank goodness—rolled up his trouser legs and waded a few steps into the water. The ground fell away sharply and he was almost up to his knees fairly quickly.
‘Do you think you can manage to jump into my arms, you daft woman?’
Gaby was trying to look mortally offended, but every bit of her was screaming You betcha! at him. She wobbled over to the side of the boat and grabbed him firmly round the neck. She was in his arms in a split-second, as if it were as natural as breathing to be there.
‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ He deliberately tickled her ears with his breath as he whispered to her and he felt her shudder in his arms.
‘Stop it!’
He did as he was told. They were still a step or two from the shore. ‘You want me to let go? Here? Now?’
‘No!’ she squealed and clung on even harder. He chuckled. Plan B had definitely been the way to go.
‘Okay.’ He started walking again. His bare feet met the beach of flat stones, but he didn’t let go, he just kept on walking.
‘Luke! Heather is watching. Put me down.’
Luke looked round. ‘Erm…I don’t think she is.’ Heather was scrambling up the rocky bank in search of the perfect place for a camp. She’d been raving about it the whole time they had been motoring up here.
‘Luke?’
‘Give it a rest, woman, would you? She’s not watching. I’ll put you down in a—’ He was arrested by Gaby’s insistent prodding on his shoulder.
‘Luke? The boat…’
This time he did let go. And it was just as well Heather was out of earshot as he splashed back into the water to stop the dinghy drifting downstream. The river was wide here, but the currents were swift and it would have been out of reach in a few more seconds.
‘Heather?’ he yelled as he grabbed the rope and made back to shore with the boat. ‘I thought I told you to keep hold of the painter!’
He could only just make out the red of her favourite fleece through the trees and low bushes.
‘That was close!’ Gaby looked concerned as he heaved the inflatable dinghy up the shore and tied it to a fallen tree at the edge of the beach.
‘Sure was.’
‘There’s a towel in one of those other bags. Let’s get your feet dry. I know the sun is out, but that water must be freezing.’
Call him a chauvinist pig, but he loved the way Gaby fussed over him sometimes. It would have taken wild horses to drag the admission out of him before now, but he actually liked giving little part of his life over to someone else, liked the way she cared about him, thought about him. He’d spent too many years being independent and lonely. It was time to relinquish control and think about being a partner with somebody, doing things together.
Partners. He’d never felt that way with Lucy. She didn’t want the responsibility of sharing the decision-making with him. She’d just wend her own merry way, causing chaos sometimes, and he’d have to follow her around, patching things up and always, always holding the reins. And, in return, she’d accused him of being controlling and—what was that phrase she’d used? Oh, yes—unbearably anal.
Well, maybe he had been, but he hadn’t had a choice. Somebody had to think about things like bills and mortgage payments. Even having Heather hadn’t slowed her down that much. In fact, he’d secretly thought she’d resented being tied down to a baby and then a toddler. But then Heather had started school and Lucy had seemed so much happier. Of course, now he knew that had been partly due to the fact she’d not only got a part time job, but a part-time thing going with Alex, her boss, as well.
He looked across at Gaby, pulling a brightly coloured towel from one of the bags she’d packed. She looked nothing like she had at the party. Her face was free of gloop and her hair was in one of its gravity-defying topknot thingies and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. Fresh and clean and full of life.
She glanced up. ‘Stop staring into space and come over here.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
He sat on the edge of the dinghy and dried his feet.
Heather gave an almighty shriek from the riverbank. ‘Dad! Gaby! I’ve found it!’
He slid his shoes on and followed Gaby up the bank to where Heather was standing. She’d found a little clearing in the trees where rocks poked through the scrubby grass.
‘Look! It’s perfect. That bit in the middle can be where we build the fire and these rocks over this side are like seats.’
She was right. Two low rocks, one longer than the other, flanked a little dip in the ground. Heather plonked herself down on the narrower rock.
‘Come on, you have to try it out!’
She smiled widely as he and Gaby perched on opposite ends of the bigger rock.
‘Sit on it properly, then.’
Talk about bossy! He and Gaby looked at each other and wiggled along until they were squeezed up next to each other. Heather grinned at them. It was her day and it seemed she was going to take full advantage of being in command.
Actually, Heather did quite a good job of organising Luke and Gaby into a work party to collect branches and bracken to make a little lean-to she could call her ‘camp’. She insisted on eating her sandwiches inside and was only tempted out by the promise of roasting marshmallows over a little fire they built.
It was late afternoon by the time they persuaded Heather it was time to return home. The sky was getting greyer by the second and the wind was whipping the river into tiny feathery waves. They’d be lucky if they got back home before it poured down. They hurried back into the little inflatable as fast as they could and set off downstream.
Heather turned to face him, her face pink from the fresh air. ‘Dad? I’ve had the best day!’
He grinned back, his eyes flicking first to Gaby, then resting on his daughter. ‘So have I.’
Luke watched the two women in his life chatting as they sat on the central seat, hair blown in two different directions at once. They looked so happy and comfortable together it warmed his heart.
‘Gaby?’ Heather asked.
‘Yes, sweetheart?’
‘I’m cold. Can I snuggle into you?’
‘Of course you can.’ Gaby smiled at her, real tenderness and affection in her eyes, and lifted her arm as Heather burrowed into her side.
It was that exact moment when he knew it was all going to work out. And he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He was going to ask Gaby to marry him. Tonight, if he could work up the nerve.
There had to be a blank video somewhere in this cabinet! After all, there were hundreds of them, it seemed. And not one of them labelled. She had already tried a handful but they had films recorded off the telly on them.
She thrust her arm deep into the back of the shelf and pulled out a couple more. She sat back on the carpet, cross-legged, and jammed the next contender in the VCR. A natural history documentary. It might be Luke’s; she’d better leave that one alone. She slotted it back in its cardboard sleeve and tried the next one.
It was grainy and the camera work was bad enough to make her feel slightly seasick. A home movie.
She sat back and tried to work out where it had been shot. It didn’t look like the Old Boathouse and there seemed to be some kind of party going on. The camera operator lurched into a hallway and entered another room. Just lots more people she didn’t recognise.
Her finger was on the eject button, but she pulled it back again. That couldn’t be Heather, could it? Oh, my goodness! She looked so sweet. Hardly more than three years old, she guessed. By the looks of it, she was a little minx back then too. A woman was chasing her in an attempt to get her to go to bed. Finally she got hold of the wriggling child, picked her up and turned to face the camera.
Gaby felt all the colour drain from her face.
It was Lucy Armstrong. It had to be.
Heather had the same large eyes and long dark ha
ir. If she took after her mother, which she most certainly did, she was going to be a knockout when she grew up. Luke was going to be beating teenage boys off with a stick! Normally she would have smiled at a thought like that, but suddenly it wasn’t very funny.
She took in the resemblance between mother and daughter again. My word, it was striking. Lucy’s hair was thick and sleek, a proper rich brunette. She touched the ends of her own hair. They felt ratty from the salt air and, while her own hair was brown, it was a mousey not-sure-what-colour-it-wanted-to-be shade.
When she was younger, her mother had complained she looked like a gypsy child, and suddenly she could see exactly what her mother meant. No matter what she did to it, it never stayed tidy like that.
But it wasn’t just the hair that fascinated Gaby, it was the whole package. Lucy was so elegant and vibrant. The cameraman didn’t bother focusing on anyone but her, and who would blame him? She sparkled. All the heads turned as she walked down the hallway, child in arms.
Something was scratching at the back of her mind, wanting to be let in. Lucy reminded her of someone, she just couldn’t work out who. And then it came to her. Lucy reminded her of Cara the Superwoman. They weren’t the same height or colouring, but it was something in the way they carried themselves. Whether it was supreme self-confidence or something harder to pinpoint, she wasn’t sure.
By now Lucy had reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘Wave to Daddy,’ she said, waggling Heather’s arm up and down. Her daughter was having none of it. Her bottom lip was stuck out as far as it would go. Bedtime hadn’t been a favourite thing even then, it seemed.
Then she heard a low rumbling laugh she’d become so familiar with in the last few weeks. Luke had been the cameraman. Her stomach dipped again.
She was seeing Lucy through Luke’s eyes.
And as she watched him follow her every movement up the stairs, she could tell what she’d thought earlier was true. He only had eyes for her, no one else.
Then the camera zoomed in at breakneck speed and only stopped when it framed Lucy’s swaying bottom.