by Liz Fielding
The tenseness left his face as he responded to her teasing with an ironic little twist of his mouth that might have been a smile. If it was, he was laughing at himself. ‘Perhaps not. Just as well Mac appointed himself as my guardian angel. But you didn’t answer my question.’
Faith shrugged. ‘I used to help a local physiotherapist run swimming sessions for accident victims. Most men misjudge how weak they’ll be after a long spell in bed.’
‘Used to?’
‘At home, before I moved to London.’ The good works her father had prescribed to dull the heartache. It had made her feel useful, needed and she had enjoyed it. As for the heartache— ‘I rather miss it.’ She didn’t wait to gauge his reaction but escaped to the changing room.
She emerged a few minutes later with Ben in her arms, ridiculously self-conscious in a clinging black suit that at her club had always seemed sober and workmanlike, but now felt as if it was cut provocatively low across her breasts. Alice and Harry, however, were working along the length of the pool and they appeared not to notice her as she waded down the steps at the shallow end. The water was blissfully warm and Ben gurgled happily, splashing with his hands and as she grew in confidence with him she lay him on her stomach and began to swim backwards, kicking with her feet, holding him lightly so that he could float free and kick his little legs. She was brought to an abrupt halt by a pair of strong hands seizing her shoulders.
‘You were running out of pool,’ Harry said, his head and shoulders disconcertingly upside down.
‘I was just about to turn around.’
‘Of course you were,’ he said, grinning down at her.
‘Where’s Alice?’ she demanded.
‘Drying herself. Here, let me help.’ Before she could right herself, she felt his body rise beneath hers and take her weight. Then he began to swim with her back down the pool, just as she had been swimming with Ben. Her back was lying against his broad chest and she could feel his coarse dark hair against her skin. His hands were at her waist. The lightest touch, nothing to scream about. But she wanted to scream as his legs tangled with hers, had to bite down on her lip to keep the sound from escaping as the unaccustomed ache of longing swept over her and she was grateful for Ben who stopped her from turning in the water to lay her cheek against Harry’s chest, entwine her arms about his neck.
As if he knew every treacherous thought that winged through her mind, Harry held her up in the water when she tried to put her feet down and push herself away from him. Away from the temptation she was sure was calculated to demonstrate — something. She refused to contemplate what. And as he held her, he quite deliberately placed a kiss in the angle between her neck and shoulder knowing that while she had Ben in her arms she was completely at his mercy.
‘Passion has its pleasures,’ he murmured.
‘You’d know more about that than me,’ she snapped out, between furious lips. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ben has been in the water quite long enough.’
‘Here. Let me have him. I’ll wrap him up in a towel while you work off all that pent up aggression.’ He stood up and scooped Ben off her stomach, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they swept the length of her body in a manner that made her blush. ‘Cool off, Faith,’ he ordered, ‘before you explode.’ Before she could move he had put his hand flat on the middle of her stomach and ducked her. She came up spluttering with rage to confront his grinning countenance.
‘You... You ...’
‘You wouldn’t hit a man holding a baby would you?’ Words failed her. She turned and plunged beneath the surface and didn’t come up again until she was half way down the pool. Then she began to swim fast up and down the length of it, but no matter how hard she drove her body through the water she couldn’t shake off the memory of Harry’s touch at her waist, his body beneath her. It clung to her like a forbidden pleasure and he was right, she was ready to explode. Every time he looked at her or touched her, it seemed to raise the stakes, obliterating the lingering pain of Michael’s desertion, driving Julian from her mind.
Being level-headed, knowing that romance was nothing but fantasy she decided, was scant protection. It was disturbing to discover just how vulnerable she still was to a determined purveyor of dreams.
Was that the reason Janet had sent her into Harry’s lair? Did she know that her favourite charge wouldn’t be able to resist a challenge, suspect that her only niece would be all too vulnerable to the prickly charm of man who was painfully conscious of his imperfections. Even at short notice she should surely have been able to find a suitable nanny from her vast network of contacts. Could Harry have been right in his first assumption; had Elizabeth and Janet colluded to throw them together?
She stopped towelling her hair. Julian’s last letter was still in the pocket of the bag, with photographs of him and some of the research team. She took them out and looked at them. He was so serious, as if taking the time to smile for the camera was a waste of energy to be saved for more important undertakings. Had he ever made her laugh?
‘Faith?’ Harry’s voice interrupted the uncomfortable thoughts that were crowding in and she quickly jammed the envelope back in the bag before opening the door.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m taking Alice down to feed the ducks before tea. I thought you might worry if you couldn’t find us.’ He stooped and picked something up. A photograph. ‘Is this yours?’ He turned it over, stared at it for a moment. ‘Which one is Julian?’
She glanced at the picture. It was of a group of them. They wore parkas, hoods up against the biting wind, impossible to distinguish one man from another. ‘Does it matter?’ she asked.
Harry looked up. ‘Probably not,’ he murmured. ‘Since you don’t love him.’ He returned the photograph and as he closed the door behind him she heard him summon Alice to his side.
* * *
To Faith’s relief, Sarah Downes arrived just before six, diffusing the electricity generated whenever she and Harry crossed paths. Sarah brought with her a brisk down-to-earth commonsense that had been singularly lacking in the previous two days, taking over the nursery with an efficiency that left Faith almost breathless with admiration and just a little jealous as she saw the ease with which she captured Ben’s little heart, raising delighted squeals as she tickled his tummy.
And Harry didn’t flirt with her, she noted somewhat wryly, treating Sarah like the professional she was. Why on earth couldn’t she have managed such detachment? Because, she answered herself wryly, she wasn’t detached. She might find him infuriating, tormenting even, but he trailed emotion like a piece of wool offered to a kitten, tempting her to follow wherever he chose to lead.
Her fingers lingered for a moment on the curve of her neck where his mouth had brushed her skin then she snapped her hand back, folded her jeans and stuffed them into her bag, drawing the zip shut
She was leaving. Right now. She turned and was almost knocked off her feet by Alice crashing into her knees, flinging her arms about them. ‘Don’t go, Faith. Please don’t leave me,’ she sobbed.
‘Alice?’ She tried to disentangle the child, but she clung like a limpet. ‘Sweetheart, whatever is the matter?’
‘I don’t like her!’ She flung an arm briefly behind her and Faith looked up to find Sarah standing the doorway with a towel over her arm and a rueful grin on her face. Harry was close behind her looking absolutely furious.
‘Alice for goodness sake behave yourself,’ he snapped. Faith raised her brows in surprise. He normally had so much patience with the child. ‘Faith can’t stay and that’s that.’
Sarah appeared undisturbed by the scene. ‘It’s quite understandable, Harry,’ she said, making no effort to impose her will on Alice. ‘She’s missing her parents and now, just as she’s become used to Faith, she’s going as well.’ She raised her eyes to Faith’s. ‘It’s such a pity you have to leave.’
‘Faith has pressing business elsewhere,’ Harry interjected, with uncharacteristic sharpness. ‘Children are n
ot her scene.’
‘Oh, but—’ She began to deny it, then stopped. He was right. She had told him so herself.
Disconcerted by the sudden pang of anguish this caused, Faith crouched down beside Alice and put her arms about her. ‘Darling, if I don’t go home I won’t be able to organise my wedding. And if there isn’t any wedding, you can’t be my flower girl and wear that pretty dress.’
It made no difference. ‘I don’t care. I don’t want you to go!’
The child’s voice was rising towards hysteria and her arms tightened in a stranglehold about Faith’s neck when Harry tried to remove her.
‘If you let Sarah give you a bath, Alice, you can wear your red pyjamas tonight,’ Harry promised. ‘Instead of having to wait for your birthday.’
‘I want Faith to bath me,’ Alice replied, refusing to be bought. If she hadn’t been so concerned Faith would have applauded her. Too soon. ‘Then I’ll wear my red pyjamas. Faith can help me put them on.’
‘You’re a big girl, Alice. You don’t need any help,’ he pointed out, less than kindly and the child’s face began to crumple again.
‘Leave her alone,’ Faith said, pulling her closer to comfort her. She couldn’t think what had come over Harry. Surely he could see that he was making things worse? And she didn’t want to go for heaven’s sake. She didn’t have any choice. The words clanged somewhere deep inside her brain. She shouldn’t be thinking like that. She should be thinking about Julian, her wedding.
‘Couldn’t you stay for tonight?’ Sarah suggested. ‘Just before bedtime is always difficult.’
‘I’ll stay and see her settled.’ She certainly couldn’t leave Alice like this. Janet would never forgive her. She’d never forgive herself.
Harry raised a pair of dark sardonic brows. ‘I didn’t think you could wait to get back to London.’ Why did he have to make everything sound like a criticism? ‘She has remarkable stamina as I know to my cost. It might be eight or nine before you can get away.’
A whimper from Ben drew Sarah away and they were left glaring at one another over Alice’s head.
He was baiting her, she knew it but could not resist. ‘I’m allowed out after dark, Harry.
‘With Julian away?’
‘He’s been away for three years—’ Her voice died away as his head lifted slightly.
‘Love at first sight, was it? There couldn’t have been much time for a second glance.’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Oh, no. It couldn’t be that because you’re not in love. I can’t think why you’re bothering with marriage at all.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Maybe not, but I’d rather not have to worry about you travelling alone down the motorway at night.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me at all.’
‘Worry isn’t something you can switch off at will.’
Despite the bite in his voice, she realised that his concern was genuine but preferred not to wonder why. And, truth to tell, after a couple of recent ugly incidents on the motorway she didn’t much care for the idea, either.
‘I suppose I could leave in the morning. It’s too late to do anything today and if I leave very early it won’t make much difference.’ She almost saw her subconscious lift its eyebrows at her in a sardonic little sneer equal to anything that Harry could produce. She ignored it. Sarah was here now and she was free to go anytime she wanted. But it wouldn’t be fair to leave her with Alice screaming blue murder. Or to leave Alice when she was so obviously unhappy.
‘You mustn’t allow Alice to blackmail you,’ Harry said, just a touch smugly she thought.
‘She doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Besides, she can safely leave that to you.’ Alice whimpered and Faith gathered her into her arms as she stood up, giving a careless little shrug as if it didn’t matter. ‘Tomorrow morning will do. Really.’ What else could she say? ‘If I wait until tomorrow I can go home through Melchester and pick up my wedding dress. It should be ready by then and it will save you the bother of sending it on.’
‘It wouldn’t have been any bother.’ The faintest touch of irony, perhaps, as if he knew why she had mentioned it. She wished she was as certain.
But once convinced that Faith wouldn’t be leaving immediately, Alice went to bed like a lamb, exhausted by her long day and the excitement of her dress and the new kitten. She lay against the pillow her cheeks pink with the reflected glow from the red pyjamas. She hadn’t forgotten the bribe and clearly hadn’t taken the least bit seriously Harry’s warning that she wouldn’t be having anything else for her birthday.
‘Sarah’s a pleasant woman,’ Harry said, as they made their way downstairs, leaving the new nanny to unpack and settle in. Peace having returned to his house, his temper was restored to its usual, slightly sardonic humour.
‘Very pleasant.’ She kept her hand closed about the frog in her pocket. Sarah had found it in her bath, obviously a present from Alice.
‘Would you pop it somewhere safe in the garden?’ she had asked, laughing as she handed it over without so much as a shudder. ‘Cute little thing. I suppose Alice thought it would scare me, but I’d hate her to get into any more trouble with her uncle.’
‘Unflappable,’ Harry continued.
‘I’d have to agree,’ Faith said, trying hard not to squirm as the frog leapt within the cage of her hand. Sarah might think frogs were cute, but they didn’t have the same effect on her.
Harry gave her a long look. ‘Remarkably level-headed, I thought.’
‘Yes,’ Faith agreed through clenched teeth.
‘In fact I thought that since she was so capable, we might leave her for a couple of hours this evening and I’ll treat you dinner. A small thank you for being so patient with us all.’
‘Oh?’ She was finding it increasing hard to concentrate as the frog, after a moment’s calm began to flap inside her hand once more.
‘Are you all right, Faith?’
‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘But I don’t need thanking. And suppose Alice wakes up and thinks I’ve deserted her?’
‘She’ll understand if I explain that I want to thank you for staying. Are you sure you’re all right, Faith? You look a little pale.’ He took her elbow, dislodging her hand and the frog, seizing the chance of freedom, leapt from her pocket and landed, dazed, at Harry’s feet. ‘Well now.’ He stooped and picked it up. ‘Where did you come from?’ He glanced at Faith. ‘Sarah’s bed?’
‘Her bath.’
‘Right. I wonder where Alice got the idea for that little stunt from?’ Harry murmured.
‘More to the point, where did she get the frog?’ Faith gave a little shudder. ‘Did you say something about dinner?’
‘Twenty minutes?’ He didn’t betray his amusement by so much as the twitch of an eyelash. ‘There’s no need to dress up, it’s just a pub down by river but the food’s good.’
She hadn’t got anything fancy to wear, she thought, as she surveyed her wardrobe. The skirt she had arrived in, the green trousers or her jeans. She’d worn her skirt all day and Ben had dribbled on her jeans. Not that she needed persuading to wear the green trousers. They had the kind of go-anywhere good looks that always made her feel special. She knew she looked good in them.
Does it matter? her subconscious demanded. Her subconscious, she decided, had a point. A sensible, level-headed point. Then Faith rebelled against every sensible, rational, objective thought in her head. Besides, if she didn’t make an effort he would know why and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell her so.
She dressed with care, made an effort with her make-up and replaced the ear-rings that she had taken off the first painful time she discovered that babies like to grab at them. Harry made no comment as she came down the stairs; there was nothing in his face to show that he was impressed by her efforts. Why would he be? she thought, irritably as he ushered her into the dangerous wedge of black Porsche parked by the door.
‘What a very…um…nice car,’ Faith murmured, as she settl
ed in her seat, feeling the need to break the silence.
‘Nice? Nice?’ His voice was ripe with mocking disbelief. ‘I would have thought a woman who had the imagination to drive a vintage Spyder could have come up with a more telling adjective than that. Or are you still trying to prove how cool you are?’
Faith refused to rise. She might be having an evening off from being level-headed. Stupid was something else. ‘I did say very nice.’
‘So you did.’ He closed the door on her with the slightest smile and proceeded to take her breath away as they sped through a well-kept, but deserted lane that wound up through the trees until he turned into a yard surrounded on three sides by buildings that dated from the same period as the house. It didn’t look like a pub of any kind but before Faith could say so Harry turned to her with a questioning lift of his brows. ‘Well, Miss Bridges, any advance on “very nice”?’
‘Should you be driving quite that fast through a country lane?’ she replied, primly.
‘It’s my country lane, Faith. I’ll drive as fast as I like.’
‘My mistake.’
‘Not the first one you’ve made.’
‘No.’ How easy it was to forget that Harry March lived in a vast estate and wealth accumulated by his equally adventurous forebears. That he was a man who broke promises and was everything that she most despised.
‘At least you’ll agree that it’s an improvement on Lizzie’s baby wagon?’ he persisted.
‘The Range Rover belongs to Lizzie?’
‘I don’t have much use for baby seats,’ he said, wryly.
‘No, I suppose not. But give it time. If getting your own way runs in the family you’re far from safe.’
‘Since you’re the one with wedding bells ringing in her ears you’ll be trading in your Alpha for a motorised pram long before I trade down to a family saloon.’
‘Oh the Alpha’s doom is already written. I’ll be putting it in the paper next week.’
‘You’re in such a hurry to start your family? You don’t need to marry the missionary if you just want a baby you know.’