by Penny Jordan
'You really thought I loved Rosamund?' he demanded wonderingly.
'You let me think so. You told me she'd broken your heart,' Holly reminded him accusingly.
'No. You assumed she had, and I… well, it was the most attention you'd paid me in over five years, and I wasn't going to spoil it by telling you I wasn't sharing your misery. And then fate seemed to hand me a golden opportunity. When you suggested that we pretend to have fallen in love, I could hardly believe my good luck. I told myself if I couldn't make you forget Neston, then I didn't deserve you. Have I made you forget him?' he asked her softly.
'Almost from the very start,' Holly admitted shyly. 'When I bumped into him in Knutsford, I couldn't imagine what I'd ever seen in him. He seemed such a pale shadow of a man in comparison to you. But Rosamund told me she wanted you back,' she added quietly. 'She…'
'Rosamund is an opportunist. She's wanted me for years, Holly,' he told her frankly, 'in much the same way she's wanted a new car or a fur coat. I've never wanted her, but she's an expert at refusing to see what she doesn't want to see. I suspect she broke with Howard hoping that you would go back to him and that would leave her in a position to comfort me. In fact, I suspect she had much the same thoughts in her mind as I had when you wept broken-heartedly over me for that idiot, Neston. When you were sixteen I looked at you and knew I loved you, but you were still a child and I was a very poor young man with no future to offer any woman. The years went by; I only saw you occasionally when you came home. We'd chat and you were pleasant and friendly, but I knew you just didn't see me as a man. I told myself I'd get over you, and then, as though fate had decided to intercede on my behalf, you came home.'
'And the night we made love?' Holly whispered.
'I couldn't help myself,' he said simply. 'I'd wanted you too much for too long. It was like falling off a cliff, once I'd taken that first fatal step, there was no going back.'
'I can't quite believe it all,' Holly told him shakily. 'It's almost as though I've walked into a magical dream.'
'Shock tends to have that effect,' Drew agreed. 'I feel much the same way myself. Of course, we could soon prove whether we're dreaming or not, I suppose, by sticking pins in one another—or we could simply forget about the pins, and go on dreaming together.'
Holly looked up at him and said quietly, 'Yes… Yes, I'd like that, Drew. Just so long as when I wake up in the morning, you're there beside me.'
She saw the look of love and need transform his face, and her breath caught in her throat. It was true, he did love her; the only wonder was that she had not realised it before.
'For the rest of our lives,' Drew told her solemnly. And then he lifted her left hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger.
'Write to your parents, Holly. Ask them to come home as soon as they can. I've waited patiently since you were sixteen, and suddenly I'm finding I can't be patient any more. My mother's right,' he added huskily, 'you'd be a beautiful winter bride.'
And she was, and as a wedding present, her new husband gave her the keys for the shop in Nantwich. 'Two new partners in one week,' she teased breathlessly as they left on their honeymoon. 'You and Jan.' And, although he scowled at her, she knew that Drew would always encourage and support her in whatever she chose to do. The shop was the icing on the cake, but Drew was the cake itself, and the meat and drink of her life, and he always would be.
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