by Jill Mansell
“Ah,” Ross said a few minutes later as Antonia pulled him down on top of her, her legs curling around his waist, “I knew you’d remember in the end.”
They made love with a fury and desperation heightened by long months of abstinence. True to his word, Ross didn’t allow the niggling presence of Tessa in his mind to worry him. Here was someone instead who desired him physically and didn’t complicate matters by wondering whether or not it was the right thing to do.
Furthermore, Antonia’s uncomplicated enthusiasm for his body was doubly welcome because he knew that she was smart enough to keep sex and emotions well apart. What they shared was nothing more than healthy, no-nonsense lust and the ability to give each other enormous pleasure.
And what, he thought as she climbed on top of him and expertly insinuated herself into position once more, could possibly be wrong with that?
Chapter 30
“She’s in the final stage of labor. The baby won’t be long now,” pronounced the midwife, handing Max a paper cap and a crumpled green hospital gown as she spoke. “You’ll have to put these on if you’re coming into the delivery room.”
“Absolutely not,” declared Max, horrified. Thrusting the gown back at her, he shook his head for added emphasis. “I’ll stay in the waiting room, thanks.”
The midwife, who thoroughly disapproved of men who casually impregnated their partners but who couldn’t even be bothered to witness the miracle of birth, fixed Max with an icy glare.
“Now, now, Mr. Monahan. You really should be thinking of your poor wife. Don’t you think she’d prefer to have you with her, giving her encouragement and helping her through this? Of course,” she added with a hint of scorn, “if you’re worried that you might faint—”
“Wrong Mr. Monahan,” said Max wearily, for the second time that afternoon. “I’m not the father, just the chauffeur. And I can promise you that the last thing in the world Tessa would want is to have me in there with her, mopping her brow.”
After seventeen years of midwifery, nothing fazed Molly Richardson. “In that case,” she replied briskly, “you may wait in the waiting room. Is the prospective father likely to turn up shortly?” she inquired, glancing at the watch pinned just above her left breast. “Because we won’t be able to wait for him, I’m afraid.”
“He’s at a meeting in London. He…” Max’s explanation was interrupted at that moment by a muffled shriek from inside the delivery room, followed by a short, sharp epithet quite unsuitable for young ears.
Molly Richardson smiled and moved toward the door. “I’d better get back inside. As I said, not long to go now.”
• • •
Holly was overjoyed when she picked up the phone at home and heard Max’s voice. Within the space of two seconds her imagination had succeeded in conjuring up at least half a dozen fantasies, each of which concluded with a trip up the aisle, bridesmaids in ruffled, rose satin dresses, and everlasting bliss.
“Max, how nice,” she managed to say at last, so overexcited that the phone almost slipped through her fingers. And thank goodness she’d stayed at home this afternoon instead of trailing around the shops…although if he wanted her to have dinner with him this evening, she’d have to rush out and find something stunning to wear… If that slightly too-tight, emerald-green dress with the boned bodice and wonderfully scalloped hemline was still there, she could buy that and simply not breathe…
“I thought you’d better know that Tessa’s about to have the baby,” announced Max curtly. “She’s in the delivery suite right now, but when it’s over she’ll go to Deverell Ward.”
“Tessa’s having the baby?” repeated Holly idiotically. The words were so far removed from her glorious fantasies of just a few moments ago that she had trouble digesting their meaning. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“The damn thing hasn’t been born yet,” exclaimed Max, exasperated by her stupidity. “My God, why Ross ever agreed to employ you is beyond me!”
Stung by his brutal words, Holly snapped back: “Maybe I’m great in bed.”
“You’d have to be spectacular,” he said witheringly, “to compensate for such a chronic shortage of common sense. Now, are you coming down here or not?”
At last, thought Holly, fighting back tears. The invitation she’d been waiting for, for so long.
“Of course I am,” she said indignantly, wiping her eyes and glaring into the receiver. “Tessa’s my best friend.”
• • •
If Holly hadn’t known better, she might have suspected that Tessa and Max cared for each other more deeply than either of them had let on.
How, she wondered, could Max be such a bastard one minute and so wonderful the next?
The moment when the midwife had come into the waiting room and informed them that Tessa had given birth to a beautiful baby daughter had been the moment Max had done his Jekyll and Hyde bit, and now here he was, gazing in adoration at the bundle in Tessa’s arms and acting for all the world like a besotted new father. For heaven’s sake, he’d even kissed Tessa on the check and given her a gentle, congratulatory hug. Holly’s only consolation at the time had been the look of stunned disbelief on Tessa’s face as he did so.
“You really don’t have to stay, Max,” said Tessa, looking up at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight thirty in the evening. “You’ve been here for hours, and I know how busy you are.”
“No problem.” He shrugged, brushing the tip of the baby’s nose with his finger and smiling triumphantly as the dark, Monahan-shaped eyes opened in bemusement. “Look at her. She’s beautiful.”
“Ah,” said Tessa wickedly. “But are you sure she’s Ross’s daughter?”
Max had the grace to look ashamed. “I didn’t ever really doubt it, you know. I was merely exercising a bit of caution on my brother’s behalf.”
Until that moment, Tessa hadn’t mentioned Ross. Now she smoothed the baby’s sleek black hair and said, very casually, “Is he at the hotel?”
Max shook his head. “He wasn’t back when I phoned earlier. I’ve left a message for him—I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“He may not be. We had a bit of an argument this morning. A hell of an argument,” she corrected herself sadly. “And now he’s missed all this.”
“Everyone has arguments,” said Holly, sensing how upset Tessa really was and hurrying to reassure her. “It’s just bad timing. And you didn’t want him to be in there with you while you actually had the baby anyway, did you?”
“Just as well.” Tessa shrugged, assuming a nonchalance she didn’t feel. No one had warned her that it would be like this—an avalanche of muddled emotions warring within her, this massive surge of love welling up from nowhere, so overwhelming that she didn’t know quite what to do with it. All of a sudden, Ross’s absence seemed so tragic, so desperately sad that she wanted to burst into tears. Cuddling the baby, her own baby, she bent her head and allowed her hair to fall forward, concealing the desolation in her eyes.
“Maybe we should leave,” said Holly, leaning across and putting her arms around her. “Visiting time ends in ten minutes anyway. If your phone’s broken, I’d better drop in at the cottage and let Dominic know what’s happened. He’ll be worried.”
“Would you?” said Tessa gratefully. Ever since Holly’s one night out with Dominic—about which they had both been spectacularly unforthcoming—Holly had tended to avoid visiting Tessa whenever she knew Dominic would be there. “And could you pick up a toothbrush and a couple of nightdresses?” She managed a wan smile. “I was pretty underdressed when I got here.”
“Do you want me to give you a lift?” asked Max, addressing Holly and sounding more friendly than he had all afternoon.
“Oh yes, please.” Maybe this would be her big chance, an awfully long time coming, but worth every minute of the wait. She gave him a dazzling smile, perking up instantly.
<
br /> “Sorry, I forgot.” He tapped his forehead and pointed to her car keys protruding from her open handbag. “You have your own car here. Well, you can pick up Tessa’s things, and I’ll head back to the hotel. And don’t worry,” he added, turning to Tessa with a reassuring wink, “as soon as Ross gets back he’ll be over to see you, I can guarantee it. Just don’t be surprised if he turns up at three o’clock in the morning—you know how these business meetings can drag on.”
• • •
Ross’s business meeting had certainly dragged on. He didn’t turn up at all that night, although Tessa’s heart skipped a couple of beats each time she heard hurried male footsteps echoing along the corridor outside the ward. At four thirty in the morning, exhausted but quite unable to sleep, she eased herself cautiously out of bed and padded barefoot down to the nursery. The night nurse found her standing over the baby’s crib with tears streaming down her face.
“There now, dear, plenty of new mums feel like this after all the excitement’s over.” She put a reassuring arm around Tessa’s quivering shoulders. “We’ll have a word with the doctor in the morning if you’re still feeling a bit weepy then, shall we?”
By breakfast time Tessa no longer knew whether to laugh or cry. Three of her fellow patients and two nurses had told her how lucky she was to have such a handsome, loving husband. Maisie Naylor, the forty-year-old occupant of the bed next to hers, slurped her lukewarm tea with enthusiasm and said loudly, “Course, my Jack don’t ’ardly bother comin’ to see me no more, not after eight kids. But your old man, I seen ’im last night and me eyes near as dammit dropped out of me ’ead. What a looker ’e is! And don’t your little’un take after ’im. Just my bleedin’ luck,” she added gloomily, “to ’ave eight kids and all of ’em the spitting image of my Jack, poor little buggers.”
• • •
Back at The Grange, Max called directory enquiries. Ross could have spent the night anywhere, but it was just possible that he had taken a room at the Ritz.
• • •
When the phone rang at nine fifteen in the morning, Ross rolled over and buried his head beneath the pillows. A surfeit of sex, two bottles of Gevrey-Chambertin, and little more than three hours’ sleep were taking their toll.
Satiated and smiling, Antonia picked up the receiver.
Five seconds later she tapped his bare brown shoulder. “For you.”
“You stupid bastard,” snapped Max. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re the writer,” Ross retorted, lying back and clutching his forehead as the full force of his hangover struck home. “Use your imagination.”
“I don’t need to. Christ, you must be out of your mind.”
“Don’t panic, I’m over the age of consent.” Ross, thoroughly put out by Max’s self-righteous tone, was tempted to slam down the phone. “What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway? Has The Grange burned down or is it something more serious, like the fact that you obviously didn’t get laid last night?”
“Oh, nothing important,” said Max disgustedly. “Tessa had the baby, that’s all. I know it’s crazy, but I actually thought you might have wanted to know.”
Chapter 31
“So was that one the father?” demanded Maisie Naylor, when Dominic was safely out of the ward. She looked at first perplexed, then gave Tessa an enormous wink. “Or does ’e just think ’e is?”
“Neither.” Despite her churning anxiety, Tessa managed a faint smile. She didn’t know what she would have done without Maisie’s outrageous patter to enliven her morning. “He’s a friend.” It crossed her mind to add that Dominic was the man she lived with, but Maisie would find such thrilling news hard to keep to herself, and Max had already warned her that the press would be sniffing around as soon as they heard about the birth of Ross Monahan’s daughter.
Quite suddenly, Ross’s arguments—which she had always so flippantly dismissed—had acquired real credibility, and she was forced to admit to herself that he had been right all along. The prospect of scurrilous gossip in the papers appalled her now. Her baby, so new and innocent, had to be protected from such rubbishy speculation.
It was already eleven o’clock and there was still no sign of Ross. Tessa fought back fresh tears; she had never needed to see him so badly in her life, and despite Max’s reassurances, she couldn’t help fearing the worst. His parting shot yesterday had been pretty equivocal. Maybe he really didn’t want anything more to do with either the baby or herself.
• • •
When Ross burst into the ward at eleven thirty he found Tessa’s bed empty. Having built himself up for this moment, the sense of anticlimax was crushing to say the least. Hastily, he averted his eyes from the woman in the adjacent bed who was breast-feeding her own infant. She, however, appeared unconcerned by his presence.
“It’s you, innit,” she crowed delightedly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re ’im!” declared Maisie, shifting her frantically suckling baby from one enormous breast and locking it into position on the other side. “And about bleedin’ time an’ all.”
“Where’s Tessa?” said Ross, praying that nothing terrible had happened. “Is she all right? And where’s the baby?”
“We’re here,” said Tessa quietly, and he swung around, his pulse racing, to find her standing behind him with the child in her arms.
For a moment Ross was at a loss for words. The rest of the ward had gone quiet; everyone—even the nursing staff—was watching with avid interest. Never in his life had he felt so on display, so uncertain of his reception…and so very, very guilty.
“Tess, what can I say?” He shook his head, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how rotten I feel—”
“Shh,” murmured Tessa, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry too. It was a silly argument, and I was as much to blame as you were. I’m just glad you’re here now.”
And, cradling their sleeping daughter to her chest, she stretched up and kissed Ross on the very corner of his mouth.
Sagging with relief, he put his arms around her and drew her toward the bed, at the same time gazing down at the dark-haired baby in her arms.
“Can I hold her? Is she OK?”
“She’s fine,” Tessa assured him with a smile, taking care to support the tiny head as she handed their daughter over to him, then easing back the snowy blanket so that Ross could see the perfectly replicated Monahan features for the first time. “We’re both fine, thank heavens. Although,” she added wryly, “I suppose I really should thank Max.”
“It was my fault.” Ross, unable now to tear his eyes away from his beautiful daughter, shuddered to think how narrowly disaster must have been avoided. If anything had happened to Tessa and the baby while he had been in London…with Antonia…he didn’t know what he would have done.
But Tessa, consumed with her own guilt, couldn’t bear him to take the blame.
“It wasn’t,” she said urgently, her eyes filling once more with tears of shame. “You were right, and I behaved like a spoiled bitch. And if I hadn’t smashed the phone—”
“Don’t,” commanded Ross, kissing the top of her head and no longer caring that they were being watched. “Jesus, this lot could give the KGB a run for their money. I’m going to get you moved to a private room.”
“Absolutely not,” declared Tessa. “I like it here. They’re only taking such an interest because they think Max is the father and they’re wondering who on earth you are.”
“Bloody cheek!” exclaimed Ross, outraged. And at that moment the baby awoke, opening long-lashed navy-blue eyes and gazing up at him with sleepy bemusement. The expression on her face said so clearly “Who the hell are you?” that both Ross and Tessa burst out laughing.
“There’s something else you haven’t told me,” he said moments later.
“What?”
“My daughter’s name.”
Tessa smiled. “Olivia.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Ross, raising his voice and addressing the ward in general. “I’d like to introduce you all to Olivia, my daughter. My name is Ross—repeat, Ross—Monahan, and I am Olivia’s father.”
Amid the ensuing laughter and applause—for everyone had felt sorry for Tessa the night before—Maisie Naylor added her own verdict of approval. Eyeing Ross with evident pleasure, she said cheerfully, “And if you ever fancy another one, my darlin’, I’d be only too ’appy to oblige…”
• • •
“Antonia, we have to talk.”
“Only talk?” she protested lightly, attempting to gauge Ross’s mood and crossing her legs with deliberate slowness. “Sweetheart, we have the whole evening ahead of us. And talking sounds so dull!”
“Stop it,” said Ross, his tone firm. Bitterly ashamed of his behavior earlier in the week, he was determined now to make Antonia understand that it really was all over between them. “Look, you must realize what I’m going to say. Tessa and the baby mean everything in the world to me, and I’m not going to risk losing them now. I’ve been an idiot in the past, but this time I’m serious. I love Tessa, I adore Olivia, and I only hope you can respect that.”
Antonia lit a cigarette, swallowing her disappointment and concentrating hard on the blue spiral of smoke drifting lazily toward the ceiling. When Ross had contacted her and asked her to meet him tonight she had suspected as much, but a part of her had still hoped that their affair could continue.
“I see,” she said thoughtfully, her dark-blue eyes gazing just past him. “Allow me to put it in a nutshell, darling. You’re a dramatically reformed character, and you want to make sure I keep my mouth shut. Is that it?”
Ross sighed. He couldn’t afford to antagonize Antonia, yet at the same time he found it difficult to believe that she was really taking it this calmly.