Poppy and Miles had invited Freya and Richard to stay for dinner, and she'd been relieved to see him relaxing in the hospitable atmosphere of their home. So much so that the hours had flown and she'd known she'd have to take him to catch the last train of the day.
'That child has to be yours!' Poppy had exclaimed when they'd had a moment alone in the kitchen. 'Everything about her reminds me of you.'
Freya had shaken her head.
'You have no idea how much I wish she was, but Richard tells me that she's not adopted and I have to believe him. Amelia has Jenny's colouring to some degree. She was fair-haired and blue-eyed like me.'
'You're in love with him, aren't you?' Poppy had asked.
'Yes. I am.'
'I'm not surprised,' her friend had exclaimed. 'The man is divine. A caring father and stunning with it. Could you accept Amelia as if she were your own if he asked you to marry him?'
'Yes, of course. I loved her the moment I saw her. Her unhappiness reminded me of my own at her age. But don't go looking for a bridesmaid's dress just yet, Poppy. Richard is still missing his wife and even though I've told him I'll wait for as long as it takes, he isn't falling over himself to get into a relationship with me.'
And now it was the moment of parting. He'd told her to stay in the car, that it was late for her to be alone on the station platform once he'd gone, but she'd taken no notice.
'I've been looking after myself since I was sixteen,' she told him.
'I know,' he said gravely, 'and it gives me no pleasure to hear it. You should have been loved and cherished at that age, not bearing the child of some lecherous tutor and ending up having to fend for yourself. I can't bear to think about it.'
'Then don't,' she said softly. 'It's all in the past.'
I wish it were, he thought.
It was at that moment that the announcement came over the loudspeaker system at Paddington. The last train to Cheltenham, destination Bristol, had been cancelled.
'Damn!' he exclaimed. 'I'll have to find a hotel for the night.'.
Freya shook her head.
'No way. I have a spare room. You're coming home with me. My heating has been on auto all the time I've been away so the apartment should be nice and warm and there's an all-night delicatessen nearby where I can do a quick shop for the essentials.'
He was hesitating and they both knew why.
'Don't say no,' she begged. 'There's no way you would get into a hotel at this time of night, and it's only a few days to Christmas.'
'All right, you've convinced me,' he said, and tucked her arm in his. 'Let's go before we freeze to death on this draughty platform.'
'Very nice! Very nice indeed!' Richard exclaimed when he saw the apartment. 'As classy as the lady herself. Your antiseptic lodgings adjoining the sanatorium must seem a poor replacement for this.'
Freya smiled. She'd designed the interior herself and loved it. Warm mulberry walls, white paintwork and ivory carpets gave the place the welcoming sort of elegance that she loved.
'Needs must if the devil drives,' she told him. 'Remember, I went to Marchmont for a purpose. I would be prepared to live in a tent if it meant finding my daughter.'
She saw his expression change and wondered why. He knew what had taken her to his part of the world and was also aware that it had been a fruitless exercise. So why look like that?
'There's no need to look so serious,' she told him. 'I'm over it. It was a million-to-one chance that didn't come off. But there have been other recompenses. I've met you...and Amelia...and found a job that I'm happy in. So perhaps this is the moment that I should say that every cloud has a silver lining.'
Richard wasn't to be drawn. Instead, he said, 'I'll go to the delicatessen if you'll tell me what you want.'
'Bread, milk, eggs, bacon, butter. That should do for now. I can do a bigger shop tomorrow when you've gone.'
That was if she could work up the enthusiasm. Once Richard had left, her zest would go with him. While she would have the girls and her friends to celebrate Christmas with, she couldn't help wishing Richard were staying.
While he was gone she put fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room and extra towels in the bathroom. To have him staying under her own roof was something she'd never expected. It would be an ideal time for the serious talk that he kept promising, but she'd had about all she could take on that subject, and if he didn't mention it then she wouldn't as it filled her with foreboding every time he distanced himself from her.
Midnight had been and gone, and as they sat beside the fire with a last drink before turning in for the night, he asked, 'How long have you lived here?'
'Nine years. When I left school at eighteen I refused to live with my father and bought this place with the money that my mother had left in trust for me. He died when I was twenty-one and all the cash that he'd valued so much came to me.
'It was ironic really. He'd neglected me for years while he was amassing his fortune and then didn't live to en-, joy it.'
'So you're a rich woman,' he said slowly. 'Rich enough to have hired someone to find your child. Why didn't you?'
'I did, but they drew a blank. Have you ever tried looking for a needle in a haystack? And as to being wealthy, yes, I am, according to my bank manager. But I've never touched a penny of my father's money. As far as I'm concerned, it's tainted.'
'I don't blame you for being bitter,' he told her, 'but you're young and beautiful...with your whole life ahead of you.'
'My life ended the day I gave my baby away. If I'd been then what I am now, he would never have forced me to do it. All my father ever cared about was his business and his reputation. He didn't want those who knew him to discover that his daughter had given birth to an illegitimate child.
'When I see you with Amelia it makes me realise even more what a wash-out he was as a father. You would sacrifice life itself for her if you had to, wouldn't you?'
'Yes, I would,' he said soberly, and thought that he'd already sacrificed his integrity on his daughter's behalf and soon, very soon, his relationship with the woman sitting opposite would end up as another offering on the altar of fatherly love.
He'd given himself until the end of Christmas to confess his deceit and after that he didn't know what would happen, but he could guess.
Getting to his feet, he stood looking down at her and saw that in the eyes that were the colour of winter pansies there was a message he didn't want to ignore.
Wasn't a condemned man given a last wish? he thought. If he never got the chance to touch her again, it would be something to remember during the lonely weeks and months ahead.
He took Freya's hands in his and raised her slowly to her feet then, without speaking, swept her up into his arms. As they moved towards the bedroom he had the strangest feeling that somewhere in the ether Jenny was smiling down on them.
Making love with Richard was how she'd known it would be, exhilarating, tender and fulfilling. This was no clandestine thing with a married man who should have known better, or the clumsy foreplay to sex that she'd come across so many times and had rejected.
Their passions were equal, with each of them taking the initiative through the night, and when at last she drifted into sleep with his arms securely around her, Freya's last thought was that surely after this he wouldn't hold back any longer. He would know that it was meant to be.
When Freya awoke in the grey winter dawn it was no surprise to find that he'd gone. To be back in the village in time for morning surgery, he would have had to catch the first train of the day. She hoped that was why he'd gone and that it had nothing to do with regret.
He rang in the late morning, just as she'd got back from Poppy's after making sure that Amelia was all right after her first night away from home.
'Did you get back in time for surgery?' she asked, suddenly reluctant to talk about what was uppermost in her mind.
'Just about. I had a quick snooze on the train and managed to get through it without yawning all the time i
n front of my patients.'
'So that was why you rushed off? It wasn't anything to do with me? You weren't disappointed last night?'
She would have loved to have seen his expression, but had to make do with the moment of silence that followed the question.
'Of course not!' he breathed into the void that she'd created. 'You were divine. But...'
'Why is there always a but, Richard?' she cried into the mouthpiece of the phone. 'If you can still have doubts about us after last night, then I give up!'
'You're forgetting something,' he replied levelly, 'Your life is free and unfettered. Mine isn't. There are all sorts of chains binding me and until—'
'Until you've sorted yourself out you're going to keep me on a slow simmer, is that it?'
He was laughing and that made her even more indignant.
'I wouldn't say that "simmer" was a word that applied to you. "Fast boil" would seem to be more appropriate.'
'I'm glad you can see something to laugh at!' she snorted. 'Maybe we should change the subject.'
'Yes, maybe we should. One of the reasons I rang was to ask about Amelia. Any news on that front?'
'Mmm. I've just been round to Poppy's and she's fine. Miles is working today so we girls are going shopping.'
'Good. I'm relieved that she's settled in all right.'
'Are you missing her?'
'I'm missing you both.'
'Really? Well, you know where to find us if you want us.'
'What I want and what is good for me are two separate things, I'm afraid,' he countered, 'and don't forget I have a practice to run. My duties don't just apply to term time. So it might be after Christmas before I see you again.'
'Have you accepted Anita's invitation for Christmas Day?'
'Sort of.'
'What does that mean?'
'I've said I'll probably go round there. What are your plans?'
'I will probably be going to Poppy's.'
'I'm pleased about that...and Amelia will like having you there.'
She could hear Garth's cocky tones in the background and Richard said, 'I have to go, Freya. Garth has a problem that needs sorting.'
'I couldn't agree more,' she said smoothly, and went to look for her Christmas-tree decorations.
As they walked around the shops Freya was thinking guiltily that Richard was right. She could do what she liked in her life, while he was in a totally different position.
He had a young daughter who was still traumatised by the death of her mother and a busy village practice to run, and he wasn't the type of man who could file away his memories of Jenny under 'past relationships'. He was still hurting.
But he had his needs, too...and so did she. There was a hunger in both of them. It had been there every time they'd made love last night and she prayed that he wouldn't cheapen it by filing that away, too.
'I don't need two guesses as to who you're daydreaming about,' Poppy's voice said in her ear. 'You have a very satisfied look on your face.'
Freya smiled.
'Richard missed the train last night.'
'Well, I never!' her friend exclaimed in mock surprise. 'And what does he think of your bedroom ceiling?'
'No comment,' she said laughingly, and, putting her doubts to one side, prepared to enjoy the company of his daughter.
Amelia was happy with Alice. It was plain to see and as she watched the two girls laughing and chatting together her thoughts went back to when she and Poppy had first met. It was like history repeating itself.
Poppy had been the gentle, uncomplicated one and she'd been the mixed-up, grieving adolescent. It cemented her bond with Richard's daughter even more. Then there were her feelings for him that made her warm to the child. And, still there in the background, was Amelia's uncanny resemblance to her.
Like herself, Poppy had given up on that one as soon as she'd known what Richard had said, but there was a bond between Amelia and herself, though for which of those reasons she wasn't sure. Maybe it was because of all three.
When Freya got back to her apartment that evening there was a florist's delivery on her doorstep. A huge bouquet of roses and lilies with a card attached.
'Thank you for one of the most wonderful nights of my life. I won't ever forget it, Love Richard,' it said.
As she picked up the blooms and held them against her face, the pleasure in receiving them was mixed with an odd little ache.
The message had a final sound to it, almost like a goodbye, and for some reason she wasn't surprised.
So what was she going to do? she asked herself. Live on one night of love for the rest of her life? The Freya Farnham she knew was a past mistress at bouncing back, but this time she wasn't going to take it on the chin. She was going to make him see things her way.
When he'd sorted out Garth's problem with an elderly patient whose suspected arthritis in the foot had turned out to be cellulitis, Richard went home.
He'd gone straight to the practice when he'd got back, having got a taxi from Cheltenham station after the journey on a packed early morning commuter train, and by now was desperate for a few moments of quiet to sort out his thoughts.
He didn't blame Freya for thinking as she did. Hopefully, when he told her that she was Amelia's mother she would understand why he'd been behaving as he had. Though he had grave doubts as to whether that understanding would stretch to forgiving his deceit, he thought bleakly as he pulled up in front of the house.
Last night had been fantastic. They'd been so in tune it had been unbelievable. The physical side of his marriage with Jenny had been good, but with Freya it had been like a trip to the stars.
Yet as soon as the light of day had dawned he'd been on his guard again, guilt-ridden and apprehensive about what came next. It was going to be some Christmas with Freya and Amelia in London and himself all alone with just his thoughts for company.
His friends would rally round, he knew that, but they did have their own lives to lead. Except for Anita, who was making it plain that she would be only too pleased to join up her life with his.
But it wasn't all gloom, was it? His child was going to be happy this Christmas because of the kindness of Freya's friends... and Amelia would have her 'mother' near. Even though she had no idea...
CHAPTER SEVEN
Freya had spent Christmas Day with Poppy and her family for as long as they'd known each other. When Poppy had met Freya all those years ago she had recently married Miles and the young couple were living with her parents while she awaited the birth of Alice.
Soon after Freya's father had traced her and packed her off back to boarding school they'd moved into their own house, and as the years had gone by spending Christmas Day together had become an event to look forward to.
It was always a light-hearted and pleasurable occasion, sometimes with the house overflowing with visitors and at other times just the four of them.
But this year Freya had mixed feelings about it and didn't have to look far for the reason. Her life had changed in the last few months. She'd fallen in love with a man who had baggage in the form of a hurting young daughter and a heart full of memories of a cherished wife.
It might have daunted some women, but not her. It took those who'd known the aching sadness of loss to recognise it .in others. She could be strong and resilient if she had to be. If it hadn't been so, she might have given up the search for her own child long ago.
Strangely, in a roundabout way, it was that very thing that had brought Richard into her life. As if the fates, having played some cruel tricks on her, had relented for once.
Since he'd returned to the Cotswolds he'd rung each day to ask about Amelia and she'd been able to report that all was well with his daughter.
The temptation had been there to tell him that the same didn't apply to herself, but she'd refrained. He'd made it clear that he needed time and she supposed the least she could do was accept that.
But with the miles separating them during the one season when love
d ones moved heaven and earth to be together, her enjoyment was going to be somewhat muted.
It would be lovely to have Amelia around during the holiday, to see for herself that the child was happy. But at the back of her mind there was always the thought of Richard alone in the empty house, or accepting Anita's cloying hospitality.
Ever since receiving the flowers, she'd had a feeling of being put on hold. As if the night they'd spent together had been wiped out.
In the normal scheme of things it should have brought them closer together, but there they were, chatting about Amelia or every other subject under the sun except themselves.
On the morning of Christmas Eve Freya gave in to her longing and rang Richard at the beginning of surgery.
'Is everything all right?' he asked the moment he heard her voice.
'Well, yes, up to a point,' she replied.
'What's that supposed to mean? Not Amelia, is it?'
'No. It's me. I'm the one who isn't exactly a bundle of joy.'
'I'm not on top of the world myself,' he said drily.
'I don't imagine you are,' she replied. 'Are you regretting letting Amelia go to Poppy's?'
'No, of course not,' he said immediately. 'She'll be much happier there than here with me.'
'How about a compromise?' she suggested.
There was silence for a moment then he said carefully, 'In what way?'
'I was wondering if you'd like to drive up here later today and stay at my place over the holiday. You would be able to see Amelia without her feeling that you're checking up on her, and Poppy would love to have you for Christmas dinner. She's already mentioned it. Then we could spend Boxing Day together, just the two of us.'
There was an even longer silence this time.
'I don't think so,' he said slowly. 'For various reasons. First of all, I've given Amelia some freedom by-letting her stay with Alice and I don't want to spoil it for her. Secondly, if you and I are alone at your apartment, I can't promise not to carry on where we left off last week, and I'm not ready for that. And there's one more thing.'
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