Soon after dessert was cleared away the doorbell sounded, announcing the arrival of the rest of the Rockcliffe clan who were calling in for coffee before the real celebrations were to begin the following evening. Cara had cause to wonder if they’d come simply to inspect her, to see if she was worthy of being back with Byron, temporary as it was.
Patrick’s twin Leon wasn’t as welcoming as his brother had been, but he certainly made an effort to be polite and introduced Cara to his wife Olivia. Their three children were at home with a babysitter, he informed Cara on her polite query about them.
Felicity, Byron’s younger sister, squealed with delight when she caught sight of Cara. She threw her arms around her neck as best she could, considering the tight mound of her pregnant belly, and cried in delight, ‘You came! How wonderful.’
Cara was swept up by further introductions—firstly to Fliss’s husband, a tall, quiet, dark-haired man who seemed a little overcome by the noise and clamour of the combined Rockcliffe clan. Cara wondered if she had at last found an ally. Jason stood to one side as his young wife was enveloped in a hug by her eldest brother, his expression a little bewildered.
Cara made an effort to talk to him over coffee in the spacious lounge room. The rest of the Rockcliffes were arguing profusely over some recent current affair and Jason happened to catch her rolled eyes.
‘It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?’ He handed her the chocolate truffles.
‘Yes.’ She smiled tentatively and took one. ‘Do you come from a big family?’
He shook his head.
‘Only child.’
‘Me too.’
Jason cleared his throat and handed her another truffle, which she politely declined.
‘Fliss speaks very highly of you,’ he said.
‘I…I’m flattered,’ she answered. ‘Please tell me about your son. Byron said he’s two. Is that the difficult age everyone makes out?’
It soon became obvious she’d found the right topic to bring Jason out of himself. She spent a very enjoyable ten minutes or so being told everything about his young son. At one point she couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud at one of his dryly delivered anecdotes. The sound of her laughter turned heads, most particularly that of her ex-husband. Cara’s laughing smile fell away as she became conscious of the interested gazes turned her way.
Byron came over and, perching himself on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, slipped a casual arm around her shoulders.
‘How are things, Jason?’ He addressed his brother-in-law. ‘Busy in court?’
‘You’re a lawyer?’ Cara asked, and Jason nodded. ‘What field do you practise in?’
‘Family law,’ he answered, just as a silence came over the room. ‘Divorce, primarily.’
Cara covered her discomfort with a small smile.
‘Interesting work.’
Jan Rockcliffe brandished yet another plate of home-baked treats under Cara’s nose as she came bustling past.
‘Have one of my ginger balls,’ she entreated. ‘You too, Jason. Have you lost weight? I shall have to send food parcels to you. Isn’t Felicity feeding you properly?’
Cara could almost feel Jason’s cringe, but he handled it well, taking one of the proffered delicacies, popping it into his mouth and chewing exaggeratedly. Cara suppressed another giggle and wondered why she hadn’t thought of that ploy years ago. It certainly forestalled the need to reply, for Jan Rockcliffe soon gave up and waved the plate elsewhere.
The evening passed in the way most Rockcliffe evenings passed—noisily.
The lively banter of the adult children and their parents interacting, each trying to be heard as the noise level rose, had at first been a culture shock for Cara. She’d forgotten how involved everyone became as various issues were aired. However, there was no sign of anger or opprobrium in the lively exchanges. It was just a big family relating together in the way they had for years.
Cara sat on the fringe and observed Byron’s smile as he listened to Fliss tell some joke at Leon’s expense. At one point he threw back his head and laughed, and Cara watched as his younger sister’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Leon pricked up his ears and, coming over, warned Fliss playfully about picking on someone her own size.
‘But I am just about your size,’ she laughed, pointing to her protruding stomach. ‘Especially now.’
Cara caught Byron’s eye on her. He smiled at her and winked one eye, and a trickle of warmth pooled in her belly. She turned away, her colour high, and concentrated on Patrick’s story about a work colleague. Robert and Jan sat together on one of the sofas listening, one of Robert’s arms slung casually around his wife’s shoulders. Cara wondered what had kept them together for forty years. She wondered if they’d ever argued, said things they didn’t mean, and whether they’d ever thought about leaving for greener pastures. It certainly didn’t look like it, judging from the proud gleam in their eyes as their gazes rested on each of their grown-up children.
Some time later Robert got up with a stretch and announced he and Jan were off to bed. Patrick and Sally exchanged telling glances, suggesting they were thinking the same. They were staying for the weekend, having travelled down from Bright earlier that day, and were tired from the journey after travelling with two lively little girls chattering non-stop all the way.
Leon and Olivia made a move to leave, and Fliss smothered a huge yawn which drew Jason to her side, his hand sliding under the weight of her hair in a gentle caress that spoke of deep, abiding love.
Cara wasn’t sure of the sleeping arrangements Byron’s mother had organised, and stood to one side awkwardly as the goodbyes were said at the door.
Once the others had left Byron turned to her and held up a bottle of brandy.
‘Nightcap?’
She shook her head. ‘You have one, though.’
The room seemed very quiet without the lively conversation of earlier. Cara sat on one of the single chairs and looked at a jumble of photographs on the side table at her elbow while Byron sipped his drink.
‘You were very quiet,’ he observed after an interval of some minutes.
‘Was I?’ She put the photograph of Patrick and Sally’s wedding down and looked at him.
‘Very.’ He moved across the room to stand in front of her, his hips leaning against the sideboard. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Of course.’
She toyed with her wristwatch and avoided his eye.
‘My mother has separated us,’ he announced, bringing her eyes back to his. ‘You’re in the rose room and I’m in the study.’
‘Oh.’
‘I didn’t enlighten her about our…’ He paused for a millisecond. ‘Arrangement.’
‘I’m sure she’d be very shocked to hear of it,’ Cara couldn’t stop herself saying.
‘No doubt.’
She got to her feet.
‘Well, goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight.’
She hesitated, uncertain whether he was expecting her to kiss him. It seemed so cold and clinical to simply leave, considering their intimacy over the past week.
‘Cara?’
‘Yes?’ Her eyes lifted to his once more.
‘Come here.’
Two words, a simple command, a temptation too hard to resist. She stepped towards him, her cheeks hot, her palms already moistening.
He looked down at her, his eyes dark, fathomless pools.
‘Yes?’ It came out as a croak.
He reached out a hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the sensitive skin of her neck. She held her breath, her spine liquefying at his touch.
His head lowered and her eyes closed as his lips met hers. It was a gentle, barely there kiss, but it stirred her far more than she’d thought possible. Almost as soon as he’d pressed his mouth to hers he lifted it and stepped away from her.
‘Goodnight, Cara. Sleep well.’
She didn’t answer. Sh
e turned and left the lounge room on legs that were not quite steady.
The rose room had been redecorated since she’d last occupied it, but it still had the same name—even though the walls were now a delicate shade of pearl. Cara peeled back the soft bedlinen, breathing in the fragrant scent of lavender as she tucked herself under the quilted warmth.
She lay listening to the sounds of the big old house sighing, as if in relief that all its family members had come home. The creak of the old staircase as it settled after the last person had traversed it; the old plumbing protesting slightly at being called into service at close to twelve-thirty a.m., and the steady clicking of the grandfather clock in the hall.
Cara counted the minutes, trying to sleep, but her mind wouldn’t relax. The lively banter of the evening replayed like a tape in her head, faces flashing in front of her closed eyes: Patrick and Leon with their wives, the adorable twins, Rob and Jan and their forty years of loving, and Fliss with her belly swollen with Jason’s second child.
And Byron. His face relaxed as he listened to yet another cute kid’s anecdote, showing nothing of his regret at his own childlessness. The way he’d caught her eye occasionally, the slight tilt of his mouth suggesting that, given enough encouragement from her, it would indeed stretch into a genuine smile. The mouth that had met hers in a kiss that had touched her deep inside, as if he were aware of the fragile emotions secretly housed there.
Cara turned into the lavender-scented pillow and wondered if he were already asleep, his large, lean frame taking up most of the sofabed in the study, his long legs hanging over the edge, his arms automatically reaching out to gather her to him even though she wasn’t there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE house was alive from the very first ray of sunlight. Cara opened her eyes to find herself being observed by two interested identical little faces, their matching pink polka dot pyjamas a perfect foil for their blue eyes and blonde hair.
‘Are you our aunty?’ one of them asked.
Cara sat up and, brushing the hair off her face, made room for them either side of her on the bed as they clambered up beside her.
‘I’m not really sure about that,’ she confessed in all honesty. ‘I used to be married to your uncle, but I’m not sure if the title still applies.’
The other twin peered at her intently, her blue eyes piercing.
‘Why aren’t you still married to Uncle Byron?’ she asked.
Cara swallowed.
‘You don’t have to tell us,’ the other less forward twin said, glaring at her sister. ‘Mummy would say it’s none of our business.’
‘It is so our business, Kirstie,’ Katie said determinedly. ‘How else are we to know what to call her?’
‘You can call me Cara,’ Cara offered. ‘That will do for now, won’t it?’
Katie gave her a very worldly look.
‘Our teacher, Mrs Cuthbert, says children should never call grown-ups by their first name.’
‘Oh.’
‘But we don’t have to tell her,’ Kirstie said ingenuously. ‘It can be our little secret.’
‘Do you like secrets, Cara?’ Katie asked, snuggling a little closer.
‘I…’ Cara opened and closed her mouth.
‘I have a secret,’ Kirstie whispered conspiratorially.
‘Oh?’ Cara wasn’t sure of the role she should be playing in all of this, so kept a low profile by keeping her input to an absolute minimum.
Kirstie snuggled closer and, cupping her dimpled little hand, breathily relayed her secret to Cara’s tingling ear.
‘Aunty Fliss is having another baby. I heard Daddy tell Mummy.’
‘Oh!’
‘I have a better secret than that!’ scoffed Katie.
‘You do not.’
‘I do so. Remember? I told you about it ages ago. When Megan Fry kissed Uncle Byron on his birthday?’ She directed her piercing gaze at Cara. ‘It was disgusting.’
‘Um…’
‘She’s in love with him,’ Kirstie said. ‘I heard Granny tell Mummy.’
‘I…’ Cara looked from one to the other and closed her mouth again.
‘I don’t like her. She wears too much perfume and pats us on the head all the time. I almost got a headache the last time she came to stay with Granny and Pop,’ Katie added in disdain.
Cara could feel her mouth twitching and quickly changed the subject, before she was tempted to pump them for information.
‘Do you like stories?’ she asked.
Their little faces lit up.
‘We love stories.’
‘Well.’ Cara settled her arms around each young shoulder and began. ‘Once upon a time there was a little girl who was very lonely. She didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and her father had left long before she’d been born. Her mother was lonely too. So lonely that she didn’t really take much notice of her little girl, other than to feed her and growl at her whenever she did something wrong. But one day the mother didn’t growl at her little girl; she shouted instead. The little girl didn’t understand the reason why her mother was so angry at her, and tried to be extra good to avoid it happening again…’
Cara was lost in the story and hadn’t noticed the door of the rose room open slightly. Byron stood watching the scene before him silently. His two little nieces were snuggled up on either side of Cara, their faces trained on her, their eyes wide with captivation.
Cara heard a movement at the door and looked up, her story suspended at the sight of Byron standing there, his expression indecipherable. The twins tugged at both of her arms.
‘Don’t stop!’ Katie implored.
‘What happened next?’ Kirstie’s eyes were bug-like.
Cara smiled regretfully at them both.
‘To be continued…’
‘Oh, no!’ Katie wailed theatrically. ‘I hate “to be continued” stories.’
‘When will you tell us some more?’ Kirstie asked. ‘Tonight? When we go to bed?’
She was cornered and both the girls knew it—she could tell.
‘All right, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you the rest tonight.’
The girls turned to their uncle.
‘Aunty Cara’s telling us a story that’s a…a…equal…’ Kirstie hunted vainly for the correct term.
‘Sequel,’ Katie said authoritatively.
‘Can I listen in too, tonight?’ Byron asked, his eyes sliding to Cara’s.
‘No,’ Katie said adamantly. ‘This is girls’ stuff—isn’t it, Aunty Cara?’
Cara was still recovering from being addressed as aunty, not once but twice.
‘I’m not sure—’
‘Girls only—sorry, Uncle Byron.’ Katie grinned up at him cheekily.
‘You minx,’ he growled, and tickled her playfully.
Not to be left out, Kirstie lunged at him and tickled him in defence of her sister. Cara couldn’t help squealing when a stray tickle caught her under the ribs.
‘You…’ she gasped as she poked her fingers into Byron’s rock-hard stomach.
The twins were giggling uncontrollably at the glint of mischief in their uncle’s eye as he made another lunge at Cara.
‘Oh!’ Cara gasped again. ‘Stop! Please!’
Her legs were tangled in the sheets so escape was impossible. His face was close, his eyes glittering with some indefinable emotion. Cara felt her breath catch as he addressed the goggle-eyed little girls over his shoulder:
‘Katie and Kirstie, Granny’s got your breakfast ready downstairs. Why don’t you go down and get started while I teach Aunty Cara the rules about tickling?’
The girls scampered off, their laughter ringing down the hall as they went in search of their grandmother.
He turned back to Cara, locked between his forearms on either side of her waist. She met his dark gaze, her stomach tilting at the glitter of naked desire reflected there.
‘So,’ she said in an attempt at lightening the atmosphere, ‘what exactly are the rules of
tickling?’
She watched as his mouth stretched into a smile and her stomach gave another lurch.
‘The golden rule is, don’t do it if you can’t take it yourself.’ His voice was deep and silky. ‘Can you take it, Cara?’
‘I…’ She swallowed as his mouth came closer. ‘I think so…’
‘Let’s see, shall we?’
His mouth closed over hers and she felt herself sink into the mattress on a sigh of pleasure at the caress of his lips. He deepened the kiss, sending her even further back into the mattress. Her legs opened to make room for him as he stretched over her. She could feel his hard length so close it was a torment to have both the barrier of clothes and the bedlinen that still encased her trembling legs.
He slid one warm hand under her silky pyjama top, his fingers sliding over the aroused peak of one breast until she thought she would cry out with the sensation. He removed his hand and lowered his head, taking her nipple into the cavern of his hot mouth, rolling his tongue over the tight bud, grazing her tender flesh with his teeth. She writhed under his ministrations, her breathing hard, as if she’d just run a race. He left her breasts briefly to return to her mouth, his tongue taking hers on a dance of probe and retreat until all thought was driven from her mind.
She could only think of his body pressing hers to the mattress, his pulsing arousal almost burning through the fabric that separated her soft flesh from him. She could feel him poised, ready and eager to take her to the heights of fulfilment. She could sense the urgency of his need as he explored her mouth. She could feel her own response in secret, preparing her for the slide of his rigid form that would completely fill her aching emptiness.
There was the sound of voices just outside the door and Byron lifted himself from her, his expression rueful as he dragged a hand through his dark hair.
‘I’ll finish this later,’ he promised as he stood up. ‘I’ll see you downstairs—I think that’s the breakfast cue.’
Cara could hear the sound of voices as the family gathered downstairs in the big kitchen. She heard Patrick ask his father if the paper had been delivered, and she heard Sally implore Katie to wash her hands after touching the cat. Sounds of the house coming to life filled her ears, but all she could think about was his promise. He was going to finish what he’d started later.
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