For long, aching minutes he didn’t respond, the silence putting her nerve ends on the rack. She stood up jerkily, clearing the mugs for something to do to end this nail-biting stasis and Ben shot to his feet.
Caroline’s teeth bit into her lower lip. He was leaving. Her garbled attempt at self-justification, apology, had cut no ice. But then, had she really expected it to, she thought wretchedly. She half turned away and Ben took the mugs from her clenched fingers, dumped them back on the table and pulled her round to face him.
‘Jeremy Curtis is Angela’s father. Presumably that was why Dorothy was talking as if you knew the man. That’s the drill when it comes to serious village gossip—name no names. Simply imply. Don’t run the risk of being sued for defamation of character.’
Jeremy? Oh, sweet heavens above! He’d been having an affair with the unsuitable Maggie while her father and his had been planning her own marriage to the Curtis fortune! Jeremy would have gone along with it because she, Caroline, was suitable-wife material and poor Maggie wasn’t. It might have been funny if the consequences hadn’t been so devastating.
The hands that had gripped her upper arms gentled. His thumbs stroked her skin beneath the sleeves of her T-shirt, hypnotic, holding her immobile, her power of speech wiped out by the hot pressure of emotion building up around her heart.
‘It was a shock when I saw you were getting ready to leave, presumably without hanging around long enough to say goodbye,’ Ben admitted rawly. ‘I’d finally got the truth out of Maggie and I was determined to get you to accept it, trust me enough to be my wife. But I left because I couldn’t bear listening to young Weinberg for a moment longer. The things he was saying did my head in. I would have smashed his teeth through the back of his neck if I’d stayed,’ he said roughly.
His hands came up to cup her face, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her mouth run dry. He murmured, ‘Think back, Caro. You said that I’d thought you’d made love with me while you were supposedly in a serious relationship with young Weinberg. Supposedly, being the operative word.’
Caroline drew in a deep, shuddering breath that racked her slender frame. So Michael’s laid-back over-confidence had done the damage after all. Ben hadn’t washed his hands of her; he’d just gone out to find the truth and would have done his damnedest to make her believe it.
Tears flooded her eyes. The temptation to lay her head against his chest was immense. Resisting it, she said thickly, ‘Michael and I always worked well as colleagues, and after his divorce we became friends. Just friends.’ Caroline swallowed round the sharp, painful lump in her throat.
Would Ben discount what Michael had said and accept in his heart that she was telling the truth? But why should he, when she had believed the worst of him for so long? It really didn’t bear thinking about. ‘We have never been more than colleagues and friends, I promise you.’
She twisted away from him before he could move away from her and thus let her know that what she was saying was very far from convincing. Her slight shoulders slumped, she folded her arms around her body, holding in the misery, the sheer trepidation.
‘To be completely honest with you, I did begin to realise that he wanted more than friendship. And because my wretched biological clock had started ticking loudly I even thought that he and I could progress to a closer relationship, given time. Then—then you came back on the scene.’
Her voice snagged in her throat, but she pressed on. ‘And I knew it couldn’t work, not with Michael, not with any other man. You haunted me. And it wasn’t long before I knew I’d never stopped loving you, and never would, despite what I thought you’d done. Michael told me what he’d said to you. He knew something was wrong, and I ended up confessing that I was in love with you. He said he’d put his foot in it—offered to phone the next day and explain he’d jumped the gun. But I thought I was beyond forgiveness.’
One, two, three heartbeats of silence.
Caroline felt her already shaky control begin the tight spiral that would end in explosion and disintegration. And then she felt his hands gently touch her shoulders. She expelled a long, shaky breath of relief and sagged weakly back against him, her eyes drifting shut as his hands lifted to untie the length of string that bound back her hair.
Fanning the dark mass over her shoulders he turned her to face him, his voice unsteady, ‘You’ve got paint in your hair.’
‘I know.’ Her eyes were dreamy, a misty deep violet. Her hands splayed out against his chest, parting his jacket to find the vital, living warmth of him through the silk of his shirt. ‘Probably on my teeth, too.’
‘I guess.’ He lifted one of her hands and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, just where her pulse began a crazy tattoo.
‘I look a complete mess.’ She found it difficult to speak when her heart was thundering, her body quivering as he pressed the hard span of his hips against hers.
‘Do you? I hadn’t noticed.’ His voice thickened as she captured his hand and pressed fervent, dancing kisses on the back of each finger in turn. ‘I just love you.’
He drew in a harsh breath then kissed her with a savage hunger that drew a wild and wanting response from her as she clung to him, the whirlwind of passion making words unnecessary. They were together, just as fate had intended them to be; they were home, soul mates; they understood. They were complete.
She could feel the drum beats of his heart as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. Laying her on the top of the duvet he slowly shrugged out of his jacket, his cheekbones flushing darkly as he said, ‘I’m going to bind you to me for the rest of my life, love you and care for you for the rest of my life. And I’m going to make love to you, now, with no hidden agendas, no fantasies, just you and me and what we feel for each other.’
His shirt followed his jacket. The dark eyes he kept fixed on her drenched with burning emotion, and Caroline bounced back up, dragged her T-shirt over her head, and held her arms wide for him. ‘My darling, come to me, come home…’
The warm, late May sunshine tempted Caroline out of the cottage before she’d even started on the customary morning chores. An internal wriggle of sheer pleasure made her screw her eyes shut and beam, her grin stretching from ear to ear.
The surrounding woods were full of birdsong and the garden was showing promise of becoming as fabulous as she meant it to be. And in two days’ time she and Ben would be celebrating their first wedding anniversary.
A year of bliss, sheer unadulterated bliss. She would never have believed two people could achieve such closeness: never parted for more than an hour or two until now.
Travelling with him to wherever he needed to be, brief sojourns at the London apartment, attending glittering social events, longer periods here at the cottage, making it a real home, checking up on the youngsters up at the big house.
That had been her life up until now, and a wonderful life it was, too, she thought contentedly, lifting her face to the sun, breathing in the soft, clean, scented air. Tomorrow morning Ben would be home, and she would break the news, the news that she herself had found hard to believe.
For the first time ever she’d shaken her head when he’d invited her to hop on the company jet and fly with him to Amsterdam. A flash of disappointment had clouded his eyes at the thought of being parted for over a week. But then he’d grinned, ‘What will you do with yourself?’
‘Oh, this and that. Spend a few days shopping.’ It was the first time she’d lied to him and it wasn’t a good feeling. ‘Then drive down to the cottage. Tackle the weeds before they swamp the garden.’ That part at least was the gospel truth. ‘Join me there?’
And so he would, tomorrow. She couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait to tell him, to confess that she’d lied, to explain that it had been necessary because even she hadn’t been able to absorb the truth.
Meanwhile, there was all that weeding to be done…
Two hours later Caroline got up off her knees, easing the stiffness out of her back. The s
un was scorching her bare arms, and white cotton jeans hadn’t been the ideal choice for a stint of dedicated gardening, she decided as she brushed ineffectually at the stains on her knees and tucked the straying hem of her ice-blue sleeveless shirt back beneath the waistband.
Hooking her hair behind her ears, she headed for shade; down the path, skirting the cottage and the meadow and through the gate in the picket fence. And she stood quite still in the clearing in the woods, then wandered down to the edge of the rushing stream.
She and Ben always spent time here when they were at the cottage. It was a sort of pilgrimage, she supposed, a ritual visit to their special place, the place they’d always come to on those long-ago soft summer nights.
They had so nearly lost each other. A shiver rippled her skin and then her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t heard him come but she knew he was here.
She spun round, her face alight, just as he entered the clearing.
‘Ben!’ She ran lightly towards him, into his arms, and he lifted her, spinning her round, then kissed her as if he was starving.
‘I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,’ she uttered breathlessly when they both gulped in much needed air.
‘I bunked off.’ He grinned at her, ruffling her hair. ‘You weren’t inside, and you weren’t in the garden—just all those weeds piled up on the paths which, no doubt, I shall be required to put on the compost heap. I knew you’d be here.’
Smiling, she kissed him again, and ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
They both spoke together. Caroline said, ‘You first. Mine’s got to be better than yours!’
‘I wouldn’t bet on that!’ He drew her down onto the soft, mossy bank of the stream. ‘Now, am I right in thinking you look on this place as our real home, our special place? I know I do.’
She nodded, mock serious, but her eyes were dancing. ‘True. Is that it? Right, my turn!’
‘Shh.’ He laid a finger across her mouth to silence her. She nipped it with her teeth. Grinning, he told her, ‘I wasn’t too miffed when you said you didn’t want to come to Amsterdam. I missed you like crazy but it did give me the opportunity to get things moving without you breathing down my neck. I wanted it done and dusted, then spring the surprise. I’m going to work mostly from home—here—in the future. No more jetting round the continent at the drop of a hat. Any travelling we do in the future will be for pleasure—holidays—in any part of the world that takes your fancy. Of course—’ he traced the outline of her mouth with a delicate, sensual finger ‘—it will mean building on. Just a room to house the usual electronic communications systems. Is that OK with you?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ She looped her arms around his neck and gently touched his mouth with hers. ‘It fits in so well with what I’ve got to tell you.’
‘Which is?’
‘I’m pregnant. I wasn’t sure but now I am. I didn’t go shopping, why should I? I have everything I could want or need. I had it confirmed. I had a scan.’
Ben just stared at her. Caroline said, ‘Aren’t you pleased?’ knowing he had to be. She knew him as well as she knew herself. And he confirmed it, his face lighting up in the grin that had the power to stun her.
‘I’m ecstatic, my precious darling! Over the moon! Well done, Caro!’
‘It takes two,’ she said, laughter lurking behind the prim expression she plastered on. ‘And that’s not all. We’re expecting twins.’
A breathless, adoring hug later she emerged from encircling arms that would have held onto her for ever. ‘We’ll have to build on a rumpus room. And being country babies they’ll grow up to want ponies. And that means building a stable, and fencing off a paddock. And if we have more we’ll need another bedroom. Or two. And an extra bathroom. The place will just get bigger and bigger. Do you mind?’
For answer he slid an arm back round her waist and drew her down with him onto the soft mossy grass. ‘I can put up with everything getting bigger—and better.’ A softly stroking hand slid over her still flat tummy, commanding fingers finding the button of her waistband. ‘Just like my love for you—bigger and better in every way, day by glorious day.’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0057-9
THE BILLIONAIRE AFFAIR
First North American Publication 2002.
Copyright © 2001 by Diana Hamilton.
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