by Susan Barrie
“One of these days we’ll have a chalet in the mountains, and we’ll go to it for weekends without Frau Bauer or anyone else, and then you’ll be able to cook away to your heart’s content.”
He sat on the edge of the kitchen table and watched her as she began investigations into the contents of the oven.
“I must say,” he confessed, “I’ve enjoyed this weekend in your flat.” He looked at her gravely as she moved back to him. “Caro, you won’t mind going back to the old routine, will you? Because it won’t really be the old routine!” He took her in his arms again and kissed the tip of her nose. “You may not see so much of me as you have done—” as she lay in his arms she thought of long sun-filled days and warm Bahamian nights, wonderful days and nights that she would never forget “—but you’ll know that it’s only because I’m unavoidably preoccupied, and not because I don’t want to spend every moment of my life with you. So you won’t mind, will you, Caro?”
She put back her head and looked up at him. “Of course not,” she assured him softly.
“And if you’re lonely, sometimes—well, we’ll have to do something about that.”
“I don’t think you need worry about my being lonely,” she told him, becoming preoccupied with one of his waistcoat buttons. “I’ve decided to give up painting miniatures because I don’t want to go on wearing glasses, but there are other forms of painting I can take up. And before very long I shall probably have something else to occupy me...”
“What do you mean?” he asked, looking down at her shrewdly.
She gave the waistcoat button a twist and addressed it.
“Do you remember something you said once? That first weekend we were married, when we were up in the mountains?” The waistcoat button threatened to hang by a thread. “Something about Beverley and my first grandchild.”
Lucien laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. “Do you imagine that what you’re trying to tell me is news?” he asked. He put his fingers under her chin and lifted it, and then looked gravely into her eyes. “You really are an idiot, Caro—but a particularly dear idiot! I’ve been waiting for you to tell me this for the last fortnight, at least! And I’ve been waiting to remark that anyhow the grandchild will arrive first, and perhaps that’s just as well!”
Then he fastened his arms about her almost fiercely and kissed her in a fashion that took her breath away.