‘Until I met you.’ He kissed her again. ‘And, just in case you’re wondering, there’s no significant female presence in my life, I promise.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Though I confess to acquaintance with more than one lady not averse to the odd spot of wining, dining and bed, now and then.’
‘Lord, you’re arrogant!’
‘Just truthful. I’m a normal male animal and own up to certain needs from time to time.’ He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. ‘If I had you all that would be over, I promise.’
‘But living with someone can be tricky,’ said Rose, resisting the urge to say yes to everything he asked.
‘We managed it very happily during the brief times we managed to spend together,’ he reminded her.
‘Maybe because we never had enough of it—time, I mean,’ she added, flushing.
‘So let’s make up for it now,’ said James, his eyes locked with hers as he stroked a finger along the hectic colour in her cheek.
‘Not so fast,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I think we should work up to it gradually, just seeing each other socially for a while. Going out to dinner—’
‘Out?’ he mocked. ‘Did you actually say out to dinner?’
‘I did.’
‘Hallelujah!’ James paused, eyeing her narrowly. ‘Or did you mean in London where no one knows us?’
‘Right here in Chastlecombe, too.’ Rose smiled at him cajolingly. ‘What do you say?’
‘In what capacity am I to do this as far as this town is concerned?’ enquired James. ‘Officially as your husband, or just as a replacement for Mr Garrett?’
‘I’ll have to think about that,’ she said, frowning. ‘If this is to be a sort of testing period, to find out if marriage is a practical proposition for us—’
‘Rose,’ he said impatiently, ‘We are married!’
‘Only on paper.’ She looked at him in appeal. ‘But before I burn my boats I need you to be very sure about this, James. I don’t mean what happened between us just now,’ she added, colouring. ‘In that way we’re still totally compatible—’
‘Agreed. So what’s the problem?’ he demanded.
‘A very prosaic one.’ Rose sighed. ‘My only attempt at actually living with a man was a total disaster.’
‘With me it will be different, I promise,’ he said with supreme confidence, and kissed her as emphasis. He drew back to look down into her eyes. ‘So tell me you’re willing to take the chance, Rose.’
She looked at him in silence for a moment, then nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I am.’
His eyes lit with satisfaction. ‘But if I come courting for all your world to see, I need assurances. My ego couldn’t take another hammering from you, Rose.’
‘It won’t have to.’ She looked at him in sudden disbelief. ‘James, we’re going too fast—’
‘Not fast enough for me!’
It was very late by the time Rose made a pot of coffee to drink with cheese and biscuits. ‘A recipe for insomnia if ever I saw one,’ she commented.
James smiled slowly. ‘I know an infallible cure for that—or would you rather I slept at the cottage tonight?’
‘When are you going back to London?’
‘Tomorrow evening. After I’ve spent as much of Sunday as possible with you.’
Rose looked at him for a moment. ‘Not much point in going back to the cottage, then. Stay the night.’
James reached for her and pulled her close, a look in his eyes that sent a cold shiver down her spine.
‘What is it?’ she whispered.
‘I’m thinking of all the time wasted,’ he said bitterly, and held her face cupped in his hands. ‘You owe me, Rose.’
After Rose had paid some of the debt to James’s satisfaction they fell asleep in each other’s arms, and woke to make love again in the early morning before the world outside was awake.
‘Do you still have your wedding ring?’ said James later, over the breakfast they’d brought back to bed to eat.
‘Of course I have.’ She frowned as she considered her hand. ‘I was never able to wear it back then, so maybe it won’t even fit me now.’
‘If it doesn’t I’ll buy you another one,’ he said promptly, but Rose shook her head.
‘I want that one. It can be altered if it doesn’t fit.’
‘So when will you start wearing it again?’
‘When we go public, I suppose. Which had better be soon, now Anthony knows about you. Minerva will be surprised. Henry’s expecting to arrange a divorce.’ Rose looked at him questioningly. ‘How about you? Will you tell your mother?’
‘Yes, but not over the phone. I’ll go up to see her.’ James leaned over to kiss a smear of marmalade from Rose’s cheek. ‘Messy eater,’ he said indulgently.
‘It’s so difficult in bed,’ she said, laughing. ‘Look out, mind your coffee!’
‘I vote we eat lunch elsewhere.’ He brushed toast crumbs away. ‘Sorry—you’ll have to change your bed before you sleep in it again.’
‘Pity,’ said Rose with regret, and gave him a sparkling look. ‘I was hoping to keep your smell to sleep with tonight.’
‘My smell!’
‘Scent, then.’ She leaned nearer to nuzzle his shoulder, sucking delicately at his skin. ‘I’d know yours anywhere.’
James gave a strangled sound, slid out of bed, removed the breakfast tray, then got back in and took Rose in his arms all in one movement. ‘I’d know you anywhere, too, Rose Sinclair,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘So, if you were intending to read the Sunday papers at this point, you’re out of luck.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN James left her, far later that evening than he’d intended, Rose had time at last to think. Too much time. She felt restless, and roamed the flat like a lost soul, switching on the television, switching it off again, trying to read the Sunday papers neither of them had looked at. When her cellphone rang at last Rose felt limp with relief when she heard the voice she’d been waiting for.
‘What have you been doing since I left?’ he asked.
‘Nothing much. I’m a bit tired.’
‘Lack of sleep last night,’ he said, audibly smug.
‘Yes.’ Rose heaved a sigh. ‘I don’t foresee sleeping all that well tonight, either.’
‘Because you’re head over heels in love with me?’ he said swiftly.
‘Something like that.’
‘Good,’ he said triumphantly. ‘I’ll remind you of that next time we meet. Talking of which,’ he said after a pause, ‘that won’t be for a while. I’m afraid I’m off to Boston for the job on Thursday. I’ll be up the following weekend.’
A whole fortnight. Which would be for the best, in some ways. ‘In that case, James,’ she said slowly, ‘could I come down to you that weekend? If I am going to move in with you I’d like to see where you live.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘Rose, could we postpone that for a while?’
‘Of course,’ she said instantly, rebuffed.
He swore softly. ‘You’re offended.’
‘Not in the least. I’ll come some other time. Or not, according to how things go.’
‘Stop that right now, Rose! Come by all means. I just wanted the house to look less of a mess before you did. Until very recently I shared it with someone else.’
Who? thought Rose, picturing some voluptuous female making off in a huff with designer luggage. ‘It’s all right,’ she said carelessly. ‘It was just an idea. Let’s leave it awhile.’
James let out an exasperated sigh. ‘I shall expect you here a week on Saturday evening, Rose, so arrange it.’
Mondays in the shop were usually busy, and Rose was glad of it after the emotional ups and downs of her weekend. She had slept badly for more than one reason after the unexpected little tiff with James, and felt on edge until he rang that evening.
‘I’ve rung to apologise,’ he said without preamble.
‘What about?’
‘For not welcoming your
visit with open arms.’
‘It was certainly a bit off-putting after I’d—’
‘Made mad, passionate love with me for most of the weekend?’
‘Beautifully put,’ she said acidly. ‘Look, James, I don’t have to come.’
‘Don’t dare back out now, Rose. I’ve organised a cleaning company to come in next week to make the place habitable. Just for you. It’s going to be a hell of a long fortnight, so what time do I expect you? Early as possible, please.’
‘Actually,’ said Rose carefully, ‘I could make it on the Friday evening. If you like.’
‘Damn right I like!’ He paused. ‘Hopefully the cleaners should be finished by then, but I’ll probably be working late with the risk management boys, so I’ll send you a key. You can let yourself in if you’re before me. And explore Bluebeard’s lair to your heart’s content,’ he added slyly. ‘Who’s minding the store for you?’
‘Minerva’s volunteered. She likes to keep a finger on the pulse occasionally, anyway. I think she misses contact with the general public.’
‘Will you miss that, too?’
‘Probably.’
‘Enough for second thoughts?’ he demanded.
‘No.’
‘Then tell me again you’re still mad about me.’
‘How many times do I have to say it to convince you?’
‘A lot more yet, lady.’
‘I’ll tell you—no, I’ll show you when I see you.’
The time dragged by while James was away, with only his phone calls to reassure Rose she hadn’t dreamed the passionate weekend in his arms. By the time her train arrived at Ealing Broadway just under a fortnight later she was in such a state of tension her head was aching as she took a taxi to a house in one of the suburb’s broad, leafy roads. Feeling rather furtive, she let herself into James’s empty home, put her bag down in the square hall, then went exploring the large, conventional house. The sitting room was big, with rugs scattered here and there on polished wood floors, chairs and sofas covered in new-looking sand-coloured linen, paler curtains looped and swagged round a large bay window. Books filled the shelves in alcoves flanking a fireplace topped by a glowing oil of a Highland loch at sunset.
Rose looked round her with a sudden, fierce sense of possession. She liked it here. She wanted to live here. Whoever had lived here before.
After a moment’s hesitation she went upstairs to look into James’s bedroom, which was spartan and very tidy. She looked at the wide bed, then wished she hadn’t as a hot rush of excitement intensified the throbbing in her head. Wondering if James was ever in need of a painkiller she had a look in his bathroom with no result, then went back along the landing to the main bathroom. In a cabinet which held a sparse selection of male toiletries, she found a few basic medical supplies, and a box of tampons and a half-empty bottle of expensive French perfume. Rose clenched her teeth against a sudden rush of nausea. James had been frank about other women, but it was a shock to come face to face with such personal confirmation of his past. Did these things belong to the former tenant, or merely one of the women happy to share bed and board with James on a casual basis?
It has been ten years, she reminded herself stringently. What did you expect? She swallowed down a couple of painkillers with a glass of water, then went back into the master bedroom to examine the leather folder on James’s dresser. It held two snapshots: one was of a lurcher, with a schoolboy James embracing it as he grinned at the camera, the other showed two people flanking young James with fishing rod, the woman’s face obscured by a cotton sun hat, the tired man gazing down on his son with such deep affection Rose felt a lump in her throat. A third, unframed photograph lay face down on the chest. Rose turned it over, and eyed it with deep hostility. A young blonde woman of her own age, with expensively cut hair and a black dress which clung to every curve, lounged, laughing, on what looked like the sofa downstairs. The eyes held a smile of such confident, teasing allure Rose’s fingers curled, wanting to tear the photograph in shreds.
Rose heard the door slam downstairs, and put the photograph down guiltily. She ran downstairs, and without a word James dumped down his briefcase and swept her into his arms, kissing her with a hunger she responded to involuntarily, unable to control her body’s reaction to his touch after so long.
‘God, it’s been a long time,’ he said at last, rubbing his cheek over her hair. ‘I wondered if you’d be here, after all.’
Rose stood back to look up at him. ‘I very nearly wasn’t. Your initial lack of enthusiasm was very off-putting,’ she said frankly. ‘I almost told you to get lost again then and there.’
‘I could tell that,’ said James, grimacing. ‘So I regrouped in a hurry. Come here. I’ve been thinking about this for two long weeks, woman.’
‘So have I.’ Pushing the photograph from her mind, Rose returned the kiss with such fervour James thrust her away at last, his breathing ragged.
‘Let me take you on a tour,’ he said gruffly. ‘Otherwise I’m likely to carry you straight up to bed right now. And then you might think I’m only after your body.’
‘You want more than that?’
‘Damn right. I want every last thing you have to offer, Rose Sinclair,’ said James, and shrugged off his long dark overcoat. ‘How much have you seen?’
‘Only your sitting room and some of the upstairs.’ Which last had been a bit of a mistake. She smiled as they went into his sitting room. ‘You must have found my place a bit claustrophobic after this.’
‘You were there, Rose. I didn’t notice much else.’ He looked around him. ‘The cleaning people seem to have done a good job. They’ve put the new covers on for me, I see. Alex left me a couple of chairs, so with a bit of input from my mother I had them married up with the same material.’ His eyes returned to Rose, bright with something she thought she identified as decision. ‘But if you don’t like anything I’ll change it—in fact if you don’t like the house we’ll find somewhere else.’
‘I love it here.’ Rose reached up and kissed him, forcing herself to keep quiet about the woman in the photograph.
‘Then come and see the rest of it.’
James took her on a tour of an empty dining room and a study at the back, which shared a view of the garden with a kitchen some former owner had been clever enough to enlarge and modernise without losing its character.
‘When I bought the place Alex came in with me as my tenant, which helped with the mortgage. I lived downstairs, Alex up here,’ he said, preceding her upstairs. ‘But now the master bedroom’s all mine.’ James paused beside the large bed, his eyes intent on her face. ‘Rose,’ he said huskily, reaching for her, ‘don’t make me wait any longer—’
‘Not so fast,’ said Rose. ‘First tell me who this is.’ She detached herself and picked up the photograph. ‘Is she the reason you put me off coming, James? Was she still in residence at the time?’
He stared blankly at the photograph, then back at Rose, his eyes narrowed to a gleam which sent a chill down her spine. ‘No, she was not. What kind of a man do you think I am?’
‘After ten years how should I know?’ she said, all the more militant because she’d expected him to reassure her. ‘Is she one of the dinner-and-bed brigade? Or is she this Alex of yours?’
‘Neither,’ said James flatly, taking off his jacket.
‘So why the secrecy?’
James’s face set into cold implacable lines. ‘I’ve had only one guilty secret in my life.’ He smiled grimly. ‘That was you. So if we’re going to have any kind of viable relationship in future you need to take me on trust.’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘Life isn’t fair. I learned that early on at your hands, lady.’
Rose winced. ‘Look, James, I came up here earlier. I had a headache and I was looking for painkillers. There’s some perfume and—other things in your bathroom cabinet. Which made it obvious a woman’s been in residence quite recently. Was that why you didn’t want me to
come?’
‘No,’ said James harshly. ‘That wasn’t the reason at all, but let’s leave that for now.’ He stalked across the room towards her, his eyes bright with such cold ferocity Rose had a sudden urge to turn and run. ‘To set you right, my darling wife, no woman has ever lived here with me because I’ve never exposed myself to the dangers of a close relationship since the day I last saw you.’
Rose backed away, her headache suddenly excruciating. ‘You haven’t forgiven me at all have you, James?’ she said unsteadily. ‘So why in heaven’s name did you have to make love to me if you felt like that? Punishment? Ego-boosting?’
‘Before I saw you I didn’t intend to make love to you at all,’ he said bitterly. ‘Once I did meet you, I was angry because I wanted you the minute I laid eyes on you again. So I hatched some crazy idea about turning the tables on you, making you fall in love with me. The way you’d done with me in the past.’ He flung away to stare through the window.
Rose felt an icy chill seep through her as she stared at his back. ‘That’s why you kept on asking me to say I loved you,’ she said dully. ‘Why you never once returned the compliment. You just wanted revenge, didn’t you, James? All that talk about not wanting a divorce, living together, wedding rings, was just bait for the trap you set me.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’ James turned sharply, and put out a hand in appeal, but Rose looked at it with such disdain he let it fall.
‘If you’ll call a cab I’ll go home,’ she said quietly.
His face hardened. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘It’s not what I expected,’ she said with a brittle smile, ‘but under the circumstances it seems like a good idea.’
James shook his head. ‘Look, we need to talk.’
‘Too late for that,’ she threw at him, and marched from the room, but he caught her back.
‘Don’t leave like this, Rose. Not now, when—’
‘When what?’ she said scornfully. ‘You’ve had your fun with me, James Sinclair. Keep your wretched secrets. I wish you joy of them.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he said in sudden fury. ‘Alex is a hunk of Glaswegian testosterone by the name of Cargill. The woman in the photograph is his girlfriend. She was in and out of here all the time. The perfume must be hers.’ He grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘The cleaning people must have turned it up.’
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