by Penny Jordan
'Those young idiots ought to be thrashed for leaving the greenhouse in such a dangerous state.'
'You certainly arrived just in the nick of time.'
'I saw the sun glint on the glass as it started to slide,' he told her grimly. 'I don't think I've ever run so fast in my whole life. Are you sure you're all right?' He reached out to brush some dead leaves from the grape-vine from her hair, and as he did so his attention was caught by the slight but unmistakable swell of her body.
He felt his breath catch in his throat, everything around him slowing down as his heartbeat speeded up.
'You're pregnant!'
It had arrived; the moment that she had been dreading, Diana realised. She wanted to turn and run from him, to hide herself from the devastating message she could read in his eyes as they moved from her stomach to her face.
'My child… you're carrying my child!'
His voice was hoarse with shock—and something else—it made her panic. She had expected him to question her, but she had not anticipated this degree of certainty, this compelling assumption that her child was his.
Her mouth had gone dry with fear and apprehension. Alarm shivered down her spine, raising the tiny hairs on her body. Even her fingertips tingled with it.
'No…' Her voice croaked out from between her dry lips. 'No Marcus… it isn't yours…'
He focused on her, but seemed unable to see her properly. He looked dazed, shocked, and yet in some way pleased, and Diana knew that her denial hadn't registered.
It frightened her, this feeling coming from him that although he was shocked by his discovery, he was also pleased by it.
'It isn't yours, Marcus,' she told him again, her voice stronger this time.
Now he looked at her, his eyes darkening to the colour of wet slate, his mouth a hard line of displeasure.
'What the hell do you mean?'
'Exactly what I said. This baby…' she touched her stomach lightly, 'is my husband's. This baby is Leslie's.' The moment she said it she felt as though it were true, as though in some way she was having this baby for her friend, the friend whose identity she had deliberately falsified.
But she had had no choice, she pleaded with herself in mitigation. She couldn't allow Marcus to believe that the baby was his—she couldn't.
'You're lying!'
Despite the forceful tone of his voice, Diana had seen the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He was over the shock now, but she could almost see the thoughts teeming through his brain. She would have to be careful… so careful.
'No, Marcus, I'm not lying. I admit that when I… when I went to bed with you I didn't know I was pregnant. The baby must have been conceived just… just before… just before Leslie died.' Somehow she managed to swallow down the bile of wretchedness gathering in her throat.
'The last attempt of a dying man to preserve part of himself for posterity.' He frowned suddenly, his face harshly white and drawn in the bright sunlight. 'You must have come straight from his bed to mine, and yet I could have sworn when we made love that you hadn't had a man in one hell of a long time. He might have given you a child, Diana, but he didn't satisfy you,' he told her cruelly.
She had to stop this. She had to stop him now before he forced her to blurt out the truth.
'You're wrong, Marcus,' she told him huskily. 'He satisfied me in the most intense way it is possible for a man to satisfy a woman. He gave me his child.'
She didn't know where the words had come from, or how she had come by the knowledge that they would hurt the man listening to them; she just knew that they would.
She felt sick inside as she watched him turn away from her. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she had an insane impulse to reach out and touch him, to comfort him in his pain.
He really did care she realised humbly, but he would learn—as she had had to learn—that it was dangerous to allow oneself to care. In the end he would thank her for this.
Just as their child would thank her? She felt the pain of the thought burning through her. What she was doing was wrong! She was denying her child a right to know its father.
'Diana.'
'I think I'll go back to the house, Marcus. I'm feeling rather tired.'
'So cool and remote,' he taunted her, battling against his frustrated anger. 'But you weren't so cool in my arms, were you, my chaste Diana?'
Diana knew that he was deliberately trying to goad her and why, but that didn't stop the warm colour heating her skin.
'That was different. It was just the emotion of the moment.'
'And now you feel nothing for me at all, is that it?' he demanded bitterly.
'Nothing.' She forced herself to say it, and to look away from him as though the denial was true.
She knew he was angry, but she was totally unprepared for the way he seized hold of her, spinning her round in his arms, before locking her against his body in a way that made her feel intensely conscious of the maleness of it. Again within her stomach she felt that faint flutter of new life; almost as though their child sought to make contact with its father.
'So you feel nothing for me do you?'
The hardness of his mouth as it came down on hers bruised her lips, his hands digging into soft flesh as he held her to him, his tongue relentless in its heated exploration.
She tried to blot out what was happening but, as though some alien part of her rebelled against her will, she found herself responding to the savage passion of his embrace.
It was almost as though some part of her had longed and ached for this physical communion; as though some reckless part of her needed this fierce meshing of mouths and bodies.
She could feel the dark tide of pleasure surging through her, heating her blood and making her yearn for more than the possession of his mouth on hers.
She tried to tell herself that it was simply her hormones, that she felt nothing real or emotional for him, but her hands had crept up round his neck, and her breasts throbbed tormentingly as though her very flesh remembered and wanted the sensation of his against it.
She didn't know how long they stood there locked in a deeply sensual embrace; she only knew that it was Marcus who stepped back first, his chest heaving with a mixture of arousal and anger.
'You're a coward, Diana,' he told her thickly. 'You haven't got the guts to admit that you want me as much as I want you, perhaps you're not the woman I thought you were at all.' He walked away from her, turning only when he was several yards away to say curtly, 'If you want me, you know where you can find me.'
And then he was gone, leaving her feeling more bereft than she had ever felt at any other time in her life, including when Leslie died.
It shocked her that she could feel this intensity of emotion for a man she barely knew. A man who was the father of her child, she reminded herself achingly. She wanted to call him back, to run after him, and plead with him to understand. But to understand what? That she was too scared of losing him to commit herself to him?
That she wanted his respect and his friendship but that she couldn't admit the truth about her child to him? No, it was better that they part completely. In the long run it would be easier to deal with.
Shivering with a mixture of reaction and misery, she made her way back to the house. Suddenly all her pleasure in it had been dimmed. She wasn't looking forward to living there alone any more. All she could think about was the way her body ached in the aftermath of Marcus's savage kiss… about her child, and how he or she would feel about not having a father.
Why in God's name had fate elected to bring her here to this town, of all places? Why, oh why couldn't she and Marcus simply have been ships that passed in the night?
She could always move. But she didn't want to; she had lost that impetus that had driven her from London and everything she knew. She felt secure here, oddly so, perhaps in view of her almost daily dread of Marcus discovering the truth, but the worst was over now. He knew about her pregnancy, and he had accepted the story she had told hi
m.
She looked down at herself; it was beginning to show. Now was the time to make her condition public. As a young widow, she would be expected to be delighted at the thought of carrying her husband's child. She could account for her earlier silence on the subject by explaining that she had been frightened of losing the child, as indeed she had, but those critical early months were safely over now. Yes, perhaps it was time for her to publicise the fact that she would soon be a mother.
Her opportunity to do so came sooner than she had expected. The emotional trauma of the morning had left her drained and tired, so in the afternoon she went into the pub garden, and relaxed in a comfortable cane chair.
Ann saw her there as she walked along the river path, heading for the vicarage.
'It's all right for some,' she teased. 'I thought you had a brand new house to decorate and furnish?'
'Don't blame it on me,' Diana called back, patting her stomach meaningfully. 'It's not entirely my fault.'
She saw instantly that Ann had understood her.
'When?' she asked delightedly, coming into the garden.
'Another five months. I've kept it in the dark up until now, because well…' she shrugged. 'After losing Leslie…'
'Yes, of course. You must be thrilled, though.'
'Yes, I am,' Diana agreed truthfully. 'Even if he or she is making me lazy.'
'Oh, it gets worse and not better,' Ann told her ruefully, 'but make the most of it. Once Junior arrives you won't have time for feeling lazy. By the way, I'm here to apologise on behalf of my eldest. Marcus really tore a strip off him this morning. I had no idea they'd left your greenhouse in a dangerous state.'
'I had no idea it was in such a dangerous state in the first place,' Diana reassured her. 'Otherwise I'd never have let them touch it. It makes me feel cold all over just thinking about what might have happened.'
'Well, you're taking it very calmly—unlike Marcus. I can't remember ever seeing him so worked up. He's normally very even-tempered. I've been meaning to ask you round for dinner one evening. Would Saturday night suit you?'
Diana wanted to refuse, sensing there was more to Ann's invitation than met the eye. She suspected Marcus's sister was indulging in more of her matchmaking, but how could she refuse without giving offence?
'The Vicar and his wife will be there. I suspect they want to persuade you to join the Youth Committee; they're always looking for more volunteers for various projects.'
Ann was making it impossible for her to refuse without appearing churlish, and Diana suspected that she was well aware of it, despite her guileless expression.
'In that case… I accept,' she replied wryly. She wasn't going to ask if Marcus would also be there. She suspected that she already knew the answer.
They chatted for a few more minutes before Ann excused herself. She was due at the Vicarage to discuss their plans for the summer fete.
'Marcus normally allows us to hold it in the paddock by the house. This year we're planning to be rather adventurous and hold a dance afterwards, but we'll need to organise an extra large marquee. If you can spare the time and you've got any organisational abilities at all, you'd be a godsend on the committee. Are you interested?'
She really ought to refuse, but she was good at organising, and surely that was one of the reasons she had come to a small country town, because she wanted to be involved in the activities. It would be six weeks or so before the shop could open. She would have the time.
'If you think I could be any help, I'd certainly be willing to give it a try.'
'Marvellous—why don't you come with me now? Kath will be thrilled; organising these things normally falls on her lap, and she's so busy as it is. You'd never believe how busy a Vicar's wife can be. She doesn't have a moment to call her own some days.'
Ann was one of those women who had the gift of involving others in whatever she was doing. She would have made a first-rate headmistress, Diana reflected humorously, as she allowed herself to be gently bullied into going with her.
In the event, the meeting proved quite interesting. In addition to Kath Fielding, the Vicar's wife, there were half a dozen other women present including representatives from the Mothers' Union, the Women's Guild, and the Gardening Society; and Diana soon found herself elected to take charge of the overall organisation of the fete with a responsibility to report back to Kath Fielding as and when necessary.
'You've no idea what a burden you've lifted from my shoulders,' Kath confided a little later when only Diana and Ann were left. 'With so many different groups involved, each wanting to outdo the other it can get a little wearing, and as the Vicar's wife, I'm supposed to remain completely impartial—believe me, Solomon had it easy.'
They all laughed, including Diana, who commented, 'I'm not sure I like the sound of that.'
'Don't worry about it, you'll be able to be much firmer with them than I can. Watch out for Marie Philips, she'll try and railroad you into allowing the Women's Guild extra stalls and that always causes problems with the Mothers' Union.'
'And don't worry that you'll be expected to take on any physical work—that side of it will be organised by the men. Diana's expecting,' Ann explained to Kath.
'Are you? How lovely! I miss our two now that they're grown up and living away from home, although of course it's a terrible shame that your husband won't be here to share the pleasure with you.'
As always, Diana felt extremely uncomfortable at the mention of her imaginary husband. It made her feel guilty to be on the receiving end of so much sympathy and concern when she did not truly merit it, but fortunately Kath put her reticence down to the fact that she found it too upsetting to talk about her husband, and changed the subject.
Was it always going to be like this? Diana wondered later as she prepared for bed. Was she always going to have this guilty feeling that she was deceiving people and cheating her own child? But what alternative did she have? If she told Marcus the truth he might try to take her child away from her, or worse still, he might let her keep it, but try to involve himself in their lives in some way.
She had been forced to revise her opinion of him. She was coming to realise that, far from being the uncaring macho type who jumped into bed with any female who made herself available, he was a deeply caring human being, who would never allow her to keep his child away from him.
At first, she had thought he was pursuing her simply because she was sexually convenient, but now she suspected that she had been wrong; that there was more to it than that and that he actually cared for her as a person; as a woman. But how could that be? He was so unlike the brittle selfish men she was used to that she found it hard to understand him. She was drawn to him both physically and emotionally, but it would be too dangerous to allow those feelings to develop; she had to curb them now. She told herself that she simply wanted someone to love, someone to fill the emptiness of her life, but her child would fill that space. She didn't need anyone else.
She drifted off to sleep, her mind a jumble of unhappy and conflicting thoughts.
In the morning she didn't feel much better. Guilt lingered like a nasty taste in the mouth, clouding her previous happiness.
Today the decorators started work, and she wanted to be there when they arrived. After an early breakfast she made her way on foot down to the house.
The scent of new wood still hung on the air.
She saw the decorators' van draw up outside from an upstairs window, and went down slowly to let them in. A cheery red-headed man in white overalls introduced himself as the 'leader of the gang'.
'I'm Roger, and these other two lackeys are Judy and Phil respectively.'
Judy was a small gamine-faced girl with the shortest haircut Diana had ever seen, while Phil was extremely tall and thin with a worried-looking face.
Diana had already approved the sketches of the mural submitted to her, and she showed the small band into the downstairs shop, pointing out the area where the children's books would be sold.
Roger gave Diana a winning smile as she led him upstairs to her own quarters. 'I'm told that you want to keep everything simple up here, in keeping with the age and style of the building. Soft magnolia on the walls and ceilings, that sort of thing.'
'That's right. I felt that wallpaper would be out of place here, and much as I love all the new paint finishes, I don't feel they're right for this particular building.'
'Wise of you,' Roger agreed. 'You must have very strong willpower. Most of our clients do it the other way round; they say, "I know that periodically it isn't quite right, but I love it so much".'
Was she strong-willed? She digested his comment in silence. Perhaps she was, but surely that wasn't a bad thing for a woman living on her own with a child to bring up. She would need to be strong-willed.
She went back downstairs with Roger and watched as the other two started outlining the mural. Already the strong smell of paint was beginning to make her feel nauseous, and so she excused herself. She might as well drive into Hereford and check up on the progress the shop was making with her curtains. She still hadn't made up her mind about new bedding and furniture for her bedroom. Ann had mentioned to her a firm that specialised in reproduction furniture of all types. They had a small factory on the outskirts of Hereford that the public were welcome to visit. She would have to ask her exactly where it was. On impulse, instead of driving straight to Hereford, she detoured to the attractive farmhouse where Ann lived with her husband and children. In addition to the house they owned a substantial number of outbuildings and two small paddocks. Theirs was an ideal situation for a busy country vet. Her husband worked from one of the converted barns. Several cars were already drawn up outside in the courtyard. Diana parked alongside them and made her way to the house.
Ann answered the door on her second knock, beaming from ear to ear when she saw her.
'Come in. You're looking very well. She looks blooming, doesn't she, Marcus?' she called over her shoulder.