She sat clutching the wheel with sweaty hands, her heart pounding, poised to flee like a bird. She did not want to face this. Not tonight, not when Ryan’s reentry into her life had shaken her up so much.

But then a dark figure loomed up next to her van, and it was too late to flee.

She lowered her window slowly. Ryan leaned down, his handsome face speckled with snowflakes, and smiled at her. “I’m glad you came,” he said softly.

“You wretch,” she retorted. “You didn’t tell me there would be anyone else.”

“They’re leaving in a short while,” he told her. “In any case, you know them both, Penny. And they’re dying to see you. Switch off your engine and come in.”

An English-literature graduate, MADELEINE KER has been writing for over two decades. Her first Harlequin romance novel was titled Aquamarine, and was published in 1983. Since then, she has penned thirty-three novels for Harlequin as well as a number of thrillers. She describes herself as “a compulsive writer,” and is very excited by the way women’s fiction is evolving. She is also a compulsive traveler and has lived in many different parts of the world, including Britain, Italy, Spain and South Africa. She has a young family (whom she has “relentlessly dragged around the world”) and a number of pets.

The Alpha Male

Madeleine Ker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Alpha Male

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

IT STARTED being a bad morning when Hippy Dave backed his van into the workshop door at five o’clock in the morning.

Hippy Dave was one of Penny’s less orthodox suppliers. He and his wife, Chandra Dawn, roamed the country, haunting village fairs. They also collected natural things that Penny could use for her arrangements, like interesting pieces of driftwood, bark, dried moss, dead bulrushes and the like.

They often came up with unusual material that Penny couldn’t easily find elsewhere, so she welcomed their irregular visits. But she also suspected that Dave and the ethereal Chandra Dawn had other uses for the natural things they harvested; so when she heard the crunch of her workshop door being splintered by Dave’s fender, she went out in a thoroughly bad temper.

‘Dave! Have you been eating those magic mushrooms again?’

His tousled head emerged from the window of the rainbow-coloured van. ‘Sorry, Penny,’ he said shamefacedly. ‘Wasn’t concentrating.’

‘Oh, Dave,’ she said as she examined the damage. ‘This is all I need!’

Dave hopped out of the van, wearing overalls and a pair of yellow boots. ‘Just didn’t notice the door was open, Pen.’

The workshop of Penny’s florist shop opened into a mews, which was useful for deliveries, and where she parked her own smart little red van with its proud logo, PENELOPE WATKINS, FLOWERS & DéCOR. It had been while manoeuvring round her van, to get his own vehicle as close to the workshop entrance as possible, that Hippy Dave had caught the opened door. It now hung mournfully off its hinges.

‘I’ll fix the door, I promise,’ Dave said, squatting to take a closer look at the damage.

‘No, thank you,’ Penny said firmly. She’d had previous experience of Dave’s odd-job capabilities and knew she’d be better off getting a carpenter. And it would be useless asking Hippy Dave to foot the bill; he and Chandra Dawn were perennially broke.

As though reading her thoughts, Dave spread his grimy hands. ‘Tell you what. You can have all the stuff in the van for free. Make it up to you, at least in part. OK?’

‘You’d better get out of here before Ariadne arrives,’ Penny said. ‘She’ll skin you alive.’

Dave’s watery blue eyes widened as he contemplated the wisdom of this advice. Penny’s associate Ariadne Baker, half-Greek and with a Homeric temper to match, was not one of his biggest fans. She had expressed her opinion of his shortcomings loudly and pointedly on previous occasions.

‘Yeah, you’re right. Look, let’s get the gear out of the van. I brought you something real special this time. It’s yours for nuffink.’

‘Oh, don’t bother. Just clear off.’

‘Take it off my hands. Nobody else will buy this old rubbish,’ Dave whined. ‘I mean, this lovely natural object, sculpted by nature’s own hand. Have a look, Pen!’

‘Let’s see what you’ve got, then,’ Penny sighed, too depressed to want to look at the ruined door any longer.

Hippy Dave threw open the back door of his van to reveal what looked like an entire tree crammed in among boxes and crates.

‘What am I supposed to do with that?’ Penny asked blankly.

‘It’s lovely,’ Dave said, hauling the thing out of the van. ‘You’ll see. There! What do you think of that?’

‘I’m a florist, not a tree surgeon,’ Penny said, looking at the enormous branch Dave had produced. ‘This is no good to me!’

‘Look at the shapes in there,’ Dave said, half closing his eyes and waving his hands vaguely, the better to visualise nature’s handiwork. ‘That silvery bark is beautiful, and look at those strands of moss. That’s magic, that is!’

‘Dave, please take it away,’ Penny said. ‘I can’t use it.’

‘It’s unique!’

‘It’s useless. I don’t want it.’

Dave opened his mouth to argue, but just then a new voice joined the conversation.

‘What’s going on here?’

It was Ariadne Baker, who had just arrived, wrapped up against the frosty morning in a military overcoat, a cigarette in one hand, the other clutching a plastic cup of coffee she’d bought from a roadside stall on her way into town.

Twice-married and twice-divorced, Ariadne was a dramatically pretty woman around thirty, some seven years older than Penny, with jet-black hair and bright green eyes.

Those eyes hardened now as they took in the scene. ‘What’s that piece of dead tree for? And what happened to our door? Dave?’

Hippy Dave was not known for decisive movements, but a lifetime of evading the long arm of the law had given him a heightened instinct for self-preservation. He dropped the branch and hopped nimbly into his van.

‘Be seeing you, Pen,’ he called out of the window as the worn-out engine rattled into life.

And then the rainbow van was bounding down the mews, its still open back door waving a disreputable farewell to the two women.

‘He’s smashed our door!’ Ariadne gasped.

‘Yes,’ Penny said.

‘And he’s left that rotten old tree for us to clear up!’

‘Also true.’

‘I’ll have his guts for garters!’

‘You’ll have to catch him first,’ Penny pointed out. ‘He’ll be halfway to London by now. Help me get the branch inside.’

‘We don’t want that horrible old thing in our nice clean workshop!’ Ariadne exclaimed.

‘No,’ Penny said patiently, ‘but we need to be able to get our vans up to the door. And we can’t leave it lying in the mews or everybody will complain, and the council will fine us. So give me a hand.’

Ariadne’s father was a retired colonel—he had met and married her Cypriot mother in Nicosia—and Ariadne expressed her opinion of Hippy Dave in choice, parade-ground language as they hauled the branch into the workshop.

It was, as Ariadne had pointed out, always kept spotlessly clean. There were three work benches, one for Penny, one for Ariadne, and one for Tara, the woman who helped out three days a week. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Dried materials were stored in sheaves on wooden racks, there were large plastic bins for waste, and in the corner stood their most expensive piece of equipment, a climate-controlled cupboard for delicate fresh plants like orchids.

There was a huge sink crowded with zinc buckets for cut flowers, and a ‘control corner’ with their work book and a chalk board where they kept track of orders. Beside it stood a shelf for the kettle and mugs, which provided the constant flow of life-giving beverages—coffee for Ariadne and tea for Penny—which kept them going from before dawn till late afternoon.

The shop part of their business was partitioned off, and faced the High Street. It looked bare right now because they had yet to go to the market to buy flowers for the day.

‘Damn Hippy Dave,’ Ariadne panted, as they lugged the dead branch into a corner. ‘He’s a useless, addle-headed idiot!’

‘We’d better get moving,’ Penny said, checking her watch, ‘we’re late for the market. We can’t lock the back door now that Dave has broken it. Why don’t you go on your own, Ariadne? I’ll stay here and try to get hold of Miles. Maybe I’ll make some pot-pourri arrangements.’

‘All right,’ Ariadne said, dusting bits of moss and bark off her greatcoat. ‘Arrange for a hit man to take Dave out, too, would you?’

‘I’ll dial M for Murder,’ Penny promised. ‘Here’s the list, don’t forget it.’

When Ariadne had raced off to the market, Penny perched by the phone and called Miles Clampett. He was sure to charge an exorbitant fee. He always did. They had met when she had done the flowers for his brother’s wedding two months earlier. They had gone out for a few weeks after the wedding, but it had ended quickly, after his sense of humour wore thin on her. They were still on good terms. He was expensive. But he was the only handyman she knew who would come out right away, with no hesitation.

Though it was still well before six, she had no compunction about calling—this was an emergency.

A sleepy murmur answered her call.

‘Miles, it’s Penny Watkins. Sorry to do this to you, but Hippy Dave knocked my door off its hinges a few minutes ago, and I need a carpenter really, really, really badly.’

‘Anything for you,’ he yawned.

‘You are awake, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘And you promise you’ll come this morning? As in—now? We’re in and out all day, and unless I can lock the place up—’

‘All right, all right,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll beam down from my spaceship. Give me half an hour.’

‘Bless you,’ she said, hanging up.

She made herself a cup of tea and set to work making room perfumers. It was undemanding work—arranging dried flowers in pots and sprinkling them with aromatherapy essences—but the arrangements were popular and sold steadily. She had an excellent eye for shape and colour, and she always had an assortment of pretty porcelain containers on hand. She put some of those to good use now.

By seven-thirty, her sensitive nose had had about as much as it could take of ‘Floral Bouquet’ and patchouli oil. She loved flowers and everything about them—their smells, their colours, their textures; but synthetic versions of any of those usually wearied her sensitive faculties, and that was particularly so with smells.

She went into the shop, pulling off her cap and untying her hair. It fell in rich auburn waves around her shoulders. Penny was slender and ivory-skinned, with dark blue, almost violet eyes and a full, slightly melancholy mouth. She was twenty-three, but it sometimes seemed as though she were still trembling on the brink of full womanhood, like a flower that had half opened, and was waiting for the clouds to part so that the sun could bring her to full glory.

There had certainly been clouds in her life so far. Not everything had gone right for her. But she had struggled to overcome adversity, and had usually succeeded, though the price she had paid was perhaps visible in that poignant mouth.

The blinds were still drawn, but through them she could see activity in the High Street. The town was waking up. Buses were running. It was turning out bright, though the rime of frost on everything had yet to melt.

She turned on the computer, and, while it booted up, considered this Wednesday in late autumn. It was going to be a busy day, and it would not help to have Miles underfoot, hammering and sawing away at the broken door, demanding tea every ten minutes.

There were several bouquets to make and deliver all over town. There was a funeral at one of the cemeteries, and several mourners had ordered wreaths and floral tributes. Though she and Ariadne had already assembled most of these, the finishing touches had to be made, and they would need to be taken to the chapel of rest well on time.

Then there was the mayoral dinner tonight. Penny was doing it for the first time, and she was anxious that nothing should go wrong. There was a lot of work involved, very little of which could be prepared in advance. For a start, there were sixty-five vases of fresh flowers to arrange, then the four tables themselves to set out and lay, plus the several larger flower arrangements that would greet the guests in the lobby and flank the high table.

She had long since agreed all the details with Her Worship’s office, and she would need to be at the town hall by four at the latest, to start work.

She made herself her second cup of tea of the morning, and waited impatiently for Ariadne to arrive back from the flower market. There had been a lot of things to buy. Perhaps she should have gone with Ariadne. And where was Miles?

She heard the purr of a car in the High Street and looked up over her teacup. A steel-grey sports car, sleek and obviously very expensive, had pulled up outside the shop. Penny frowned, wondering who this could be, at this early hour.

The tall figure of a man got out of the car. She could not see him clearly through the blinds, but there was no question that he was looking into the shop windows as though to see if anyone was inside. She sat still, wondering why there was something so familiar about that tall, dark silhouette.

Then he knocked on the door. A hard, peremptory knock that made her heart sink. Getting a struggling business onto its feet had brought her into contact with all kinds of knocks on the door. Knocks like this one invariably brought trouble. She searched swiftly through her mind. Who did she owe money to? Had she left any taxes unpaid? Bills unsettled? She could think of nothing. Though she was still struggling, she had hoped she had left those precarious days behind her at last.

Her heart filled with unease, she went to the door and unbolted it. Cold morning air blew in her face as she swung it open.

‘I’m sorry, we’re not open yet,’ she began to say. But the words froze in her throat.

She was looking into the unsmiling face of the handsomest man she had ever seen.

And also the last man in all the world she wanted to see.

‘My God, I’ve found you at last,’ he whispered, holding her gaze with those grey eyes that could be as cold as the Arctic sea, or blaze like the sun off ice.

Involuntarily, she took a step back. He came into the shop and closed the door behind them. He was much taller than Penny, and he towered over her.

‘Ryan, you have no right to be here,’ she said in a tight voice. But her heart was racing as though it would burst out of her chest, and she felt her stomach churning. Such familiar feelings, when faced with Ryan Wolfe; they accompanied him the way wild winds and lightning accompanied winter storms.

‘Did you think I wouldn’t find you?’ he demanded, his gaze still locked on hers, as though he were drinking her in through his eyes.

Penny clenched her jaw. ‘I didn’t want you to follow me, Ryan. Why did you bother? What was the point?’

‘The point is that I can’t live without you,’ he replied.

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment at the harshly spoken words, but she forced herself to answer him. ‘Well, I can live without you,’ she said with a sketch of a smile. ‘I’ve been doing so for eleven months, two weeks and five days. Very happily, I might add.’

At last he tore his gaze away from her and glanced around the shop. His passionate, beautiful mouth curled. ‘You’re happy with this? When you know what I could give you!’

Anger brought a flush to her delicately sculpted cheekbones. ‘Don’t condescend to me, Ryan. Nothing is ever as good as what you can offer, is it? You hold everyone and everything in contempt.’

He shook his head slightly. ‘That’s not true. But I do know that I would give you the sun and the moon if you asked for them.’

She turned away. ‘You’re so sure of yourself. Haven’t all these months taught you anything?’

‘Time just deepens my feelings,’ he said, his voice husky. His eyes were devouring her again, hungry, more than hungry, ravenous. Her skin flared in gooseflesh as she recalled how very physical his hunger could be, how he could devour her body and soul in that fiery passion of his. ‘How could you do this to us, Penny? How do you manage to hide yourself from the truth?’

She turned back to him abruptly. ‘You shouldn’t have come here. Do you want to break both our hearts all over again?’

‘I want to make us whole.’ He took her arm in his hand, and as though his touch had burned her, Penny jerked away from him.

‘Don’t touch me!’

Ryan’s frown had relaxed for a moment, but at her rejection his face tightened again. ‘Do you know what you’ve put me through? It’s taken me almost a year to find you! You’ve hidden here under a false name, a false identity—’

‘Not exactly,’ she cut in. ‘Watkins is Aubrey’s name. My stepfather. I’m entitled to use it.’

‘You used it to hide yourself from me.’

‘You should have taken the hint,’ she retorted.

‘Penny, you can’t bury yourself here. You can’t bury all the passion we feel for each other.’

‘Passion dies, Ryan. I didn’t have to bury it. It grew cold as soon as I managed to get away from you.’ He began to speak but she stopped him by raising a slender hand. ‘I thought you had understood, a year ago. It’s over, forever. Your following me here was a bad mistake. Please go, now. And don’t come back.’

If she’d expected her little speech to make any impact on Ryan, she was disappointed. Those grey eyes, framed by such thick black lashes that they gave the appearance of smouldering like embers, considered her with all their force, all their damnable intelligence. ‘You don’t love me any longer?’ he asked quietly.

‘I don’t think I ever did,’ she replied.

His hair was longer than it had been in London. Then, it had been cropped short and kept neat, as befitted a young, dynamic, self-made millionaire on his way up the dizzy ladder. Now it had grown. Thick black locks half covered his ears and curled round his powerful neck; dishevelled by the wind, his hair looked almost wild, like the pelt of some glossy animal. He had either made it to the top of the ladder, and no longer cared what he looked like—or this was a different, even more dangerous Ryan Wolfe from the one she had known.

The tall and rangy body, too, looked leaner, though it was hard to tell, as he wore a sheepskin jacket against the bitter cold. The fleecy lining framed his sculpted jaw and muscular throat.

Who knew, with Ryan? Perhaps he had lost a fortune in some disastrous gamble? He was studying her now with cryptic eyes, his thumb rasping across the unshaven stubble that dotted his lean jaw, a gesture she remembered of old.

‘Penny, please grant me one thing,’ he said, evidently struggling to keep his temper. ‘I want to see our child.’

She felt an icy hand close around her heart. ‘Our child? What are you talking about?’

‘The child you bore,’ he said sharply. ‘The baby we made together. Where is he? Or is it a she?’

Her knees were so weak that she almost had to sit down. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what happened, Ryan! That is cruel, even by your standards!’

His face became like stone. ‘What happened? Tell me.’

She looked into his eyes. Could it really be that he didn’t know? It was unlike him to play such cruel tricks, though he was capable of being very devious.

‘There is no child, Ryan,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I miscarried.’

For a moment it seemed he did not understand. ‘What?’

‘I had a miscarriage at three months. I lost the baby.’

His complexion was usually tanned, with ruddy touches on the harsh cheekbones and in his full mouth. But now she saw the blood drain from his face, leaving him white. ‘I don’t believe you.’

She turned away wearily. ‘I got sick. Encephalitis. I was in hospital for two weeks. One of the side-effects was the miscarriage. It happened while I was in a coma, so I knew nothing about it until days afterwards.’

His fingers bit into her shoulders, pulling her round to face his blazing eyes. ‘Is this true?’

‘I would not lie about this,’ she said bitterly. ‘Didn’t you get my letter?’

‘What letter?’

‘I wrote you a letter. When I was discharged from hospital.’ She saw by his face that he didn’t know what she was talking about. He had never received her letter. ‘I don’t know why you didn’t get it. I just assumed you had received it and didn’t want to reply. I’m sorry you had to hear it like this.’

He covered his face with his hands. There was no doubting his emotion.

For a moment, pity for him almost melted her own heart. She felt her eyes mist over, and the familiar hot lump of grief filled her throat. She lifted one hand to reach out to him. Her shaking fingers hesitated in the air, not quite having the courage to make that journey across so much space.

At last, his hands dropped away from his face. ‘Tell me the truth,’ he said. ‘Did you end the pregnancy?’

She was so shocked that she felt herself go limp for a moment. ‘No, Ryan!’

‘Did you get rid of our baby because you had no further use for me?’ Pain and anger had brought his dark brows down, and his mouth was harsh.

‘No!’

He grasped her arms so tightly that she knew there would be marks on her delicate skin. But far more painful was the expression in his eyes, which tore her very soul in half. ‘Promise me!’

She opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what words she could use that would persuade him she had not done the terrible thing he accused her of.

But just then, the shop seemed to fill up with people.

Ariadne came in from the workshop, calling out, ‘Pen, they didn’t have near enough yellow gladioli, so I got cream, is that OK?’

And the shop door opened to admit Miles Clampett, carrying his carpenter’s tool kit in one hand and two cartons in the other.

‘I brought in your milk,’ he said, his alert eyes flickering from Ryan to Penny and back again. ‘Hello, earthlings! Hope I’m not interrupting anything?’

CHAPTER TWO

RYAN’S grip on her arms relaxed, and Penny stepped back.

‘Cream gladioli are fine, Ariadne,’ she said in a flat voice. ‘Thanks for coming, Miles. The damage is out at the back. Ariadne will show you.’

Taking the hint, Ariadne led Miles through to the workshop. Both of them were clearly bursting with curiosity about their strange visitor and the palpable air of tension in the shop. Ariadne, who could be guaranteed never to let an eligible male pass unnoticed, gave Ryan an alluring smile as she passed by.

Ryan gave her a curt nod by way of reply, and as soon as they were alone, he turned on Penny with burning eyes. ‘Penny, please swear that you are telling me the truth!’

‘I refuse to swear anything,’ she said, her lips numb. ‘Why shouldn’t you believe me?’

‘You threatened you would end the pregnancy!’

‘Yes, I know I said I would, but—’

‘I didn’t for a moment think you meant it.’

‘I didn’t mean it,’ she said passionately. ‘It was one of those crazy things people say when they’re desperate.’

‘You threatened to abort the pregnancy if I followed you,’ Ryan reminded her brutally. ‘Did I ever do anything to make you that desperate?’

‘I’ll say it once more,’ Penny said with a sensation like an iron band around her heart. ‘I contracted encephalitis. I almost died in that hospital. And when I was finally myself again, I had to deal with the loss of my baby. I would have done anything to avoid that. But there was nothing I could do!’

‘Everything OK, love?’ Ariadne asked, returning from the workshop, where Miles had started hammering industriously.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Penny said in a dull voice.

Ariadne was staring at Ryan Wolfe with unabashed interest. In the few moments she had been in the back, Penny noticed ironically, she had found time to apply lipstick, brush her hair, lose the army greatcoat and unfasten the top button of her blouse to reveal the luscious curves of her breasts. In the absence of any inclination on Penny’s part to offer introductions, she waltzed in where angels would have feared to tread.

‘And this good-looking gentleman is…?’

Penny had no idea how best to answer that innocent question. My ex-lover. My nemesis. The phrases flitted through her head, but it was Ryan who answered.

‘I’m a prospective client,’ he said levelly.

‘Oh, goody,’ Ariadne purred. ‘Do you live locally?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced at Ariadne. A peony to Penny’s rosebud, Ariadne had curves that Penny would never match, and a coquettish manner to go with them. ‘I’m staying in Northcote Hall, on the Dover Road.’

‘Northcote?’ Ariadne repeated with interest. ‘Oh, we know it well, don’t we, Penny? Such a beautiful old place. Do you know the family?’

‘I’m renting the house for the moment,’ he replied. ‘I may buy it if it turns out to suit my purpose.’ He made it sound as though buying that beautiful country house was a mere bagatelle to him, and Ariadne positively glowed.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ she gushed. She was reacting to Ryan the way all women invariably did on first meeting him, Penny saw—greedy fish dying to bite that delicious bait, never seeing the steel hook that lay within.

Ryan shrugged slightly. ‘The important thing is that I plan to do a lot of entertaining there. I’m not married, and I need someone to take care of my table arrangements, flowers, décor, that sort of thing.’

‘Our speciality,’ Ariadne beamed. ‘Isn’t it, Penny? We’re the best there is.’

Whether Ryan had arrived with this story already concocted, or whether he was making it up as he went along, Penny couldn’t tell. ‘We’re already far too busy,’ she said in a clipped voice. ‘I’m sorry, but we really can’t take on any new clients at the moment.’

Ariadne didn’t miss a beat. ‘Please forgive my associate,’ she said, patting Penny’s shoulder, ‘she suffers from a rare speech impediment that makes her say no, no, no when she means yes, yes, yes. How often were you planning on entertaining…? I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.’

‘Ryan Wolfe,’ he replied. ‘And I generally need to throw at least one dinner party each week, generally on weekends. Around twelve people, sometimes more.’

‘Perfect,’ Ariadne said. ‘We’re all dying of boredom here. I hope you’re going to bring all sorts of wonderfully interesting people to our little backwater! By the way, I’m Ariadne Baker. You obviously already know Penny Watkins. We’re the best you could get, Mr Wolfe. Penny’s doing the Lord Mayor’s banquet tonight, as a matter of fact—the flowers, the place settings, everything. If you can take a peek into the Hall tonight around seven, you’ll see what she’s capable of.’

‘I might just do that,’ Ryan said meaningfully.

‘I know she’s just a baby,’ Ariadne gushed. ‘A mere twenty-three. But so much talent, and with me to guide her—’

‘I understand,’ Ryan said drily.

‘When do you want to have your first dinner party, Mr Wolfe?’

‘Well, I’m still refurbishing the house. It needs some tender, loving care. If I can get it looking halfway decent, I might ask one or two people to dinner on Saturday.’

‘We do weddings on Saturdays,’ Penny said shortly. ‘We always have our hands full. Sorry.’

Ariadne squirmed. ‘But we can make space! If you give us the job, your party will be beautiful, believe me. All your parties will be beautiful.’

‘Sorry to interrupt again.’ It was Miles, his arms sprinkled with wood shavings. He leaned in the doorway, giving them all the benefit of the knowing smirk Penny had once thought so amusing. ‘Only, Hippy Dave has smashed your door good and proper. I’m going to need some planks.’ He rubbed thumb and forefinger together meaningfully. ‘The lumber yard won’t give me credit for my handsome face.’

Penny felt like an automaton as she broke away from the conversation, which had taken a nightmarish turn. ‘How much do you need?’ she asked, opening her purse.

‘How much have you got?’ Miles grinned. Before she realised what he was doing, he came over to her and threw an arm familiarly around her waist. Pulling her intimately close, so he could look in her purse, he dipped a sawdust-coated hand deftly inside, and came out with three or four notes. ‘This’ll do,’ he said.

While they’d still been going out, a few weeks back, that might just have passed as acceptable, but right now he knew he was about ten miles out of line.

And then he kissed her soundly on the cheek. ‘Thanks, darling,’ he said wickedly. ‘For an earth woman, you are surprisingly un-hideous.’

He walked out, looking very pleased with his sense of humour. Of all the times for him to decide to play the fool! She caught Ryan’s smouldering gaze on her, and felt his contempt. Unable to explain anything, she gave him a defiant look.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ she said coolly. ‘Whatever Ariadne may think, we’re very busy, and we won’t be taking on any new clients.’

‘Penny!’ Ariadne said urgently. ‘Of course we can take Mr Wolfe on!’

Ryan held Penny’s eyes for a moment longer, then checked his watch, a wafer-thin sliver of gold she had not seen before. ‘I have to be in London in two hours. But I’ll be back. I will attempt to persuade you otherwise. I can be a very generous employer.’

‘We’re interested,’ Ariadne said, obviously getting desperate as Ryan moved towards the door, ‘we’re very interested, Mr Wolfe! Won’t you take one of our business cards?’

The grey eyes examined her. ‘Please call me Ryan,’ he said coolly. ‘And I won’t forget to come back. I’m sorry to leave so abruptly. My timing is a little off key lately. I hope you’ll get used to it.’

‘Oh,’ Ariadne said, ‘we can work around your schedule, I’m sure!’

Ryan nodded his thanks, then stared into Penny’s eyes. His gaze was intense. ‘I’ll get back in touch. And when I do, I will want an explanation, Penny.’

His broad shoulders, snugly clad in sheepskin, swung through the door. It slammed shut.

Ariadne hurried to the blind to peer out. ‘Look at that car! My God! Sex on wheels!’

‘It’s just a car, Ariadne,’ Penny replied wearily.

‘I’m not talking about the car, baby.’ She watched as the sports car accelerated away, then turned to Penny with bright eyes. ‘I never met anyone who was truly magnetic before. But that man is! If I was a bunch of iron filings I’d be coating him in a fine layer!’

‘You practically were,’ Penny retorted.

‘It’s going to be such fun working for him! Why are you so anti?’

Ariadne tilted her head on one side. ‘You know him, don’t you?’ she said, her eyes narrowing to green slits. ‘He didn’t just walk off the street at eight o’clock in the morning. Who is he?’

‘He’s nobody.’ Tension was slowly ebbing out of her. The shock of being with Ryan after nearly twelve months of separation—and all that had happened in that time—had left her feeling weak. She sat behind the desk and rested her forehead in her hand, feeling nauseous.

‘Oh, yes, he’s nobody, all right,’ Ariadne said scornfully. ‘The most wonderful hunk to ever set foot in this staid old town, and he’s nobody? Who are you trying to kid?’

Penny looked up at Ariadne. Though Ariadne was practically a partner in the business, and a good friend, she knew nothing about her time in London or any of its consequences. She didn’t know a thing about Ryan, about their break-up, about the encephalitis or the miscarriage.

And if she knew what Ryan’s world was like, and the nature of the ‘wonderfully interesting people’ he was likely to bring to this staid old town, she would be even more stupidly infatuated with him.

‘I knew him some time ago,’ she said tersely. ‘It ended badly. That’s all.’

‘I knew it!’ Ariadne exulted. ‘And now he’s come back to find you?’

‘I think it’s just a horrible coincidence,’ she lied.

Ariadne gave Penny a shrewd look. ‘He’s rich, right?’

‘When I knew him, he was very rich,’ Penny confirmed.

‘So when he throws a dinner party, it’s really a big occasion?’

Penny made a face. ‘Yes.’

‘And he’s going to do this every week? Honey, whatever happened between you and him, we can’t afford to turn down that kind of money! We’ve got bills to pay, remember? Light, rent, flowers, the vehicles?’

‘I remember,’ Penny said, pressing her fingers into her eyes.

‘So when he comes back to you—you are going to say a big yes, aren’t you?’

Penny got up and walked out of the back. ‘We’ve got work to do. Let’s see these cream gladioli you’ve bought.’

‘You will, won’t you?’ Ariadne pressed, catching up with Penny. ‘You will say yes to the money?’

‘Money is nice, isn’t it?’ Penny said, swinging the back door of the van open to reveal a colourful mountain of fresh flowers. ‘But it depends what you have to do for it in return. Sometimes the price is just too high. Come on, we’re late already, and we’ve got a lot of work to do.’

Ryan’s arrival that morning had released a flood of memories and emotions that she’d been valiantly holding back behind some mental dam deep within herself. Though the day was so busy that she hardly had a moment to draw breath, Penny thought about him every second. Thought about what had existed between them, what they had shared and lost.

Most of all, she thought about the expression in his eyes when he’d accused her of aborting their child.

Naturally, he would see it like that.

It was true that she had made that horrible threat. But of course she’d never had any intention of ever carrying it out! She’d been desperate, and could think of no other threat that would stop him from following her. What had happened to her had seemed like a fateful punishment—though she’d already been sick with the brain inflammation that had almost killed her when she’d said those words.

Why had her letter never reached him? She remembered writing it.

When he didn’t reply, or come to her, she’d just assumed that he had been unable to forgive what she’d done.

That his silence was his answer.

But in those agonised days after she’d been discharged from St Cyprian’s, her mind had not been working properly. Perhaps she had never posted it. Perhaps even writing it had been a dream.

Certainly, Ryan had never come to her, though she had thought he would. She had been so alone, with no comfort and no hope.

He had not come, and she had moved on.

Now, as she worked busily in the banqueting hall, she reflected on how far she had travelled since those dark days. Penny had been determined that her previous life would just cease to exist, that she would make a brand-new start. And that was what she had achieved.

She was never going to be so madly unhappy again.

She looked down the high table with a critical eye. Everything looked beautiful! Each place setting was a work of art. Tara was still setting out the individual vases of flowers. Penny had made them low and wide, so they wouldn’t be knocked over easily, and so that Her Worship’s guests wouldn’t have to peer round them to talk to each other.

The big arrangements that flanked the tables had turned out spectacular, even though the yellow gladioli she had envisioned had been toned down to a more subtle cream.

And everything went perfectly with the big centrepiece she had set up in the square formed by the four long tables. That space was to have been left empty, but at the last minute she’d had a brainwave. She was particularly proud of that.

The mayor and her private secretary bustled in now to take a last look. Her Worship was a diminutive, fiercely energetic woman who prided herself on her modern views—which was why, Penny suspected, she had chosen a newcomer to do her banquet, rather than one of the well-established, but old-fashioned, town florists.

‘It’s exquisite!’ she enthused, patting Penny on the shoulder. ‘Truly magnificent, Miss Watkins. That centrepiece is wonderful!’

‘Thank you,’ Penny smiled.

‘A perfect autumnal note,’ the mayor went on. ‘The bare branches giving a home to new life, the old nurturing the new—it’s quite an illustration of my mayoralty, don’t you think, Daphne?’

‘Absolutely, Your Worship,’ the obsequious secretary chimed, her timing as perfect as a Swiss clock.

‘Very original, Penny,’ the mayor affirmed. ‘I don’t know where you creative people get all your ideas!’

Hippy Dave had helped with this one, though she could scarcely tell the mayor that; for the spectacular centrepiece was none other than the dead tree that he had brought to her workshop that morning.

Penny had attacked it with a saw borrowed from Miles Clampett, had trimmed it into a more elegant shape, then had decorated the bare branches with birds’ nests—each nest containing a brood of fluffy ‘chicks’—gold and silver ribbon and flower buds on the point of opening. Artfully lit with concealed highlighters, it looked stark and exciting.

‘I think you can count on my patronage next year,’ the mayor murmured into Penny’s ear as she left. ‘Well done, Penny!’

And thus, Penny smiled to herself, had the humblest of the mayor’s flock contributed to the banquet in no small way. She could almost forgive Hippy Dave.

Tara had finished setting out the posies. It was now over to the caterers and the master of ceremonies. She got ready to leave, winding her scarf around her slender throat. It had been a long, cold day, and she was looking forward to getting back to her own nest.

With a final word to Tara, she slipped out of the banquet hall—and straight into a pair of strong arms that closed possessively around her slim frame.

‘Not so fast,’ Ryan said.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped, looking up into his face.

‘Your partner suggested I take a look at your work,’ he said smoothly. ‘So here I am. Now, show me what you’ve done.’

She disengaged herself from his arms, her face still tight from the unwelcome shock. ‘It’s no big deal, Ryan. Look all you want. I’m going home.’

‘In a moment,’ he growled, catching her hand, his fingers twining possessively through hers. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’

‘Let me go!’ she hissed, trying not to make a scene in front of everybody.

But he was leading her remorselessly back to the table. ‘Very pretty,’ he said, his grey eyes taking everything in with that swift way he had. ‘Not very original, considering what you’re capable of—but pretty.’

‘It’s a mayor’s banquet, not a gathering of your glittering London friends,’ she retorted, stung by his faint praise. ‘They wanted pretty, not original.’

‘But I see you were unable to totally squelch your creative instincts,’ he said. ‘There is one authentic touch. That dead-tree arrangement is inspired.’

‘You like that, do you?’ she said drily.

‘Fledglings and flower buds on dead branches. Very symbolic.’ He was wearing a jacket cut from buttery Italian leather, which fitted him like a dream and smelled delicious. She remembered it well—she’d chosen it for him in Milan, and had given it to him for a birthday. She also remembered what had happened after that—how he’d draped the jacket around her slim, naked shoulders, how he’d made love to her wearing that, and nothing else. ‘There’s an empty space in the entrance of Northcote Hall. An arrangement like that would go very well there.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said sweetly, ‘that piece is a one-off. I don’t repeat myself.’

‘Then think of something else,’ he said, his chiselled mouth quirking in a slight smile. She had always found his mouth devastatingly attractive, with its combination of authority and sensuality. As if he’d read her thoughts like a book, he bent his dark head and kissed her on the lips. The contact was electric, and she flinched. ‘Sorry,’ he said ironically, ‘did that hurt?’

‘You’re trespassing,’ she warned him.

He looked her over, taking in her less than elegant work clothes with a wicked smile. ‘Yes, I can see that you have “no trespassers” written all over you. Where were you skipping off to when I met you?’

‘Home.’

‘Good. I’ll come with you.’

‘You can’t!’ she exclaimed.

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘Somebody’s waiting for me there!’

One eyebrow lifted disdainfully. ‘That yokel who was pawing you this morning?’

‘Ryan, don’t do this,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We have nothing to say to one another.’

‘On the contrary,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s a great deal to be said on both sides. We need to talk, Penny. And we’re going to talk, whether you like it or not. We can talk here, in front of the mayor and her councillors. Or we can go somewhere more private. If you won’t take me to your place, then I’ll take you to mine.’

One glance at his face told her he meant it. She was not prepared to let him take her off to some unknown destination, so there was no choice.

‘I live around the corner,’ she said, capitulating.

‘And nobody is waiting for you there?’

‘No.’

‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Let’s get moving.’

They walked out into the cold evening air. It was already starting to freeze again, and Penny’s breath made a white cloud around her lips.

‘Why are you keeping up this charade about Northcote Hall?’ she asked him. ‘You don’t need to. Ariadne isn’t here to be impressed.’

‘It’s no charade,’ he replied.

She glanced at him sharply. ‘You mean you really are staying there?’

‘When I finally found out where you were hiding, I asked my people to find me a suitable rental as close to you as possible. A suburban bungalow would hardly suit my needs.’

‘Oh, hardly,’ she echoed with sarcasm. ‘The great Ryan Wolfe in a lowly semi-detached? Perish the thought.’

‘I meant only that I need to entertain. You know that. The people I work with are wealthy. They are used to things that—what was the word you used? Glitter. Northcote was the obvious choice. It’s been standing empty. The owners are desperate to sell. They’re renting it to me at a reasonable rate on the principle, “try before you buy”.’

‘The same principle you applied to me,’ she said brightly as they rounded the corner. ‘You’re such a good businessman, my dear. And oh, goodness, it looks as if your dashing sports car is parked right outside my house. I didn’t really need to tell you where I lived, did I?’

‘Why did you hide from me for so long?’ he asked her. ‘You’ve wasted a year of our lives, Penny. Do you have any idea how much effort and heartache I’ve invested in finding you again?’

She made no reply. His silver-grey car was indeed parked outside her front door. She walked past it and opened up. Ryan followed her into the dark interior.

‘Have you bought this place?’ he demanded as she switched on the light in the tiny hall.

‘I’m renting it from Ariadne’s sister.’ She knelt by the hearth and lit the fire she had prepared that morning. Flames licked swiftly around the logs. ‘It’s at the opposite end of the social scale from your Northcote Hall, but otherwise it’s exactly the same. It’s been standing empty for years and the owner is desperate to sell.’

‘You’ve made it beautiful,’ he commented, looking around at her décor.

‘My usual little touches of camouflage,’ she shrugged. ‘When the rising damp meets the sagging roof, I’ll have to move out.’

Ryan walked around the cottage, like a panther stalking round a new domain. He was looking at the paintings hanging on the walls and the sculptures that disguised ugly corners. He did not need to ask whether the art works were by her—by now he knew her style well enough.

Penny pulled off her coat and scarf and warmed her cold hands at the rising flames. ‘Do you want a drink? I’m going to have a whisky on the rocks.’

It was a drink she had learned to like with Ryan. He nodded, but made no other comment. While she poured the drinks, he was stroking the curves of a sculpture with one of his strong yet sensitive hands. ‘So you got to sculpt in wood, after all,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re very good. And your style has matured,’ he said.

‘I’ve matured,’ she said.

‘I can see that. You have a lot more to say.’

‘To say?’

‘About yourself. About what you see in the world.’ He accepted the drink she offered him. ‘You’ve become an adult.’

‘How kind of you.’ She didn’t bother raising her glass in a toast, but took a much-needed gulp of the fiery whisky. ‘We’d better sit by the fire. This house is cold and damp.’

There was one sofa, facing the fire. The glow of the flames provided a warm light. She did not switch on any more lights, not wanting him to see how bare the cottage really was, beneath the artistic touches she had lavished on it.

They sat facing each other. The rosy light that gave her smooth, pale face an alabaster glow made his look even more rugged and masculine than usual.

Or perhaps he had lost weight; his straight, Norman nose seemed more pronounced than usual, and there were shadows in the cleft of that masterfully erotic mouth.

‘You look tired,’ she commented.

‘I’ve been in meetings in London all day,’ he replied.

‘Not that kind of tired. A deeper tiredness. Too many parties, perhaps?’

‘Parties?’ he repeated. ‘Since you left me, my life has been nothing but work. Work, and hunting for you.’

‘Well,’ she said with a brittle smile, ‘you obviously have plenty on your mind, Ryan. So, now that you’ve caught me at last, why don’t you go ahead and say it?’

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHERE did you go after you ran from me?’ he asked.

‘I went back west, to Exeter. I had some friends there.’

‘And that’s where you got sick?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you get encephalitis?’

‘They could never tell me how I caught it. It started with a terrible headache, that horrible last weekend in London. Remember how sick I was?’

‘Yes,’ he said grimly. ‘I remember.’

‘At first I thought I had bad flu. Then I started to vomit on the train. I couldn’t stop. The first doctor I saw didn’t recognise the symptoms, so there was a delay. I went into convulsions. By the time they got me to hospital, I was going into a coma.’

‘Penny, I’m so sorry.’ His face was tight. ‘Why didn’t you call me? I know we were fighting like tigers, but in those circumstances nothing else would have mattered. I would have run to you.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I remember telephoning you from the station. I think the voice-mail service picked up. I probably didn’t say anything.’

‘Oh, Penny. If you’d left one word—’

‘I wasn’t in a fit state to say much,’ she shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘And you say you were unconscious when you had the miscarriage?’ he asked, his eyes intent.

Penny took another gulp of her whisky. ‘Yes.’

‘How long were you in the coma?’

‘A few days. The antibiotics worked. I was very lucky. After a couple of weeks, they discharged me.’

‘And then?’

She shrugged again. ‘Then I got on with the rest of my life.’

‘You didn’t even bother to tell me your pregnancy was over.’

‘I wrote to you,’ she exclaimed. ‘I know I did.’

‘I never received a word.’ His eyes were hard.

Penny shrugged. ‘Maybe it got lost.’

‘You’re sure you wrote to me?’

‘Ryan, I had just recovered from a brain inflammation. I was scarcely in my right mind. The doctors couldn’t even tell me whether I was going to have permanent brain damage or not!’

‘And do you have any brain damage?’ he asked, watching her over the rim of his whisky glass.

‘What do you care?’ she retorted.

‘I care a great deal. So tell me the truth.’

‘I had to take anticonvulsant medication to prevent seizures. For a while.’

His penetrating grey eyes assessed her. ‘For a while?’

‘I didn’t like the side-effects. So I stopped taking it.’

‘The doctors must have been concerned, surely.’

‘I didn’t tell them.’

‘Was that wise?’

‘It was my decision. I felt much better the moment I stopped the medication. And nothing has gone wrong since.’

His gaze stayed on her for a long, assessing moment, then moved from her to the paintings, dimly visible in the firelight. ‘But the experience changed you.’

‘It was a bad experience. And now I don’t want to discuss it any further.’

‘But I need to know everything, Penny.’

‘That’s too bad.’

‘You have to understand,’ he said evenly, ‘that the last words you spoke to me were a threat to abort our child—’

‘Oh, is that it?’ she cut in. ‘You’re still wondering about that? Whether I am an evil, calculating, vicious woman, ready to commit any bloodthirsty act to get back at you.’

‘Of course you aren’t any of those things.’

‘Then why are you so suspicious? Are you so afraid that I’m really a monster?’

‘I know you’re not a monster,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘I wouldn’t love you so much if you were.’

His words made her heart flip over like a hooked fish. ‘Ryan, don’t.’

‘But even if you were a monster,’ he went on, ‘I would still love you. Helplessly and completely. I can’t help loving you, you see. I was born to do it. When you love like that, it’s probably not important to know anything about the one you love. It doesn’t matter anyway, as you’ve just said. But somehow, I can’t help wanting to find out.’

Her hands were trembling as she drained the whisky. ‘Then I shall take great pleasure in keeping that knowledge from you,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘You can just keep wondering whether I’m a liar and maybe worse.’

He had not touched the whisky with his lips yet. Now he tossed the contents of his glass into the fire with a flick of his wrist. The whisky flared into hot green and blue flames, while the ice cubes hissed and evaporated on the embers.

‘Do you know what it’s like to love someone, Penny?’ he asked. ‘I thought you did, but I must have been wrong.’

She had flinched at the blazing whisky in the hearth. The coloured flames died down now, with a hot reek of vaporised alcohol. ‘You were wrong,’ she said.

‘It’s a pity. So you don’t know what it’s like to desire another person with such intensity that their body becomes a whole world to you. A world whose landscape you live in, whose tastes and smells you yearn for, every waking minute. A world you can never forget, no matter how much time passes, no matter how much distance comes between, no matter how many sad things happen.’

The firelight was dancing in his eyes, and her gaze was drawn inexorably to his as he went on, his voice husky and low.

‘And you don’t know what it’s like to ache for another person’s tenderness—and not to find it. To look for a face you love so much it hurts—and not see it. To yearn for a voice that you can no longer hear.’

‘That’s not love,’ she said unsteadily. ‘That’s obsession.’

‘Then I’m obsessed,’ he said. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘Obsession is more dangerous,’ she replied.

He shook his dark head. ‘Only to me. Not to you.’

‘You’re dangerous to me, Ryan. That’s why I had to get away from you.’

‘You were too young to understand then,’ he replied. He reached out and drew his fingertips slowly down her cheek. His touch was like velvet, but she shuddered in reaction. ‘Now you’ve matured. You’ve been through tragedy and danger. You have grown into yourself. We’re ready for each other now.’

‘You’re mistaken!’

His warm hand cupped the back of her neck and drew her face to his gently. Penny felt everything she had achieved over the last year start to sink into treacherous quicksand as her mouth approached his. She felt his breath on her lips, and closed her eyes.

‘Ryan, I don’t want this!’

‘I think you do.’ His mouth closed over hers.

For a moment it was as though she were drowning. And then her mind was flooded by passionate memories. They had been lovers once, such wonderful lovers.

It had been so long.

Desire rose in her with a force that could not be denied. She locked her arms around his strong neck and kissed him back, her body arching to his.

After a moment, the two of them slid to the floor in front of the fire, still locked in their embrace. The heat of the flames licked at them, igniting them still further. Ryan pulled at her blouse and Penny heard buttons snap off with the urgency of his need.

Still kissing, whispering one another’s names, they undressed each other with clumsy haste. When she was naked, he pushed her onto her back and stared down at her with devouring eyes.

The blaze of the fire made tiger-stripes across his magnificent naked chest. He was like a great cat, brooding over her, and like a cat he touched her skin with his nose and drew her scent deep into his nostrils.

‘You always smell so wonderful. Your skin is like rose petals.’

‘A rose with thorns.’ But though she uttered the warning, she was responding to him. This was insanity, worse than madness, because she was colluding with her own downfall.

He stroked the curving softness of her belly. She shuddered at his sensual caress. ‘You will always be mine, Penny,’ he whispered. ‘Nobody else’s. Mine alone.’

He kissed her nipples gently. The silky disks ruckled in his mouth, their hard tips pushing against his tongue with unabashed desire. He sucked the eager peaks, one after another, and Penny whimpered his name softly.

He gazed down at her, his eyes heavy with desire. ‘I’ve missed you so much. I thought I had lost you forever!’

Her naked body was like alabaster in the firelight. Her hips were fuller than her narrow waist would have implied, and he stroked the curves with the fingers of an artist touching an exquisite vessel.

‘Your hips were made for love, my darling,’ he whispered. ‘For bearing children. I’m so sorry you lost our child.’

‘How could you think I would throw away my baby?’ she demanded, raising herself on her elbow. ‘How can you say you love me, if you think that?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘This morning I felt as though you had stabbed a dagger into my heart.’

She felt the scalding tears slide down her cheeks. They splashed onto her nipples, shining wet on her skin. ‘Why did you come?’

For an answer, he sealed her mouth with his own. It was a kiss as hot as her tears, filled with passion and desire. His hands caressed her naked body, moulding the tender curves of her breasts hungrily, sliding down between her thighs to cup the nest of soft curls there.

She responded with a rush of desire that overwhelmed her.

‘Have you been with anyone else since you left me?’ he asked her, looking into her eyes.

‘No,’ she confessed. ‘Have you?’

‘No. So we don’t need to go to the clinic for a clean bill of health before we do this…’

She kissed him to stop him saying any more.

Ryan’s tongue was in her mouth, seeking her own, demanding a response. She felt his fingers encounter the melting wetness of her own desire. With gentle, expert movements of his fingers, he brought her to the very edge of her climax in no more than a few seconds. She cried out against his mouth. His own urgency matched hers. As though unable to resist any longer, he mounted her.

Penny cried out again as she felt the swollen length of his manhood between her thighs—a feeling so familiar, so thrilling, so achingly beautiful. She locked her arms around his neck and looked up into his eyes. Ryan was panting as though he had run a mile, his eyes no longer cold or hard, but glowing with passion.

She raised her hips, her thighs lifting to hold his taut, muscular waist.

The invitation was unmistakable. With a soft, purring sound, Ryan lowered his body so that his erect manhood caressed the wet petals of her sex. Penny moaned, her eyes half closing. He slid himself to and fro across the most sensitive zones of her body, arousing her unbearably.

She had been alone for so long, locked in her own misery. Now he was back, and deep inside her. Penny had not known that there was so much need in her, so much emptiness aching to be filled. So much tenderness aching to be given.

She dug her fingers into his powerful shoulders, demanding that he enter her; but it was not until she was already starting to climax that he finally thrust slowly and deeply into her body.

Ecstasy flooded her whole being. She felt herself arching against him, calling his name inarticulately. He filled her so completely, each movement bringing new waves of pleasure and fulfilment, as though her soul was stretching and expanding.

And at last he reached his own vertex and crushed her in his arms, covering her face with burning kisses.

Slowly, like leaves settling to earth after a gale, normality returned. They slid into an exhausted tangle by the fireside.

‘Now that I’ve found you, I will never let you go.’ He pulled her head onto his chest and cradled her there, the way he used to do, long ago.

They lay in silence for a while, listening to the crackling of the flames. Then he spoke.

‘I almost lost you forever, and I didn’t even know. You’re not safe to be out on your own. Why won’t you let me cherish you for the rest of your life?’

‘Because I need to live it for myself,’ she said.

‘I don’t want to live your life for you, sweet girl. I just want to be next to you.’

‘You don’t. You want to swallow me up.’ This was getting perilously close to the sort of arguments they’d had in London. ‘And you couldn’t have stopped me from getting encephalitis, anyway.’

‘I would have made sure you got the best treatment, the best doctors in the world.’

‘Oh, I know that, Ryan. If you could, you would have had the illness instead of me, wouldn’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘But I needed to have that illness for myself, my love. It was part of my life, part of my destiny, for good or for bad. To take it from me would have been to cheat me.’

‘I don’t agree with that,’ he said. ‘Avoiding misfortune is sensible. You don’t have to run to it with open arms. You’re too much of a pessimist.’

‘A fatalist,’ she corrected.

‘Tell me the name of the hospital you were admitted to in Exeter.’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I would like to speak to the doctors who treated you.’

She felt icy cold, and then burning hot. ‘So you can check the hospital records? To see if what I’ve told you about the miscarriage is true?’

There was enough strong feeling in those words to make him frown. ‘Have I offended you?’

‘No.’ She pushed away from him and sat up, her slender body silhouetted against the firelight. ‘As a matter of fact, you’ve just proved that you’re the heartless bastard I always knew you were.’

He cocked his head at her. ‘I’m the heartless one? I know I have a heart, because you broke it this morning, Penny. That was the last news I expected to hear.’

‘I’m sorry, Ryan, but it was far worse for me, believe me.’

‘Are you going to give me the name of the hospital?’

‘So you can try and obtain my medical records? No, Ryan, I’m not. If you choose not to believe my simple word, then nothing else really matters, does it?’

‘I suppose not,’ he said in a strange voice.

‘I think you’d better go now.’ She was tying her hair back into a pony-tail, turning her face away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears pouring down her cheeks.

‘I’d rather stay,’ he said, touching her naked shoulder.

Penny shook her head. ‘You got what you wanted. Go now.’

‘I want all of you,’ he said, caressing her shoulder. ‘I’ll never be happy until I have all of you.’

‘Why not be content with what you’ve had?’ She wiped her tears away clumsily. ‘You’ve proved I’m still a fool. You can go back to London now and forget me forever.’

He was silent for a while before answering. ‘You were never this cold, this hard,’ he said at last.

‘As you said, I’ve changed. I used to be soft as putty. But not any more. I’ve learned to fight for myself at last.’

His arms slid around her, strong and male. ‘I’ll be back.’ She felt him kiss the nape of her neck. ‘Sweet dreams, Penny.’

Her eyes were so full of tears that the firelight was no more than a dancing orange blur that dazzled and hurt her brain. But she kept staring at it while she listened to him dress…and long after she heard the door close and his sports car drive away.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE had given Miles Clampett the key to the workshop, and he was putting the finishing touches to the door when she arrived the next morning. Despite the bitter weather—it had snowed overnight, and the world had gone white and silent—he was whistling cheerfully.

‘You look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,’ he grinned. ‘You must have had some lavender under your pillow.’

‘What?’ she asked suspiciously. Miles was a notorious snoop, and she wondered what he was talking about.

‘Us country folk,’ he said, putting on a Farmer Giles accent, ‘we puts lavender under our pillows to get a good night’s sleep.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ she said, stepping over a pile of shavings to get inside.

‘You don’t need to. I’m sure your gentleman friend knows how to ease your tensions.’ He winked. ‘Saw his car outside your cottage last night. And smoke coming from the chimney. Cosy.’

She didn’t need Miles to remind her of last night’s folly. The memory was burned into her brain as though with a red-hot branding iron. In any case, it was too early in the morning to exchange repartee with Miles.

She went inside, ignoring him.

The wisdom of last night was, at best, dubious. But however tangled her emotions were, her body evidently felt no regrets. The lingering melancholy in her system seemed to have been burned away. Her heart was beating a little faster and the blood in her veins was defying the snowy weather to make her skin flushed and glowing.

She glanced at herself in the mirror that hung in their tiny bathroom. Those roses in her cheeks had been what had caused Miles to snigger when he’d seen her. There had been a definite transformation.

She forced her thoughts away from Ryan. There was no time for introspection. She already knew that it was going to be another busy day.

The day after tomorrow was Saturday, and she had not one, but two weddings. Both were big weddings, too, meaning not just bouquets and buttonholes for the wedding parties, but churches to do as well. They would have to co-opt Tara. Luckily Tara, who was saving up to go to Australia, needed the money and never minded doing extra work.

Their business was really prospering. Hard work had never frightened Penny, and she was prepared to fight for her success.

She had no sooner started work when the phone rang. She picked it up with a hello, and was greeted by a husky, all-too-familiar voice.

‘I’m sorry last night ended on a bad note. That was not the way I had planned it.’

She felt her nipples tighten in response to his voice. ‘I didn’t realise you’d planned it, Ryan,’ she retorted, ‘but I suppose I should have guessed.’

‘I put that badly. I should have said, that wasn’t the way I’d dreamed of it.’

‘Well, I’m sorry I disappointed you.’

Ryan chuckled softly. ‘Stop trying to pick holes in everything I say. Last night was wonderful. I’ve ached for you for so long. It was heaven to hold you, to kiss you…I only meant to apologise for offending you at the end. You took my words the wrong way.’

‘Did I?’

‘Penny, you still don’t understand me. Sometimes I wonder if you ever will.’

‘You’re right,’ she replied. ‘I don’t understand you, Ryan. I don’t understand why you’ve come looking for me. The fact that you’ve taken the trouble to track me down shows that you don’t understand me, either. Or that you simply don’t care.’

His voice softened. ‘Wasn’t last night wonderful for you? I know it was. And I know that this morning your blood is tingling, just like mine. You feel alive for the first time since you left me. Isn’t that true?’

She felt an awkward resentment at his accuracy. ‘Sex is a completely different thing from love. Sex can be wonderful between total strangers.’

‘Oh?’ There was a different note in his voice now. ‘You know this from experience?’

‘That doesn’t concern you,’ she replied smartly. ‘I’m very busy, Ryan. Was there anything else?’

‘I want to see you tomorrow night.’

‘No!’

‘I’m back in London,’ he went on, ignoring her protest. ‘I have business here until tomorrow. I want you to have dinner with me at Northcote tomorrow night. You can advise me on how to furnish the place—it’s still empty.’

‘I keep telling you, but you won’t listen—we have nothing to say to each other!’

‘And I have some things of yours,’ he concluded smoothly. ‘When you ran out on me in London, you left half your stuff behind. Photographs of your parents, letters, the jewellery I gave you.’

‘I don’t want the jewellery,’ she assured him. ‘Please take it back.’

‘Well, there’s a beautiful Adam fireplace at Northcote,’ he said. ‘I’ll make a nice big blaze, and throw everything on it, shall I?’

‘No! I want the photographs!’

‘Then come and get them,’ he said succinctly. ‘Tomorrow night at seven.’

‘Ryan—’

The line had clicked dead in her ear.

She slammed the phone down with a growl of frustration.

‘So who is he?’ Miles Clampett asked through a mouthful of nails. He had sauntered in, and was leaning against the door jamb with his usual smirk. ‘An old flame, obviously.’

‘Have you been eavesdropping?’ she demanded.

‘Not half,’ he admitted, taking the nails out of his mouth. ‘But then, you were shouting so loud I could hear you in the mews. Come on, Penny, we’re old friends. Who is he?’

‘His name’s Ryan Wolfe,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I knew him in London.’

‘What’s he do for a living? Rob banks?’

‘More or less. But not at gun-point. He’s a financier in the movie business. He puts together projects for films.’

Miles looked impressed. ‘What kind of films?’

‘Anything that interests him. Short films, long films, documentaries, serious films, commercial blockbusters. Whatever he thinks is going to work. He brings together consortiums of investors and introduces them to the creative people.’

Miles whistled. ‘Looks like he’s successful.’

She shrugged. ‘He’s very good at what he does. Not all his projects make money. Sometimes he does things because he believes in the talent of the people involved, even though he knows it won’t be a huge commercial success. But generally, he comes out of each project considerably ahead of the game.’

Miles was examining the nails in his hand. ‘And you and him? You had a big scene together in London?’

‘We knew each other.’

‘That much is obvious, darling. In the biblical sense, and all other senses. So what went wrong between two such beautiful people?’

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