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The Secret Mother
Lee Wilkinson


NANNY WANTED Job: To look after three-year-old Caitlin - cute and cuddly, she's in need of lots of tender loving care and mothering… . Special Qualifications: Matthew is looking for one nanny in particular - Caroline Smith. He's a man with a mission and will stop at nothing to get his own way.So what is he looking for - a nanny, a mother, or is it perhaps a wife? Live-in or daily? Live-in. A nanny who will be there day and night - if required. Length of stay: Forever - marriage perhaps… Please enclose a resume.







“Yes, I’d like to go as soon as possible in case Caitlin—” (#uda3f69b3-ae67-50a1-a320-882851afac65)Letter to Reader (#u9a777b82-8d0c-5797-9b78-db7c2b477220)About the Author (#ud911b719-0119-5562-91d0-22ae33495eac)Title Page (#ua84dd90f-7ecd-5300-91fe-ecbdd4a62579)CHAPTER ONE (#u43ec07c3-98c2-541f-8be4-0a52c632e2b5)CHAPTER TWO (#u7add6218-d7f2-53ee-923e-6d2b1ab5017f)CHAPTER THREE (#u5415a69d-a60d-5714-979f-83137b9a4c6f)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Yes, I’d like to go as soon as possible in case Caitlin—”

“Caitlin will be fine,” Matt broke in. Witch a little edge to his voice, he added, “You sound concerned enough to be her mother rather than just her nanny.”

It seemed his mood had swung back to wanting to hurt, rather than comfort. “As her nanny, I’m paid to be concerned.”

“You’re paid to give satisfaction—jobwise, that is. Though last night you were eminently successful in other fields,” he added sardonically, and watched the heated color rise into Caroline’s cheeks.

Biting her tongue, she held in check the angry retort she wanted to make. It would do no good to start a fight....


Dear Reader,

A perfect nanny can be tough to find, but once you’ve found her you’ll love and treasure her forever. She’s someone who’ll not only look after the kids but could also be that loving mom they never knew. Or sometimes she’s a he and is the daddy they are wishing for.

Here at Harlequin Presents we’ve put together a compelling new series, NANNY WANTED!, in which some of our most popular authors create nannies whose talents extend way beyond taking care of the children! Each story will excite and delight you and make you wonder how any family could be complete without a nineties nanny.

Remember—Nanny knows best when it comes to falling in love!

The Editors


Lee Wilkinson is a gifted storyteller whose

dramatic stories are full of twists and turns and

will keep you guessing to the very end. Look out next month for: The Love-Child by Kathryn Ross (#1938)


The Secret Mother

Lee Wilkinson










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHAPTER ONE

FROM the window of her small sitting-room, adjoining the nursery, Caroline watched the snow falling on Morningside Heights. Soft, feathery flakes, swirling from a night sky, piled up against the glass and wrapped the trees in a white shroud.

All at once she shivered.

Snow always made her remember. Brought back the past with cruel clarity. But as the years went by surely the hurt would grow less, the emotional scars heal as the physical ones had?

The mirror no longer showed any sign of them, and even her sensitive fingertips could find no trace. True, she still looked hollow-cheeked, older than her years, but ironically, with her remodelled face, she was almost beautiful now, whereas before she bad been merely attractive.

A tap at the door broke into Caroline’s thoughts.

‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’ Lois Amesbury, her employer, was always scrupulously polite, as well as being pleasant and friendly. ‘Only I thought you should know things are finally settled. My husband needs to take up his post at Burbeck Hospital before the new year, so we’ll be moving to California during the Christmas break...’

Their decision to move back to the west coast had been mentioned and discussed previously, but Caroline had tried not to think about it.

It was more than two years since the Amesburys had taken a chance, after hearing a little of her story, and employed the quiet, sad-eyed woman to be nanny to their twin girls, now three years old.

She was established here, secure, and, if not happy, she was at least relatively content. The move meant an upheaval, a parting Caroline had been dreading.

‘I’ll miss New York,’ Lois went on, taking the chair opposite, ‘but I’m looking forward to practising law in Oakland, and we’ll be virtually next door to my folks. Mom can’t wait to take charge of the children...’

Children that had helped to fill Caroline’s empty arms and empty heart.

‘Though I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll spoil them rotten—’ Suddenly glimpsing the desolation the younger woman was trying hard to hide, Lois broke off abruptly.

After a moment she went on with a practical air, ‘What I really came to tell you was, this afternoon Sally Danvers rang me at the office to ask if you would be looking for another situation. She knows of a wealthy businessman who needs a reliable nanny and is willing to pay top rates.

‘There’s one child, a girl of about the same age as my two. Her father is either a widower or a divorcé; I’m not sure which. Not that it matters... The little girl’s grandmother had been taking care of her, but a few months ago the old lady died quite suddenly.

‘I gather the nanny who took over then couldn’t win the child’s confidence. The poor little mite didn’t like her, and preferred to stay with the housekeeper. When her father discovered how things were he asked the woman to leave, so he needs someone trustworthy who can start immediately. He’ll be home tomorrow morning if you would like time off to go and see him.’

‘Oh, but I can’t start immediately...’

Lois, dark-haired and elegant, waved away the protest. ‘I cleared my office desk today and I’ll be at home until we move, so if you decide to take the job, I’m sure I can manage. You’ve been an absolute godsend, and I’m very grateful. That’s why I’d like to see you happily settled before we leave.

‘The man’s name is Matthew Carran. He lives in the Baltimore building on Fifth Avenue. I’ve written the address and the telephone number on here...’

She passed over a folded sheet of paper.

‘Well, I guess I’d better hurry. We’ve tickets for a concert at the Octagon Hall, if the snow’s not too bad...’

But, though Caroline had automatically accepted the piece of paper, she’d heard nothing since the name Matthew Carran.

Shock had made the blood drum in her ears and brought a hovering darkness that threatened to swamp her. As the door closed behind her employer she swayed forward and put her head between her knees.

After a moment or two the faintness passed and she sat upright. Talk about the irony of fate! It was almost unbelievable that the man who needed a nanny so urgently should be the one man she couldn’t possibly work for.

Or was it the same man? The address was different.

Yes, it had to be. Matthew was a fairly common name, but Carran wasn’t, and in a way the rest fitted... The last time she had heard, his stepmother had been looking after his baby daughter and he’d been about to get married. But now it seemed he was either widowed or divorced, and with the death of his stepmother the child was left to the care of a nanny.

With a sudden feeling of anguish, Caroline recalled Lois Amesbury saying, ‘I gather the nanny who took over then couldn’t win the child’s confidence. The poor little mite didn’t like her.’

Closing her eyes tightly, oval nails biting into her palms, Caroline fought the urge to weep. If only her own circumstances had been different, but in a matter of weeks she would have no home and no job, so there was nothing she could do.

Or was there? Matthew wouldn’t recognise the name Caroline Smith. When she had known him she had called herself Kate Hunter. And there wasn’t much chance of him recognising her.

Though, after this length of time, she should have been used to the metamorphosis, it still occasionally came as a shock to catch sight of a strange woman looking back at her from the mirror.

At twenty-two she had been a good eighteen pounds heavier, and had worn her hair short and blonde and curly. Now it was long and straight, back to its natural ash-brown.

Then she had been young and fresh and curvaceous. Now she was old, if not in years at least in experience, and thin to the point of gauntness, her glow extinguished.

No, he wouldn’t recognise her. After several sessions of plastic surgery, it was doubtful if her own mother would have known her.

But it was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. She could still see his expression, the way he’d looked at her with such contempt and condemnation.

Still the longing to see him again, the need to see his child, was like a physical pain.

No. No! She couldn’t do it. Such a step would be utter madness. It would tear open all the old wounds and destroy what little peace of mind she had managed to find.

But if she got the post as nanny it would be the answer to all her prayers.

Fifth Avenue, on this cold, bright morning, was teeming with both traffic and pedestrians, its glittering shops and gilded window displays rivalling the sunshine.

The sidewalks were clear of snow, except where it had been piled along the edges in dirty banks, but Central Park looked like a winter wonderland, and there was skating on the pond and at the Rockefeller ice rink.

The Baltimore building, she discovered, overlooked the park. Standing in its marble-floored foyer, beneath a magnificent chandelier, Caroline admitted that she’d been insane to come. She was behaving like an utter fool. Yet, lured by the chance to achieve her heart’s desire, she had been unable to help herself.

Following a virtually sleepless night, that morning, after she had given the twins their breakfast, she had dialled the number Lois Amesbury had written down and waited with a wildly beating heart to hear Matthew’s voice.

It had been something of an anticlimax when the call had been answered by a woman with an Irish brogue, who’d identified herself as Mr Carran’s housekeeper.

Caroline had stated her business, and after a minute or so the housekeeper had returned to say cheerfully, ‘Mr Carran will be pleased to see you at nine-thirty, Miss Smith. He said to take a cab, and he will reimburse you.’

Hoping that the exercise would calm her, and with time to spare, Caroline had paid off the cab some blocks away, and walked down Fifth Avenue.

Now it was almost nine-thirty and, moving towards the bank of elevators on the far side of the foyer, she was forced to admit that the strategy had failed. Her stomach was churning and she felt almost sick with nerves as she pressed the button for the penthouse suite on the sixty-fifth floor.

As the high-speed elevator carried her smoothly upwards she took a pair of heavy, dark-rimmed spectacles from her bag and put them on.

Though they were no longer necessary to mask the scar that had run across the bridge of her nose and above one eye, she still preferred to wear them. They were something to hide behind. And knowing the tinted lenses altered the colour of her eyes, changing them from a light, clear aquamarine to a deeper cloudy blue, now provided an added crumb of much needed confidence.

The buxom, middle-aged housekeeper opened the door to Caroline’s ring, and hung her coat on the mirrored hallstand.

‘Mr Carran is waiting for you in his study,’ she said, her smile approving of the newcomer’s neat bun, the plain woollen dress and simple calf-length boots. ‘It’s the door there, on the left.’

Crossing the large, luxuriously carpeted hall on legs that shook, Caroline knocked and waited.

‘Come in.’ After almost four years, that decisive, low-pitched voice was heartbreakingly familiar.

She swallowed hard, and her palm, damp with cold perspiration, slipped on the doorknob, making her fumble, before the door opened into a book-lined study.

Matthew Carran was sitting behind a polished desk, a slim gold pen in his hand and a sheaf of papers in front of him. As though impatient of the business suit he was wearing, he had discarded his jacket and loosened his tie. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, exposing lean, muscular arms, sprinkled with dark hair.

At her entrance he rose to his feet and stood stock-still, neither moving nor speaking, while his eyes travelled slowly over her.

He seemed taller, his shoulders beneath the pinstriped shirt even broader than she remembered, but his tough, hard-boned face, the peat-dark hair and handsome green-gold eyes were the same.

Though she had thought herself prepared, a flood of emotion swept over her, sending her mind reeling. The book-lined room began to whirl hideously, and the faintness she’d felt the previous evening returned, threatening to engulf her.

Head bent, she bit her soft inner lip savagely, focusing her attention on the pain, refusing to be dragged under.

‘Are you all right?’ he demanded.

‘Yes...’ Lifting her head, she swallowed, tasting the slight saltiness of blood. ‘Quite all right, thank you.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to sit down?’

When, thankfully, she sank onto the chair placed opposite his, he resumed his own seat and remarked with what sounded like genuine concern, ‘You’re rather pale. Have you been unwell?’

‘No.’ It was the truth, and she left it at that.

‘Have you had much time off while working for Mrs Amesbury?’

‘It was agreed that I should have one day a week and every alternate weekend—plus the odd evening, if and when I wanted it.’

But she had rarely taken advantage of the concessions.

‘I meant for illness and suchlike.’

‘None. I’m perfectly fit and healthy.’ Now.

He studied the delicate oval of her face for a moment, then gave a slight shrug before saying, ‘If you are contemplating working for me we need to get to know each other, so can I ask you to begin by telling me about yourself?’

Before she could comply, he added, ‘You have an attractive voice, but you sound more English than American.’

Caroline stiffened. She had given no thought to her voice or her accent.

As she hesitated he asked a trifle impatiently, ‘Well, are you English?’

‘I was born in London, but I have dual nationality.’

‘Tell me about your parents.’

She glanced at him in surprise.

‘A person’s background can be relevant.’

He’d known nothing of her background previously, so it couldn’t do any harm.

‘My father, a native New Yorker, was a writer and journalist. He was working in London when he met and teamed up with my mother, who was a newspaper photographer. They got married and I was born a year later. We lived in London until I was fifteen, then we moved to New York.’

‘You’re an only child?’

‘Yes. Having no brothers or sisters is my one regret.’

‘So you had a happy childhood?’

‘Very. It was slightly bohemian, I suppose. But I always felt well loved and cared for.’

‘Do your parents still live in New York?’

Caroline shook her head. ‘They were freelancing, covering a fire at a chemical plant in New Jersey, when they were killed in an explosion.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘While I was in my final year at college.’

‘May I ask how old you are now?’

She hesitated, then answered, ‘Nearly twenty-six,’ and saw by his face that he’d put her down as considerably older.

‘And you’ve been a children’s nanny how long?’

‘Since leaving college.’ She felt guilty that it wasn’t the truth, but it might save him digging any deeper.

Matthew Carran’s green gaze probed her face. His eyes had always had the power to warm or freeze. Now, as though he had guessed she was lying, they could only be described as glacial.

After a moment he changed tack to ask, ‘Does your present employer insist on you wearing a uniform?’

‘No.’ Lois Amesbury had been happy to keep things informal.

‘Would you have any objection to wearing one?’

Disliking the idea, but aware that it would be unwise to say so, Caroline bit her lip before answering, ‘No.’

‘What made you decide to become a nanny?’

‘I like children.’ That was the truth. She had always had an affinity for children.

His tone silky, he suggested, ‘So perhaps you regard being a nanny as an easy way of earning a living?’

Stung, she retorted, ‘I’ve never thought of it like that... And being a nanny is not an easy way of earning a living. It just happens to be the work I prefer.’

After staring at her for what seemed an age, but could only have been seconds, he asked with a twist to his chiselled lips, ‘What qualifications have you, apart from “liking children”?’

Flushing, she said, ‘I’ve passed all the prescribed courses in child care and development, diet and first aid.’

‘What do you think are the two most important things in a young child’s life?’

She answered immediately. ‘Security and affection.’

For an instant he seemed to be gripped by some powerful emotion, then it was gone, leaving his lean, dark face devoid of expression.

Unwilling to meet his eyes, Caroline stared at his hands. He had good hands. Lean, well-shaped, masculine hands, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails.

All at once, going off at a tangent, he queried, ‘Do you smoke?’

She blinked. ‘No.’

‘Drink?’

‘No.’

‘But no doubt there is...shall we say, a man in your life?’

It was almost as if he was taunting her, and suddenly she found herself wishing passionately that she hadn’t put herself through this ordeal.

‘No.’

The brilliant eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, come now...’

With a flash of spirit, she retorted, ‘I hadn’t realised that having a man in my life was compulsory.’

As soon as the imprudent words were out, Caroline cursed herself for a fool. Why was she antagonising Matthew Carran when she so desperately wanted this job?

‘I can do without the sarcasm, Miss Smith.’ His tone was repressive.

‘I’m sorry. But surely I’m entitled to a private life?’

‘Everyone is entitled to a private life. I just want to be sure yours won’t affect your charge. When Caitlin’s grandmother died...’

Caitlin, Caroline thought, her heart feeling as though it might burst. They’d called her Caitlin.

‘...and I had to engage a nanny, I made a bad mistake.’ His mouth a thin, hard line, Matthew added grimly, ‘I have no intention of making another.’

‘If there was a man in my life I wouldn’t dream of letting it affect any child in my care,’ Caroline said quietly. ‘But there is no one.’

Tension had dewed her face with a fine film of perspiration, and, feeling her spectacles slip, she pushed them further up the bridge of her nose.

‘Why are you wearing glasses?’

His question, coming with the speed of a striking rattlesnake, threw her. ‘I—I’m sorry?’

‘I asked why you’re wearing spectacles.’

‘Because I... I need them.’

Rising to his feet, he leaned across the desk and without so much as a by your leave lifted the glasses from her nose. For a long moment, while shock held her rigid, he looked deep into her clear aquamarine eyes.

Whatever he saw in them—anxiety, pain, loneliness, sadness—his own showed not the slightest sign of either pity or recognition.

Caroline gave thanks to whatever guardian angel was watching over her.

Prematurely, it seemed, as a moment later Matthew was raising the spectacles and squinting through the lenses.

He passed them back to her and, as she hurriedly replaced them, queried succinctly, ‘Why do you need spectacles that are just tinted glass?’

She stammered out the only answer she could think of, ‘I—I thought it would be better if I looked older.’

His voice icy, he remarked, ‘Looking older doesn’t necessarily make you more suitable.’

Strain had set her head throbbing dully, and, convinced now that he would never give her the job, she felt bleak and hopeless.

Wanting only to escape before those pitiless eyes noted her despair, she half rose. ‘Well, if you’ve decided I’m unsuitable...’

‘Please sit down,’ he instructed curtly. ‘I haven’t decided anything of the kind.’

When, the whole of her body shaking, she had obeyed, he informed her, ‘While you were on your way here this morning I had quite a long conversation with your present employer...’

He paused, as though deliberately prolonging the suspense, while the seconds ticked away and Caroline fancied she could hear the roar of the traffic far below on Fifth Avenue.

‘She told me that you had been with her for over two years, and spoke very highly of you.’

Caroline was just drawing a shaky breath of relief when he asked, ‘Who was your previous employer?’

‘Previous employer?’

‘I mean before Mrs Amesbury.’

Realising too late that. having told him she’d been a nanny since leaving college, she was in deep water, Caroline floundered. ‘Well, I...’

‘Surely you remember?’ He was giving her no quarter.

She hated to lie but could see no help for it. ‘A Mr Nagel,’ she improvised wildly as she recalled the plot of a book she’d been reading. ‘I took care of his little boy when his wife left him...’

‘And?’

‘Eventually she came back and they were reconciled, so I was no longer needed.’

Becoming aware that he was watching her hands, moving restlessly in her lap, she clasped them together to keep them still.

‘Have you got Mr Nagel’s references?’

‘I—I’m afraid I don’t know what became of them.’

His sceptical look seemed to make it plain that he didn’t believe her.

She could feel the guilty colour rising in her cheeks when he said, ‘Presumably they must have been satisfactory, or the Amesburys wouldn’t have employed you...’

Picking up the pen he’d been using, he began to tap the desk, each little explosion of sound like a hammer-blow, stretching her already overstretched nerves and making her wince.

‘Very well, with the proviso that Caitlin likes you, the position is yours, if you want it, for a trial period of one month.’

As she stared at him, pale lips a little parted, he went on, ‘Now to practicalities. I’m prepared to allow you the same time off as your previous employer, and if you stay on alter the trial period, you will receive two weeks’ annual holiday. The post carries a salary of...’ he named an exceedingly generous sum ‘...and there is a self-contained suite next to the nursery, which I think you’ll find comfortable.’

When she continued to gaze at him in silence, he observed brusquely, ‘You look surprised. Have you changed your mind about wanting the job?’

‘No... No, of course not... I just hadn’t expected to be offered it.’

‘Why not?’

‘I...I got the impression you didn’t like me.’

Sardonically, he said, ‘It hadn’t occurred to me that it was necessary to like the nanny I engaged.’

As her face began to burn he added flatly, ‘If Caitlin takes to you, that’s all that matters. She’s a sunny, good-natured little thing, and very forward for her age. At the moment Mrs Monaghan, my housekeeper, is looking after her, and according to that good lady the child isn’t one scrap of trouble.

‘Even so, it’s a lot for the poor woman to take on, so if everything goes well, and you decide to accept my offer, I’d want you here, ready to start, by tomorrow morning.’

‘Wearing a uniform?’ In spite of Caroline’s efforts to speak smoothly, there was a ragged edge to the question.

After a moment’s deliberation, Matthew answered coolly, ‘I think not’

His tawny eyes on her face, he went on, ‘Now, before we go any further, maybe you’d like to ask me some questions?’

When, wits scattered, she failed to respond, he suggested trenchantly, ‘Or possibly you already know everything you need to?’

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she managed, ‘I just know what Mrs Amesbury told me.’

‘And what did Mrs Amesbury tell you?’ He sounded annoyed, as though he suspected they’d been gossiping about him.

‘Only that you are either widowed or divorced, and your daughter is about three years old.’

‘Not terribly accurate, I’m afraid. I’m neither widowed nor divorced...’

So he must be still married... Married to Sara...

Watching Caroline’s eyes widen behind the tinted glasses, he continued, ‘And Caitlin isn’t my daughter. My own mother died shortly after I was born, and when I was nine years old my father married again. His second wife already had a three-year-old son. Caitlin is my stepbrother’s child.’

Quietly, he added, ‘In point of fact I’ve never been married.’

‘Oh, but I thought—’ Cursing her unruly tongue, Caroline stopped speaking abruptly.

‘What did you think, Miss Smith?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing... Really...’

His thickly lashed eyes glinted, and she feared he was going to pursue the matter, but he let it go and said briskly, ‘Well, if there isn’t anything you want to ask me, perhaps you’d like to take a look at the accommodation and say hello to Caitlin?’

Taking a deep, uneven breath, doing her best to control an almost feverish rush of excitement, Caroline rose to her feet as Matthew left his chair and walked round the desk.

At five feet seven inches she was fairly tall for a woman, but, at an inch or so above six feet, he seemed to tower over her.

Suddenly she found herself trembling with a new and different kind of excitement, and, looking up into his dark face, she was shaken to the core by the depth of her feelings for him.

After all this time she had hoped, prayed, that she would be able to look at him and see only a man she had once known and loved. A man who no longer meant that much to her.

But the instinctive knowledge that he was the other half of herself, the part that made her whole and complete, was still there, as certain and inevitable as it had ever been.

As she stood, dazed and dumb, he suggested smoothly, ‘Now we’ve established that you don’t need the glasses, perhaps you’d care to take them off? It seems a shame to hide such beautiful eyes.’ The last was added with a certain bite, as though he didn’t intend it as a compliment.

Unable to think of a reason for refusing, Caroline took off the glasses and slipped them into her bag, trying not to meet his glance in case he should see all too clearly what she was thinking, feeling.

He opened the door and, a hand at her waist, ushered her across the well-furnished hall and into the living-room.

From the first moment they had met his impact had been stunning, and now his touch—light and impersonal though it was—proved to be devastating, trapping the breath in her throat, making her heart lurch drunkenly and her pulse begin to race with suffocating speed.

Despite its open-plan vastness and elegance, Matthew’s apartment had a homely, lived-in air. Several toys lay scattered on the Aubusson carpet, and a wooden rocking horse, ridden by a large, floppy rag doll with yellow plaits, stood in front of the long windows.

‘The playroom and nursery are this way.’ They went through a wide arch and across a second hallway. ‘And these rooms will be yours if you take the job.’ He threw open a pair of polished doors and showed her around.

Fitted with every mod-con, and beautifully furnished, the suite—sitting-room, bedroom, bathroom and kitchenette—was more than comfortable. It was downright luxurious.

She would have taken the job if it had been a ratinfested dungeon. But everything depended on whether Caitlin showed any signs of liking her.

Feeling a kind of dull hopelessness, Caroline wondered how anyone could expect a child of that tender age—a child who had already had one nanny she didn’t like—to take to a woman who was a total stranger?

‘Now if you’d like to come and meet Caitlin...’

Turning, Matthew led the way to a large, airy kitchen, where Mrs Monaghan was keeping an eye on her charge while making the morning coffee.

Dressed in a long-sleeved cotton shirt and brightly coloured dungarees, the child was busily engaged in tucking a doll into a pram. Looking up at their entrance, she came running over to Matthew and threw her arms around his legs.

Rumpling her dark silky hair, he said, ‘I’d like you to say hello to Miss Smith.’ Then, in a conspiratorial whisper he added, ‘If we’re both very nice to her, she may come and live with us and look after you.’

As Caitlin released her hold and turned to stare solemnly at the newcomer Caroline went down on her haunches. Her heart feeling as though it might burst, she smiled shakily at the little girl.

She was a beautiful and dainty child, her skin with the bloom of a peach, her dimpled cheeks still babyish, her long-lashed eyes an exquisite blue-green.

For long moments they looked at each other without speaking. Then in a clear, childish treble, Caitlin asked, ‘Do you want to come and look after me?’

Caroline found her voice and said huskily, ‘I certainly do. You see, I’ve been looking after two little girls who have to go away, and it would be lovely to have another little girl to take care of.’

After considering this for a second or two, Caitlin turned and trotted away, to return almost immediately with a large brown bear wearing a red and green striped scarf and a pugnacious expression on his heavy-jowled face.

‘This is Barnaby.’ She thrust the bear into Caroline’s arms.

‘Well, hello, Barnaby.’

‘He’s a boy.’

‘And a bear of character, I can see. Would he mind if I hugged him?’

Leaning against Caroline’s knee, Caitlin confided, ‘He likes to be hugged.’

‘He also likes a mid-morning nap,’ Matthew suggested, with a glance at his housekeeper.

‘Well, come along, me darlings.’ Mrs Monaghan obediently gathered up the child and the bear. “Time for a little sleep.’

As the trio departed Matthew put a hand beneath Caroline’s elbow and helped her to her feet.

‘Thank you.’ Trying to hide her desolation, she added.

‘I’d hoped to have a little more time with Caitlin.’

‘You’ll have plenty of time with her once you’ve moved in.’

Hardly daring to believe her ears, with a wildly beating heart, she asked, ‘You mean...?’

‘I mean Caitlin liked you.’

‘How can you tell?’

Just for a second his green-gold eyes warmed into laughter. ‘Only the people she really likes get to meet Barnaby. So, if you want the job...?’

Filled with joy and excitement, she breathed, ‘Yes... Yes, I do.’

‘Then as soon as we’ve had some coffee I’ll drive you over to the Amesburys’ to pick up your things. That way you’ll have the afternoon and evening to settle in before you start work tomorrow morning.’

After so much heartbreak, Caroline could hardly believe her good fortune. But even as she rejoiced the voice of caution warned that she mustn’t let gladness blind her to the danger of being here.

Every minute spent in Matthew’s company added to the risk of betraying herself, so she must stay out of his way as much as possible, and pray that he never suspected who she really was.


CHAPTER TWO

CAROLINE finished tucking Caitlin and Barnaby into bed and said softly, ‘Goodnight and God bless.’

‘Is Daddy home yet?’

Matthew, who had been away on a business trip for almost two weeks, was due back tonight, just in time for Christmas.

‘No. he won’t be home until quite late. But if you go to sleep like a good girl, when he gets here I’ll ask him to come in and give you a kiss.’

‘Tell me the toad story?’ Caitlin pleaded. She was getting tired, and her long silky lashes kept drooping.

Heart melting with love, Caroline agreed. ‘All right, if you close your eyes while you listen.’

Obediently the child’s bright eyes closed, and a small thumb went into her mouth.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, in the pool of golden light cast by the bunny lamp, Caroline began the fairy story that during the last month had become Caitlin’s favourite.

‘Once upon a time there was a handsome prince...’

‘What was he called?’

‘He was called Matthew...’

This part had become a familiar routine, with the same question, the same answer, and the same giggles because, on the first occasion, when Caroline had asked, ‘What do you think he was called?’ Caitlin had unhesitatingly chosen the name Matthew.

‘Now, poor Matthew had been turned into a toad by a naughty witch, and the only way to break the spell was for a beautiful princess to kiss him. One fine morning, when he was hopping through the forest...’

The story was one from her own childhood, and Caroline knew it off by heart. The words were soothing, familiar, allowing her thoughts to wander...

It seemed incredible that it was only about a month ago since Matthew had insisted on driving her to Morningside Heights to pick up her things.

While he had talked to Lois Amesbury she had packed—her few clothes and possessions going into a single suitcase—and said goodbye to the twins. With the prospect of having Caitlin to take care of, leaving the family hadn’t proved to be the wrench it might have been.

Mrs Monaghan had been kindness itself, and Caroline had settled into the penthouse well. To her very great relief there had been no mention of Matthew’s former fiancée, and the days had been filled with the kind of happiness she had never expected to know again.

But, while she gave Caitlin all the love and attention the child needed, Caroline was trying not to make the little girl too dependent on her. Always, at the back of her mind, was the knowledge of how uncertain the future was.

It was a blessed relief—or so she’d told herself—that after the first few days she had seen very little of Matthew.

At first he had watched her as relentlessly as a cat watches its potential prey, then, observing that she had won the child’s trust and affection, he had left her to it and set about catching up on a huge backlog of work before heading for Hong Kong.

Without his dynamic presence the apartment had seemed curiously empty, devoid of life and warmth and excitement.

While she admitted that she ought to feel safer when he was away, part of her longed to see him, to hear his voice and know he was close at hand...

‘And the beautiful princess said, “Little toad with crooked leg, open quick the door I beg...”’

Seeing Caitlin had fallen asleep, Caroline stopped speaking and, rising softly to her feet, took the child’s hand from her mouth and tucked it beneath the duvet, before stooping to kiss the rosy cheek.

As she switched on the monitoring system and turned to the door the tender smile lingering on her lips gave way to a gasp of fright.

The tall, shadowy figure, lounging in the doorway straightened. ‘I’m sorry,’ Matthew murmured mockingly, ‘did I startle you?’

Wondering how long he’d been standing there listening, she stammered, ‘I...we...weren’t expecting you home so early.’

He was still wearing his dark business suit. His lean face looked a little strained, she thought, as though even his magnificent stamina had been tested by such an intensive trip.

She felt a rush of tenderness, a longing to open her arms to him and welcome him back.

But even as she wished she had that right she saw that his eyes held a glint, a dangerous sparkle that made warning bells ring.

As he moved into the room she attempted to slip unobtrusively past him, her heart thudding, when he caught her wrist. ‘Don’t go...’

Ignoring her sharp intake of breath, he stooped to touch his lips to Caitlin’s forehead before leading the way out of the nursery and into the playroom, where a single shaded night-lamp burnt. ‘We have some unfinished business.’

‘Unfinished business?’ Alarmed by his air of intent, the build-up of tension she could feel, Caroline made an attempt to free her wrist.

His grip merely tightened, until his fingers felt as though they might crush the delicate bones. Moving closer, he suggested silkily, ‘Surely we need the beautiful princess to kiss the poor toad?’

Finding she’d been backed into a corner, and trying not to panic, she said as lightly as possible, ‘It’s just a fairy story Caitlin’s taken to.’

‘Ah, but a fairy story has to have a happy ending, and as the leading character...’

His dark face was only inches away. She looked at his mouth, that austere yet sensual mouth, and remembered with stunning clarity what it felt like when it touched hers.

A treacherous wave of heat engulfing her, somehow she managed, ‘I really don’t think I’d rate as a beautiful princess.’

‘You may not rate as a princess, but you’re certainly beautiful enough.’ All at once he sounded angry, driven.

Terrified of what might happen if he touched her, she begged hoarsely, ‘Oh, please, Matthew...’

Ignoring the plea, he took her face between his hands and his mouth closed over hers.

All thought obliterated, her whole being melted instantly, completely, so that without the support of the wall she couldn’t have remained on her feet.

His touch, his kiss, was what her heart and mind and body had craved. When finally he lifted his head, it took her a few seconds to gather herself and register that he was breathing as though he’d been running hard.

Knowing he’d only kissed her because he was inexplicably angry, she felt a fierce satisfaction that he hadn’t remained totally unmoved.

‘Well, well, well...’ he drawled, and his voice had a harshness to it. ‘Who would have dreamt such a prim-looking nanny was capable of so much passion?’

Terrified that her uncontrolled response might have stirred memories in him that were best forgotten, she said raggedly, ‘Please let me go. You have no right to treat me like this.’

‘Can I plead provocation?’ He was laughing now, making fun of her. ‘Promise never to touch you again?’

‘I’d prefer it if you did, Mr Carran.’

‘Why so formal? A minute ago you called me Matthew.’

She felt a quick stab of fear. ‘I—I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to...I was upset.’

He was still holding her face between his palms, and his thumbs stroked backwards and forwards across her cheeks in a movement that was no caress but an expression of his anger.

‘Tell me, Miss Smith, if I find it impossible to keep my hands off you, what will you do?’

She wanted to say that she would go, but at the thought of being anywhere else her heart seemed to shrivel and die in her breast..

‘Will you leave?’

Somehow he must have guessed that she would never leave of her own accord, she thought agitatedly, and he was deliberately taunting her.

Her voice impeded, she pointed out, ‘I don’t think that would help Caitlin. She’s just got used to me, and a child of her age needs some stability.’

As though the mention of Caitlin had sobered him, Matthew let his hands drop to his sides and stepped back, his expression controlled and dispassionate now.

But, when Caroline would have hurried away to the safety of her own suite, he once again stopped her. ‘Don’t disappear,’ he said briskly. ‘I want to talk to you. Have you had your evening meal yet?’

‘No.’

‘Then we can eat together and talk at the same time.’

Desperate to be alone until she had regained her equilibrium, Caroline made the first excuse that she could think of. ‘Oh, but I usually eat in the kitchen with Mrs Monaghan. She might think it strange if I—’

‘Isn’t Friday her night off?’

It was. Earlier in the day the housekeeper had announced her intention of spending the evening with her married daughter.

His eyes on Caroline’s transparent face, Matthew said sardonically, ‘However, if you feel more at home in the kitchen, when I’ve showered and changed I’ll join you there.’

He appeared to be back to his cool, disciplined self, and, watching him walk away, she wondered shakily what had provoked that burning display of anger, that need to deride and dominate.

Surely not just the use of his name in a child’s fairy tale?

She felt a cold shiver run through her. He had never tried to disguise the fact that he didn’t like her, but for that short space of time he had appeared almost to hate her.

Yet he had kissed her like a man who was starving.

As she made her somewhat unsteady way to the kitchen the remembrance filled her with disturbing and conflicting emotions.

Just one kiss, nevertheless it had altered everything. It had destroyed her composure, banished any slight feeling of peace or security she had gained, and reinforced how perilous her being here was.

A meal had been left ready, and while she put the chicken casserole into the microwave and began to set the table she was beset by a different anxiety. What did Matthew want to talk to her about? Her month’s trial time was almost completed, so had he decided to get rid of her?

No, surely not. She tried to be practical. He knew Caitlin had accepted her, and he needed a nanny.

Then what? Had he somehow discovered who she was?

No, if he had he would have turned her out immediately. She remembered only too clearly the look of loathing on his face that awful night as, white-lipped, he’d said with a fury no less devastating for being quiet, ‘I want you out of my house first thing in the morning. I never want to have to set eyes on you again.’

Shivering, she made an attempt to push the painful memory away. It had happened a long time ago, and was part of the past she tried so hard not to think about.

In a way, coming to work here had been madness, but she couldn’t regret taking the chance fate had offered her. Yet it left her open to even more heartache, she thought despairingly, if her brief happiness was about to come to an end.

The click of the latch made her jump.

Though she had thought herself prepared, her heart turned over at the sight of him. He had changed into an olive-green polo-necked shirt and casual trousers, and looked both dangerously attractive and formidable.

He had a way of moving, an arrogant tilt to his dark head, an almost feline grace and symmetry that, combined with his extraordinary eyes, had always put her in mind of a black panther. She felt her mouth go dry.

While she removed the casserole from the oven he took a bottle of white wine from the fridge, and, having opened it, he asked, ‘Why only one glass?’

‘I don’t usually drink,’ she answered simply.

His eyes clouding with anger, or impatience, he went to get a second glass. ‘I know that’s what you told me, but just this once I won’t hold it against you.’

As he filled the glasses she put a bowl of fluffy rice and a tossed green salad on the table, and took the chair opposite his.

With easy authority, he served both her and himself before picking up his fork.

For a while they ate without speaking, until, needing to break the silence, striving for normality, she asked, ‘Have you had a good trip?’

The chiselled lips twisted. ‘You sound for all the world like a dutiful wife.’

‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to be pleasant.’

‘While I’m being anything but?’

Then, with that sudden change of direction which seemed designed to fluster her, he said, ‘The day I gave you the job, I mentioned that Caitlin was my stepbrother’s child.’

Though it was more a statement than a question, he was clearly waiting for an answer, and she nodded.

‘You didn’t ask what had become of him.’ Watching the colour drain out of her face, leaving it ashen, he added, ‘I wonder why?’

Her voice sounding hollow, echoing inside her own head, she said, ‘I didn’t consider it was any of my business.’

‘I’ll tell you all the same. It’s three years today since he was killed in an accident. That’s why I’m in such a black mood...’

As she stared at him transfixed, unable to move or speak, like someone mortally wounded, he added, ‘So perhaps you’ll forgive me?’

It seemed an age before she was able to say through bloodless lips, ‘Of course...I’m sorry.’

He reached to refill the glasses. ‘I take it you’ve had no worries over Caitlin while I’ve been away?’

Gathering herself, Caroline said, ‘No, she’s been fine. She’s missed you, of course, and asked about you every day.’

‘She calls me Daddy?’

‘Yes.’

‘I haven’t discouraged her, as I’m hoping to legally adopt her.’ Then with no change of tone, he asked, ‘Have you made any special plans for tomorrow?’

‘Special plans?’

‘It’s Caitlin’s birthday.’

He watched Caroline catch her breath while she absorbed the shock.

‘I—I didn’t realise... No one mentioned it...’ Seeing his face harden with unaccountable anger, she stammered, ‘W-was that what you wanted to talk to me about?’

‘Amongst other things. But we’ll deal with that first.’

Her stunned mind trying to cope with the possibilities, Caroline suggested, ‘When I take her to playschool tomorrow morning, I’ll talk to the mothers of her special friends and see if I can fix an afternoon party, with a cake and—’

‘That won’t be necessary. Before I went away I arranged a party at McDonalds which includes a cake and a magician and all the trimmings. About a dozen of Caitlin’s friends will be there.’

Feeling as though she’d been slapped, Caroline swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t think to mention it sooner... I haven’t even got a birthday present for her.’

‘There’s really no need for you to give her anything.’

‘I’d like to.’

‘Very well. If you want to choose something, have tomorrow morning off. I’ll be home all day.’

‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. Then, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter, ‘Will you be taking her to the party?’

‘Yes, I’d planned to take her. Why? Do you want the whole day off?’

‘No. I—I just wondered.’

Getting to her feet, doing her best to hide her disappointment, Caroline cleared away the first course and, when he shook his head at the chocolate tart, reached for the pot of coffee.

As she filled both their cups he asked idly, ‘Have you any plans for the festive season?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I’m intending to spend Christmas away from home...’

Though she knew it was unwise, to say the least, Caroline had hoped to see at least something of Matthew over the holiday. Now, despite the pleasure being with the child would bring, disappointment made her voice a little flat as she said, ‘So you want me to stay here with Caitlin?’

‘No, I want you both to come upstate with me. I own a country club and health spa on Clear Lake.’

Caroline went icy cold with shock, as though every drop of warm blood had drained from her body.

‘Have you ever been to a health spa?’

‘No... I—I know nothing about such places.’

‘Then it’s high time you did. Can you swim?’

Panic-stricken, she lied, ‘No.’

‘Then this will be an ideal opportunity to have some expert tuition.’

But the idea of going back to Clear Lake, where she’d once been so rapturously happy, filled her with a bleak anguish.

He picked it up instantly. ‘You don’t seem to like the idea?’

She voiced the only protest she could think of. ‘But you’re paying me to look after Caitlin, not learn how to swim.’

‘By next year Caitlin should be swimming well herself, and it will be useful if you’re already experienced and can accompany her.’

He was talking about next year as if he expected her to still be here. Caroline warmed herself with the thought, before objecting, ‘But someone would have to look after her while I—’

“‘Someone” will. The spa is family orientated. As well as a highly trained staff we have a number of experienced nursemaids and a babysitting service. Last year we started to run a special nursery and a toddler’s activity centre. It keeps the younger children engaged and happy and allows parents to give their nannies a holiday—’ he gave her a mocking glance ‘—white they do their own thing.

‘The scheme was my suggestion, and I’d like to try it out first-hand.’ Smoothly sarcastic, he added, ‘That is, unless you have any objections?’

The very last thing she wanted to do was accompany Matthew to Clear Lake, but he employed her, and she could hardly refuse to go.

After watching the changing expressions flit across her face, he queried, ‘Well?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t any objections.’

‘Good, then that’s settled. Can you be ready to go straight after the party tomorrow? Caitlin is at an age where sitting in a car can be boring, but if we travel up during the evening, she’ll probably sleep most of the way.’

When, late afternoon the following day, they left New York City, fresh snow had been falling for almost an hour. White and clean and crisp, it covered the sidewalks, clung to lampposts and buildings, and formed pointed caps on each set of red and green traffic lights.

But the main routes upstate were clear, and their journey, north through the snowy evening in the big four-wheel drive that Matthew had taken in place of his usual Jaguar was trouble-free and comfortable.

As he had foreseen, Caitlin, who had been bathed and changed and tucked into a cosy sleeping-bag, slept soundly, and for the first few miles only the shush of the tyres and the swish of the wiper blades broke the silence.

Caroline watched the swirling flakes without really seeing them, her thoughts on that afternoon’s birthday party.

She had dressed Caitlin in the special party frock and matching ribbons she herself had bought that morning, and when Matthew, who had come through to collect the child, had said merely, ‘My, don’t you look pretty,’ she had experienced a surge of relief.

‘Can Caro come with us?’ Caitlin asked.

His head came up and, sounding annoyed, he asked, ‘Why does she call you Caro?’

‘I suggested it,’ Caroline admitted.

‘Wouldn’t Nanny have been more appropriate?’

Caroline swallowed. ‘I thought she might have called her grandmother that...some children do...’

‘Can she come, Daddy?’ Caitlin persisted.

‘Would you like her to?’

The child nodded vigorously.

His green gaze on Caroline’s face, Matthew queried. ‘Have you anything better to do?’

‘No, I’d love to come,’ she said eagerly.

Too eagerly, she’d realised later, but she had been so delighted to get the chance to go, she had forgotten to be cautious.

The party had proved a great success. Though if Caroline had known how often Matthew’s gaze had remained fixed on her rather than on Caitlin, she would have been alarmed.

But she was so taken up with watching the child, her heart in her eyes, that for her the only flaw had been the awful moment when one of the staff had referred to her as ‘Mrs Carran’, and she had seen the frozen look on Matthew’s face.

As though reading her thoughts, he broke the silence to ask a shade ironically, ‘So, did you enjoy the party?’

Warning herself to be careful this time, she answered casually, ‘Oh, yes. I’ve always liked children’s parties. Watching their expressions, the way they react, can be quite fascinating.’

‘I thought with so many youngsters to keep an eye on you might be sorry you went?’

‘Oh, no, I was happy to be there.’

‘Though perhaps you should have worn a uniform after all.’ There was a sudden bite to his voice. ‘The staff thought you were Caitlin’s mother.’

Feeling as though she’d been pierced through the heart, Caroline sat still and silent, gripped by a kind of dread, a fear of some impending blow.

But with a swift change of subject, he queried, ‘Have you ever been to Clear Lake before?’

Taking a deep breath, she lied, ‘No.’

‘It’s a wonderfully scenic area of woods and mountains and hot springs that’s very popular with New Yorkers. That’s why I decided to build a health spa there.’

With a touch of derision, he went on, ‘It allows the jaded city-dwellers—or at least the ones who can afford it—to relax and be pampered in picturesque surroundings.’

‘You sound a little...disdainful...’

‘Though I love the lake, I’ve always found the club atmosphere somewhat cloying—not to say claustrophobic. A couple of months ago, when an old house that I liked in that area came on to the market I decided to buy it. That way, when the renovations are completed, I’ll have somewhere that’s really my own to go to when I feel the need to get away from the city...’

Caroline was just starting to relax and breathe freely again when he added, ‘My stepbrother liked to get away from the city, too, but he usually stayed in a hotel north of the lake. He was having a break up there when he met the woman who became his wife. I gather they bumped into each other in the hotel lobby. It seems to have been love at first sight, at least as far as he was concerned... He fairly doted on her...’

Why was Matthew telling her all this? Caroline wondered painfully. It was almost as if he was deliberately tormenting her.

‘Though I imagine he had no idea what she was really like...’

There was anger and bitterness in Matthew’s voice now, as he added, ‘I’m sorry to say Caitlin’s mother had neither scruples nor morals.’

Caroline shivered. It was quite plain that, even after all this time, Matthew still hated his stepsister-in-law.

Signalling the end of the conversation, he pressed a button on the dashboard stereo and the plaintive sound of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ filled the car.

Feeling drained, emotionally exhausted, Caroline put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

She must have slept for some time, because when she opened heavy lids they were pulling into the grounds of the luxury spa complex that she had first seen almost four years ago.

Then there had been blizzard conditions. Now the scene was serenely beautiful. Snow covered everything in a soft white blanket and odd flakes were still drifting down—a light scattering from what seemed to be an almost clear sky.

Well-lit roadways spread from the central area, where a tall Christmas tree hung with sparkling baubles stood in front of the main entrance. Light spilled from the long windows and lay in pools of gold across the snowy expanse.

Caroline was surprised when, instead of drawing up in front of the steps, Matthew took a road to the left and stopped outside a single-storey chalet-type house, set apart from the rest.

Catching her look of surprise, he asked curtly, ‘Something wrong?’

‘No... I just presumed that we’d be staying in your apartment in the main building.’

‘How do you know I have an apartment in the main building?’ The question was quiet but lethal.

‘Well, I—I don’t, of course... I—I just thought...’ Stammering helplessly, she broke off.

‘Well, as it happens, you’re quite right. I do have a suite of rooms kept for my own use, but there are only two bedrooms—which would have meant you sharing with Caitlin. Or me.’

Watching the burning colour pour into Caroline’s pale face, he added sardonically, ‘I didn’t care for the first option, and I thought you might not care for the second.’

Opening the car door, he got out, his feet crunching on the fresh snow. Alarmed and disturbed by his black mood and her own stupid blunder, she followed him.

Strapped into the car seat she shared with Bamaby, Caitlin was still sleeping soundly. Lifting her out with care, Matthew carried the child and bear into the chalet and through to a small, cosy room fitted out as a nursery. Then, while Caroline tucked the pair into bed, he went outside again to deal with the baggage.

When she had switched on the monitoring system and turned the nightlight down low, Caroline kissed the little girl’s sleep-flushed cheek before going back to the attractive open-plan living area.

The middle of the room was sunken, and a couch piled with soft cushions queened it in front of a copper-canopied central fireplace, where a log fire blazed merrily. To one side was an all-mod-cons kitchenette, its fridge well stocked with food.

Caroline took off her coat and hung it behind one of the sliding doors in the hallway, her thoughts still in a turmoil. She had expected to be in a hotel atmosphere, surrounded by people, and the idea of being alone here with Matthew was both wonderful and disturbing.

Not to mention dangerous. Since he’d returned from his trip his mood had been so strange and intense. So quietly explosive.

She remembered his, ‘...if I find it impossible to keep my hands off you...’ and shivered. He would only have to kiss her, touch her, and she would be lost...

When they’d first met, though she’d been already half involved with another man, she had looked at him and loved him.

He had fulfilled some deep, primitive need in her, and as she recalled her overwhelming and ecstatic response to his lovemaking perspiration dewed her forehead and made her palms grow clammy.

That depth and intensity of feeling had seemed to be mutual. But, while sweeping her off her feet with a passionate urgency, he’d been kind and caring and heartbreakingly tender.

In the intervening years, however, he seemed to have developed a streak of cruelty, and she didn’t doubt that if she gave him the slightest opportunity in his present frame of mind he was capable of tearing her apart...emotionally speaking...

The door swung open and Matthew was back, loaded with luggage, snowflakes melting on his dark hair. He put her case in the bedroom next to the nursery, then went to dispose of Caitlin’s things and his own.

It had been a long drive, and, knowing he must be ready for a drink, Caroline filled the kettle and put it on to boil.

She was spooning coffee into the pot when she heard his footsteps returning, and, glancing up incautiously, she met his eyes. For a long moment they looked at one another in silence.

A drop of melted snow ran off his hair and trickled down his lean cheek. She wanted to lift her hand and wipe it away. Instead she asked jerkily, ‘Can I make you some supper?’

‘I don’t expect you to look after me as well as Caitlin.’ His voice was brusque.

Flushing a little, she said, ‘It’s no trouble, really.’

‘In that case, thank you.’

While she made a plateful of cheese and ham sandwiches he sat on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, gazing into the flames. His dark face wore a sombre, brooding look that boded ill for the holiday.

Caroline put the coffee pot and sandwiches on a tray and carried them over to a small table nearby. As she turned away he demanded, ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m a bit tired,’ she answered awkwardly. ‘I thought I’d go to bed.’

‘Sit down and have a cup of coffee and a sandwich.’

‘She shook her head. ’I’m not hungry, and coffee this late will keep me awake.’

‘Then stay and talk to me.’ It was an order.

Biting her lip, she took a seat on the other end of the couch and asked as levelly as possible, ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘You. I’d like to know why you’re calling yourself Miss Smith.’

Shock made Caroline catch her breath. Somehow she answered, ‘Because it’s my name.’

‘Miss—when you’ve been married?’

Every drop of blood drained from her face. ‘What makes you think I’ve been married?’ Her voice sounded high and strained.

‘Remember the day I took you to pick up your belongings? While you were packing Mrs Amesbury showed me a snapshot of you and the twins, taken when you’d only been there a short time. Perhaps you recall the one I mean? You were sitting with them on your knee, an arm around each of them...’

When she merely stared at him, her aquamarine eyes grown dark with apprehension, he went on, ‘Facially it’s not particularly good—you have on those heavy spectacles and your head’s bent—but your hands are in focus, and quite clearly you’re wearing a wedding ring.’

She’d taken it off and put it away for good shortly afterwards.

‘So tell me about your marriage,’ he pursued.

‘There’s really not much to tell.’ Her voice was brittle as ice. ‘We were both young, and it didn’t last long.’

‘Where is your husband now?’

About to lie, to pretend he’d left her, Caroline hesitated. Suppose Lois Amesbury had told Matthew what little she knew?

Her lips so stiff they would hardly frame the words, Caroline admitted, ‘My husband died.’

‘So why does a respectable widow need to call herself Miss Smith?’

‘I decided to leave the past behind me and revert to my maiden name. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really am tired.’

Before he could make any further move to detain her, she jumped to her feet and hurried away.

If her precipitate departure was unwise, she couldn’t help it. She had come to the end of her emotional resources and could stand no more.


CHAPTER THREE

AFTER the traumas of the evening, sleep refused to come, and Caroline tossed and turned until dawn lightened the sky and the first bird began to sing. Then, exhausted, she slept heavily for more than an hour, wakening to bright sunshine and the appetising smell of coffee.

When she’d showered and pulled on slim-fitting wool trousers and a cream sweater, she went through to the living area to find Matthew.

A tea towel knotted around his lean hips and a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, he was cooking breakfast while Caitlin fed Barnaby Bear and herself with fruit and cereal.

His glance flicked over Caroline, taking in her air of fatigue and the shadows beneath her clear aquamarine eyes. ‘Good morning.’ He sounded relaxed and almost friendly, the black mood of the previous night banished. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ she lied, adding, ‘I’m sorry I’m up late.’

‘No problem,’ he returned easily. ‘We’re on holiday.’

Strictly speaking she wasn’t, Caroline thought, and bent to give Caitlin her usual morning kiss. As she straightened she caught Matthew’s satirical glance and flushed.

He made no comment, however, merely remarking casually, ‘Did I mention that the spa has a special swimming pool for beginners?’

As she half shook her head he added, ‘I’ve asked for our best instructor to be standing by, so that after breakfast you can have your first lesson.’

Dismay filled her. She had hoped to find some way of wriggling out of it, or at least postponing things for as long as possible.

‘I haven’t got a swimsuit.’ Even as the protest left her lips she knew it was useless.

‘There’ll be a selection waiting for you.’ His tone brooked no further argument. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he added, with a sudden edge to his voice, ‘you may find you’re a natural.’

As soon as breakfast was over Matthew took Caroline along to the leisure complex, which housed several blue and inviting pools on different levels, as well as a sauna and Jacuzzi.

On a kind of raised dais at the end of the teaching pool was a diving basin, and a group of youngsters were learning to dive, supervised by a tall blonde woman.

Outside it was a beautifully sunny day. Ice had formed lacy embroidery around the edges of the sapphire lake, and the trees looked as if they’d been sugar-frosted, while on the slopes the snow lay thick and even, patterned in parts with animal and bird tracks.

Inside, safe from the rigours of winter, the air was comfortably warm, and a pale sandy beach, complete with palms and flowering shrubs, gave the illusion of a tropical island.

The whole place had a sensuous sybaritic feel, while the poolside furniture and the bar-restaurant, with its palatial changing cabins, could only be described as luxurious in the extreme.

After Matthew had introduced Caroline to the young well-built instructor who was waiting for them, he cast a cursory glance over the swimwear on display, then left her to choose while he took Caitlin and Barnaby over to the toddlers’ activity centre.

By the time he returned she had changed into a modest one-piece suit, patterned with oranges and lemons on a white background, and a matching terrycloth robe.

She hoped that if Matthew did intend to swim he would join the experienced swimmers in one of the other pools. Her hopes were dashed, however, when he said, ‘You go ahead. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve changed.’

The handsome fair-haired instructor, who’d introduced himself as Brett Colyer, jumped into the shallow water and waited while she walked carefully down the steps.

Caroline had always enjoyed swimming and as the water flowed around her, silky, cool and caressing, she felt her spirits lift.

Once she was in the pool, and looking at her ease, Brett began to demonstrate various strokes. Her attention only partly on what he was saying, she saw Matthew arrive. Dressed in neat black trunks, his olive skin gleaming, his dark hair a little rumpled, he looked disturbingly attractive.

Very conscious of his unrelenting gaze, she tried to behave like a beginner as, following Brett’s instructions, she practised first floating on her back and then turning to do a few breast strokes.

When, after some patient tuition, she ‘managed’ to swim a width, Brett said enthusiastically, ‘Excellent progress, Miss Smith. You’re obviously a born swimmer.’

Matthew, who had just completed a couple of leisurely lengths, broke in drily, ‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’ He glanced at his waterproof watch. ‘Well, I think that’s enough for the moment. Thanks, Brett.’

Caroline added her thanks, and as the instructor left the pool Matthew turned to follow, pausing to say, ‘I’m just going to get dressed and check on Caitlin—make sure she’s happy.’

‘Oh, but shouldn’t I do that? After all, it’s what I’m being paid for.’

‘At the moment you’re being paid to learn to swim.’ His tone was uncompromising. ‘If you want to stay in the shallow end and try another width or two before you get changed, I’ll be back shortly.’

Despite the painful memories that had crowded in, just that one awkward width had brought back all her old delight in the sport. She longed to try a really fast crawl, to feel again the marvellous sensation of cleaving effortlessly through the water.

Instead, she was doing graceful but slow widths when she heard a shout and, looking towards the diving basin, saw a young boy standing on the edge peering into the water.

It was clear that something was amiss. The blonde who had previously been supervising the youngsters was nowhere to be seen, and no one else was near.

Caroline completed the width at racing speed and, hauling herself out of the pool, ran to the boy. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s my brother...’ he blubbered. ‘She wouldn’t let him dive from the top board, so when she’d gone he sneaked back. I think he’s hurt himself, and I don’t swim too good...’ The words tumbled over each other.

Caroline took a deep breath and dived in, neatly and cleanly. A boy of about nine or ten was just struggling to the surface, choking and gasping.

Seizing hold of him, she instructed tersely, ‘Lie on your back.’

He obeyed, and with a hand beneath his chin she towed him to the side. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, when she’d helped him out.

‘Just winded,’ he muttered. ‘But Mom will sure give me hell when she hears about it.’

‘Don’t you think you’ve earned a telling off? It was a silly thing to do. You could have been badly hurt.’

‘Guess so,’ he admitted ruefully.

Taking pity at his woebegone face, she added, ‘But I don’t suppose your mother will be angry for long. She’ll be only too pleased you’re all right.’

A couple of older boys appeared on the scene. ‘Hi, Vincy, you okay?’ one asked.

And then the other suggested, ‘Want to go down the flume?’

Seeing she was no longer needed, Caroline turned to make her way to the cabin where she’d left her clothes.

At first she could see no sign of Matthew, and she was just drawing a breath of relief when she noticed him standing on the balcony, his eyes fixed on her.

How long had he been there? If he’d seen what had happened he would know she’d lied about not being able to swim.

He descended the steps and came towards her with a long, somehow menacing stride. She was standing tense, waiting for the axe to fall, when he said casually, ‘At first I couldn’t see you. I thought you might have gone to get changed.’

Bending her head, so he wouldn’t see her face, she said, ‘I’m just on my way.’ Then she added hastily, ‘Is Caitlin all right?’

‘Happy as a sandboy. I asked her if she wanted to come and have lunch with us, but she preferred to stay and enjoy an indoor picnic with the others.’

‘Oh...’ Though part of her wanted to be alone with Matthew, she knew only too well how hazardous it could be, how many pitfalls she might encounter.

‘As we are on our own,’ Matthew went on smoothly, ‘I suggest we drive along the Skyline Parkway and do some sightseeing.’

‘Will we be able to?’

‘Oh, yes. There are quite a few houses up there, so it’s a road that’s usually kept ploughed. Though it’s not particularly high, you’ll find the views from the ridge breathtaking. We can stop on the way for a spot of lunch at Sky Windows.’




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