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Ruthless Contract
Kathryn Ross
Wedlocked"I hate you Greg Prescott… I just hate you." Five years ago, Greg had deceived Abbie, and now fate had delivered even crueler blows. Abbie's sister and brother-in-law had been tragically killed, and Abbie found herself in America, as the joint guardian of her beloved twin nieces… a guardianship she shared with Greg.He wouldn't hear of her taking the little girls back to England. But if she wanted to stay with them she was faced with a cruel alternative - a loveless marriage to Greg, who made it quite plain that he expected to share her bed… .



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u20471b2f-5891-5c23-b30b-3207508baab2)
Excerpt (#udc536981-9cd7-5519-bdd0-de16f80706cc)
About The Author (#uf4d4f4db-0023-5ea2-9c7a-318a50014f28)
Title Page (#u60292dfe-ac16-5583-affc-3b5d39fe5f2d)
Chapter One (#ud47f6f57-a56e-5579-b72d-69e09749618e)
Chapter Two (#u8cd70631-2af0-5942-b966-e909892622ac)
Chapter Three (#u2b07fee0-d4dd-5a2a-b5e5-b42282cdb50c)
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)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?” he murmured in a husky undertone. “I thought it might bring back a few memories. It certainly brought back a few for me.” His lips twisted in an arrogant smile. “You always were a passionate little thing.”

A rush of red-hot anger replaced the warm feelings inside her, and she pulled away from him. “And you always were full of yourself,” she snapped. “For your information, I hated every moment of that kiss.”

“You do surprise me,” he drawled lazily, then placed a finger against his lips as she looked ready to explode. “Shh! Don’t wake the girls.”

Abbie took a step back from him, her gaze moving over the laughing gleam in his eyes. That kiss had been just a joke to him. “I hate you, Greg Prescott…I just hate you.”

KATHRYN ROSS
was born in Zambia, Africa, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later Designed With Love was accepted by Harlequin. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.

Ruthless Contract
Kathryn Ross



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

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1bef74c7-24fc-51ac-ab97-2fdcee9dda48)
LIFE never went as you expected it to, Abigail reflected as she looked down from the plane at the skyscrapers of New York.
Jenny and Mike had been so happy, had had so much to live for. For a moment her eyes blurred with tears and swiftly she searched in her bag for a tissue. She wasn’t going to cry any more, she told herself fiercely. She had already cried enough tears to last a lifetime.
She could still hardly take in the fact that her beautiful sister was dead, that she would never see her or Mike again.
The pilot’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he told them that they would soon be landing at JFK and that the local time was five-thirty in the afternoon…
A frisson of nerves started to twist inside Abbie as she thought about seeing Greg Prescott again.
It was five years since she had last seen him. It felt like a lifetime ago. It had taken her a long time to get over the havoc that man had wrought in her life. Even now at the oddest times she found herself thinking about him, thinking what a fool he had made of her.
The plane touched down smoothly and the long flight from London to New York was over. Abigail didn’t move immediately; she waited until the majority of passengers had gathered up their belongings and were filing down the aisle before she even unfastened her seatbelt.
Then calmly she opened her handbag and took out a small compact to check her appearance.
Her blue eyes were slightly shadowed, reflecting the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping well recently, and her skin was very pale. With a sigh she reapplied dark pink lipstick and then ran a hand through her long blonde hair to fluff it up. She wanted to look completely composed when she saw Greg.
She had been surprised when he had written to her and told her she could stay with him instead of at a hotel, and she had been even more surprised when he had offered to pick her up at the airport.
She had wanted to refuse both offers. The thought of having to spend any time in that man’s company was completely abhorrent. It was only the thought of the children that had made her write a stiff letter of acceptance.
Poor little Daisy and Rachel. She bit down sharply on her lip as she thought about the twins. It was quite frankly just the thought of the children that had kept her going over these last few days. She had every intention of taking them home to England with her. They needed her and she was going to be there for them.
Swiftly she rose to her feet, a look of determination on her young face. She was going to have to face Greg Prescott now and forget their past history.
It seemed to take forever to clear immigration. Even though you no longer needed a visa to visit the States, the authorities were hot on who was coming in and, more importantly, when they were going to leave.
Abigail was thankful that she had heeded Charles’s advice and booked her return flight in advance. She could always add the children on from this side once she had cleared everything with Greg.
Her heart thumped nervously as she picked up her bag and walked through the barriers. Her eyes ran searchingly along the sea of faces waiting at the other side. At first she couldn’t see anyone she recognised and she wondered for a brief second if he just hadn’t bothered to come.
She pushed her trolley around the crowds and headed decisively towards the telephones. She wasn’t going to stand around like an idiot waiting for him, she told herself angrily. If he couldn’t be bothered to be here on time she would make her own arrangements.
It was then that she saw him. He was leaning indolently against a counter to one side of her, just watching her.
Her heart seemed to miss a beat and for a second they could have been the only two people on the planet. The crowds around them, the hustle and the noise just seemed to disappear as she met those dark, deeply disturbing eyes.
He looked different…yet so familiar that her heart leapt crazily. He was still ruggedly handsome, only now the darkness of his hair was flecked with silver at the sides and instead of wearing casual jeans he was dressed in a formal dark suit. He looked every inch the successful lawyer that he was.
He didn’t move towards her immediately, but took his time, his eyes lazily sweeping from the tips of her stilettoheeled shoes over the navy blue suit that clung in a flattering way to the slender curves of her figure, before resting slowly on her face.
Much to her annoyance she felt herself starting to blush and he smiled as he noticed her heightened colour. Only then did he move across to her.
‘Hello, Abbie, it’s been a long time,’ he murmured in that deep drawling tone she remembered so well.
She bit down on the impulse to say, Not long enough. ‘Yes, it has…You haven’t changed.’ It was the only thing she could think of to say to him and it wasn’t strictly true. He had changed and it wasn’t just the silver strands in his hair.
The Greg she had known was good-natured—approachable. This Greg looked harder somehowtougher. An aura of power seemed to encompass him.
She supposed the meteoric rise in his career had contributed to the harsh, uncompromising look of his features. After all, Greg had achieved more in the last few years than most men did in a lifetime. You didn’t climb to the top without ruthless determination.
His lips twisted drily. ‘I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not.’
‘It was just a casual comment,’ she shrugged, and looked away from him. She knew very well that he was remembering the rather severe words she had spoken last time they had seen each other. ‘Listen, I don’t want to put you out in any way.’ She continued on in a rush. ‘If it would be better for you, I’ll just book myself into a hotel somewhere until we sort things out.’ Her voice was abrasively brisk; she didn’t mean it to sound quite so prickly, but she was very uptight, very uneasy about the whole situation.
He flicked her a glance from eyes that were quite calm. ‘Everything is sorted out,’ he told her in a low, firm voice. ‘I’ve made the necessary arrangements. The funeral is tomorrow.’
A cold shudder ran through her body at those words.
He picked up her bag and marched forward towards the car-park, leaving her no option but to hurry after him.
‘So.’ He stopped by a silver-blue Mercedes and put her luggage in the boot. ‘Did you have a good journey?’
‘It was all right.’ In truth she hadn’t noticed much about the trip; her mind had been too taken up with thoughts of Jenny, worries about the children and, of course, the dread of seeing him again.
She waited until she was seated in the car and he had started the ignition before she asked the question that was burning inside her. ‘How are the children?’
He glanced at her, and for the first time she glimpsed the tired, strained look of grief behind the remote countenance. ‘If you want it in one word, devastated.’
Abbie bit down on her lip and turned over-bright eyes away from him. ‘I just can’t believe it’s happened, Greg, I really can’t. It’s like a bad dream.’
‘You’re telling me.’ Grimly he swung the car out from its space.
They didn’t speak at all until he had hit the freeway and they were headed towards the centre of the city.
‘How’s your mum holding up?’ Abbie turned slightly in her seat to look at him.
‘She’s been very brave. I reckon a lot of it is for the children’s sake.’
‘Is she looking after them?’
‘Yes…she’s moved into my apartment for the time being. She’s coping very well, considering, but it’s taking a lot out of her.’ He raked a distracted hand through the thickness of his hair. ‘Luckily I have a good housekeeper who comes in each day, and I intend to try cutting down on my workload so that I can be at home more, but it’s difficult.’
‘Is that necessary now that I’m here?’ she asked quickly.
He gave a dry laugh. ‘I can’t see you looking after young children.’ He flicked a hard glance at her. ‘You’re hardly the domesticated type.’
Her face burned with anger at that remark. ‘I can assure you that when it comes to my sister’s children I could become any “type” that is necessary.’
He shrugged. ‘But you won’t be here long enough to be much help…will you?’
She let that remark pass in silence.
He turned off at the next junction and was a moment concentrating on the flow of traffic before he spoke again. ‘How’s that boyfriend of yours—what’s his name?’
‘Charles.’ She muttered the name through clenched teeth, knowing that Greg was going to make some kind of sarcastic remark.
‘That’s right, Charles.’ For a moment Greg’s lips twisted in the semblance of a smile. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t married him yet…You considered him quite a catch, if I remember rightly.’ He flicked her a sideways glance. ‘What happened? Didn’t Mummy approve?’
Abigail glared at him. ‘As a matter of fact I get on very well with Charles’s mother,’ she grated furiously.
His lips twisted scornfully. ‘So he just hasn’t asked you yet?’
‘Yes, he’s asked me.’ Abigail was so incensed by the question that she answered without thinking. How dared he ask such personal questions? She wouldn’t dream of asking about his girlfriend. For a moment a picture of Connie Davis flashed vividly into her mind. What had happened to her? she wondered distractedly. There had been a time when she had expected to hear that Greg had married Connie, but the years had passed and he was still single.
‘So you’ve turned the paragon down?’ Greg continued with a wry twist of his lips. ‘Amazing…all that lovely money too.’
Abigail was momentarily speechless at such an outrageous remark. ‘No, I haven’t turned him down,’ she grated heatedly, once she had caught her breath. ‘Not that it is any of your damn business.’
‘So if you haven’t turned him down, then you are engaged to him?’ He darted a glance at her left hand, unperturbed by her angry tone.
‘I’m thinking about it,’ she muttered in a low voice. ‘If you must know, he asked me a few days ago, just before the…accident.’
As she was talking she was wondering why she was telling him this; it was far too personal. She cursed herself for allowing him to get under her skin so easily.
‘Why play games? It’s inevitable that you will marry the guy,’ Greg grated drily.
She shot him an angry look. ‘Nothing is inevitable.’
One eyebrow rose mockingly as he pulled into an underground car-park and a reserved space. ‘The Abigail I know would never turn down the likes of Charles Marsden.’
Greg really hadn’t changed a bit, she thought furiously. He could still bring her to boiling-point with the mere lift of one eyebrow. The man was totally insufferable. How she could ever have imagined herself in love with him was a complete mystery.
‘I can assure you that you don’t know me at all,’ she told him aridly.
Greg’s hard eyes flicked over her beautiful face. ‘On the contrary, I think I know you very well,’ he drawled smoothly, and then his eyes moved down over the soft curves of her body in a blatant appraisal. ‘As well as a man can know a woman.’
Colour rose in her cheeks at the deliberately provocative statement.
He shrugged and reached for the door-handle. ‘Anyway, I hope you find happiness,’ he concluded briskly. ‘My main concern is the happiness of two little girls under my care.’
‘Well, at least we are in agreement about something.’ She got out of the car and their eyes met across its roof.
‘Are we?’ he asked stonily, a dark brooding expression on his lean features.
What was that supposed to mean? she wondered angrily as she waited for him to get her luggage from the trunk of the car. Did he think she didn’t care about her own sister’s children?
She restrained herself from demanding to know what he was implying. The less she spoke to Greg the better, she decided firmly. She was going to have to tread very warily around him and it didn’t help to descend to personal levels.
She followed him towards the elevator and they travelled upwards in silence for a moment. ‘Will the children be awake?’ she asked at last, as curiosity overtook her.
‘They shouldn’t be.’ Greg glanced at his watch. ‘They are usually in bed by seven in the evening, but then again, neither has been sleeping well and they are excited about your arrival.’
When the doors of the elevator opened Greg led her into the type of penthouse apartment that she had only ever seen in top, glossy magazines. Its opulence and its beauty took her breath away.
The lounge was decorated in shades of gold and white; it was modern in design and very large, with a black wrought-iron spiral staircase curving down into one corner. The views from the windows were spectacular.
New York was spread in front of her in glittering array. It was just starting to get dark; the sky had turned to a dusky lilac colour and the skyscrapers were dotted with lights like huge Christmas trees illuminated against the sky.
‘Make yourself at home.’ Greg waved her towards a white leather settee. ‘I’ll just go and find out where everyone is.’
He didn’t have to move far. He had only taken a step towards a door at the far end of the room when it burst open, and two little five-year-olds flung themselves into Abigail’s arms.
‘Aunty Abbie, it’s been awful,’ Rachel sobbed as she was held tightly against Abbie. ‘Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming home any more.’
Abbie met Greg’s eyes across the room, and she was glad of the semi-darkness of the room so that he couldn’t see the sudden tears that shimmered in her eyes.
She crouched lower down and held the girls as if she would never let them go. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she whispered as she kissed both of them. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’
It was a moment before she noticed that Greg’s mother was standing in the doorway watching them. ‘Hello, Margaret.’ Slowly she straightened.
‘Abbie.’ The older woman came forward and Abbie was shocked to see how she had aged since she had last seen her. Her brown hair was peppered with grey, and her face seemed hollow somehow, her eyes filled with a deep sadness that just tore at Abigail’s heart.
‘I’m so sorry, Margaret.’ Impulsively Abigail moved to embrace the other woman and for a while they just clung to each other in silent grief.
‘Come on, you two.’ Greg’s voice cut into the atmosphere. ‘Let’s lighten things up a bit.’ He strolled across and picked up the twins, one in each arm, as effortlessly as if they were mere babies instead of two sturdy children. ‘For a start-off, you should be in bed. Maybe if you ask Aunty Abbie very nicely, she will come and tuck you in.’
Abbie nodded as the two children looked over at her expectantly.
‘Good—now kiss Grandma goodnight and let’s go.’
He carried them across and they dutifully kissed their grandmother and wished her goodnight.
‘Poor little things,’ Margaret whispered in a broken voice as Greg carried them out. ‘I still can’t believe it.’
Abigail swallowed hard. ‘Greg tells me the funeral is tomorrow?’
Margaret nodded and led the way over to sit down on the settee. ‘I think we will all feel better when that is over with.’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’ Privately Abigail wondered if she would ever feel all right again. Although it was a year since she had last seen her sister, she had always been in close contact with her. Her death would leave a terrible void in her life.
Margaret sighed. ‘Well, it’s good to see you again, Abigail,’ she said warmly. ‘Even if it is in such terrible circumstances.’
‘I just wish I had come over sooner,’ Abigail murmured. ‘What happened, Margaret? I didn’t even know Jenny and Mike were planning a holiday.’
‘It was a spur of the moment thing.’ Margaret seemed to pull herself together with a tremendous effort. ‘It was a weekend break put on by Mike’s boss. They weren’t going to go only…I offered to look after the girls for them.’ For a moment the woman’s voice cracked. ‘To be honest, Abbie, I can’t help blaming myself. If I hadn’t insisted…If only I—’
‘Come on, Mother.’ Greg’s deep voice interrupted the conversation as he came back into the room. ‘We’ve been over and over this. You are not to blame. How on earth could you possibly have known that there would be such a terrible car accident?’
He squeezed his mother’s shoulder on the way past towards the drinks cabinet. ‘Now, how about a stiff drink?’ he asked, as he pulled down the cabinet at the other side of the room.
‘Not for me.’ Margaret shook her head, then looked over at Abbie. ‘Are you hungry, dear? Shall I make you something to eat?’
Abbie shook her head. ‘Thank you, Margaret, but I had something on the plane.’ In actual fact she had barely touched any of the meals on the plane. She seemed to have lost all interest in food recently, and it was starting to show on her already slender figure. ‘I’ll have a drink, though,’ she said, looking over at Greg. ‘Brandy, if you have it.’
‘I’ll make some coffee to go with that.’ Margaret got to her feet.
‘No, really, Margaret…please don’t go to that trouble. I’m fine.’
‘Well, if you are sure…’ She hesitated and looked at Abbie guiltily. ‘Would you think I was very rude if I said I wanted to turn in for the night, Abbie? I’m just exhausted—it’s all these early mornings with the girls.’
‘No, of course not.’ Abbie stood up quickly and kissed Margaret’s cheek. ‘You go and lie down and don’t worry about the girls in the morning. I’ll see to them.’
Margaret nodded gratefully and, with a smile at Greg, she left the room.
Silence descended on the room after she had left.
Abigail glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll just pop in and say goodnight to the girls,’ she murmured. ‘Which is their room, Greg?’
He walked across and put her drink on the coffeetable. ‘Second door on the right. Try not to wake them if they are asleep.’
Abigail glared at the man. ‘Of course I won’t wake them.’ Annoyed at his suggestion, she rose stiffly to her feet without thanking him for the drink and left the room. It was clear Greg thought she was as useful around children as a chocolate teapot.
The girls occupied a pretty twin-bedded room. Obviously every effort had been made to make them feel at home, because lots of their toys lined the shelves and a large dolls’ house occupied an enviable position by the window, looking out over the lights of the city.
A small night-light sent a warm pink glow over the satin covers of the beds and lent a hint of warmth to the children’s skin.
They were nearly asleep, their eyes sleepily drifting as they struggled to stay awake for her.
Abbie sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘All right, darling?’ she whispered softly.
The little girl nodded. ‘We are now,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You will stay, Aunty Abbie? You won’t leave us like Mummy and Daddy?’
Abbie shook her head, her eyes glimmering with tears as she looked at the little girls. They were both so like Jennifer—both had large blue eyes and blonde curls. ‘Certainly not,’ she promised in a husky whisper as she moved to kiss Daisy. ‘Now, get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.’
Daisy nodded and then clutched at her aunt’s sleeve. ‘Grandma says that Mummy and Daddy are in heaven now. Do you think that’s where they have gone?’
For a moment Abigail had difficulty in speaking. Her throat felt tight with suppressed tears. ‘Yes, darling, I’m sure that is where they are.’
‘Do you think they are happy?’ Daisy looked up at her woefully, her eyes clouded, her face bleak.
‘Oh, darling!’ Abigail put her arms around her niece and cuddled the little body tightly. How did you explain such cruel facts to a five-year-old? How could you explain something you didn’t understand yourself? ‘I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them,’ she whispered softly. ‘I’m sure they are watching over you and they very much want you to be happy.’
For a while she just rocked the little girl helplessly in her arms. When she looked down, the child’s eyes were starting to close as she lost the battle against sleep. ‘See you in the morning,’ Abigail whispered softly as she laid her down and kissed her.
For a moment she just stood in the room watching them, her heart aching. They looked so small, so helpless. Abigail wanted fiercely to make everything better for them, to hold them and protect them from further heartache. She vowed there and then that, whatever it took, she would not let them down. Then she crept silently from the room.
‘Are they all right?’ Greg asked as she rejoined him in the lounge.
She nodded. ‘They are drifting off to sleep now.’ She sat down in the chair opposite his and reached for her brandy. Her hand was unsteady as she lifted it to her lips.
For a while there was just silence as Abigail went over and over the grim situation.
She glanced across at Greg and found him watching her closely, a hooded expression in his dark eyes.
What was he thinking? she wondered grimly. Was he as emotionally torn as she was? Somehow it was hard to relate the powerful turmoil that was inside her to him. He gave such an impression of hard control, as if nothing could ruffle him.
She took a deep breath. ‘Margaret looks absolutely shattered,’ she remarked aloud, glad her voice didn’t tremble as much as she had feared.
‘She wasn’t well before all this.’ He sighed. ‘Michael was three years younger than me, but even at thirty-two years of age he was still her baby. I think it will take a long time before the pain of losing him starts to dull.’
‘It will be a while before any of us gets over this,’ Abbie murmured, a look of deep unhappiness on her young face. ‘In fact, I find myself wondering if I will ever feel the same again. It’s like some aching void has opened up inside me.’
‘I know exactly what you mean.’ The raw edge to Greg’s tone took her by surprise. He tossed back his drink and got up to fix himself another. ‘Michael was my brother, but he was also my best friend.’ There was such a wealth of emotion in Greg’s voice that for a moment Abbie felt overwhelmed by sorrow for his loss as well as for her own. She also felt guilty—guilty for assuming that he was so hard as to be indifferent to everything.
‘I always liked Mike. He was a…a good husband and father.’ She swallowed hard as a sudden picture of Mike’s grinning, good-natured face rose in her mind.
‘Are you OK?’ Greg looked sharply over at her, yet his voice was gentle, his dark eyes concerned. For some reason the gentleness of his tone made her want to cry.
She nodded and looked down into the amber depths of her drink.
Greg sat opposite her again and for a moment there was silence, but strangely it was a companionable silence now. She glanced up and met his eyes. ‘What are we going to do without them, Greg…?’ She tried to hide the anguish in her tone but it was still plainly evident.
‘All we can do is keep going…’ His gaze held hers, a look of deep contemplation on the ruggedly attractive features.
Then she found herself speaking in a low, soft tone…words that she hadn’t planned to say to him.
‘You know, sometimes when I wake up in the mornings I have this surge of hope. I wonder if it’s all been some dreadful nightmare.’ Her lips twisted in self-mockery. ‘Then I remember that it’s really happened and it’s like that void opening up inside me again, only wider and deeper.’
It was the first time she had been able to talk openly about her feelings of grief without breaking down.
Charles had been very sympathetic, very supportive, but somehow it felt incredibly good to be talking like this to Greg, maybe because she knew now that in their grief at least they were united.
Greg sipped his drink, his face etched in stern lines. ‘They say time heals all wounds.’ He grated the words rawly and their eyes met across the room. ‘We will just have to think of the children now—put their well-being first.’
A wave of relief washed over Abigail. Perhaps the question of the children wasn’t going to be as difficult as she had anticipated. At least they both felt the same way.
‘I’m so glad that we are in agreement,’ she said, a note of heartfelt thanks in her voice. ‘I know it will be hard for both you and Margaret to say goodbye to the girls…but you can always visit them on holidays, and England isn’t that far away—’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Greg sat forward in his chair and looked at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads.
‘I’m sorry…Perhaps I should start again.’ She shook her head, realising that in her eagerness to sort things out she had jumped the gun. ‘I think the best thing for the children is for me to take them home to England with me.’
He frowned, then he leaned even further forward in his chair. ‘You can think again,’ he grated roughly.
‘What do you mean?’ With difficulty Abigail held his dark piercing gaze, her relief melting like ice in a microwave. She could feel the cold darts of apprehension trickling down her spine.
‘Let me spell it out for you.’ He almost growled the words, his ruggedly attractive features looking suddenly very grim in the half-light from the table-lamp beside him. ‘The girls are staying here in America with me. This is their home and they are not leaving in any circumstances.’
Abigail’s breath caught painfully in her throat. With extreme difficulty she pulled her senses into some kind of order. ‘Greg, you are not thinking rationally. You can’t possibly give the girls the care and attention they need. As you said yourself, you are working long hours.
Your mother can’t possibly be expected to cope.’ ‘We’ll cope.’ Greg finished his drink in one long swallow and then leaned back in his chair. ‘The girls are American citizens and they are going to remain as such.’
She glared at him, her large blue eyes shimmering with bewilderment and anger. ‘They were living in England up until a year ago…I think they are every bit as English as—’
‘No, Abbie.’ His voice was hard. ‘That’s an end to the subject.’ He put his glass down on the table next to him. ‘They are my brother’s children and they are staying with me.’
‘And to hell with what’s best for them?’ She couldn’t let the subject drop, even though the ominous darkness of Greg’s face should have warned her otherwise.
‘I shall decide what’s best for them.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Greg. I won’t have my sister’s children raised by a housekeeper or a nanny, which is what will happen if they stay with you. They need me, and—’
‘Nobody needs you, Abigail Weston,’ he cut across her firmly as he got to his feet. ‘Except perhaps that poor idiot back in London. I suggest that the best thing you can do is go back to him, where you belong.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_35e0398e-1fde-5031-b807-c8c065486337)
SOMEHOW Abigail got through the funeral. She felt as if she had been through the worst day of her life as she stood in the lounge of a hotel passing pleasantries with friends of Jenny and Mike.
‘You must be Jenny’s sister.’ The glamorous young brunette who had been standing by Greg’s side throughout the service stopped to talk to her on her way across to the buffet-table.
‘That’s right, Abigail Weston.’ Politely Abbie held her hand out.
‘Jayne Carr—I’m Greg’s girlfriend.’
For a moment Abigail was taken aback. So Connie was a thing of the past! In retrospect she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; no doubt Greg had cheated on the beautiful Connie, just as he had cheated on her, once too often.
With determination Abbie pulled her mind away from the past and from Connie and concentrated on the woman who stood before her. She was heavily made-up, Abbie noticed, with dark kohl pencil around sparkling almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was very short and sophisticated, her body slender to the point of boyishness. ‘Jenny and Mike were dear friends,’ she continued sadly. ‘We are all going to miss them dreadfully.’
‘Yes.’ Abbie nodded and tried to rack her brain to think if Jenny had ever mentioned this woman’s name to her.
Come to think of it Jenny had never mentioned anything about Greg’s social life. The subject of Greg Prescott had been delicately handled after Abbie had made it clear to her sister that she was not interested in him—that she was in love with Charles.
As she thought about that little white lie now, she felt guilty. Her sister had been clearly disappointed. ‘Darling,’ she had said, with that note of deep irritation in her voice, ‘you can’t possibly prefer Charles…Look, why don’t you come over for a holiday and…?’
Swiftly Abbie switched her mind away from that conversation. Jenny had asked her on numerous occasions over the last year to come over to the States, and she had deliberately put the trip off because she didn’t want to see Greg. That fact hurt now. She should have come, and to hell with Greg Prescott.
She glanced across the room and met the subject of her thoughts head on, eye to eye.
Greg looked more attractive than ever today. His dark suit sat easily on his broad-shouldered frame. His hair gleamed raven-black in the late afternoon sunlight.
They had hardly spoken a word since that argument last night. In fact, his manner had been downright abrasive. She glanced sharply away from him, but much to her annoyance she could see him making his way across to her out of the corner of her eye. Desperately she tried to ignore him and concentrate on what the woman beside her was saying, but she broke off in midsentence as Greg reached her side.
‘I see you’ve met Jayne,’ he murmured, putting a rather possessive arm on the woman’s shoulder.
‘Yes,’ Abbie nodded.
‘I was just telling her how close I was to Jenny, darling.’ The woman smiled up at him. ‘I think the poor girl felt a bit lost when she first moved over here with Mike.’
Greg nodded. ‘Well, it was very different for her, but she adapted well. I think she was happy in the States.’
‘Yes…she told me that she loved it,’ Abbie sipped her wine. ‘But then again, I think she was determined to fit in because it meant so much to Mike being back at home.’ It was strange standing here analysing her sister’s life. Dear God, the girl had only been twenty-three. Five years younger than she was. She turned and put her glass of wine on the table beside her. ‘Just excuse me a moment,’ she said hurriedly, as she turned away and headed towards the ladies’ room.
Her heart was pounding and she felt literally nauseous as she splashed some cold water on her face. It took a while for the panic-stricken feelings of grief to subside. She took a couple of deep breaths and then forced herself to repair the damage to her face.
She looked deathly pale and at this precise moment the dark purple of her dress did nothing for her. With a sigh she flicked a brush through her long hair. Jenny and Mike wouldn’t want her to feel like this, she told herself briskly. She was going to have to pull herself together and get on with life. She had the children to think of.
When she went back outside a lot of the people who had packed the room were starting to leave. She made her way across to where Margaret was standing by the door, thanking people for coming.
She turned to Abbie as there was a lull in the proceedings. ‘I don’t know about you, but I will be glad when this is over.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I just feel exhausted.’
‘I know.’ Abigail put her hand over the other woman’s. ‘You were right about not bringing the children. It would have been too much for them.’
Margaret nodded. ‘They are better to be with their friends. I don’t think Mike would have wanted them to go through this.’
They were interrupted by some more people giving their condolences and Abbie, after exchanging a few words, let her gaze wander over towards Greg again.
He was still standing with Jayne, apparently deep in conversation with her. The woman was very beautiful, Abbie thought idly. She wondered how serious Greg was about her?
He looked up at that moment and caught her watching him. ‘You’ve left your wine here,’ he said, picking up the glass from beside him and holding it out towards her.
Abigail had very little choice but to walk over and take it from him.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked, his dark eyes raking over her pale countenance as she stood beside him.
‘I’m fine,’ she said lightly.
‘How long are you planning to stay in New York, Abbie?’ Jayne asked, as she sipped her wine and eyed her over the crystal rim of her glass.
‘My return ticket is for three weeks’ time, then I should really be getting back to my work.’
‘What do you do?’ Jayne asked curiously.
‘I’m a commercial artist. I work mostly from home,’ she finished, meeting Greg’s eye as she spoke. Hopefully he would take the point. She would be much more suited to looking after the girls than he was.
Greg said nothing, nor was there a flicker of any emotion in his deep eyes. It was impossible to tell whether her dig had hit its mark or not.
‘How interesting,’ Jayne murmured. Then somebody came past who claimed her attention and Abigail found herself momentarily alone with Greg.
‘Your girlfriend seems very nice,’ she said, more to cover the awkward silence that Jayne’s absence had left than anything else.
‘She’s a fellow-attorney. I work quite closely with her on a lot of cases,’ Greg remarked casually.
‘Brains as well as beauty,’ Abigail remarked lightly.
He ignored that. ‘So you have booked your return flight,’ he said instead. ‘You’ll have to tell me the exact date so that I can make the necessary arrangements to drive you to the airport.’
Abigail bit down on the softness of her lower lip. ‘Please don’t concern yourself about me,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can easily get a taxi to take us to the airport.’
Obviously that dig did hit its mark because he shook his head and his eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Don’t push your luck, Abbie,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘because you will live to regret it.’
A shiver raced down her spine at those words, but she met his eyes with a look of defiance.
‘There is no way you are taking the children anywhere,’ he assured her in a low growl of a voice. ‘For one thing I have their passports, and for another, if you so much as take them down the road without my permission, I’ll have you up for abduction so fast those little feet of yours won’t touch the ground.’
With those words ringing in her ears, Abigail watched Greg move away from her to speak to someone at the other side of the room.
She glared at his broad-shouldered figure, her heart racing, her mind running in circles. She wasn’t going to let this rest, she thought furiously. If she had to fight him through every court in the United States she was going to take those children home with her.
Jayne turned back to her with a smile. ‘Sorry about that.’ She glanced around for Greg and spotted him across the room talking to another man. ‘So what do you think of the Big Apple?’ she asked Abbie conversationally.
‘Well, I only arrived yesterday. I’ll say one thing—the view from Greg’s apartment is fabulous.’
‘Yes, it’s a great place, isn’t it.’ Jayne helped herself to another glass of wine from the table beside her. ‘I’d say you’ll find the pace of life here pretty hectic, even compared with London.’
‘Maybe,’ Abbie nodded. ‘I don’t go in to the city much any more. I live in Sussex now.’
‘I’ve never been to England,’ Jayne said ruefully. ‘I’ve told Greg that when we get some free time he must show me around out there. He knows it quite well, I believe.’
‘Yes. He and Mike spent a long holiday going around Europe about six years ago. Then Mike met my sister when they were in London and he decided to stay and marry her.’
‘Very romantic,’ Jayne smiled.
‘Yes, it was.’ For a moment Abigail’s thoughts drifted to that time. Jenny had been madly in love with Mike from the moment she had first set eyes on him.
‘He’s the most gorgeous thing on two legs,’ Jenny had laughed when she had tried to describe him to Abbie. ‘I know you will just love him…but not too much. I’ve arranged for you to meet his brother Greg. He’s the one you can fall for.’
Abbie had certainly been captivated by Greg Prescott’s good looks; he had been so charming, so smooth, with the most sexy accent.
Both girls had spent a wonderful three months being wined and dined by the brothers during the last stop of their holiday, apart from a four-week trip up to Scotland. They had cancelled that trip so that they could stay longer in London, much to Abbie’s and Jenny’s delight.
Jenny had danced around their small flat when the phone call had come from Mike saying they weren’t going up to Edinburgh after all. ‘They are as besotted with us as we are with them.’ She had sung the words at the top of her voice. ‘Oh, Abbie, I’m so happy.’
Abbie had been happy too, although she had tried to be more cautious than her sister, reminding her that it was only a month before Mike and Greg would go back to the States.
Jenny had pulled a face. ‘When people love each other, things work out.’
If only that were true, Abbie thought now…If only Jenny and Mike were here and this was just a family party. She shook her head at the ridiculous thought and tried very hard to concentrate on what Jayne was saying to her.
‘Greg is going to have his work cut out with the children,’ she was saying now. ‘I’d give him a hand if I could, but my career takes up all of my day. I’m as stuck as he is.’
‘Yes…Well, I’m sure we will work something out,’ Abbie said positively. Then all of a sudden she was struck by a thought that hadn’t occurred to her before. ‘Jayne,’ she said cautiously, ‘do you happen to know if Mike and Jenny made a will?’
The girl nodded. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure they did. Greg said something about it the other day.’
Abigail fought down the impulse to ask if she knew what was in it. Her mind raced. Surely Jenny had specified who should look after the children if anything happened to them?
That meant she could pursue custody. She had no doubt whatsoever that her sister would have named her as first choice to look after the children.
Tomorrow, first thing, she would seek legal advice, she thought grimly.
Margaret interrupted their conversation at that moment. ‘Abbie, I’m going to leave now,’ she said with a wan smile in Jayne’s direction. ‘I told Mrs Greenwood that I wouldn’t be much later than five picking the children up.’
‘I’ll come with you, Margaret.’ Abigail immediately put her drink down. She wanted to be away from this place, from Greg’s disturbing presence. She needed some time to think quietly.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Margaret turned and indicated to Greg that she wanted a word. ‘Abbie and I are going to collect the children now,’ she said as he came across.
‘All right.’ He nodded. ‘Unfortunately I can’t come straight home. I’ve got to go back to the office after here.’
‘What about dinner?’ Margaret asked.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Greg said smoothly. ‘I’ll grab something later on.’
And he thinks he will have time to look after two children, Abigail thought angrily, as she followed Margaret out to her car. The man was far too busy with his work and his girlfriend ever to be at home.
Abigail didn’t see Greg again that day. She was fully occupied seeing to the girls when she got back to the apartment. Then after dinner Margaret looked completely washed out, and Abigail suggested gently that they all had an early night.
The strange thing was that once Abigail got into the privacy of her bedroom, she didn’t feel at all tired.
She had a shower in the en suite bathroom and then dried her hair briskly with a towel. She felt less stressed after that, and sat reading in bed for a while, hoping that it would take her mind off things and she would start to feel drowsy.
At midnight she got up and went to check that the girls were all right. They were both fast asleep.
She sat for a while by their beds just watching them. They had been very good today, had faced up to the fact that it was their parents’ funeral with brave little hearts. Jenny would have been proud of them.
For a moment she found herself remembering the last time she had seen her sister. She had gone to wave her and Mike and the girls off at the airport when they had been on their way to live in America, just a little over a year ago. There had been tears streaming down her face that day as she hugged Jenny tightly and said goodbye.
‘It won’t be forever,’ Jenny had said with a sob in her voice. ‘You’ll come out and see us, won’t you?’
With a sigh, Abbie stood up and crept out of the girls’ room. There wasn’t time for regrets—she just had to sort out the question of the girls.
She noticed as she glanced down the corridor that the lights were still on in the lounge. Obviously Greg wasn’t home yet. Too busy out drowning his sorrows with Jayne, she thought bitterly.
Greg had always had an eye for the women, she reflected as she climbed back into bed. He had two-timed her for a start.
She supposed she had been naive where Greg was concerned. She had believed the whispered words of endearment, had lived for his kisses…his caresses. Yes, she had been naïve…She had actually believed herself to be in love almost from the first moment she had met those charismatic eyes across a crowded room.
For a while she allowed her thoughts to drift back to that time…

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3db38006-610f-51c2-8f6b-8e4ffb40c1c1)
ABIGAIL wished she had never allowed herself to get talked into this. She had only ever been on a blind date once before, and that had been an utter disaster.
The memory made her want to leave the crowded room and run as fast as her legs would carry her, back to the sanctuary of her flat. The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge that Jenny would be hurt.
Her sister had talked and talked about her meeting Mike’s brother for ages now. Finally she had given in and it had been arranged that they would meet here at this party.
Abigail didn’t know anybody and she was feeling more and more apprehensive as the minutes ticked by and one heavy metal tune after another was played at high volume on a powerful CD system, grinding on her already sensitive nerves.
‘I wonder where he can be?’ Jenny’s eyes searched the crowded room anxiously. ‘You did tell him nine o’clock, didn’t you, Mike?’
Mike grinned. ‘Yes, honey. Stop worrying, it’s only just gone nine.’ Mike turned good-humoured eyes on to Abbie. ‘How about a drink?’
‘Sorry?’ Abigail’s mind had been miles away and it was hard to hear above the racket. ‘What did you say?’
‘How about a drink?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m just going to the ladies’ room. I won’t be long.’ Turning, she pushed her way through the crowds. She would give Greg Prescott ten minutes, she decided firmly. If he hadn’t arrived by then she would make an excuse and go home.
Abigail took her time upstairs. She brushed her long blonde hair and studied her reflection in the brightly lit mirror with critical eyes.
It was a hot summer evening and she was wearing a white halter-necked dress that emphasised her golden tan and the soft curves of her figure. She found fault with her looks but in actual fact she had a fresh-faced innocent beauty that had already caught the attention of more than one man downstairs.
With a sigh she made her way down to the party again. It was as she fought her way back through the crowds that she saw him.
He was tall, at least a head taller than the people around him, and he had a commanding presence that drew her eyes and held them. When he looked up and she met those dark, charismatic eyes, her heart seemed to miss a beat.
‘Wanna dance?’ A young man caught her arm as she brushed past, and shouted the words above the din of the music.
She dragged her eyes away from the disturbing stranger and shook her head.
‘Oh, come on, one dance.’ The man kept hold of her arm. He had hard features that Abigail did not care for.
‘No, thank you,’ she answered politely. ‘I couldn’t dance to this, anyway.’
‘The next record, then?’
‘I doubt very much that it will be any better,’ Abigail answered firmly, and tried to prise his fingers from her arm. It wasn’t easy—he had an iron grip and he was starting to hurt her. ‘Let go of me.’ She raised her voice to make sure he heard, but still he held on.
Suddenly a hand stretched over and the man was pulled firmly back from her.
‘Beat it,’ a tough voice grated.
The man didn’t stand around to argue and Abigail wasn’t surprised as she tipped her head back and found herself looking up at the handsome stranger who had held her attention a few moments ago.
He grinned at her. ‘The jerk had good taste anyway, I’ll give him that.’
Abigail tried not to blush. She couldn’t believe how gorgeous this man was…If only she wasn’t supposed to be meeting Mike’s brother, she thought despondently.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked easily now, his eyes drifting over her gentle features with undisguised interest.
‘Sorry. I’m supposed to be meeting someone.’
His lips twisted drily. ‘So am I…but what the heck? If we leave now they might never be the wiser.’
The words were boldly audacious, spoken arrogantly by a man who was obviously confident of his success with women. But it wasn’t the words that made Abigail’s senses swim, it was his accent. Although it was hard to hear clearly, she felt almost sure that this man had a trace of an American accent.
‘I’m…I’m sure you are joking,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘After all, it’s not very nice to stand someone up.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind. It’s a blind date, anyway.’ He grinned. ‘They are always a disaster.’
It was Mike’s brother. For a moment she almost laughed aloud. Jenny hadn’t exaggerated when she had said how attractive he was, but she hadn’t told her about his arrogant manner. She supposed that with those looks it was inevitable.
‘I’ll think up some good excuse to smooth it over tomorrow,’ he was saying now.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry but I couldn’t be the cause of such duplicity,’ she said primly. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you will thank me when you see your date—she’s probably stunning.’
He shrugged. ‘Honey, I wouldn’t be interested now, if she looked like Michelle Pfeiffer,’ he said with a gleam of humour in his eyes.
She had to laugh. ‘Sorry…but I have to go.’ With a casual wave of her hand she turned to jostle her way through the crowd. She was well aware that the man was astonished. He had probably never been turned down in his life before.
‘There you are.’ Jenny held out an orange juice for her. ‘I know you said you didn’t want a drink but it’s so hot in here.’
‘Thanks, Jen.’ Abbie took the glass gratefully. The room was getting very hot.
‘I don’t know where that brother of mine has got to,’ Mike said with a frown. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if he’s coming.’
Abigail shrugged. Would he come over? she wondered. Did she care? He was very sure of himself, very arrogant. He was also too good-looking for any woman’s peace of mind. Greg Prescott had danger written all over him.
Even so, when he appeared at Mike’s elbow she felt a jolt of pleasure at seeing him again. Greg might be dangerous but he was also magnetically exciting.
‘We were just starting to give up on you.’ Mike turned with a look of relief on his face. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
Greg’s gaze met Abigail’s, and for a moment amusement sparkled clearly in his dark eyes. ‘Talking to a very beautiful woman,’ he said drily.
That comment completely threw Mike, who was clearly flustered for a moment before saying, ‘Well, meet an even more beautiful one. Abigail, this is my wayward brother Greg.’
Abigail stretched out a hand calmly. ‘You can call me Michelle Pfeiffer,’ she said evenly.

At first Abigail tried to keep her distance from Greg. She knew full well that he was something of a devil, albeit a charming one where women were concerned, and she had no intention of being another scalp on his bedpost.
As well as that, she kept telling herself that he was only in England for a short while. He had taken three months out to travel before settling back to his career in the States.
Even so, when he took her home at the end of their evenings together and kissed her, it was very hard to remember all those words of warning. There seemed to be a deep chemistry between them. As soon as his lips touched hers she wanted to melt.
As time went by it got harder and harder to pull away from him. He was skilled in the art of seduction and his kisses were passionate, his embrace like melting into heaven. After a while she started kidding herself that she was different, that he was serious about her, and she realised with a sudden jolt that she was falling in love with him.
Of course she had been crazy to get so involved with him, she acknowledged now. But at the time she had turned a blind eye to the possible heartbreak of the situation.
The months flew by and, as the date of his departure loomed closer, their kisses became more and more intense, almost bitter-sweet, their embraces searingly tender.
When the men decided to put off their departure date for another month, Abigail had almost cried with relief. She remembered that evening so clearly now that it was almost like a knife twisting in her heart.
Greg had taken her out for dinner to an intimate little hotel in the country.
They had lingered over coffee, both of them loath to see the end of the evening.
‘I’m glad you are staying longer.’ Abigail whispered as their eyes met and held across the candle-lit table.
‘So am I.’ He smiled and reached for her hand. Then gently he lifted it to his lips and kissed the palm, then each finger in turn in a blatantly sensual caress.
Abigail felt a tremor run through her body. All her senses were heightened; she felt almost light-headed with desire as she looked into the darkness of his eyes.
‘I’m staying because of you, Abbie,’ he whispered. ‘I’m falling in love with you, my darling, and I can hardly bear the thought of leaving.’
‘Oh, Greg.’ She looked away from him and sudden tears of happiness shone in her eyes. In her dreams she had heard those words, but she hadn’t dared to let herself hope he would say them.
‘Tears?’ He brushed a gentle finger under the dark sweep of her lashes as she tried to hide her eyes from him. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. The last thing I want is to upset you.’
‘I’m not upset.’ Her voice shook slightly as she lifted shimmering eyes to his. ‘I love you…with all my heart.’
He reached across and cupped her face in an exquisitely tender hand. ‘You don’t know how happy that makes me,’ he rasped huskily.
She smiled shakily. She felt as if they had come to the most momentous moment of her life. ‘Where do we go from here?’ she whispered.
He smiled. ‘We are in a very beautiful country inn.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And how I’ve managed to keep my hands off you these past few months is beyond me.’
Nerves spiralled inside her. But she knew she wanted him, she wanted him as she had never wanted anything else in her life before.
She would never forget that night…much as she tried to keep it buried deep inside her, at the oddest moments it came back to haunt her.
The heavy scent of the climbing roses that nodded gently against the open mullioned window. The cool feeling of the linen sheets against her naked skin. The taste of Greg’s skin on her lips, the powerful feeling of his hard body against her soft yielding one.
His mouth caressed every inch of her slender body with driving urgency. His caress held undisguised hunger, yet when he took her it was with such gentle tenderness that she could have died there and then with the sheer pleasure of being loved by him. She held him against her fiercely, loving him more than she had thought possible.
‘Don’t ever leave me,’ she whispered softly into the darkness of the night as, sated, they drifted to sleep locked in each other’s arms.
As the weeks drifted by their love affair became more and more intense.
‘I think Greg will ask you to marry him,’ Jenny remarked casually one day.
‘I don’t know.’ Abigail shrugged. They had never discussed the future. Abigail was almost frightened to bring the subject up.
‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you,’ Jenny declared confidently. ‘Love and passion fairly sizzle in the air between you.’
Abigail merely laughed. She didn’t want to tempt fate by being over-confident but she did feel as if things were right between her and Greg. She had made up her mind that he was the man she wanted to spend her whole life with. Whether that life would be spent in England or the States she didn’t care. She would have followed Greg to the ends of the earth.

Remembering the strength of her feelings for just a moment, Abigail stirred restlessly between the silken sheets. She didn’t want to think about the past. She didn’t want to remember how passionately Greg had made love to her. She needed to remember instead his deceit, his duplicity.
Never for one moment had she suspected that Greg was already engaged to a woman in the States. The knowledge had hurt unbearably…Abigail had never experienced such bitter deceit.
She found out about Connie purely by chance, about a fortnight before Greg finally left for the States.
They had planned to go out in a foursome that night, but Greg suddenly rang up to say he couldn’t make it, that he wasn’t feeling very well.
Abigail had been disappointed but she hadn’t thought there was anything amiss. When Jenny left with Mike, she sat alone in the flat and tried to content herself watching a television programme, but she felt restless and lonely. It wouldn’t be long before Greg went back to the States; every evening was precious and she hated to waste one like this.
In the end she dialled his hotel, intending to ask him if she could go round and keep him company.
When a woman answered the phone, Abigail’s immediate thought was that she had been put through to the wrong room.
‘I’m sorry—I wanted room 402,’ she said hurriedly.
She had been about to put the phone down when the husky voice said, ‘This is room 402.’
There had been a moment’s startled silence before Abigail said in a strained voice, ‘I wanted to speak to Greg.’
‘He’s in the shower at the moment,’ the woman had said airily. ‘I’m his fiancee—can I give him a message?’
Icy cold shock-waves had made it almost impossible to answer. It took all her strength to say huskily, ‘No…no message.’
After she had put the phone down Abigail sat in the quiet solitude of her apartment, absolutely shattered.
Up until that moment she had actually believed herself to be in love with Greg Prescott and she had believed the words he had whispered in her ear as they made love. She felt a fool…She felt cheap and used.
It was true to say that no other man had caused her so much anguish so much heartache. She had felt truly let down by him. He had seemed so genuine, so interested in her. It hurt like crazy to know he had only been leading her on, that all the time he was engaged to be married to another woman.
It had been a bitter irony that on that same evening, Jenny came home and announced her engagement to Michael.
‘He asked me over dinner.’ Jenny’s face glowed with happiness. ‘Your turn next, Abbie…Greg will pop the question any day.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Abbie had smiled bravely and kissed her sister. ‘But I wish you every happiness.’
‘Oh, I’ll be happy…and so will you.’
Abigail hadn’t the heart to put a cloud over her sister’s wonderful news with her own gloomy report. So she had merely shrugged. ‘You know, Jen, I don’t know if Greg is quite my type and I’m not really ready to settle down yet.’
Jenny had looked astounded at those words. They were the first of many lies she was to tell Jenny about her feelings where Greg was concerned.
Apart from wanting to salvage her pride from the situation Abigail hadn’t wanted to disillusion Jenny about Greg—after all, Greg would be her brother-in-law soon and what was the point in souring that relationship before it started?
It was a natural reaction for Abigail to want to protect Jenny. Since they were small she had always looked out for her younger sister, and when their parents died and there were just the two of them that bond had grown even stronger.
Still, she had got her own back on Greg in a subtle kind of way, she thought grimly now. For a start, she had let his beautiful fiancée, Connie, know exactly how Greg had been filling in his time since reaching London. It was no wonder the woman had ditched him and gone dashing back to the States.
She didn’t regret telling the woman either, she thought now, as she tossed and turned. She deserved to know what kind of a rat her fiance was. If she was engaged to a man like that she would thank someone for enlightening her. Her loathing for Greg twisted inside her for a moment. She had that man’s measure and she would never forget how he had used her, and she would never forgive him.
She turned and buried her head into the pillows. The sound of a door closing brought her out of her reverie. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was nearing one in the morning. Surely Greg wasn’t coming in now at this late hour? Her lips twisted angrily.
The sound of a small whimper coming from next door distracted her thoughts, and immediately she got up and reached for her dressing-gown.
When she got into the girls’ room she came to an abrupt halt at the sight that met her eyes. Rachel was awake and crying, but she was being held tenderly in Greg’s arms as he tried gently to soothe her tears away.
‘Hush, sweetheart,’ he murmured as he turned to look at Abbie. ‘Look, Aunty Abbie has come to see what’s the matter now.’
‘I want my mummy, I want my mummy,’ the little girl whimpered over and over in a broken little voice until Abigail thought her heart would break.
‘Don’t cry, Rachel.’ She went to sit on the other side of the bed and reached out a hand to stroke the little girl’s curls back from her face. ‘Mummy wouldn’t want you to cry.’
The child tried to stop the deep sobs but her breath caught in painful gasps and she clung tightly to Greg, her face buried against him. Slowly he rocked her backwards and forwards, murmuring gentle endearments.
He was wearing a burgundy silk dressing-gown, Abigail noticed distractedly. So much for thinking he had just come in. Her eyes lingered on his face.
The dim lamplight gave no softness to features that were set in grim lines. As the child’s breath caught raggedly, he glanced up and there was an expression in his eyes that startled Abigail. She realised suddenly that Rachel’s sobs were cutting through that tough exterior of his, and that he was holding the child with the gentleness of someone who deeply sympathised.
Their eyes met over the little girl’s head and Abigail swallowed hard as she was caught rawly in the emotion of the moment. Tears shimmered in her eyes and she looked away, desperately striving for control.
‘She’ll be all right.’ Greg’s voice was husky, yet somehow very calm, very much under control. ‘You go back to bed, Abbie.’
She bit down on her lip. Was he trying to make a point that she wasn’t needed? Watching the scene in front of her, it wasn’t hard to imagine that was indeed the case.
She swallowed hard. ‘I’d rather stay,’ she whispered rawly.
He made no reply, just continued to soothe the child with a gentleness that somehow tore at Abigail’s heart just as profoundly as the little girl’s tears. After a while Rachel’s sobs began to fade and her eyes to close from sheer exhaustion. As sleep started to claim her, Greg moved to put her down. She looked so small and helpless against the wide breadth of his shoulders, her face flushed, her little hands still clutching his dressing-gown.
Slowly he eased her down, then smoothly he took her hands from his shoulder and tucked her under the covers of her bed. She didn’t stir, and her eyes were tightly closed. With infinite tenderness he bent to kiss her cheek gently.
Abbie realised in that instant that, no matter what she thought about Greg, it was obvious that he cared for the children. She watched as he tucked Daisy in and then she kissed both of the sleeping children before following him silently from the room.
‘Has she been crying long?’ Her voice was a strained whisper as they closed the door.
Greg shook his head. ‘Luckily I got in there before she woke Daisy.’
‘Poor little thing.’ Abigail bit down on her lip and for a moment tears sparkled clearly in her bright blue eyes. ‘I’d give anything to make everything all right for them again.’
‘Wouldn’t we all?’ Greg raked a hand through dark ruffled hair. ‘It’s been a hell of a day.’ The words were spoken with grim feeling.
She swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’
For a moment there was just silence as they both stood in the corridor. Somehow Abigail felt loath to move away from him. It was as if she was frightened to be on her own after the emotional atmosphere in that bedroom.
‘Are you all right?’
The softly spoken question made her nerves tingle. She nodded. ‘I…I just hated seeing Rachel so upset—it tears me apart.’
He nodded. ‘But now that the funeral is behind us we can start trying to pick up the pieces. The girls are young, and youth tends to be remarkably resilient.’
‘I suppose so,’ she murmured reflectively, then raked a distracted hand through long blonde hair. ‘I’ll never sleep tonight,’ she admitted hollowly. ‘My mind is so active—it’s whirling around over all sorts of tortuous things.’
‘I know what you mean. I can’t sleep either.’ His eyes flicked over her pale skin. ‘Come on, I’ll get you a drink.’ He turned and led the way into the dining-room and for once she didn’t argue with him.
Talking to anyone—even Greg Prescott—was preferable to facing the dark silence of her room in her present state of mind.
She noticed absently that the table in the dining-room was strewn with papers; obviously Greg had been working in here when he heard Rachel cry.
‘How long have you been home?’ she asked curiously.
‘Hours. I was surprised to find everyone in bed.’
Abigail shrugged. ‘I think we were all just glad to see the end of today. Your mother looked shattered.’
‘Mmm. She hasn’t been too well. Really she could do with going back to her own apartment for some peace and quiet, but I’m loath to suggest it in case she thinks she’s not welcome here. She has bad arthritis, you know. Usually at this time of year she goes down to Florida for some sun.’
Abigail nodded. Jenny had told her a long time ago that Margaret’s health wasn’t good. ‘Well, now that I’m here there is no reason why she shouldn’t go.’
Greg’s eyebrow lifted. ‘I thought you were going home in a few weeks?’ he said, then added drily, ‘Children are very demanding you know—very hard work.’
Abigail didn’t care for the edge to his tone but right at this moment she didn’t have the energy to take him up on it. ‘I do realise that,’ she said flatly.
‘Will coffee do?’ Greg held up the glass coffee-pot from the hotplate beside where he had been working. ‘It is fresh. I made it a short while ago.’
‘Thanks.’ She watched silently as he took out a cup and saucer from the sideboard and poured the strong liquid.
‘Black, one sugar—right?’ he asked.
She nodded, surprised that he should remember. Probably a lucky guess, she decided grimly. Her hand trembled as she reached across to take the cup from him. Her nerves were in chaos. Seeing Rachel so upset had stretched emotional strings inside her even further. She felt as if all the nerve-endings inside her body were being wrenched tighter and tighter and she was hanging on to them with a kind of grim desperation. She couldn’t break now, especially in front of Greg.
‘It will get better, you know.’
Greg’s gentle voice sent her eyes flying to meet his.
‘I know I sounded somewhat sarcastic when I spoke yesterday about time healing things—but it does, you know. After a while we will be able to think about Jen and Mike without the pain. We will think of them and remember the good times and be able to smile.’
Abigail stared up at him. It was strange, but something about that low, soothing tone made her want just to fold into his arms. A shiver of apprehension raced down her spine and she glanced quickly away from him. No matter how enormous her grief, she could never let her guard down in front of Greg…No matter how softly he spoke she must always remember what kind of a man he was. They were united in their grief—that was all.
She turned away to sit down in one of the large armchairs, curling her feet up under her and sipping her drink in an attempt to calm the emotional flurry of thoughts. ‘I hope to God that you are right,’ she muttered dully. ‘At the moment even happy memories make me want to cry.’
He shrugged and came to sit in the chair opposite her. ‘Then cry,’ he suggested lightly. ‘It’s all part of the healing process.’
Abigail’s eyes moved with contemplation over his handsome features. Had Greg Prescott ever cried a tear in his life? It was hard to imagine. His face held such determination, such strength. Then suddenly she remembered the tortured look on his face when he had held Rachel in his arms, and she felt a wave of guilt. Greg Prescott was many things, but he was not unfeeling where his family was concerned.
She took another sip of her coffee. Any crying she had to do would be done in private. She would never lower any barriers in front of him. She would never lose control around Greg Prescott again.
‘You know…this is a bit like old times.’
That statement sent her gaze winging back to him.
He gave a lop-sided smile. ‘I’m referring to us sitting having a drink, dressed, shall we say, informally.’ His eyes flicked down over the slender lines of her body.
For the first time she was very conscious of her state of undress. Her hand moved self-consciously to the white satin material of her dressing-gown, pulling it closer around her.
He noticed the movement and his lips twisted drily. ‘Don’t worry, I have no desire to pounce on you,’ he grated sardonically.
She felt her cheeks flush at that remark.
He put his coffee down. ‘Apart from anything else, I feel too damned raw inside.’
‘It’s a good job,’ she bit out sharply. ‘Because you wouldn’t get very far.’
His mouth twisted drily. ‘If you say so.’
‘I know so.’
‘If I remember rightly, you used to be quite responsive—quite hot.’ His eyes moved contemplatively over her. ‘We had some good times.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Greg!’ She swallowed the rest of her coffee and nearly choked on the hot liquid. ‘What we had was a fling, and I would prefer it if you didn’t mention it again.’ She clattered the cup and saucer down on the table next to her with a very unsteady hand.
‘You are probably right.’ Although his voice was casual, there was an undercurrent to it that puzzled her.
‘Want another coffee?’ He got up to pour himself one.
‘No, thanks…I would never sleep.’
He came and sat down opposite her again. ‘You can always think of Charles—I’m sure that will help to soothe you to sleep.’
Abigail glared at him. ‘There is no need to be facetious.’
‘Was I being facetious?’ One dark eyebrow lifted in mock innocence. ‘I thought I was making polite conversation.’
‘Like hell you were,’ she grated impatiently.
He leaned further back in his chair and regarded her with a somewhat bleak expression on his hard features. ‘Tell me something,’ he asked suddenly. ‘When Charles asked you to marry him, did he realise you want to bring the girls to live in England with you?’
Abigail had been in the process of getting to her feet, but when Greg asked that question she sat back, instantly alert. ‘Yes, of course he knows.’ Her voice became earnest as she strove to convince him that there was no question of the girls being unwanted. ‘Charles has told me that he has no objections to the girls living with us. He can offer them a good lifestyle and he is a decent, caring man.’

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