The City-Girl Bride Read online

  Maggie closed her eyes, and then opened them again as she heard Finn demanding softly, ‘You haven’t gone back to sleep, have you?’

  Sitting up, she smiled at him, shaking her head. ‘Is the snow still there?’ she asked him.

  He had been leaning towards her, having put down the tray he had been carrying, and she had lifted her face to his, anticipating his kiss. A little to her chagrin it never came, and instead he straightened up, glancing towards the window, his voice suddenly almost jarringly brisk. ‘It’s still there,’ he confirmed. ‘But it is thawing…’

  Thawing. That meant that she would be able to leave. Ruefully Maggie acknowledged that a part of her would have been secretly glad if he had told her that they were likely to be snowed in together for several days.

  ‘Breakfast,’ Finn was telling her, indicating the tray he had placed on the bedside table next to her. ‘And don’t try going all city woman on me and telling me that you don’t want any.’

  Maggie deliberately evaded the tenderly teasing look he was giving her. Normally she did not eat breakfast, but whenever she was with Finn she woke up with the kind of appetite—for food—that would have pleased even someone as traditional as her grandmother, who had always insisted on Maggie eating what she termed a ‘proper’ breakfast before leaving the house in the morning.

  That she also woke up with an even greater hunger for Finn himself was something she was most certainly not going to dwell on!

  Turning to pick up a glass of orange juice from the tray, Maggie wondered how he was likely to react if she were to respond with the tongue-in-cheek comment that after a night like the one they had just spent together it was no wonder that she was hungry—for food, that was. So far as sensual satisfaction went her appetite should have been more than sated.

  Her face started to grow slightly pink. The lethargy filling her body was a feeling that was entirely new to her, but then the lovemaking they had shared had also been something she had never imagined experiencing. Being brought up by her grandparents had given her a certain shy modesty which, no matter how much she might deplore it as being ridiculous in a sophisticated woman of her age, did make her feel slightly inhibited about talking openly about her most private feelings—especially when they were the kind of feelings that Finn aroused in her.

  Lowering her gaze, she watched from beneath her lashes as Finn bit into a piece of toast. He had pulled on a robe before going downstairs, but he hadn’t fastened it, and…Unable to help herself, Maggie peeped discreetly at his bare torso. Somehow, of its own accord, her glance slid lower, whilst her breathing stilled and then quickened, matching the fluttering thrill disturbing her heartbeat.

  She thought that Finn wasn’t aware of what she was doing but then she heard him advising her softly, ‘Don’t do that. Not unless you want me to…’

  ‘I thought you said you had to go and see how the alpaca are,’ Maggie reminded him quickly.

  Not because she didn’t want him, she acknowledged, hot-faced, but because—shockingly—she did.

  ‘Hmm…had enough of me?’ he teased her.

  ‘No…never…’ Maggie responded fervently, unable to check her vehement response.

  However, before she could feel embarrassed by her self-betrayal, Finn was putting down his coffee to cup her face in his hands whilst he told her gruffly, ‘That isn’t the way to encourage me to go out and check on the livestock.’

  Maggie held her breath until she felt the warm brush of his lips against hers, and then she exhaled in a soft shaky rush as his kiss deepened.

  Her un-drunk coffee had gone cold by the time Finn finally left the bedroom, fully dressed to go and check on his animals.

  Maggie got up at a more leisurely pace, blessing the properties of modern underwear that meant that it could be rinsed through to dry overnight. If there was one thing she should have learned from her recent experiences it was that whenever she came to Shropshire she ought to bring a change of clothes with her.

  She was halfway downstairs when her mobile rang. Her caller was a client urgently needing to replace a key member of staff who had unexpectedly announced her intention to relocate to Boston to be with her lover.

  Maggie had her laptop with her, and within minutes of ending the call she had drawn up a shortlist of potential replacements for her client and e-mailed them to him. Less than an hour later, seated in Finn’s kitchen, drinking the cup of coffee she had just made herself, she was congratulating herself on the efficiency with which she had already set up the necessary interviews.

  But it wasn’t the speed with which she had been able to respond to her client’s request that was exciting her so much that she was pacing the kitchen floor in eager anticipation, she acknowledged giddily. No, what was filling her with so much euphoria that she just could not keep still was the sudden realisation of just how easy it was for her to work without being in London. Of course, she argued to herself, if she were, to say, for instance, relocate to Shrewsbury, she would still need to keep up to date with her contacts in London. But if she organised things properly that could be done with regular biweekly meetings. Meetings that would still enable her to get home in the evening, of course…

  Home…

  She stopped mid-turn to stare out of the kitchen window. The snow was melting rapidly now, but it wasn’t the snow that was commanding her attention.

  Home…The tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted in atavistic reaction to what she was thinking.

  Home and Finn. Since when had the two become synonymous? Since when had Finn become so important to her, so vital to her, that he was her home? And when had she started to allow herself to acknowledge that fact? Since last night? Because they had made love? Or was it truer to say that those feelings had been there right from the very first time they had touched?

  Then she had fought against them, determined to extinguish them, to deny and destroy them. Then she had been afraid of what admitting to them would mean, of how vulnerable it might make her. But now things were different. Something had changed. She had changed. Just how or why wasn’t something she could in any way analyse, Maggie acknowledged in rueful mental defeat as she tried to apply her analytical faculties to the intensity of her emotions. Brainpower alone could not unravel the complexities of her feelings, her instincts, nor explain how or why her anger and her fear had somehow been transmuted into acceptance of her love, into a feeling which had begun as a tiny trickle but had been slowly gathering force within her right from the first moment they had met.

  It was only now that she was able to recognise it for what it was—and it was totally revolutionising the way she looked at things. She was experiencing a need to admit into her life a cleansing surge of desire to sweep away her old repressions, the old barriers against love which she had clung to so fearfully. She was experiencing a sense of release and relief that was lifting from her the weight of a burden she hadn’t previously known that she carried, and that burden had been a responsibility, an awareness of life as a serious affair, in which the self-indulgence of falling in love was a luxury she could not permit herself.

  Unlike her parents, who had lived selfishly, hedonistically intent only on indulging themselves in the experience of the moment, without giving any thought to the feelings of others or the future, Maggie had felt that it was incumbent on her to behave more responsibly, suppressing her own emotions, crushing them, if necessary, in order to do so.

  Now, illuminatingly, she could see that such extremes, such self-sacrifice was not necessary, that immaturity and selfishness on the part of her parents was to blame for what they had done, not love itself. She could see, too, that love and responsibility could work together, that commitment and independence could co-exist.

  The first time she had told Finn she loved him she had hated herself and resented him in the backlash of fear that had immediately swamped her. Because of that she had told herself that she had been wrong, that she did not love him. But now she knew better. She ought to
have listened to her heart all along. From now on…A happy smile curved her lips and Maggie started to hum beneath her breath. Then started to blush as she recognised that she was humming the ‘Wedding March’.

  A small gurgle of laughter bubbled in her throat. Knowing Finn as she was now coming to know him, she suspected that, had he heard her, been privy to her thoughts, he might well have suggested, with that special irresistibly tender teasing smile of his, that Handel’s Water Music, the ‘Triumphal March’ he had written so beloved by the organisers of firework displays might have been a more appropriate tune for her to hum from his point of view!

  Fifteen minutes later, when Finn walked into the kitchen, she was working busily on her laptop.

  ‘Five minutes,’ she told him. ‘And then I’ll be finished.’

  As she spoke her mobile rang and she reached for it, her voice crisp and professional. ‘Don’t worry,’ Maggie soothed as she listened to a girl she had only recently placed with one of the newer finance houses. ‘If we’re talking about sexual harassment then I’m prepared to speak personally to the chairman. I should be back in London by this evening. We can set up a breakfast meeting, if you like…’

  As he stood behind her, listening to her, Finn’s mouth compressed. What the hell was he doing, even allowing himself to think that they could share something? For him a long-distance affair, with Maggie in the City and him here in the country, could never work. It would be the emotional equivalent of snatching at fast food when he ached for something far more satisfying—for a meal he could linger over and savour in the same way he wanted to savour Maggie herself, and all that he felt for her. Those feelings could never be fulfilled by a brief series of meetings, nor compromised by being forced into that kind of mould. The way he felt about Maggie meant that he could never be content to be part of her life on a part-time basis.

  Finn looked bleakly at her downbent head as she concentrated on her laptop. She was muttering to herself beneath her breath, so wholly engrossed in what she was doing that he might just as well not have been there.

  Another few seconds and she would have finished, and then…Grimly, Maggie forced herself to recite under her breath what she was trying to do. If she didn’t that aching longing she had to throw herself into Finn’s arms and tell him just how she felt about him would overwhelm her and her work would be totally forgotten. She had her obligations, after all…

  ‘There.’ She sat back, exhaling in relief. ‘All finished. How were the alpaca?’ she asked Finn, smiling up at him as she turned round. ‘Finn, what is it?’ she asked anxiously, her smile fading as she saw his grim expression.

  ‘This can’t go on, Maggie,’ Finn told her tersely.

  He had to turn away from her as he spoke, knowing that if he looked directly at her he would betray what he was really feeling. And the last thing he wanted to do was to end up begging her to stay with him, to give up her life in London and share his. After all, he already knew what her answer to that would be.

  The shock of his harsh words froze Maggie into numb silence. She knew if she tried to speak she would start to cry.

  What she had expected, what she had longed to hear Finn say to her, was how much their night together had meant to him, how it had proved to him, as it had to her, that what they had was far too important to take second place in their lives. Like any woman in love she had wanted to hear the words that confirmed her feelings were shared, valued, reciprocated. She had wanted to hear Finn telling her that he loved her, that he never intended to let her go. Instead of which she could hear, and feel, the dull aching echo of his words pounding against her heart like blows.

  Desperately she tried to reach out to him, unable to accept his rejection.

  ‘Last night…’ Her throat was so dry her protest sounded blurred and raw.

  ‘Sexually the chemistry between us is explosive,’ Finn interrupted her curtly. ‘Neither of us can deny that. I’ve never—’ He stopped, his face shadowed and grim.

  ‘You’ve never what?’ Maggie challenged him thickly, driven to impale herself even further on the sharp spears of anguish tearing into her heart, helpless to prevent herself from causing herself more pain. ‘You’ve never met a woman more eager to go to bed with you?’ She gave him a tight proud smile that defied him to look beyond it and see her pain. ‘Enjoying sex for its own sake isn’t a crime, is it? Men do it all the time.’

  Inwardly she felt as though she was haemorrhaging the lifeblood of her heart, as though her emotions were being ripped apart. But there was no way she was going to let Finn guess how she felt. How could she have been so wrong about what they had shared? How could she have been so stupid as to imagine it was something special, something life-changing for him as it had been for her? Just because…Just because he had looked at her, touched her, made her think and feel that he cared…

  Her hands were shaking so much she could hardly pack away her laptop. ‘The snow’s practically gone,’ she told him. ‘There’s no reason for me to stay here any longer now.’

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ Finn challenged her as she hurried towards the door.

  Just for a moment she thought he had been teasing her, testing her, not realising just how devastating she found his inadvertent cruelty, but as she turned towards him, her body going weak with longing, she saw from his expression that whatever it was he intended to say it was most definitely not a declaration of love. Gritting her teeth together, she willed herself not to break down in front of him.

  ‘Have I?’ she responded quietly.

  ‘We still haven’t resolved the situation with the lease on the Dower House,’ Finn reminded her.

  He could think of that at a time like this?

  What kind of fool was he? Finn demanded angrily of himself. He knew for his own sanity he couldn’t afford the emotional risk of any future contact with her and yet here he was, clinging to the flimsiest excuse he could find to do so, knowing that with her grandmother living so close Maggie would have to visit.

  Not knowing how on earth she was managing to keep her voice level, Maggie told him, ‘You wanted to make it a condition of the lease that I never stayed in the Dower House with my non-existent lover. I’ll agree to more than that for you, Finn. I’ll agree never to stay there myself.’

  ‘But you’ll want to see your grandmother.’ Finn frowned.

  Did he think she might use the excuse of visiting her grandmother to cloak a desire to see him? Only her pride was holding her together.

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ she agreed. ‘But I don’t have to inflict my unwanted presence on you in order to do that, Finn. I can, after all, see her in London.’

  She was opening the door as she spoke, hurrying through the hall, ignoring the cold wet bite of the remaining snow as she pulled open the front door and walked through it to her car. There was still time for him to change his mind, to stop her from leaving, to reach for her and tell her that he just couldn’t let her go. As she opened her car door Maggie held her breath.

  He was standing by the open front door, so close that a few steps was all it would take for her to run back to him. Tears blurred her vision. What was it he had said to her? ‘This can’t go on…’

  He couldn’t have inflicted a more savage form of rejection on her, and he certainly couldn’t have made it plainer how little he wanted to see her again. Faced with that knowledge she had no other option but to walk away from him in an attempt to keep her pride intact. Her pride was, after all, all she had left. Her heart was now ripped into ribbons of screaming unendurable pain.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SOON it would be Christmas. Maggie had her grandmother’s present all planned, providing her own and Finn’s solicitors could get the lease for the Dower House drawn up and signed in time.

  Finn.

  Maggie had left Shropshire vowing that she would have no further contact with him, but then she had gone to visit her grandmother and had been shocked to see how frail, how fragile and unhappy she looked.<
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  ‘I miss your grandfather so much,’ she had told Maggie, adding quietly, ‘This house seems so empty of everything that he was: his vibrancy, his sense of fun, his love of life. He was my strength, Maggie, and without him—’

  She had stopped and looked away whilst Maggie’s heart had rocked heavily against her chest wall.

  Filled with fierce anxiety, Maggie had started to make plans—the foremost of them involving a letter to Finn over which she had pored with heart-wrenching intensity, imagining him receiving it, opening. Reading it.

  The receipt of an e-mail from him had caught her off guard, but he had explained tersely at the end of it that the amount of work he was becoming involved in with the restoration of the house and the management of the farmlands had made the acquisition of a computer a necessity.

  Knowing that her grandmother would be expecting her to spend the Christmas holiday period with her, as she always did, and knowing too that her grandmother would want to attend church on Christmas morning, and then no doubt to visit Maggie’s grandfather’s grave, Maggie had decided that even if the lease was through in time it might not be possible to travel to the Dower House over Christmas itself. Instead she was trying to compose a scrapbook of relevant information about both it and the early years of her grandparents’ marriage to give to her grandmother on Christmas Day.

  So far she had managed to surreptitiously extract from her grandmother’s albums some photographs of them outside the Dower House, and the youth of their features had brought a huge lump to Maggie’s throat as she’d studied their bright expectant expressions, their eyes full of a love for one another which not even the faded black and white photographs could dim.

  Via their solicitors, Maggie had enquired of Finn if it would be possible to have an up-to-date photograph of the Dower House, explaining what she needed it for, but she was still awaiting his response.