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  Thus effectively making sure she won't go looking for him or for anyone connected with him. Mmm, I suppose it could work.'

  His question led to one that had been bothering her. Putting down her half-empty glass, she stood up and walked nervously towards the window, before turning to face him.

  *Jay, what will you do if your ... if Heather's mother ever wants her back?'

  'She won't.' His voice was harsh, corrosive almost. *Susie made that more than clear. Besides, I took the precaution of getting her to sign an agreement giving me total responsibility for Heather. Do you honestly think I would aUow a child as sensitive as Heather is to be torn apart between two parents?'

  'If Susie changed her mind and decided that she wanted to ... to come back, you ...'

  'I what? Wouldn't be able to resist her?' He laughed bitterly. 'Don't you believe it! Sexually she could still turn me on, I suppose, but emotionally— no ... that's all gone, and besides, she won't come

  back. She's got what she wanted, now that she's the wife of Brett Brassington the Third.'

  There was no mistaking the cynical bitterness in his voice, and Claire's heart ached for him. It was impossible for her to comprehend the sort of relationship he had had with his ex-wife, and as though he knew it, he said savagely,

  'Our marriage was never the sort of marriage you can visualise, Claire. I loved Susie, yes, but it was an obsessive physical love that didn't last much longer than the honeymoon. I married her because she was carrying my child which she had threatened to abort, and she married me because she was twenty-six years old, and for a model, that's old. She could never accept or understand the amount of time I had to give to the business. Sexually she knew all the tricks there are to know; she knew exactly how to make me ache, and she enjoyed making me beg. You heard Heather: we had separate rooms— Susie's idea not mine,' he added broodingly. She kept me dangling on a thread for so long that after a while I just lost interest. Things weren't going well with the business. I was tired of arguing with her; tired of being made to pay and beg for sex; something inside me just seemed to shut off.' He laughed derisively. *She couldn't believe it; she thought I was trying a few tricks of my own ...' He broke off* when he saw the confused look Claire was giving him, and explained rawly. Too much strain overloads the system, Claire; I lost the abihty to respond to her in any way at all. Once that happened I think we both knew the marriage was over, and I know I was never her only lover, not even in the early days when I genuinely thought she did care. I tried to keep the marriage going because

  of Heather, but it wasn't any good. And when Susie found out that I was able, to put it bluntly, to respond to other women in a way I could no longer respond to her, that was the end. Her pride couldn't take it.'

  Jay was saying that he had been impotent? Claire stared at him, totally unable to comprehend such an eventuality; to her, he seemed such a physical man. Her eyes widened and she looked at him, unable to hide her thoughts.

  *You don't believe me?' He laughed again, this time properly. Thanks for the vote of confidence, but believe me, it's true. Even now ...' he shrugged powerful shoulders and said lazily, 'suffice it to say that you need never worry that any brief flings I might have will damage our marriage. It's too important to me for me to risk it in any way.'

  She did believe him, but she also wondered how on earth he had ever confused the obvious physical infatuation he had for his ex-wife with love. His own description of his feelings had been so lacking in that emotion that Claire had been both shocked and saddened by the emotional paucity of their relationship.

  *I ... I think it's time I went to bed.'

  He glanced at his watch. 'Mmm, me too. Oh, by the way ... the cottage ...'

  The insurance didn't cover the damage,' Claire told him baldly.

  'No, I guessed that, but something will have to be done about it. Leave it with me, will you?'

  CHAPTER SIX

  *RiGHT everything's arranged. We get married on Thursday in Bath. I've booked us into a hotel for a couple of days—that should give us enough time to get the girls and you re-equipped and to do a little bit of sightseeing.' He put down the briefcase he had brought from the car and opened it, the fabric of his suit jacket stretching taut across his back. Perhaps it was because the only other man she had ever lived with had been her father that she was so constantly aware of, and caught off guard by, the essential maleness of him. Perhaps she had lived too long in the softer world of women, and it was that which made her so conscious of the hardness of his muscled body.

  'Here you are; I brought these back for you to browse through.' He handed her a pile of glossy leaflets. *We don't have a design department as such, but if you feel you want to engage an interior designer...'

  Claire shook her head decisively. Whitegates was going to be her home, and besides, she was looking forward to the challenge of re-planning it herself.

  'Well, just as long as you don't start worrying about keeping costs down,' Jay warned her. He grimaced faintly and looked round the kitchen. 'While you're at it, how about doing something in here ... something...'

  'Warmer?' Claire supplied dryly.

  *Mmm. And Claire, don't forget you're going to need to adapt some of the bedrooms into guest suites, complete with en suite baths.'

  Claire laughed. 'It sounds more like I'm going to be running a hotel than a home!'

  'Mmm, talking of which .. . This is the hotel I've booked us into, in Bath. I've organised a suite with three bedrooms—the girls can share. It's just on the outskirts of the town and has its own leisure complex, complete with swimming pool. *Can Lucy swim?'

  *Yes. Can Heather?'

  *Yes.'

  News of their impending marriage had spread through the village grapevine faster than an epidemic in a slum, and Claire had got used to being stopped in the street and discreetly pumped for more information. Overall, she gained the impression that the village thoroughly approved.

  *It is such a nice arrangement,' Mrs Vickers innocently told her. The village apparently did not approve of such modem things as 'living together', and she gathered that Jay's ex-wife had not been particularly popular. Indeed, no one seemed to know much about her at all, other than the fact that she had run off with another man, leaving her small daughter behind.

  Naturally, both little girls were wildly excited, anticipating the dual treat of the wedding plus the visit to Bath. Jay proposed that they leave after breakfast on the Wednesday morning, which would give Claire plenty of time to get all her shopping done before the Thursday afternoon ceremony.

  A backlog of work at the factory kept him late

  there most evenings, although he always tried to get back in time to read the girls a story. Heather was slowly starting to relax with him, and once or twice Claire even thought she saw a glimmer of anticipation in the little girPs eyes when he walked through the back door. And Lucy was uninhibitedly in favour of the marriage. Jay was her hero, and she worshipped him with an unashamed adoration.

  Already it was November. Christmas loomed on the horizon, and unless she wanted the house to be in a total state of uproar over the Christmas holiday she would have to get a move on with her plans for the house, Claire realised as she picked up the brochures Jay had brought for her.

  After supper Jay disappeared into his study, and Claire curled up on the leather couch, her feet tucked up underneath her as she browsed through the leaflets. There was a range of Victorian reproduction sanitaryware, which she thought was bound to impress the Americans, and she put the details on one side, turning to concentrate on the photographs of various types of reproduction plasterwork.

  The large drawing room would lend itself very nicely to that sort of embellishment, and althougn not strictly Georgian, the house was old enough, the rooms high-ceilinged enough to take that sort of decorative detail. The thought struck her that she could probably get some sort of inspiration as to how to use the mouldings to best effect by studying photographs of original Adam-style
rooms.

  Jay had pointed out to her that although several firms manufactured similar products, they prided themselves on genuinely making an effort to reproduce even the finest detail of the original

  plasterwork, just as modem furniture makers were now using the original pattern books of men such as Chippendale and Hepplewhite, so that they could reproduce furniture which was comparable in quality and workmanship with the original. There was nothing either cheap or tacky about their products, Jay had told Claire, and the methods they used to make them reflected as far as possible the workmanship which had gone into the originals.

  It seemed to Claire, as she studied the photographs of various mock room-settings, that both the drawing-room and dining-room could become showpieces for Jay's products, while the panelling could surely be an attractive addition to Jay's study?

  As she worked through the literature, she made various notes, jotting down ideas that occurred to her for new colour schemes. Here in the sitting-room she had set her heart on a comfortable country house atmosphere with deeply cushioned settees in modem chintz, and colour-washed walls. A pretty, soft golden yellow perhaps. .. something warm and sunny. She wanted a room that people could be at leisure in. Somewhere where the girls could play, and Jay could relax.

  She glanced at the clock, stunned to see that it was almost half past eleven. It was time she went to bed. She tidied up the papers, and then got up, yawning.

  As she took her coffee cup to the kitchen she saw that there was still a light on in the study. On impulse she knocked briefly and opened the door.

  Jay was sitting behind his desk, his tie loose and the top buttons of his shirt unfastened. His hair

  looked as though he had been pushing his fingers through it.

  ^Hello, still up?'

  *Mmm. I got rather involved in my room planning. Vm going to bed now, though. Do you fancy a cup of coffee?'

  *Yes, please. I've got quite a lot to do yet; I could do with something to keep me awake. Did you come to any conclusions—about how we could use our products?'

  *Oh, yes, I've got loads of ideas ... while we're in Bath I'll have to look round at fabric shops, that sort of thing. What is worrying me, though, is finding someone to install it properly.'

  *0h, we've got our own team to do that. We don't take the risk of having it installed by anyone else, ril take you down to the factory while we're in Bath and you can meet them.' He frowned suddenly and picked up his pen, fiddling with it.

  It was an unusual gesture for him. He was normally so very decisive and assured.

  'What is it?' Claire asked.

  *I was just thinking. If you're re-planning the bedrooms, it might be an idea for us to have interconnecting ones—I don't want any of our male guests getting the wrong idea.'

  He meant that he didn't want his male pride hurt by others knowing that they didn't have a sexual relationship, Claire surmised, but she realised she was wrong when he said harshly, *I don't want a repeat performance of what happened with Susie, Claire. I don't intend to lose you as well. If we have rooms at the opposite end of the house, you're bound to get some opportunist who's going to think that sexually you're as available as Susie was.

  Neither of us wants that/

  She felt uncomfortably guilty when she realised that his concern had been as much for her as for himself. Every day, it seemed, she learned more about him, and the more she learned, the more she wondered how on earth Susie could have not loved him. Surely, if a woman could love a man it must be this one: he was caring and kind, attractive, considerate—and strong enough to lean on if one was the leaning type.

  But he no longer wanted a woman's love, she reminded herself as she went to make them both a cup of coffee, so really it was just as well that she was incapable of giving him it.

  In the scramble to get the girls and herself ready for an early start, mercifully Claire hadn't had much time to worry about the commitment she was about to make.

  However, once she was inside the car, she had all the time in the world to worry about what she was doing.

  Jay was a skilled but careful driver; the girls were both occupied with giggles and private chatter in the back; the music drifting from the stereo was designed to calm and relax; yet as the miles went by Claire found herself growing more and more tense, more and more convinced that she was doing the wrong thing, that she was, in fact, mad even to consider manying. How on earth could it work?

  *Stop worrying; everything will be fine, you'll see. Just think, in twenty-five years from today, you and I will be celebrating our silver wedding.'

  His uncanny ability to divine her thoughts unnerved her. Unlike her. Jay seemed to have no

  doubts about the wisdom or the stability of their marriage , but then he already had something to compare it with, something to work towards, while she...

  It was too late for second thoughts, Claire told herself firmly. She had already made a commitment to Heather, even though she hadn't yet made one to Jay, and on that count alone it was too late for going back.

  Even so, she still found it hard to relax. Panic cramped through her stomach, an apprehension quite unlike any of her previous experiences enveloping her.

  All the local weather seers had predicted a bad winter, and looking at the rolling countryside, held fast in the iron grip of a frost which turned the golden stubble monochrome, and lay across the bareness of the hedges like icing sugar, Claire could well believe that they were right.

  In summer it was pretty countryside, but now the lavish display of autumn leaves^ had gone, and without the starkness that made harsher countryside look magnificent and awesome in winter, the bare fields only looked melancholic—or was that simply her imagination?

  Just outside Bath, Jay turned off the main road, and drove in through an imposing gateway. Only a discreet plaque set into one of the brick pillars supporting the wrought iron gates betrayed that this was a hotel.

  Beyond an avenue of bare trees Claire saw the house: soft cream Cotswold stone, the precision of a Georgian facacade.

  A high wall joined what Claire suspected had originally been the stable block to the main

  building, and Heather called out delightedly, *Lxx)k ... it's just like The Secret GardenV

  *Look, Mummy, horses!' Lucy, wide-eyed, tugged on her sleeve as she pressed her nose to the car window. In a paddock opposite the house several horses had gathered by the fence.

  There's a riding school here,' explained Jay. ^Lessons can be arranged for the guests.'

  'Does that mean that we can ride?' breathed Lucy expectantly.

  Since their removal to the country, Lucy had developed an intense passion for horses and ponies, and Claire suppressed a faint sigh. * Riding lessons are very expensive, Lucy,' Claire cautioned, *and besides. Heather might not want to ride.'

  *Yes, I do. I'd like a pony of my own. We both would.'

  *I think we're the victims of a two-pronged attack,' Jay murmured sotto voce to Claire, but she saw that he was smiling. *We probably won't have time for riding lessons while we're here,' he told them, ignoring the protests of disappointment. 'But maybe ... maybe ... if you're both very good. Father Christmas ...'

  It was enough to produce ecstatic sighs of anticipation, and to keep them quiet as Jay stopped the car, and got out to go round and open Claire's door.

  'Don't worry about the luggage. Someone will come out for it. Come on, you two,' he called to the girls as they paused to give wistful glances in the direction of the paddock.

  'Heather's growing,' he murmured to Claire.

  'Mmm. They both are,' but because, obviously, no one had paid any attention to Heather's

  wardrobe for quite a long time, her skirt was well above her small knees. *It's going to prove an expensive couple of days/ Claire warned Jay. 'Both of them need new school clothes. Of course. Til pay for Lucy's, but...'

  'No.'

  The sudden, unexpected pressure of his fingers on her arm shocked her into immobility. He was c
lose enough for her to see the fine lines fanning out from his eyes—eyes that had gone cold and dark with anger. When he was like this he could be very forbidding indeed, she thought, noticing the way his mouth had hardened.

  *No, Claire,' he said in a softer tone. 'I told you that from now on, financially, Lucy would be my responsibility, and I meant it. That's part of my contribution to our marriage; please don't deprive me of making it. I don't want to feel beholden to you any more than you do to me, you know. We're partners in this—equal partners.'

  She knew that he was right.

  He released her arm and she shivered suddenly, missing the protection of his tall body as he moved away from her, and a cold wind bit through her thin jacket.

  'Come on, let's get inside; it's cold out here. Come on, you two,' he called to the girls. *You can admire your new friends later.'

  It was an odd sensation to have someone concerned for her comfort after being independent and alone for so long, even if he was only being courteous.

  Inside, the hotel retained much of its country-house flavour. A smiling receptionist handed Jay a key, and called for a porter to show them the way to

  their suite. She was a pretty girl with blonde hair and nice teeth, and the way she smiled at Jay reminded Claire of just how sexually attractive he was. That knowledge seemed to heighten her own sense of inadequacy reminding her sharply of all that she wasn't and never could be.

  But it was because of the things that she was that Jay was marrying her, she reminded herself firmly, and not the things she was not.

  Their suite was magnificent: a sitting-room and three bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom, co-ordinated throughout in toning shades of French blue and terracotta. Here were several ideas she could copy for their own guest suites, and for the house itself, Claire reflected, making a closer examination of some decorative faux marbling on the door frames.

  *What do you think of it?' Jay asked her, strolling over to join her as she studied the attractive decor of the sitting-room.