THE CEREMONY, the wedding breakfast, the speeches—all of them had gone off very well, everyone agreed as they gathered together outside the hotel to wave the bridal couple off. Miranda’s head was still aching, but for Helen and her father’s sake she tried not to let it show.
As she went forward to kiss her new stepmother and hug her father, Jeffrey Shepherd said quickly, ‘Good heavens, I nearly forgot! Ben was asking me if I could find out anything about a house he’s seen and fancied. It’s empty at the moment—owner died a while back. I’ve managed to track down the solicitors dealing with it, the estate wants to sell, and a covering letter plus the keys will be coming through the post in a few days’ time, once they’ve got everything sorted out. Be a good girl, will you, Miranda, and make sure Ben gets the keys as soon as they arrive? He’s pretty anxious to have a look at this place.’
Before he could say any more they were being overwhelmed by well-wishers and hurried into the waiting car, while Miranda controlled her exasperation and her curiosity.
Once the bridal couple had gone, everyone else started to leave. Miranda—who had promised Helen she would collect her bouquet and take it home with her, along with the suitcases containing their wedding finery—suggested to Ben that he might prefer her to get a taxi back rather than keep him waiting.
‘Not at all,’ he told her promptly. ‘I’m not doing anything else this evening. In fact—’
He broke off as the vicar’s wife came up to them and started chatting to him. Leaving him to it, Miranda hurried back into the hotel to collect everything. As she crossed the lobby and headed for the stairs, she saw Ralph Charlesworth coming down them towards her. It was too late for her to take evasive action and so she stayed where she was.
Ralph was swaying slightly as he walked, and as he drew level with her Miranda could smell the spirit on his breath.
‘Looking for me, darling?’ he leered, making a grab for her but luckily missing.
‘No, I’m not,’ Miranda told him shortly.
‘No, you wouldn’t be, would you?’ he agreed sourly. ‘Got other fish to fry now, haven’t you? Well, if you think I’m still going to want you once he’s kicked you out of his bed—’
‘Everything all right, darling?’
Miranda froze as she heard Ben’s voice. As she turned her head, he came up behind her, resting his arm protectively against her back as he confronted Ralph.
To Miranda’s relief, Ralph said nothing, but as he walked past them, either by accident or deliberately he pushed into Ben, virtually trying to elbow him out of the way.
‘Appalling manners that man has,’ another guest commented disapprovingly as Ralph walked away.
‘He’s obviously had far too much to drink,’ his female companion added.
‘You OK?’ Ben asked her quietly.
She nodded her head. ‘Fine. I’ll just go upstairs and check that the cases are ready to come down and then we can go.’
‘Want me to come with you?’
His thoughtfulness made her throat ache. She had never known before that a man could be both so strong and so tender.
‘No. I’ll be all right.’
Half an hour later when they were eventually ready to leave, Miranda frowned as she saw Ralph’s new Jaguar careering far too fast down the hotel drive.
‘Ralph isn’t driving is he?’ she commented to Ben.
‘I’m afraid so. When I went to get the car, he and his wife were in the car park having a row about it. The man’s a fool. If he gets stopped by the police… not to mention the danger he is to other road-users. Perhaps I should have intervened, but somehow I didn’t think any comment from me would be well received.’
‘If I were Susan, I’d have refused to go with him,’ Miranda said roundly.
As Ben set his own car in motion, she smothered a yawn, her lack of sleep caused either by the hours she spent lying awake thinking about Ben, and worrying about what she suspected was fast becoming a helpless addiction to him, or by the powerfully erotic dreams she had when she did sleep.
He was a good driver, making it easy for her to relax in the car. A tape played soothingly as she eased herself back in her seat, closing her eyes. She wasn’t going to sleep, of course. Just resting her eyes for a few minutes…
‘Miranda.’
The warm male voice whispering her name penetrated her sleep. She had heard it whisper her name so often before in her dreams that her response to it was immediate and effortless.
As she started to wake up, she turned towards it, her mouth curving into a soft smile, her body stretching voluptuously.
‘Ben.’
She said his name softly, with the drowsy certainty of the pleasure it gave her to say it, in the same way she had already tasted his skin. Her eyes opened and focused languorously on his face. He was too far away from her. They should have been lying so closely together that when he breathed she could feel the movement of his chest, the exhalation of his breath. She started to frown, ready to chide him for being so distant, and then abruptly her brain realised the truth.
This was no dream: this was reality. Another second and she would have betrayed herself completely, reaching for Ben, telling him… begging him…
She shuddered involuntarily.
They were, she realised now, parked outside her house. She had obviously drifte
d off to sleep and slept for longer and far more deeply than she had realised, hence that disturbing confusion when she had woken up between what was real, and what was merely a product of her over-active dreaming subconscious.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ she heard Ben saying.
‘I’m sorry if I fell asleep,’ she countered.
‘I had intended to suggest that perhaps we might have dinner together, but in the circumstances…’
Dinner with Ben? Would her self-control hold up under a strain of that magnitude?
She gave another tiny shiver.
‘You’re cold. I’d better get these cases inside for you and leave you in peace.’
In peace? Miranda doubted that she would ever know that state of mind again.
‘If you give me your keys, I’ll go and unlock the door first.’
She wanted to protest that there was no need, that she was not some fragile feminine Victorian maiden in need of cherishing and protecting; but instead she found she was reaching automatically for her handbag and removing the keys.
As she handed them to him, he bent towards her, his fingers brushing hers.
She went completely still, her mouth dry, her heart beating frantically and shallowly.
If just such a brief non-sexual touch could affect her so intensely, what would it be like if…?
Betrayingly her glance focused on his mouth, and even more betrayingly stayed there, her own lips parting.
Now he too had gone very still.
‘Miranda.’
Something in his voice compelled her to shift her concentration from his mouth to his eyes. They had gone very dark, very intense. The way he was looking at her made her catch her breath and openly give way to the tiny shiver of sensation that gripped her body. There was nothing remotely non-sexual about the way he was looking at her now. In fact…
His fingers tightened over hers, hot colour suddenly washing over her skin.
He bent his head towards her. She couldn’t drag her glance away from his, from the openly sexual message she could read in it.
Her heart started to race, adrenalin flooding her nervous system as her senses responded to the silent messages of his.