‘Yes, yes.’ They were talking like two complete strangers, Josie thought, and almost laughed.
But she lost all trace of humour when he showed her into the master bedroom.
‘You look tired,’ Conan murmured clasping her shoulders in his large hands. She stiffened her back ramrod-straight, and glanced warily up into his hard face. ‘Get ready for bed and I’ll be back in ten minutes with a hot drink for you.’
A hot drink, and what else? Josie glanced around the room. There was only one bed...
‘My bed is next door in the dressing room,’ Conan said dryly, accurately reading her thoughts. ‘You have nothing to fear.’
The following morning the smell of ground coffee led Josie downstairs to the kitchen. Conan was standing by the counter, a box of cornflakes in his hand. ‘Good morning, Josie. I didn’t expect you so early.’ He smiled, and she gave him a cool smile back. ‘Would you like some breakfast? ’
‘You make your own?’ she asked, surprised. ‘I thought you’d have a housekeeper.’
‘I do—Jeffrey. He arrives at nine and leaves at six, and nothing I say will persuade him to live in.’
‘Well, let me make your breakfast,’ she offered, walking across the room to where he stood. ‘I always did for my father.’
‘I’m not your father.’ He stared down at her, an enigmatic expression on his dark face.
‘I know, but I am a good cook,’ she said firmly. She was determined to assert herself from the beginning and preserve a formal but polite relationship between them.
‘Yes, okay. At least that’s one wifely duty you can perform.’
She glanced suspiciously at him. What kind of crack was that? But he gave her a bland smile and sat down at the table. She could feel his eyes following her around as she searched the cupboards and prepared ham and eggs.
After breakfast Conan insisted on taking her out. To ‘sort her out’, as he put it. He registered her with his doctor in Harley Street, at the same time booking her into a private clinic for the birth of the baby. Any objections she made he quickly overruled. According to the doctor the baby was due in the middle of May.
On returning home in the evening, they were met in the hall by Jeffrey, who had prepared a celebratory meal for them. Josie liked the white-haired old man immediately. But dining alone with Conan was a fraught affair. He said very little, and immediately when they were finished he retired to his study.
A few weeks later Josie pushed her way on to the tube and heaved a sigh of relief. She had spent longer shopping than she had intended to, but finally in a small boutique she had found the perfect creation for herself—an exquisite dress in floating chiffon that cunningly disguised her thickening waistline.
She got off the tube and walked along the pavement towards the house she now called home, thinking of how her life had changed in the past weeks. There was a lot to be said for being a lady of leisure. She had visited all the museums, and quite a few art galleries. As for Conan, she didn’t actually spend much time with him.
In the mornings she made breakfast for both of them before Jeffrey arrived. Conan went to the office for the day and usually at night they shared dinner together and talked about their respective day. Then Conan went to his study and Josie went to bed. It was all very civilised, and if sometimes Josie imagined there was something more in his penetrating gaze, and the way he would drop a soft kiss on her cheek for no reason, she dismissed the notion as a combination of her over-active imagination and the peculiar tension she appeared to suffer from when she spent any length of time in his company.
The weekends were not much different. Conan, it seemed, was a workaholic, as well as being the most even-tempered man she had ever met; he was always coolly polite and that suited Josie just fine. She had had enough trauma to last her a lifetime.
Balancing her parcels in one hand, she inserted the key in the front door, but before she could turn it the door swung open and she was dragged unceremoniously into the hall by Conan’s large hand manacled around her arm.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he snarled, giving her such a shock that she dropped all her parcels on the floor.
‘Look what you’ve made me do!’ she exclaimed, eyeing her scattered purchases. ‘Thank heaven there’s nothing breakable.’
‘Nothing breakable!’ he gritted between clenched teeth. ‘You’re lucky I don’t break your love
ly neck. Do you realise what time it is? Do you?’
Josie lifted her head, her eyes widening in surprise as she met the full force of his angry gaze. He was absolutely furious. ‘It’s only about eight,’ she retorted. And here she had just been telling herself that Conan was the most even-tempered of men. She had certainly got that wrong if the look on his face was anything to go by! Warily she took a step back to put some space between them.
‘Only eight! Are you mad? I was just about to call the police!’
‘I’m sorry, but the tube was crowded,’ she said, though not convinced he deserved an apology.
‘The tube!’ he snarled. ‘Is there no end to your stupidity? ’
‘I am not stupid!’ she shot back. ‘I was simply shopping. ’
‘Don’t take me for a fool, Josie. Unlike America, in England the stores close at six.’