‘You have a short memory,’ he derided, and, lifting his free hand to cup her chin, he added, ‘Let me remind you.’ With a slight tilt to his mouth, he smiled, and it took all her will-power to resist the deliberate sensual invitation in his gold-flecked eyes.
Josie took a deep, steadying breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze as she put her plan into words. ‘No, thanks. I meant what I said, Conan. I am not coming back to London. I’m staying here, and I’ll be moving out of this house as soon as I can get an apartment. My work is here, my friends are here, and the area holds special memories for me.’
She nearly choked on the lie she was about to tell. ‘I’m sure Charles would have expected me to stand on my own two feet and look after his child.’ She watched the smile disappear from Conan’s face, but still she carried on. ‘I’m going to attend the clinic in Cheltenham until the birth of my baby. It’s all arranged. I’m sure you understand; after all, you have friends in London—you don’t need me,’ she finished smoothly, but inside she was quaking. His arm around her waist tightened, his face flushed dark red.
‘When the hell have you ever considered my needs?’ he snarled, his fingers gripping on to the side of her jaw. He looked as if he wanted to shake her, but instead he suddenly set her free, and marched across the room to stand looking out of the window with his back to her.
Josie collapsed back on the sofa. His rage had surprised her. She thought he would have been relieved she was giving him a clear field in London with Angela. She glanced at him, and could see the effort he was making to control his temper. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and she could sense the tension in the set of his wide shoulders.
‘You realise the builders are moving in to renovate the rest of the house, and I won’t be a
ble to get down here much in the next few months?’ Conan finally broke the fraught silence, with a complete change of subject. Then, slowly turning he crossed to where she sat. ‘You will be alone with Mrs M. Is that what you want?’ he demanded harshly.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed bluntly.
‘You know you would be much better looked after in London. The private clinic is far superior to the cottage hospital here.’ Suddenly he bent over her, one hand on the arm of the sofa, the other behind her head on the back of the sofa.
The breath caught in her lungs; he was heart-breakingly close, and she was not sure she could hold out against his lethal charm. ‘So you say,’ Josie murmured. She could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and she could almost believe it was a pleading gleam in his dark gaze, instead of anger.
‘Forget about me, Josie, and think what’s best for your unborn child.’
‘I have and I’m staying in the country.’
‘Is that your final word?’
‘Yes,’ she said emphatically.
‘Right, then,’ Conan abruptly straightened up. ‘If that’s what you want, far be it from me to deny you.’ Glancing down at her, he fixed her with a look of such contempt that she cringed. ‘I honestly thought it was simply the timing that was wrong between you and me. But I was wrong. You’re the worst kind of tease. Promising the world over the telephone. “This bed is far too big and cold for me alone.”’ He mimicked her own words viciously.
‘You know, Josie—’ his dark eyes raked her from head to toe, stripping her with a glance ‘—I felt sorry for you, caught up with Charles, but I was wrong. No wonder Charles kept a mistress with you as his partner. You have the body of a woman and the mind of a child. In fact I have finally realised you and Charles were the perfect couple—both spoilt children, you deserved each other.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t come to that conclusion before you married me,’ Josie shot back, furious at being called a child; as for the rest, she didn’t care.
Conan’s lips curved in a knowing smile that never reached his eyes. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I hope for your sake the memory of Charles will keep you warm in bed at night, but I doubt it.’
‘You’re never likely to find out,’ she snapped back. The thought of Angela warming Conan’s bed was never far from her mind, and Josie was tempted to confront him with her suspicions. But her pride had taken such a battering over the last few months, she was determined to hang on to the little she had left.
‘No.’ One dark brow arched sardonically. ‘Of course not. After all, I’m only your husband.’ And, leaning back over her, he curved a large hand around her throat.
For a second Josie thought he was going to choke her; then, insolently, he ran his hand down to her breast. She blushed scarlet, but could not stop the tremor that coursed through her as his hand cupped her breast over the fine wool of her shirt, his thumb grazing over the taut nipple ever so lightly, then withdrawing.
‘When you’re tired of playing games, Josie, give me a ring,’ he drawled derisively, fully aware of how his touch had affected her. ‘My darling wife,’ he ended with icy sarcasm.
She had done it. She had known there had been no love lost between the half-brothers, and that her mention of Charles would make Conan angry. She had not realised quite how angry. She heard him tell Mrs M. he was leaving, followed by the slam of the heavy front door, just before a car engine roared into life. Presumably Conan was going straight back to London, and Angela...
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOSIE drove the yellow convertible tentatively out of the clinic car park. It was over two weeks since Conan had left It had snowed solidly ever since, causing chaos all over the country, with dozens of roads blocked. Luckily the road from Beeches to Cheltenham had been kept relatively clear, which meant Josie had managed to get to work all right although the journey took a little longer. But today she had not been to work.
Driving slowly out of Cheltenham, Josie glanced at the photograph lying on the passenger seat, a secret smile playing around her lips. She had been to the clinic for an ultrasound scan, and the baby was fine. The grainy picture of the tiny infant was magical.
She turned her attention back to the road ahead; the light was fading, and a severe frost was forecast. Suddenly she felt a brief flicker in her stomach, and she gasped; taking one hand from the steering wheel, she placed it over her stomach. There it was again. Her baby was moving inside her; the thrill was indescribable, and she laughed out loud, her gaze straying once more to the photograph.
It took a second for her brain to register the fact that the car was sliding. A silent scream escaped her. The grinding crash of metal was the last sound she heard, before the darkness swallowed her up.
It was the voices she heard first, coming at her through the darkness.
‘The baby is fine, Mr Zarcourt, and your wife, as far as we can ascertain, has no really serious injury, apart from the blow to her head.’