LITMIR.BIZ

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      Turning away from him, she quickly reached into the cupboard, shook two aspirins from the bottle and handed them to him with a glass of water.

      He swallowed them, handed her back the empty glass. ‘Where is she?’

      ‘Jessica?’

      ‘Or Charlie, or Corrie,’ he said drily.

      ‘Oh, you know about that, do you?’

      ‘Yes,’ he agreed.

      Yes, of course he would; he was Jessica’s uncle. Knew her a great deal better than she did. ‘Sorry, she’s through there. I put her to bed because I didn’t know how long you’d be. Delays or something...’ But she was talking to herself; he’d already pushed through into the bedroom.

      Peeping round the doorway, she watched him stand beside the bed, stare down at the little girl fast asleep. He put out a gentle hand, carefully moved a lock of blonde hair away from her eyes. She couldn’t see his face, so didn’t know what his expression was. Tender, she imagined. A much loved niece. Alexa felt a lump form in her throat. She wished she were much loved.

      Stop it, she scolded herself. It isn’t real. You know it isn’t real. Anguish over David, her restaurant, the after effects of the accident, had all combined to heighten her emotions, that was all. Refusing to think, she turned back to her task, made the tea—properly, in the teapot—laid up a tray, and was amused at herself. Trying to impress him, Alexa? With a little shake of her head, because she didn’t know what she was trying to do, she carried the tray into the living room and put it on the footstool before the fire. And sat and waited for him like a well-bred hostess.

      She heard the bedroom door softly close, and stiffened slightly as he came to sit opposite her. He silently examined her face for a moment, then leaned back.

      ‘Your hair is growing.’

      Running a self-conscious hand over her slowly emerging curls, she merely smiled. Probably inanely. ‘I expect you’re tired,’ she murmured.

      ‘Yes. Thank you for picking her up.’

      ‘That’s all right. She’s been no trouble. The opposite, in fact. Very quiet. Very—obedient.’

      ‘Yes, she would be,’ he said rather grimly.

      Would she? Why? ‘Sugar?’

      He shook his head.

      Pouring the tea, she handed him his cup, and waited. Nothing. He merely stared down into his tea. Mike’s best small china cups looked extremely fragile in his large hands. Obviously, if she wanted answers, she would have to ask questions.

      ‘Why was everything such a panic?’ she asked quietly.

      ‘The grandparents had flu.’

      ‘And there was no one else to pick her up? No neighbours?’ she asked in disbelief. Everyone had neighbours of some sort. Friends. Didn’t they?

      ‘They’re elderly,’ he excused. ‘Panic easily. And they don’t like to ask favours of people. Edna—Mrs Bailey—Jessica’s grandmother, went down with the flu last week, and George, her husband, was coping. He took Jessica to school this morning, but didn’t feel very well, and when he got home, he collapsed. Edna rang me—what she thought I could do from the States, I have no idea,’ he exclaimed tiredly.

      ‘And so you did a bit of panicking of your own?’

      ‘Yes. I contacted Edna’s doctor, arranged for a nurse to go in, and then I tried to ring you and could get no answer. I left your number with Edna and she said she would ring you. When I heard nothing more, I assumed she’d managed to get in touch.’

      ‘But she hadn’t.’

      ‘No. Where were you?’

      ‘Nowhere,’ she answered with a frown, ‘or only shopping, taking the dog out... Or I might have been in the charity shop.’

      ‘Charity shop?’

      ‘I help out sometimes. I needed something to do!’

      ‘You don’t need to justify yourself, Alexa, but it might have been helpful if you’d given me alternative telephone numbers so that I could contact you.’

      ‘Sorry,’ she apologised perfunctorily, and discovered that she didn’t like being reprimanded in such a reasonable tone. As though it were obvious, and she was monumentally stupid. ‘I never thought.’

      ‘Nor about the size of this rabbit hutch,’ he complained wryly as he looked round him.

      ‘No,’ she agreed stiffly. ‘But I wasn’t expecting anything to happen until next month, and so I thought I had plenty of time.’

      With a long sigh, he put his cup on the tray and leaned back. Staring into the fire, he said quietly, ‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s guilt talking.’

      And regret? she wondered. Marry in haste? Repent at leisure?

      Hunching forward, forearms along his knees, he shoved his hands through his hair. ‘I should have done something sooner,’ he continued levelly. ‘But I couldn’t take her when her parents died last year. I was living in a cramped room at the Institute. She loves her grandparents, seemed happy and settled with them, and I didn’t want to disrupt her schooling, her life any more than necessary. I knew I would be returning permanently one day—’ Breaking off, he added indistinctly, ‘And I’m jet-lagged, have the mother and father of all headaches, and I just need to sleep. Is there a hotel in this place?’

      ‘Yes. There’s one just along the road. I don’t expect they’ll be busy this time of year.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I should have done it, shouldn’t I?’ she murmured guiltily. ‘Booked us all in.’ Something else she’d failed at.

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Settling himself more comfortably in the armchair, he watched her through half-closed lids. ‘Still getting headaches?’

      ‘Not so often.’ And before he could ask about David, if he’d been in touch, she asked, ‘Are you hungry? I can heat you up some soup, or something.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Getting to her feet, she walked into the kitchen, felt despair. She should never have married him. The old Alexa could have coped with all this. The new Alexa couldn’t.

      ‘I’ve bought a house near to the school,’ he said quietly from behind her, and she jumped again, dropped the spoon she was holding.

      ‘You don’t need to react quite so strongly, Alexa,’ he stated tiredly. ‘I’m not about to ravish you.’

      ‘I didn’t suppose you were,’ she denied stiffly. ‘But I don’t find this easy. I thought I had another month before...’

      ‘Yes,’ he agreed.

      ‘And I’m sorry the cottage is so small, but...’

      ‘Stop babbling,’ he reproved mildly. ‘And I don’t know why I make you so nervous; you’ve had six weeks to get used to the idea.’

      ‘I’m not nervous.’

      ‘And you don’t need to make small talk or entertain me.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I’m very aware that I shouldn’t have accepted your hasty offer to marry me when you were still feeling so vulnerable...’

      ‘Yes,’ she swung round to agree eagerly, ‘and that’s why I don’t think this is going to work!’

      ‘It has to work,’ he stated flatly, his green eyes holding hers. ‘I never deceived you, never pretended it was anything other than what it was. I needed a wife in order to gain custody of Jessica, and I need you to stay with us for at least a year in order to comply with the court’s ruling,

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