Книга - The Guilty Wife

The Guilty Wife
Sally Wentworth


Can their marriage survive the truth? Lucie has everything. The perfect husband, a cherished son and a new baby on the way… . Her marriage is blissful - until a secret in her past returns to haunt her. How can Lucie tell her husband, a glamorous barrister, that she was once in prison? It was for a crime she didn't commit, but now she's being blackmailed by the man who framed her.For five years, Seton Wallace has idolized Lucie as the perfect bride… . What will he do if he discovers she's now a guilty wife?"Sally Wentworth pens an explosive tale with intense characters." - Romantic Times







Should she confess everything to her husband? (#u159cd30a-f1f3-5818-9c81-edec6c471c6b)About the Author (#ubf5437c1-e0e2-5ab5-8499-9cb645162e0d)Title Page (#ua5dffbd3-f3c2-5abd-b4a1-5159857c5a7a)PROLOGUE (#u8d4ba842-0acd-5c52-8f00-f872a9da568a)CHAPTER ONE (#u05aa1c34-82ca-5930-8dbd-b393a695856b)CHAPTER TWO (#u65383504-a527-50e5-a8df-f59e3fde0629)CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Should she confess everything to her husband?

Lucie didn’t want to. What would Seton think when he knew that she had deceived him like this?

But he loved her, and surely he would understand. She tossed anxiously in her bed, wondering what to do, afraid of losing the perfect happiness they shared....

Wouldn’t he be appalled that he, a lawyer, had a wife who had been to prison, that his son had an ex-convict for a mother? No matter that Lucie had been innocent of any crime, that stain was on her record and always would be....


SALLY WENTWORTH was born and raised in Hertfordshire, England, where she still lives, and started writing after attending an evening class course. She is married and has one son. There is always a novel on the bedside table, but she also does craftwork, plays bridge, and is the president of a National Trust group. They go to the ballet and theater regularly and to open-air concerts in the summer. Sometimes she doesn’t know how she finds the time to write!


The Guilty Wife

Sally Wentworth










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


PROLOGUE

IT ALL happened so suddenly.

Lucie was cycling along the sunlit suburban avenue past the park, the trees lining the road on both sides casting dancing shadows as she rode under them. The traffic wasn’t heavy, which was quite normal for a late Saturday afternoon in the small market town of Hayford where she lived. She registered the sleek-looking car coming from the opposite direction, on the side nearest the park, but took little notice, her mind occupied with her own thoughts.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. A ball flew over the park fence into the road. A big dog held by a young boy came out of the park entrance at the same moment, saw the ball and dashed after it, pulling the boy along with him.

Somebody—a woman—screamed, the shrill, terrified note cutting through the peace of the day. The car braked and swerved violently just before it reached the boy—but avoiding the boy brought it heading straight at Lucie.

The world seemed almost to stand still. The car, big and dark red, the colour of blood, hurtled down on her. Yet it was happening in slow motion too, each second long and drawn out as Lucie’s mind and body became paralysed by fear. She glimpsed a man through the windscreen, his face as appalled as her own, saw him try to swing the car round yet again. There was a sickening screech of protesting tyres and brakes. And then it hit her!

The back wing of the car smashed into the front of her bike, the impact sending her flying onto the grass verge. Lucie felt herself roll over and over, her body crushing the long grass and flowers, her senses strangely aware of the scent of damp earth, of whirling sun and ground. Her arms and legs seemed to have no connection with her body, her brain had no control over them; they just flew about as she tumbled down the sloping ground, until she stopped with a jolt, her left side up against a garden fence.

She lay very still, her eyes tightly shut, her shocked brain unable to take in what had happened. Then Lucie became aware of sounds, of the woman still screaming, a dog barking, then the car engine being switched off and, a moment later, footsteps running towards her.

‘Dear God!’ An unsteady hand touched her neck, felt for the pulse in her throat. ‘Are you all right? Can you hear me?’ The voice was sharp with fear, raw with it.

Slowly, carefully, Lucie opened her eyes, and was relieved to see that the world had stopped revolving, that the sky was in its usual place. Most of it, though, was blocked out by the head of the man who leaned over her, the shocked horror clear in his eyes. She stared up at his lean face, unable to speak, and he gently brushed grass and leaves and strands of her pale gold hair from her face.

‘Are you hurt? Are you in pain?’

His anxious voice, insistent on an answer, got through to her. With a tremendous effort, Lucie managed to say, ‘I—I don’t know.’ She tried to move, felt a stabbing pain in her left arm, and promptly passed out.

She must have been unconscious for only a minute or so, because when she surfaced the man was still there, talking on a mobile phone this time. There were other people there too now. A sobbing woman clutched a young boy back against her, so closely that it must have hurt him. But the boy was staring down at Lucie, his face paper-white. Other people were gazing down at her, but the man, finishing the call, turned on them angrily, his voice a snarl, and made them step back.

Kneeling beside her again, he said, ‘Don’t worry. The ambulance is on its way. You’re going to be fine.’ Taking off his jacket, he put it under her head, lifting her only a fraction, his hands strong but infinitely gentle.

‘Is that the boy?’ Lucie managed. ‘You didn’t hit him?’

‘No, he’s all right.’

The woman burst out, ‘I’m sorry! I’m so terribly sorry. The lead was wound round his hand; he couldn’t let go.’

Lucie felt a wave of anger, but another look at the boy’s ashen face made it quickly fade. She looked away, met the eyes of the car driver. They were an unusual colour, not quite grey, not quite blue, and were topped by thick dark brows that were still drawn into a frown of anxiety. ‘I’d like to sit up,’ she said, her voice stronger now.

‘No, don’t let her,’ a voice put in. ‘She might have broken her neck.’

‘Have you broken your neck?’

‘No, but I think I’ve broken my wrist. And I’m leaning on it. Besides, I feel like an idiot, lying here.’

The eyes lost some of their anxiety as the man, ignoring the advice being given to him from all sides, helped her to sit up. Lucie’s head swam for a minute and she was quite glad to rest her head against the man’s broad shoulder. Pulling his jacket round her, his arm supporting her, he said, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Lucie. Lucie Brownlow.’

‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’ He glanced at her ringless hands. ‘Your parents?’

‘No. There’s—there’s only my aunt and she’s away at the moment.’

‘But surely—?’

He was interrupted by the wailing sound of a siren. A police car pulled up, almost as violently as the red car had done; two policemen got out and started to take control of the situation. Then an ambulance came and the man moved away as the paramedics examined her. They wanted to put her on a stretcher, but Lucie, aware of the boy still watching, insisted on getting to her feet and walked with their help towards the ambulance.

As she reached it she saw her bike still lying in the road, and gave a gasp of horror as she saw the front wheel squashed almost out of recognition. It had been a very near thing, she realised. If the driver of the car hadn’t managed to swerve again it would have been she lying squashed like a pancake instead of the wheel.

The driver must have heard her horrified gasp; he turned away from the policeman he’d been talking to and came quickly over. ‘I know it’s a mess, but please don’t worry. I’ll replace it.’

Lucie raised stricken eyes to his. ‘Oh, no. It’s—it’s not that.’

‘Come along, miss. Let’s get you to Casualty,’ one of the paramedics urged.

‘Which hospital?’ the man asked him.

Lucie didn’t hear the answer. She was helped into the ambulance and was glad to go, to get away from that awful scene.

It was a couple of hours later, when she’d had her arm set and was propped up in a hospital bed, that a policeman came to ask her about the accident.

When she’d described what had happened he nodded and said, ‘That’s the same story we’ve heard from the other witnesses. Mr Wallace clearly wasn’t at fault.’

‘Who?’

‘The driver of the Jaguar. The car involved,’ he explained.

‘Oh, I didn’t know his name. No, it definitely wasn’t his fault. In fact it was his quick reaction that probably saved both the boy and myself.’ A thought came to her and she said, ‘Did he miss the dog as well?’

The policeman smiled as he closed his notebook. ‘Yes, he even managed to miss the dog.’ Getting to his feet, he said, ‘Mr Wallace is still here, waiting to hear how you are. We told him you would be here overnight, but he’s insisting on coming to see for himself. Is that all right?’

Lucie nodded, and as soon as he was out of sight used her right hand to try and fluff up her hair, but it had been brushed, pulled severely back and tied with an elastic band by the nurse who had washed off the dirt she’d gathered as she’d rolled across the grass verge. Her face was scratched too, and Lucie strongly suspected she had a black eye. The hospital nightdress, washed so many times that it had faded to an almost non-existent blue, didn’t help either—not when your eyes were the palest hazel and needed richness of colour to enhance them. She sighed, definitely not feeling at her best.

The policeman had pulled back the screens around the bed so Lucie was able to see the car driver as he came into the ward and looked round for her. He was dark-haired and looked to be about thirty, and he was very tall; she hadn’t noticed that before, when he’d been kneeling down beside her. He was wearing a dark suit, the knees grass-stained, but even so you could see that it was very well made. And he held himself erect, like a soldier, which gave him a distinct air of authority. The Jaguar was right for him, Lucie realised; both were big, well-bred, and looked expensive. A lesser car wouldn’t have suited him at all.

He saw her and walked quickly down the ward. ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘Fine.’ She smiled at him. ‘It was kind of you to wait so long.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said brusquely. ‘I was very worried about you. I’m most dreadfully sorry that you’ve been hurt.’

‘But it wasn’t your fault!’ Lucie protested. ‘It was an accident; I told the police that. They’re not going to charge you or anything, are they?’

‘No—but thanks for your support.’ He smiled, the grin transforming his face, taking the frowning anxiety away and making him somehow look younger and more carefree, and definitely more approachable. Holding out his hand, he said, ‘I know your name but I haven’t told you mine. It’s Seton Wallace.’

Lucie put her hand in his and let him shake it; his skin was smooth and his grip strong. ‘What a strange way to meet.’

‘Yes.’ He grinned again. ‘You could say we had quite an impact on each other.’

Lucie’s eyes lit with appreciative laughter but she gave a mock groan. ‘That was terrible.’

‘Sorry. Put it down to relief from tension.’

Because she liked his smile so much, because she was beginning to like him, Lucie said, ‘I hope I’m not keeping you from your family.’

Shaking his head, Seton answered, ‘No, I’m down here visiting my parents, and I’ve already rung to tell them what happened. But how about your family? Are you sure there isn’t anyone you’d like me to contact for you?’

‘No, I live alone.’

‘Not even a boyfriend?’

There was a note in his voice that wasn’t just polite enquiry. Lucie gave him a quick glance, her interest suddenly heightened. ‘No. No one close.’

He nodded, his eyes smiling a little, but then a nurse pushing a trolley came up to them and he said, ‘I’d better go. But will you let me have your address? To send your bicycle to when it’s repaired,’ he added, when Lucie raised her eyebrows.

‘You don’t have to see to that. After all, it wasn’t—’

‘I want to,’ he interrupted firmly.

‘All right. Thank you.’ She gave him her address and he noted it down in a fat Filofax.

He left then and Lucie settled back against the pillows. She felt bruised all over—probably was—but also felt strangely on a high. It must be the aftermath of shock, she thought, the joy of being still alive. Or perhaps it was just the memory of a lean, goodlooking face bending over her, of the width of a masculine shoulder and the strength of the arm that had held her. She might not ever see Seton again, of course; he might just send the repaired bicycle. But somehow she knew that he would bring it himself.

Her eyes drooping with sudden fatigue, Lucie fell asleep trying to work out how long it would take for the bike to be repaired.

But she saw him much sooner than she had expected. The next morning, after Lucie had dressed with the help of a nurse, reluctantly having to put on the torn and dirty clothes from the day before, she went down to the reception and asked for the number of a taxi company. But then a voice behind her said, ‘Will I do instead?’

She recognised Seton’s voice at once and was already smiling when she turned to face him. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi. You look better this morning.’

Lucie laughed. ‘In that case I must have looked really ghastly yesterday. I saw myself in the mirror just now and nearly died.’

‘In that case,’ he said, mimicking her, ‘you must look really fantastic normally.’ It was a nice compliment and he looked as if he meant it. Seton put his hand under her elbow. ‘The car’s outside.’

He looked after her carefully, as if she were a fragile doll instead of a girl of five feet five, who weighed a hundred and fifteen pounds and worked out regularly. Lucie, who wasn’t used to such tender treatment, found that she rather liked it.

She had trouble fastening the seat belt and he leaned across to do it for her. The scent of his aftershave was subtle, evocative. He was wearing casual clothes today, jeans and a sweatshirt, but the air of strong self-confidence was still there; he hadn’t lost it with the suit. He drove quite slowly, careful not to jolt her around, and took a route that avoided the park, although that would have been the more direct way. It was so that she wouldn’t be upset at seeing the scene of their accident, Lucie realised, and felt a lump in her throat at his thoughtfulness.

He pulled up in the road outside her flat. It was only a two-storey house converted into a flat on each floor. Nothing special. But, to Lucie, getting it had been the achievement of a great ambition, a longed-for dream.

Seton helped her out of the car and obviously expected to go up with her. Inside, he gave a small sound of pleasure as he looked around, which pleased Lucie as she’d expended a lot of loving care on the decor and furnishings.

‘The kitchen is in the back.’ Lucie pointed. ‘Perhaps you’d like to make some coffee while I go and change?’

‘Sing out if you have any difficulty and need a hand,’ he called after her as she went into the bedroom.

Her eyebrows rose a little; did he expect to help her dress? But Lucie found that she could have used some help; though it was easy enough to undress, putting on a clean bra by herself was impossible. She had to give up and just pull on a loose tracksuit, easing the material over her cast. She went back into the sitting-room, where Seton was waiting. His eyes went over her, lingered for a fraction of a second too long, and she knew he’d noticed she was without a bra.

‘Here’s your coffee.’

‘Thanks.’

Going across to the window, she sat on the deep, padded sill, unaware that the sunlight shining through lit her head like a brilliant halo. Her hair was loose now and hung thick and straight to her neck, the sun turning it into a cascade of molten gold. Glancing up, she saw that Seton had his eyes fixed on her, rapt, arrested. Lucie gave him a questioning look and he blinked, and said after a moment in a slightly unsteady voice, ‘Do you work here, in Hayford?’

‘Yes, in an office.’

‘As a secretary? You won’t be able to type with that wrist, surely?’

Lucie gave a small grimace. ‘Nothing as grand as that. I just check invoices against goods, that kind of thing. I expect they’ll find something for me to do.’

‘But you must take some time off, give your wrist a chance to mend.’ And he frowned in concern.

‘I’ll phone them tomorrow, tell them what’s happened.’

‘You promise?’

She nodded, her eyes smiling. ‘I promise.’ She hesitated for a moment, then, fear from past experience pricking her, felt compelled to add, ‘But you really mustn’t worry about me; I can take care of myself, you know.’

‘You shouldn’t have to,’ he said brusquely. ‘Look, I’ve taken a week off work so I’ll be around. Use me. If you need to shop, go to your doctor, or back to the hospital. Anything. Just tell me and I’ll be here.’ He saw the surprised uncertainty in Lucie’s eyes and, holding up a hand, said quickly, ‘I’m insisting on this. And if you say no I shall just sit in the car outside your flat and won’t go away until you agree.’

Lucie laughed. ‘Are you always this autocratic?’

His eyes, more blue now than grey, crinkled into an attractive grin. ‘Only with people I come close to killing.’ He stood up and went to the phone, tore a sheet off the scrap pad and wrote on it. ‘Here’s my parents’ number. Call me if you find you need anything. At any time. Promise?’

‘All these promises you’re demanding I make,’ Lucie said on a flippant note. ‘I’m not used to being made such a fuss of.’

Coming over, Seton leaned a hand against the wall and smiled down at her. ‘Well, I think you’d better start getting used to it.’ She didn’t speak and he walked to the door, then turned. ‘You won’t want to cook tonight; how about sharing a Chinese take away?’

Lucie hesitated, knew that she ought to refuse, but found herself saying, ‘I’d like that.’

He let himself out and Lucie watched from the window as he left, lifting a hand to wave to her before he got in the car. She watched him go with mixed feelings. He was a very attractive man, not the kind she came across very often. A man it would be easy to fall for. There was something about him that had got to her, and from the way he’d looked at her once or twice she thought that he might feel the same about her.

The thought excited Lucie but made her nervous, too. She hadn’t much experience of men, and what she had was all bad. But probably she was wrong; Seton was most likely just being kind, and once his week’s holiday was over and her wrist improved she would never see him again.

It didn’t work out like that. Her heart gave a jolt the minute she opened the door to him that evening and saw his smile again. Immediately she felt happy, excited, as if something wonderful was about to happen.

They sat long over their meal, talking in a relaxed, comfortable way, not as virtual strangers but as if they’d known each other for ages. It was Seton’s ease of manner, his ability to start and hold so many topics, and the way he subtly drew her out to talk about herself that made it so comfortable.

Lucie responded with more enjoyment and animation than she’d known for years, perhaps had ever known. She told him a great deal about herself, of the Open University course she was taking and her hopes for the future. But she didn’t tell him everything, glossing over her past and quickly bringing the subject back to him. In turn Seton told her of his love of sport and travel, then totally disconcerted her by saying that he was a practising barrister.

Thankfully, Seton was refilling their glasses and didn’t notice the effect that piece of information had on her. Lucie was struck by how strange it was that she should be here with him. A barrister, of all things! And he was so much more polished than anyone she’d met before, so socially confident and assured. She couldn’t imagine him ever being unable to handle a situation. And it wasn’t an acquired confidence but something that had been bred into him, a kind of arrogance, if a profound belief in the principles and values handed down to one could be called arrogance. He was, to put it bluntly, in a class light years from her own.

That knowledge, and the fact that he was a barrister, ought to have put her off, or at least have acted as a warning, but his attraction was too great for her to heed it. Lucie liked the way he continued to look after her, and she liked the way the candlelight cast shadows on his face, accentuating the leanness of his high cheekbones, the fan of his eyelashes and the laughter lines around his mouth when he smiled. He had a good voice, deep, well modulated, educated but not over the top, and he knew how to tell an anecdote to get the best out of it, to make her laugh richly.

When the evening was over, when Seton could find no excuse to linger any longer, he moved reluctantly towards the door and said, ‘You’re quite sure there’s nothing else I can do?’

‘Quite sure. You’ve already been kind beyond the call of conscience.’

She was standing near the front door, waiting for him, her fair hair a silken sheen in the light of the lamps she’d lit. Coming close, Seton said softly, ‘If you think that’s the only reason I came, you couldn’t be more wrong.’

Lucie was aware of his closeness, of his masculinity, and for a moment became nervous again. Holding out her right hand, she said with formal politeness, ‘Goodnight, Seton. Thank you for the meal.’

He looked at her, then disconcerted her again by taking her hand and raising it fleetingly to his lips. ‘Goodnight, Lucie.’

Closing the door behind him, Lucie leaned against the wall, feeling enchanted by that unexpected gesture and yet strangely low now that he had gone. For a while she had felt feminine and pretty and—cherished: a sensation that had never come her way before. But she had liked it, oh, how she had liked it. And how she had liked him.

She went to move away, but there was a sharp double knock on the door panel, just near her head. Slowly Lucie reached out and turned the knob, let the door swing open. Seton was standing there., one arm up against the doorframe. He said, ‘I forgot to ask. Do you believe in kissing on a first date?’

‘No, definitely not.’

‘Nor do I.’ Coming inside, he shouldered the door closed. ‘In that case, we’d better call this our second date.’ And, taking her in his arms, he drew her to him and kissed her.

When Seton raised his head at last, Lucie kept her eyes tight closed, afraid of breaking the spell. Because it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be real. No kiss, no simple coming together of a man’s and a woman’s mouth, could possibly be that wonderful. She lived it again: the sensual warmth of his lips, the dizzying effect on her senses, the discovery deep inside her of awakened need—a need that could so easily have flamed into fierce passion and desire.

‘Hey,’ he said softly against her mouth. ‘Have you gone to sleep?’

Still with her eyes closed, Lucie smiled. ‘No, but I think I’m dreaming.’

‘Is that good or bad?’

She looked at him, then said huskily, ‘Oh, it was very good. Do you always have that effect on the women you kiss?’

‘What effect?’

Slowly she reached up to touch his face, letting her fingers trace the line of his jaw. ‘Devastating,’ she admitted honestly.

He gave a sigh of satisfaction and pleasure. ‘Thank God for that! It would have been terrible if it had all been one-sided.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You—you mean it was like that for you too?’

‘Of course.’ Seton grinned. ‘But perhaps we should do it again and make sure.’

It was what Lucie wanted more than anything else in the world, but some note of caution made her say, ‘This—you... It’s all happening so fast. I don’t know you.’

Seton laughed. ‘Well, I don’t know you either, but I’m willing to take a chance.’ Her face changed, became stricken, and he said quickly, ‘Lucie! What is it? I was only joking.’

‘Yes—but you don’t know me.’

‘So we’ll get to know each other. We’ll do that old-fashioned thing they used to call courting. We will go out together, and we’ll take our time.’

‘And—and this?’

Realising what she meant, he held her closer and said softly, ‘I won’t rush you into anything. I’ll let you set the pace. But I would like to kiss you again. Now. May I?’

But he didn’t wait for her to agree; his hands were already cupping her face, tilting her head so that his lips could seek hers, so lightly at first, softly exploring, tracing with tiny kisses the length of her upper lip, gently biting at the fullness of the lower one. Then, using the tip of his tongue, he made her open her mouth and let him in, and suddenly his lips weren’t gentle any more, but hot and forceful and demanding.

Lucie gave a small moan and closed her eyes, letting him take her with him on a deep spiral of pleasure, where the world was lost and the only sensations were those of his closeness, of the flame of passion that erupted through her veins—the need, the desire, the knowledge that for her nothing in the world had ever been as wonderful as this, that nothing else mattered so much.

Seton’s shoulders hunched as he kissed her, his breathing quickened and he said her name over and over again, his voice thick, the murmured name mingling with her own gasping sighs. His kiss deepened with passion until he drew back suddenly, remembering his promise. Lifting his head, he held her against his chest and she could feel the beating of his heart.

‘I’m afraid,’ she said, with an honesty he couldn’t possibly understand.

‘I know, but there’s no need to be, my darling. I’ll take care of you.’

‘Please—I think you’d better go now.’

‘You don’t trust me, huh?’ He smiled tenderly down at her. ‘Well, maybe you’re right; I’ve never found myself in this kind of situation before.’

‘What kind?’

His eyes crinkled and he gave her lips the merest touch with his. ‘Wild about you, of course.’ And then he opened the door and was gone as Lucie still stood with eyes open wide in astonishment.

Seton came to collect her the next morning, buoyant, on a high, reaching out to kiss her as soon as he arrived. Lucie, too, was exhilarated by excitement, but was also full of nervous tension. She could see happiness opening before her but was afraid to grasp it, so she held him off.

‘No! Don’t touch me,’ she cried out, knowing that she would be lost if he held her.

But he put his hands on her shoulders and said, ‘Lucie? What is it?’

‘This—this attraction you feel. It could be just a chemical thing, something that’s hit us out of the blue.’

‘Ah, so you admit it hit you too,’ he said with satisfaction.

Ignoring that, Lucie said, ‘How do you know it won’t go away as suddenly as it came? You might wake up one morning and hate the sight of me.’

‘If I woke up with you beside me it couldn’t be anything but wonderful—perfect,’ Seton said simply.

She tried to argue with him, to point out that something that had happened so quickly couldn’t possibly last. But Seton merely laughed and pulled her into his arms.

Lucie gave a sigh of frustration. ‘Oh, you big fool! Why won’t you listen to me? Take me seriously?’

But then he kissed her and immediately Lucie was lost again, and somehow she knew that she always would be, that whenever he kissed her it would always be like this, a total domination of her mind, her heart and her body. And yet she accepted it gladly, glorying in it, knowing that it was the same for him.

He was, she observed, unchangeable, and he proved it in the next weeks as he saw her as often as he could. That first week he was around all the time, driving her wherever she wanted to go, taking her out to eat, solicitous about her injured wrist. And after the first week, when he had to go back to London to work, he put a great many miles on the Jaguar as he drove down to take her to dinner and the theatre—place that she would never have gone to normally. He didn’t seem at all short of money, and although he didn’t throw it around he was always very generous, booking the best seats at the theatre or cinema, tables at well-known restaurants.

Although he obeyed the rules she’d set down for them to get to know each other better and not to rush things, Seton was quite capable of trying to break down her defences. Often, when they said goodnight, he would kiss her so passionately that it almost broke her resolve, but somehow she managed to push him away, to send him home empty and unfulfilled, as frustrated as she was herself.

It was a long, hot summer, and one day, when they’d known each other about six weeks, Seton hired a boat for the day and rowed her down the river that meandered through the old town, making sure she had cushions to make her comfortable, although her wrist was almost mended now. He’d brought a picnic hamper and dangled a bottle of wine over the side to keep it cool until they came to a quiet spot of trees and dappled sunlight. There Seton moored and helped her onto the bank.

He laid a rug down on the grass and they ate and drank, listening to old, trad jazz tunes on a cassette player. He had taken off his shirt because of the heat and, although she tried to resist, Lucie found her eyes drawn to his broad, smooth chest and the muscles that rippled in his shoulders and arms. The slight breeze made the leaves above them move, casting shadows that played across his body, first highlighting a shoulder, then the tiny, fascinating nipples, then the length of his back as he turned away from her to repack the hamper.

It was erotic, sexy, as if some mischievous Cupid had deliberately set out to tease and tantalise her senses. Lucie’s throat tightened and she felt a fierce surge of longing, an emotion so strong that almost of its own volition her hand lifted and she touched his back, letting her fingers trail down the length of his spine. She felt a great quiver of awareness run through him before Seton turned swiftly to face her. The need for her was there in his eyes—deep, intense concupiscence. A need, she knew, that was mirrored in her own.

‘Lucie.’ He said her name on a long, low breath of discovery and pleasure. Reaching out a trembling, unsteady hand, he put it on her cheek and slowly stroked her face, holding her eyes all the time. Then he came up on his knees so that he could bend to kiss her.

His lips were hot, eager, quivering with anticipation. Putting her hand on his shoulder, Lucie felt his skin taut and damp with perspiration, not from the heat but from the excitement of knowing that she wanted him. His breathing ragged, Seton lifted his head for a moment, his lips parted as he stared at her. Without hesitation, Lucie put her hand behind his head and drew him down to her again, returning his kiss with a fire she had never shown before.

With a cry, Seton bore her back onto the rug, raining kisses on her lips, her eyes, her throat. Then, his breath a panting gasp, he raised himself on one elbow and slowly undid the buttons of her shirt. His moan of pleasure was almost like one of pain as he looked at her breasts for the first time, seeing them young and firm, the nipples small, tight buds that tilted tantalisingly towards him. ‘You’re so beautiful. So perfect.’ Unable to resist, Seton bent to kiss, to touch, to arouse her into hardness and drive them both wild with frustrated longing.

‘God, I want you,’ he moaned. ‘It’s driving me crazy. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I think about you all the time.’

Lucie opened eyes dark with need to look at him. ‘Think about making love, do you mean?’

‘Oh, yes. I ache for that. But I think of so much more, of—’

He broke off abruptly as Lucie reached out to his belt. ‘You’ll have to help me,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I can’t manage with only one hand.’

‘Lucie.’ Seton stared down at her. ‘Are you sure?’

She smiled at him. ‘Oh, yes, I’m very sure.’ And she finally admitted, ‘You’re not the only one who’s been having sleepless nights. So why don’t we make our wish come true?’ she invited huskily.

There was wonder in Seton’s eyes as, coming up on his knees and taking his time, delighting in every moment and saving it for ever in his memory, he took off the rest of her clothes. She looked so beautiful lying there before him. The knowledge that in a moment she would be his at last, that he would enter her and make her his own, made his breath rasp in his throat. His hands shook as he touched her, the thought of the joy and pleasure that was to come almost overwhelming. When she lay completely naked, he murmured, ‘I adore you. Oh, my darling, I worship you.’

‘Take me, then.’ Lucie’s voice grew urgent. ‘Take me now!’

Slipping off his own clothes, Seton bent first to kiss her again before coming down onto her. He tried to be gentle at first, but the exquisite, agonising pleasure soon aroused him so much that he lost control. With a gasping cry, he put an arm under her hips and lifted her towards him, thrusting with such passion that Lucie cried out, her body on fire with ecstasy, her hot, panting mouth searching for his, her arms around him, holding him yet closer. The rising tide of sensuality overtook them, engulfed them, and their mingled groans of delight echoed into the air as their bodies joined in the most primitive and yet most beautiful act in the world.

When it was over they lay in each other’s arms for a long time, too exhausted to move, too enraptured still by what had taken place between them to want to break the spell. Until, at length, Seton, his heart still thudding in his chest, raised an unsteady hand to move a lock of hair that clung to her damp face. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, Lucie saw the most wonderful light of happiness in his face. It shone from him, in the blaze of triumph in his eyes, in the smile of tenderness he gave her. ‘That,’ he said simply as he gently kissed her, ‘was the most wonderful moment of my life.’

Lucie sighed softly, knowing herself completely happy and fulfilled, her body satiated with pleasure.

‘And for you?’ he questioned. ‘Was it good for you too?’ A rueful look came into his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to be quite so passionate, but things kind of got out of control.’

Lifting her hand, Lucie ran her fingertips over his lips, then down to circle his minute nipples, knowing it was safe to play with him, tease him. ‘I never knew before that they had earthquakes in England.’

He grinned delightedly. ‘The earth moved, did it?’

‘And some.’ Lifting herself into a sitting position, she pushed him back onto the rug and leaned down to kiss him, her long hair shading their faces, making the kiss very intimate, very private. ‘I’m glad you lost control,’ she said softly, her lips against his mouth. Straightening, she let her hand move over him, caressing, exploring. ‘You’re so strong,’ she murmured. ‘Have such power.’

Taking his hands, she held her own against it, comparing their size, amazed at how much smaller hers was. Fascinated by the physical differences between them, Lucie gazed at him, at the length of his lean body, quiet now and unaroused. She ran her hand along his soft skin, from his neck down his chest and thighs, along his muscled legs to his feet. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said in admiration. ‘I didn’t know a naked man could be beautiful.’

Her hand trailed up again but found that things had changed. She gave a surprised gasp, and explored a little more until Seton couldn’t bear it any longer. With a groan he pulled her under him and made love to her again.

Rowing back up the river, the evening sun casting long shadows over the water, was a moment to be held and treasured. Lucie had never felt so content, so fulfilled. And it showed in her face, in her radiant smile and the glow of happiness in her eyes. It had been a golden day in her life, a day satiated by food and wine, by sun and sex, by coming alive as a woman.

Seton found it hard to take his eyes off her, she looked so beautiful. And she looked as if she had been well and truly loved; it showed in the languid hand she trailed in the water, in the intimate smiles she gave him with languorous eyes, in the way her mouth curved and her lips parted in remembered pleasure. Just looking at her like that was an aphrodisiac, made him want her yet again.

‘Do you remember,’ he said, ‘when I told you I wanted you? Before—well, before the wish came true, I started to say that it wasn’t just making love that I wanted.’

‘Just making love?’ She smiled at him teasingly.

He grinned back at her, the triumph of winning her and of giving her such pleasure obvious in his face. ‘I know. A stupid way of putting it.’ His voice becoming earnest, he went on, ‘But I do want more, Lucie. I want to be with you, know that you’re mine. I dream of coming home to find you waiting for me. I long for the time when I won’t have to drive away and leave you at the end of an evening together.’ His voice grew husky. ‘That tears me apart, having to leave you.’

She thought he was asking her to let him stay at the flat with her that night so that they could make love again. So she said, ‘I want that too. I want you to stay whenever you can.’

They came to the boatyard and Seton concentrated on taking them neatly up against the mooring, on tying the boat up. Helping her out, he said in her ear, ‘You have grass in your hair.’

‘Oh.’ Lucie laughed as she combed it with her fingers, and threw him a pert glance that was full of new-found confidence. He had given her femininity, and an assurance of her power to arouse him.

Collecting their picnic things, they strolled back to his car and loaded them into the boot. Seton opened the sun-roof to let the heat out and they drove to a pub and sat on the terrace overlooking the river for a drink. Over it, Seton said, ‘I will stay tonight, of course, but that wasn’t what I meant.’ Taking her hand, he said, ‘I’m head over heels in love with you, Lucie. I want to be with you for always. I want you to marry me, my darling, just as soon as we can arrange it.’

Lucie stared at him in stunned surprise, her mind whirling. ‘But I—I thought you just wanted...’

‘Oh, Lucie, how could you be so blind? Surely you must know how much I care about you?’

She pulled her hand away, a stricken look in her eyes. ‘But it’s too soon. We’ve only known each other a few weeks.’

‘But what difference does that make? I know you love me; today proved that. Can you deny it? Can you, Lucie?’

Slowly she shook her head, knowing that to pretend would be useless. But she repeated, ‘It’s too soon.’

Lifting a hand to stroke her face, Seton said, ‘I know what you’re saying, but you’re all wrong, my darling girl! I fell in love with you almost from the first moment. To me it was a miracle—a very wonderful miracle. And I know that there’s no way in the world that I could ever stop loving you. Nothing you or anyone else can do could possibly make me change the way I feel. I’m not going to grow out of it and nor are you. Believe me, Lucie, this is for keeps.’

She stared across at him. ‘You—you’ll go on loving me, no matter what?’ she said faintly.

Seton smiled, his eyes so full of warmth and tenderness that she knew she would hold this moment in her heart for ever. ‘No matter what,’ he agreed. ‘Fate has thrown us together in the most remarkable manner and there’s no way I’m ever going to let you go now that I’ve found you at last.’

Making one last, desperate effort, she said, ‘We could live together, if you like. I’d give up my job and the flat and come to live with you, or else you could move in with me.’

Seton’s hand tightened for a moment and there was a glow in his eyes as he said, ‘I appreciate that, I really do, but what’s the point? If we’re going to live together, if we’re so committed to each other that we want to be together all the time, then why not get married? And remember I’m nearly thirty years old. I need to get started.’

‘Started on what?’

‘Married life. A family.’ To his delight she blushed. ‘Oh, Lucie. My darling girl.’ His voice softened.

‘You’ve trusted yourself to me today, Lucie; won’t you trust yourself for the rest of your life?’

For a moment a bright dream of happiness unfolded before her, so strong, almost within her grasp. ‘I want to,’ she said on a sigh. ‘I really want to.’ But her heart was troubled and she knew she had to try to be honest with him. ‘But—some years ago—’

Immediately he put his fingers over her lips, silencing her. ‘That was in the past. Forget it! It’s only the future that matters. Our future. Are you afraid to grasp it?’

She stared at him, dimly knowing that he was wrong, that you could never entirely blot out the past, but he was so forceful, so convincing that he carried her along with him on a tide of optimism and confidence. ‘No,’ she said, on a high of courage. ‘I’m not afraid.’

A great light of happiness came into Seton’s eyes. ‘Then, will you marry me, my darling, my love?’

Lucie nodded, her voice too choked up to speak. And silly tears came into her eyes before she was finally able to say, ‘Yes.’ Then more firmly she said, ‘Yes, I will marry you.’

But in the dawn of the following morning, when Seton had left her bed and Lucie was alone, when she no longer had his strength and will-power to carry her along on a tidal wave of optimism, then all the doubts and fears came crowding back. Because she hadn’t told him the truth about her past—not all of it. She hadn’t told him that she had been to prison. For three long years. And now she was terribly afraid that one day he might find out, that the past might come back to haunt her.


CHAPTER ONE

AS LUCIE sat on the terrace watching her son as he played in the garden, the sun warm on her face, her thoughts drifted back to that summer five years ago when she and Seton had met. Now she could laugh at the fears she’d had then, knowing that marrying Seton was the best thing she’d ever done.

They had been such happy years; she knew herself to have grown in confidence, to have blossomed in the certainty of Seton’s love for her. At first she had been almost afraid to trust this happiness, so many bad things having happened to her in the past that she’d felt it too good to be true, had been petrified that something would happen to take it all away from her. But as time passed, when Seton didn’t suddenly change, when his parents were so warm and welcoming, treating her like a loved daughter, when she met his friends and found they accepted her as one of themselves, and—most of all—when she soon became pregnant and gave birth to Sam Lucie finally put aside her fears and became the happy, contented woman she now was.

During the first year of their marriage, she and Seton had lived in London, in his old flat which was within easy reach of his chambers, but they’d begun house-hunting as soon as she’d become pregnant, spending their weekends driving around the countryside, and had found this house almost by accident.

It was an old dower house that had been empty for some time: Georgian, built of ivy-covered stone and set in almost an acre of ground on the edge of a pretty village. Lucie had fallen in love with it at once, even though it had been neglected and would need a lot of tender, loving care lavished upon it. But she had love in abundance now and together they had transformed the house into a beautiful home set in an even lovelier garden.

Seton still had to go away quite a bit, whenever the courts were in session, but he was at home as often as possible, openly delighting in his marriage, as much in love with Lucie as ever. He was away now, not due home until that evening. Glancing at her watch, Lucie saw that it was only four o’clock, nearly three hours before he would be home, but already she was impatient to see him.

‘I’m thirsty.’

Sam climbed onto her knee and made a grab for Lucie’s glass of wine but was firmly given some orange juice. ‘No, this is yours.’

‘When can I have wine?’

‘I’ve told you—when you’re as tall as Daddy.’ He smiled at her, knowing that she was fobbing him off, not believing that he would ever be as tall as the father who towered above him. His smile was so like Seton’s in the way he looked at her sometimes that Lucie’s heart lurched, overpoweringly full of love for them both. Having drunk his juice, Sam slipped off her lap and went over to the nearby sun-lounger, lay on it and was almost instantly asleep.

Getting up, Lucie moved the parasol until the shadow it cast protected him from the sun’s rays. Raising her hand, she pushed her hair off her cheek. She wore it shorter now, only down to her neck, but it was still straight, just curling inwards to frame her face. Looking down at her son, she felt a great wave of love and protectiveness. She was so glad she’d married Seton. So glad. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and she lifted a finger to wipe them dry.

‘Hey, what’s this?’

Lucie turned at the sound of his familiar voice and found her husband framed by the open French windows. ‘Seton!’ With a joyful cry she ran to him and he caught her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and spinning her round, then bending his head to kiss her, still holding her off the ground.

‘Daddy! Daddy!’

Looking down, Seton saw that Sam had woken and he, too, had come running to greet him, clamouring for attention by pulling at his trouser leg. Laughing, he put Lucie down but kept his arm round her waist as he stooped to lift Sam so that his little face was level with his own. He was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek and the clasp of two chubby arms that went round his neck.

‘You’re home so early! I didn’t expect you for hours.’

‘They agreed to settle out of court, thank goodness. So I was able to get away and surprise you. And I find you in tears! What on earth’s the matter?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, I was just getting maudlin.’

‘I’d better kiss you into feeling better, then.’

‘You’ve already had enough kisses.’

‘Nonsense. A man can’t have too many kisses. You remember that, Sam.’

‘OK,’ his son said happily, and gave him another, very noisy kiss, which made them laugh.

‘Sit down and I’ll get you a drink,’ Lucie invited. ‘Then you can tell me about the case.’

Seton sat down in her vacated chair, Sam on his lap, and accepted the drink gratefully. But he didn’t talk about the case, beyond repeating that it had been settled to his client’s advantage. He never did talk about his cases in detail; to Seton, being a lawyer was like being a doctor: anything told to him was always in complete confidence.

He dealt in civil law not criminal, and sometimes cases—fraud, for example—could last quite a while, so it was always good when they finished earlier than expected. Sam was looking at him expectantly, although he didn’t ask, and after a few minutes Seton smiled, reached into his pocket and brought out a wrapped parcel which he gave to the boy. Sam opened it excitedly, to reveal a brightly coloured pencil with a rubber figure fixed on the top. He gave a crow of pleasure, gave his father another kiss, then demanded that Lucie find him some paper he could draw on.

When he was settled at the table, Seton opened his briefcase and took out a bottle of scent for Lucie.

She had pulled another chair up close to his and took his hand as she leaned forward to thank him. Their eyes met, held, were full of promise. ‘How did you know I’d almost run out?’

He smiled at her lazily. ‘It’s noticing things like that that earns a man Brownie points.’ Getting to his feet, Seton drew Lucie back inside the house, his eyes already darkening as he took her into his arms to kiss her hungrily. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he muttered against her mouth.

‘It’s only been a few days,’ Lucie laughed.

‘Nearer a week. A whole week of loneliness, of wanting you, longing for you. Of dreaming about you.’ He was kissing her as he spoke, on her throat, the line of her jaw, pushing aside the top of her dress to kiss and caress the fullness of her breasts. ‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said thickly.

Returning his embrace with a passion fuelled by her own longing, Lucie said, ‘It’s so early. What about Sam?’

‘He’s happy enough for the moment. Come on. Come on!’

She let him take her by the hand and lead her upstairs to their bedroom. There was no need to draw the curtains; the house was too isolated for anyone to see. Immediately they were inside they began to undress each other, as eager for this as they had always been, time and familiarity having in no way diminished the fire that swept through them as they touched, clung, caressed.

‘My darling. My love.’ Seton was on his knees before her, taking off the last of her clothes. He kissed her deeply, so intimately that Lucie threw back her head in a long, uncontrollable moan. He rose, his hands sliding up her legs and thighs, his breath already rasping in anticipation. For a moment he held her close against him, letting her feel the hardness of his arrant masculinity, of his desperate need for her.

It drove them both wild.

‘Seton!’ Lucie moved against him. ‘I want you so much. Please. Please.’

With a groan he carried her to the bed, laid her on it and, too eager for finesse, immediately took her, entering her welcoming warmth with abandoned pleasure. Lucie arched to meet him, feeling his hot skin against her own, their panting, moaning breaths mingling as they kissed, her arms around him as she held him close.

It was always like this when he had been away, their eagerness to make love, this almost savage urgency. Lucie felt excitement flare, cried out his name as the exquisite pleasure increased, until it engulfed her entirely and the whole wonderful world was contained in this long moment of ecstatic sensuality.

They made love again later that night, after putting Sam to bed and eating a leisurely dinner together. In some ways that second time was almost as exciting as the first, because they knew it was going to happen, because they deliberately prolonged the moment until they went up to their bedroom again. Lucie bathed, put on a long white nightdress that was almost demure and sat at her dressing table to brush her hair. But Seton took the brush from her, as he loved to do, and made each stroke one of admiration and intimacy.

This time they made love far more slowly, each knowing what the other liked most, what gave them the greatest excitement and pleasure. Lucie lay alongside Seton, kissing and caressing his length, making him sigh deeply and gasp in sensual delight as he found it too wonderful to stop her but almost unbearable to wait. She smiled, knowing just how far to go to tantalise him, then bent to kiss his mouth.

It was Seton’s turn then, to tease a little, to toy with her until her fingers bit into his shoulders and she gave little, animal moans of mingled pleasure and frustration. He could wait no longer. With a swift movement he leaned back on the bed and pulled her astride him. ‘Now, my darling. Now!’ And, holding her waist, he gave her the overwhelming pleasure he knew she loved.

Moonlight played across the crumpled bed. Lucie found her nightdress but tossed it aside, wanting to feel her own nakedness against Seton’s for the rest of the night. He lay on his side behind her and put his arms round her in the protective way in which they always slept. ‘My darling.’ He kissed her shoulder. ‘My beautiful, wonderful wife. You can’t possibly know how much I adore you.’

Lucie smiled in the darkness and settled more comfortably into his hold. ‘Do you think we made a baby?’

‘I certainly hope so.’ His arm tightened round her. ‘I long for a little girl, just like you.’ He chuckled. ‘We certainly gave it our best shot.’ Pushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck, but then yawned tiredly. ‘Goodnight, my love.’

Within a few minutes he was asleep, but Lucie lay awake in the darkness, wondering if the miracle had happened and they would have another child. It was time that Sam had a brother, or the sister that Seton so wanted for him, and as all she wanted was Seton’s happiness then that was what Lucie wanted too. She loved him so much, so very much.

Sometimes, when she reluctantly looked into her past, it seemed that her life had only really begun on the blessed day when she had met him. All the years before then counted as nothing, were like some terrible nightmare from which she had woken to find herself in a living paradise. In all those years of her youth and childhood there had been only one good thing and that had been Kate Brownlow, the woman Lucie called Aunt Kate and whose surname she had taken, but who wasn’t her real aunt at all, although Seton thought she was.

Kate had been a prison visitor; she was a mature and kind woman who had recognised Lucie’s basic honesty and believed in her innocence. She had taken Lucie under her wing, encouraged her to take educational courses, and given her a home until she could find work and afford her flat in Hayford. For that Lucie was eternally grateful, and she looked on Aunt Kate as a dear relation, the only person who knew the whole truth about her, and who had sworn, albeit reluctantly, never to tell Seton.

Lucie sighed, pushing thoughts of the past from her mind. They seldom came back to haunt her now; the present was too full, too happy. She rolled onto her back and Seton’s arm went across her. He murmured something in his sleep, said it again and she understood. ‘Love you, Lucie.’

She smiled and looked at his face, lit by the moonlight. He had given many of his features to his son. His mother had shown Lucie photographs of Seton taken when he had been the same age and it was incredible how alike they looked. She was glad that Sam would look and be like him; she had been too wary of her own genes to feel confident in passing them on.

His hair had fallen forward over his forehead; gently Lucie pushed it back. Her touch had been featherlight but even so his lashes fluttered and Seton said, ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ She didn’t answer and he opened his eyes. ‘You ought to be worn out.’ Still she didn’t speak and he sighed. ‘You are an insatiable woman. At this rate I shall be a burnt-out shell by the time I’m forty.’ But he smiled as he drew her to him and began to make love to her again.

This time she slept for a while afterwards, but woke to find the room in complete darkness, the moonlight gone. Seton was deeply asleep, his breath even and regular. Lucie tried to work out how many times they’d made love since they’d known each other, but couldn’t begin to count. It was possible to work out how many days they’d known each other so intimately, but they had made love more than once in a day so often—frequently even three times or more, as tonight—that it was impossible to say.

But repetition had never staled their lovemaking. It had always been so good, so breathtaking. And the joy had always been shared; there had never been the slightest need of pretence at fulfilment, as some women she’d read about resorted to, and as some of her women friends had confided. With Seton the excitement had always been true and wonderful, both of them delighting the other, and their own pleasure the greater because of it.

Their marriage was perfect in every way. Too perfect, perhaps. Lucie knew that Seton put her on a pedestal, that his love for her fell little short of adoration. It frightened her sometimes, the force and depth of his feelings. But that was only when she allowed herself to think about it; most of the time she was just full of heartfelt thanks for having met him, for his having fallen so hopelessly in love with her.

In return she tried to make their marriage, their lives as happy and content as she possibly could. Whatever Seton had wanted she would have done; she would have devoted her life to him completely, but he’d insisted on her finishing her Open University course, and when she got an honours degree he’d encouraged her to find a job as a part-time teacher. Lucie had given that up when Sam was born, but hoped one day to go back to teaching art.

Her life was perfect, the past buried deep—and Lucie knew that she would do anything to keep it that way.

They went for a holiday to Norway, the first they’d taken abroad as a family, and it was a great success, Sam loving every minute. Lucie returned with a gorgeous tan, and the hope that she was pregnant again, which was a tremendous joy to them both.

For a while it was to be their secret, until they were absolutely sure, but the knowledge increased Lucie’s vivacity as the tan increased her beauty. At twenty-seven she was in the prime of womanhood, her body slender but rounded, her pale gold hair a fitting frame for her lovely face and eyes so full of life and happiness. It was hardly any wonder that Seton looked at her with such pride of possession, even less wonder that he couldn’t keep his hands off, that he made love to her at every opportunity.

Shortly after they got back Lucie and half a dozen of her friends—those like herself with young children and who regularly got together for morning coffee—decided to have a day out by themselves. A day off from husbands, children and responsibilities. They would go to Ladies’ Day at Ascot, have a champagne picnic, wear new outfits, outrageous hats, the lot.

‘I’m jealous,’ Seton complained as he watched her try on her outfit the day before their outing. ‘You’ll be having a wonderful time while I’m stuck in a stuffy old court listening to a man who is clearly guilty try to lie his way out of paying a hefty settlement.’ He was sitting on their bed, propped up against the headboard, still fascinated to watch her dress.

‘Tough,’ Lucie answered. ‘They only have one Ladies’ Day; you can go any time.’

‘But I really think I ought to be there to look after you. You look so lovely that you’ll have admiring men flocking around you like bees at a honeypot. And you happen to be my honeypot.’

‘For your private consumption, huh?’

‘Definitely.’

Lucie put on the jacket of her burnt orange and white suit, then added the hat, wide-brimmed but turned up at the front and adorned with big orange and white silk flowers.

He groaned. ‘Take it all off. I’m not going to let you go. You look just too lovely. Some stinking rich millionaire will probably fall at your feet, then carry you off to his yacht or his stately home.’

Lucie smiled, pretending to like the idea. ‘Sounds pretty good to me.’

Seton growled at her. ‘If any man touches you I’ll tear him apart.’

She turned to face him. ‘Such caveman stuff. Do I really look all right?’

‘My darling girl.’ Getting up, he came over to her and turned her to face the mirror. ‘Can’t you believe the evidence of your own eyes? You will outshine every woman there.’

Meeting his gaze in their reflection, Lucie said, ‘I’m not going for that. We’re just going for a giggle. But I wish you were coming. I want to share everything with you.’

Recognising an unsure note in her voice, Seton put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her towards him. ‘You will have the most wonderful time with your friends,’ he said firmly. ‘You will bet on all the races and win a fortune. You will have a most delicious picnic and drink lots of champagne. And when you come home I will whisk you upstairs, take off all your clothes except that fantastic hat and then make love to you exactly where you’re standing now, in front of the mirror.’ She flushed, as he’d known she would, in the way that still delighted him.

She moved away, began to change back into her ordinary clothes. ‘Your mother has been dropping hints about us having another baby; she’ll be so pleased when we tell her.’

‘Of course; my parents have found a new lease of life since they’ve become grandparents.’

She laughed. ‘They might not be quite so keen after they’ve had Sam all day tomorrow.’

‘And overnight,’ Seton grinned.

Lucie gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘When did you arrange that?’

‘I haven’t yet—but I’m certainly going to now that I’ve seen you in that hat.’

‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘It’s your own fault, woman; you shouldn’t be so sensational.’ And he kissed her again.

The next day was warm and sunny but without a breeze, exactly right for all those hats. As Seton had predicted, Lucie had a wonderful time. They had a stretch limo to take them to the racecourse and set out their picnic in the car park, alongside all the Rolls-Royces and Bentleys. Because they were all women together they could let their hair down and there was a lot of laughter, especially after they’d opened the second bottle of champagne. Lucie was enjoying herself as much as the others until a photographer she hadn’t noticed came along and took a shot of them all as they clustered round the frothing bottle of bubbly with their glasses.

‘That was a good one,’ the photographer remarked. ‘It might be accepted by a paper. Give me your names for the caption, ladies.’

Lucie hesitated but decided to be cautious. ‘I don’t want my name in a newspaper,’ she said to Anna, the friend next to her. ‘Please see that he doesn’t get it.’ And she got to her feet and walked quickly away.

When she got back ten minutes later the man had gone.

‘You didn’t give him my name, did you?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

‘No.’ Anna hesitated. ‘But Fiona talked to him, gave him her name. I think she’s a bit squiffy,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t worry; why on earth would they put us in the paper when they’ve got all these beautiful women and outfits to choose from?’

Which was very true. They packed away the picnic, walked down to watch the races, and Lucie forgot about the photographer in the excitement of picking two winners.

And Seton kept his promise—more than fulfilled it as he made love to her that night in front of the mirror, their passion for each other seeming to be doubled as they not only felt but saw themselves giving and taking such glorious pleasure. ‘Hold your hat on, sweetheart,’ Seton groaned out. ‘Because I’m going to blow your mind.’

That made Lucie start to laugh, but soon she was gasping, her eyes closing in exquisite sensuality then opening to see their straining bodies in the mirror. She moaned, the eroticism of it almost too much to bear, and then cried out in ecstasy as Seton lifted her off the ground and held her to him. They were free tonight, with Sam not there, to give voice to their excitement, to cry out the other’s name, to give full rein to a hunger that was heightened but never satiated.

Lucie woke late the next morning, able to sleep in because Sam wasn’t there and Seton didn’t have to go to work. She showered and dressed, taking her time, smiling when she saw her discarded hat on the floor. Carefully she packed it away in her wardrobe, sentimentally thinking that she would keep it for ever, take it out when they were old and grey and smile in happy remembrance of the past night.

Seton had made breakfast and was sitting in their big, sunlit kitchen reading the paper. He glanced at the back page then gave an exclamation of astonishment. ‘Lucie! Your picture’s in the paper!’

‘What?’

She looked over his shoulder as he held the paper for her to see. It made a good photograph, in colour, all of them in their chic outfits, laughing and happy as they held out their glasses to catch the fountain of bubbles like diamonds in the sun. Lucie was in the forefront, easily recognisable, the most attractive of them all, and her name was clearly given, along with the name of the village from which they all came.

Seton said, ‘How amazing. You didn’t tell me you’d had it taken.’

‘I forgot. There were so many beautiful women there, and lots of photographers going around. I didn’t think they’d ever print it.’

‘But it’s a wonderful shot. You all look so happy.’ He grinned at her and put his arm round her waist. ‘I told you you’d be the most beautiful woman there.’

She gave him a hug and sat opposite him, helping herself to cereals, looking across at the photograph as Seton read the rest of the paper. Her heart sank a little and Lucie wondered if she had changed much over the last ten years. Would anyone who had known her then recognise the same person in the sophisticated young woman in the picture? On the whole she thought not, and they certainly wouldn’t recognise the name of Lucie Wallace, of course. That thought made Lucie feel considerably better, enough to make her laugh at her fears as absurd. She was safe now—safe and secure in the world that Seton had given her.

He gave a sound of disdain and read out an item from the paper that had caught his eye. He often did this, keeping up with the news, especially with politics, and frequently made some quite scathing remarks when he disagreed with something. Often, though, he read out items that amused him too, or that aroused his sympathy. ‘You must read this piece,’ he told her, a few minutes later. ‘It’s a report on how women drivers can take steps to protect themselves if they break down when they’re alone.’

‘You’ve already given me a mobile phone.’

‘Wouldn’t hurt to read it, though.’

Lucie smiled, knowing that his most anxious concern was always for her safety and well-being.

He made another angry sound. ‘They’ll have to do something about the overcrowding in the prisons. There’s a piece here about a man who shot a policeman actually being allowed out four years early. He was sentenced to fifteen years but has only served eleven.’

The jug of fruit juice that Lucie was holding slipped dangerously in her hand as her blood ran cold. ‘R-really? What—what was his name?’ Somehow she managed to say the words although her voice seemed somehow disembodied, not part of herself any more.

‘What?’ Seton’s eyes had already moved on, but he looked back at the item. Even before he spoke she somehow knew what he was going to say. The premonition was so strong that she felt no surprise when he said, ‘Some foreign name. Oh, yes, here it is. Rick Ravena.’

He went on to say something else but Lucie didn’t hear him; time seemed to have stopped. It was the only name in all the world that she had hoped never to hear again, the name of the man who had ruined her life, whose vindictiveness had sent her to prison for something she hadn’t done.


CHAPTER TWO

LUCIE went on automatically pouring the orange juice, but her hand was shaking now and she slopped some onto the table. Quickly she got up to get a cloth, turned her back on Seton so that he couldn’t see her face.

He glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better get a move on; remember, we’re booked for a game of tennis at the club before we pick up Sam from my parents.’

Lucie desperately wanted to be alone, to try and come to terms with this terrible news. She thought about saying that she didn’t feel up to playing tennis, but knew that Seton would insist on staying with her if she felt unwell. So perhaps it would be better to go; at least they would be among other people, so that Seton’s attention would be distracted from her. They were so close that she was very afraid that he would notice there was something wrong.





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