Книга - The Flawed Marriage

The Flawed Marriage
PENNY JORDAN


Penny Jordan needs no introduction as arguably the most recognisable name writing for Mills & Boon. We have celebrated her wonderful writing with a special collection, many of which for the first time in eBook format and all available right now.Amber's once lithe body had been crippled and disfigured by a horrible accident. The prospect of never walking again disheartened her, but much worse was the pain she felt when her fiance suddenly abandoned her.Time had done nothing to heal her broken heart. And although she could walk again, resuming her nursing career was out of the question. Then a stranger offered her employment, a home and the money for a necessary operation.All she had to do was become his wife!












The Flawed Marriage

Penny Jordan







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




Table of Contents


Cover (#u2ff51c79-ff8e-5300-8e5f-05e0e4f46e60)

Title Page (#ue87a9c7a-b80b-5ba2-9bbd-8d3f9d1fbcfc)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#uba272bdd-5eee-51ce-8f57-e42cc303eecf)


IT was cold and damp. The mist, which had been no more than tiny wisps veiling the highest peaks of the Lakeland mountains on her journey to the children’s home earlier that afternoon, had now descended as far as the road she was walking along, Amber noticed wearily. It was also growing dark; a strange eerie darkness, unlike the city twilight she was more accustomed to. She shivered, drawing her thin suede coat closer around her almost too angular body, her right leg dragging slightly as she tried to increase her walking pace. Her leg. She grimaced to herself as she glanced impotently at the limb she was fast coming to consider the author of all her misfortunes, including this latest unsuccessful attempt to obtain a job. She had been so full of hope when she set out from Birmingham this morning, buoying herself up during the long train ride by reminding herself of the excellence of her qualifications. Not only was she a fully qualified teacher, but she also had over a year’s nursing experience. Her eyes went involuntarily to her leg again. Six months now since the accident; six months! It seemed to Amber that six centuries separated the happy, fulfilled girl of twenty she had been from the bitter, maimed person she was now, and the irony of the whole thing was that it needn’t have happened at all.

She had been on her way to work at the time. Having qualified as a teacher, she had left university just in time to find herself a victim of local government education cuts, and so instead had decided to train as a nurse. Rob had been full of approval. He was on the point of finishing his own medical training—he wanted to go into private practice, though, which meant specialising, a costly business both in terms of money and time, but with Amber working as a nurse they should be able to bring the date of their wedding forward. That was what Amber had been thinking about as she walked to the large hospital on her way to work. She didn’t have to walk very far, living as she did in a nearby student nurses’ home, and her mind had been on Rob and his bombshell of the previous evening—that he intended to go out to Saudi Arabia to work for two years. He had been offered a plum job as assistant to an eminent plastic surgeon working in the Middle East, a chance he simply could not afford to pass up, as he had earnestly explained to Amber. She had been dismayed by his news. They had met at university and she had known that because of Rob’s chosen career it would be several years before they could marry, but she had visualised him specialising at one of the large Birmingham hospitals—not thousands of miles away.

She had noticed the bus stopping ahead of her as an automatic reflex action; the giggling children disgorged on to the pavement; the small yellow-raincoated little, girl stepping out behind the bus; the car speeding towards her. Her reaction had been automatic, and ridiculously unnecessary. The child—streetwise—had managed to avoid the skidding wheels of the car, and it was Amber, who had so recklessly gone to her rescue, who had been tossed like a rag doll to lie inert and unconscious in the road.

She had been lucky, or so they tried to convince her, but Amber didn’t consider a leg which because of its torn and destroyed muscles might never move properly again to be something to feel grateful for, and had said so, even when the surgeon told her gravely that she was lucky to have it, and that there had been talk of amputation. And there were also the scars; horrible, maiming scars, running along the slender length of her thigh and marring the slender perfection of her calf. At first she had refused to accept the truth; she would walk properly again. But it was six months now since the accident and she knew that no amount of willpower was ever going to restore her right leg to the lithe manoeuvrability it had once had. There was a slight chancé, Mr Savage, the consultant, had told her when she demanded to be told the truth; a very risky and highly technical operation only available in America, but it cost many thousands of pounds, and was not guaranteed to be successful, and then there would be the plastic surgery to remove her scars.

Rob had been understanding at first, but then there had been those evenings when he had not visited her; those conversations about the necessity of a successful society doctor having a glamorous, elegant wife. He hadn’t needed to labour the point. Amber had understood, and when she offered to call things off, he had agreed without protest. That night after he had gone had been the first time she had cried. She had never felt more alone in her life. Who did, she have to turn to? Her father had died when she was eight and her mother had remarried while Amber was at university. She liked her stepfather, but they weren’t a close family. Her mother was easily upset and had wept bitterly on the one occasion she had come to visit Amber in hospital. It had been impossible for her to go on working at the hospital; hence the necessity for her journey here today to the Lake District. The moment she had seen the advertisement for a junior housemother at a children’s home, her hopes had started to rise. They had been most enthusiastic over the telephone; right up until the moment they had seen her, in fact.

Like sharp knives she could clearly recall the interviewer’s voice, pitying but firm, as she explained that whoever got the job would need to be agile and tireless—looking after about twenty-five children ranging from thirteen downwards was a very demanding job. And not suitable for a cripple, Amber told herself bitterly.

She shivered suddenly as the mist reached out damp tendrils towards her. Who would guess that it was May? It was cold enough to be the middle of winter. Of course, it was pretty high up here, and if she hadn’t lingered to watch the trout in the mountain stream she wouldn’t have missed her bus, and there would have been no necessity for her to trudge down this seemingly endless road, although she distinctly remembered seeing a sign in the village on the way up announcing that it was merely a mile and a half to Inchmere House, the children’s home.

Gritting her teeth against the nagging pain from her torn muscles, she kept on walking. Pain was something she had grown used to living with. The doctors had prescribed various drugs, but she had refused them. Sometimes she thought the only thing that kept her going was her constant battle not to give in. She had been so full of hope this morning. The job would have provided her with a means of earning her living and a roof over her head, both important considerations, as since leaving the hospital she had been depleting her small savings on the rent of a shabby, chilly room in a Birmingham boarding house, and the necessities of day-to-day living.

She could have turned to her mother, but pride had prevented her; the same pride which had forced her to smile and look pleased when her mother announced her stepfather’s plans for retirement in Spain. In another two weeks they would be gone, and then she would be completely on her own.

Weak tears of self-pity welled in her eyes and she dashed them away angrily. It was pointless thinking about what was past; she could never have lived with her parents anyway, even if they had offered her a home. But she had to get a job; some means of earning money—any means of earning money!

Like an Eldorado the surgeon’s words lured her on; the memory of his advice that there was an operation which could restore her leg to full strength, the frail hope she had clung to in the weeks after Rob’s defection; weeks when she battled daily with a swamping sense of rejection and bitterness, telling herself that once restored to her old self she would show Rob what he had lost by deserting her when she needed him most! Her hands curled into her palms, bitterness etched in the magnificent tawny eyes which had given rise to her unusual name. Tiger eyes, Rob had lovingly called them, going on to whisper passionately that he loved them just as he loved everything about her. But no one would whisper words of love to her now! She shuddered suddenly with cold, the sleek length of her dark gold hair plastered to her neck by the damp air, her too thin body telling its own story of illness and neglect.

Rob. She closed her eyes momentarily, overwhelmed by weakness. How she longed for him at this moment—the warmth of his arms; the sweet tenderness of his kisses—a tenderness which had promised to ripen into passion, but time and circumstances had always been against them. Amber refused to have her first experience of total possession spoiled by being rushed or being conducted unromantically. Rob had laughed at her, but he hadn’t argued. They had been planning to go away together for a week’s holiday before the Saudi business came up, and she had bought, in anticipation of the holiday, brief wisps of underwear, and a soft, feminine nightdress that had been far too expensive, but irresistible.

Lost in the past, she didn’t hear the warning sound heralding the approach of a car, and her first intimation of its intrusion was the loud blaring of its horn.

Time rolled back and she was held fast, transfixed in the beam of powerful fog lights, frozen and unable to move, her face a pale, fearful oval caught in the powerful lights for a brief second before the car swerved across the road and up the banking, and the engine was suddenly cut.

The sudden cessation of sound broke through her wall of terror, and moving awkwardly, Amber stumbled to the side of the road. Behind her she heard a car door open, and brisk hard footsteps. Impelled by a fierce urgency to escape, she pressed on, almost running, her cry of pain as hard fingers grasped her shoulder swallowed up by the curling mist.

‘What the hell’s the matter with you? Why didn’t you move? Got a death wish, have you?’

The harsh male voice filled her senses, rasping against over-sensitised nerves. Her assailant was practically shaking her, her damp hair falling against her face, concealing it from him. With a sudden impatient movement he grasped it, pushing it away and forcing her face up.

‘My God!’ he breathed sardonically when he saw her too finely drawn features and the cheekbones made prominent by lack of nourishing food. ‘What a waif and stray it is! What were you trying to do? Seek oblivion under my car wheels?”

‘And if I was?’ Amber flared at him, suddenly too angry to bother denying his mocking comment.

‘Then you’re a fool,’ came the crisp retort. ‘Life is for living, little miss waif and stray, not for throwing away. That’s something you learn early up here amongst the mountains. Not local, are you?’ he asked, giving her unsuitable coat and city shoes a dry and cursory glance. ‘What are you doing up here? Hired one of the holiday cottages and had a tiff with the boy-friend?’

Amber’s chin tilted defiantly, and she longed for the mist to lift and the dark landscape to be illuminated so that she could let this insufferable stranger see the contempt in her eyes.

‘Nothing so juvenile. No man is worth killing oneself for.’

‘So what are you doing up here? Taking a quiet stroll?’

The sarcastic retort stung.

‘If you must know, I was looking for a job—at the children’s home.’

‘And because you didn’t get it you decided to fling yourself under my wheels. Bit drastic, wasn’t it?’

It was sheer exasperation that made her retort crossly, ‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous! I wasn’t throwing myself under your wheels at all. If you must know I…’ She stopped abruptly, remembering how she had just stood frozen in the beam of his lights, and changed her tack, to say accusingly, ‘You shouldn’t have been driving so fast. You could have caused an accident. Drivers never think of pedestrians.’ A trace of bitterness crept unknowingly into her voice. ‘They don’t care what risks they take with other people’s lives, and when they do, they get away scot free…’

‘What are you implying? That I owe you compensation? You’ve been watching too much American television, lady, and you’ve got it wrong. The car has to actually touch you before you can claim.’

‘And even then you don’t always get anything,’ Amber said coolly, remembering her own inability to claim compensation from the driver who had injured her, despite the fact that he had been speeding, because he had not been properly insured.

She remembered that she was not wearing a watch, and that the last train for her connection left the village at eight-thirty. She had no idea what time it was now. She had left the home at seven and seemed to have been walking for hours.

‘Could you tell me the time, please?’ she asked quickly. ‘I have a train to catch.’

She saw the glint of gold on a lean male wrist clad in a dark jacket which seemed to be of a leather fabric, although because of his dark clothes, Amber could make out very little of her companion’s appearance apart from the fact that he was tall, with dark hair.

‘Just gone eight,’ he told her laconically.

Eight! She tried to fight down a sense of panic. She only had a few pounds in her purse. If she missed her connection she would have to wait until morning, which meant finding somewhere to stay.

‘Thank you. I must go…’ Without waiting to see his reaction she started to hurry down the road, for once not concerned with what the man watching her might think of her ungainly gait.

She heard the car door slam seconds after she had left him, and knew from the brevity of time which had elapsed that he had not spent much time watching her, and an irrational feeling of resentment filled her. He might at least have offered to run her into the village, even if it was in the opposite direction to that he was taking.

But why should he? Perhaps if she had been the girl she used to be he might have found her attractive enough to have offered her a lift—but then the girl she had been would not have needed one.

She was so intent on hurrying, so deep in her thoughts, that she didn’t hear the soft purr of the car engine untl it drew level with her, and the now familiar hard voice drawled, ‘Get in. I’ll take you to the station.’

The passenger door was thrust open, the interior light coming on to reveal the opulent luxury of cream hide seats and a thick matching carpet. The light which illuminated the car interior also revealed the features of its owner, and Amber caught her breath in mingled awe and uncertainty.

Handsome wasn’t the word it was possible to use in connection with this man, she admitted as she limped awkwardly towards the open door. Striking, sensually compelling; intensely male; these were the words with which to describe the hooded grey eyes which swept her with predatory intentness, assessing and dismissing her feminine appeal, the aquiline profile turned autocratically towards her.

‘You’re limping.’ The words held none of the pity she had grown accustomed to and withdrawn from in the long dark days since her accident, and just as she registered that fact he leaned across the passenger seat, long fingers grasping her wrist as she was pulled effortlessly into the warm interior of the car, and the door firmly closed behind her, rather as though she were an irritating child unable to fend for herself.

‘How did it happen?’

He was watching her intently, the cool grey gaze sending frissons of awareness flickering her body. The old Amber would have described him as a very male and attractive man, but the new embittered Amber saw only the hard purpose in the depths of the grey eyes fixed upon her, white face, and knew a shuddering desire to escape from the too intimate environs of the car and the disturbing proximity of its owner. Only the knowledge that without his offer of a lift she could well miss her train prevented her from quitting the car immediately. As always when her limp was mentioned she stiffened involuntarily, her face closing up, the huge golden eyes shadowed and shuttered.

‘An accident,’ she told him tonelessly. ‘Do you live locally?’

‘Relatively speaking. What sort of accident?’ he asked smoothly, refusing to allow her to change the subject.

‘I was hit by a car—driven too fast.’

‘Which makes your carelessness of a few moments ago all the more foolhardy.’

‘Only if you happen to be a speed-crazed maniac,’ Amber snapped back.

The dark eyebrows rose, reinforcing the almost demonic features of the man opposite her, his mouth curling downwards sardonically as he scrutinised her.

‘Speed-crazed? Oh, I hardly think so,’ he offered. ‘Forty isn’t considered excessive on these roads—not when one knows them.’

Which meant that he must live locally, Amber reflected, even though he hadn’t answered her earlier question.

‘Even in thick fog?’ she demanded, refusing to cede victory.

‘A little mist,’ her companion scoffed, deftly navigating a series of tortuous hairpin bends. ‘You said you were up here for an interview for a job. Why? You aren’t a local.’

‘I wasn’t aware that was another prerequisite,’ Amber began sarcastically, a little dismayed by the alert, ‘Another? Why, what was the other?’ that he fired at her.

Exhaustion and depression forced down her guard, allowing a little of the bitterness she normally kept bottled up inside her to spill over her iron control.

‘Can’t you guess? I should have thought a man of your perception would have realised immediately. As you so sapiently mentioned earlier, I limp.’

‘And because of that you were turned down for the job?’

Although all his concentration was on the road and the powerful car, Amber felt his sideways glance, probing the thin skin barely covering her emotional scars.

‘Although my qualifications were good, as a junior housemistress they wanted something more mobile.’

‘Junior housemistress? That would have been a living-in position, surely, and a time-consuming one.’ She felt him looking at her ringless fingers and guessed the mental assessment he was making. Single, and likely to remain so through circumstances rather than choice: an object of pity and derision.

‘So what will you do now?’

Cold and shaken by her experience both at the interview and afterwards, Amber made an attempt to shrug unconcernedly and failed pitifully.

‘I don’t know. God knows I wish I did,’ she muttered under her breath, not intending the words to be overheard, but his hearing was obviously as acute as a predatory hunter’s, because his head swivelled towards her, and the car slid to a smooth halt in a small layby, across the bridge from the village. Thinking that he had taken her as far as he meant to, Amber reached for the door handle, but he stopped her, reaching across her body to grasp her hand. Amber shrank from him instinctively. She had learned in hospital that although she might be an object of medical interest and curiosity to the young doctors clustering daily around her bed, as a desirable and attractive woman she no longer existed; pity rather than admiration was what she read in their eyes; a pity that she had seen time and time again in the months that had followed. From taking the vibrant beauty which had been a facet of her personality before the accident for granted, she had retreated into a world where her beauty had been dimmed by pain and loss of self-confidence. If Rob could no longer find her attractive how could any man? Unwittingly over the weeks she had adopted the mien and shrinking manners of a girl who knows herself unattractive to men, and so she shrank now; not from any fear that her companion might touch her but from his assumption that she might want him to do so and the humiliation of rejection which must surely follow.

‘What’s the matter?’

There was a fine thread of amusement woven into the conventional words, a smile deepening the attractive grooves either side of a mouth which looked as though it didn’t smile often enough. ‘Having second thoughts about the wisdom of accepting a lift? Too late, fair maiden,’ he mocked. ‘I have you within my toils now, and there’s no one to stop me having my wicked way with you. Tell me about your life before this accident,’ he demanded with an abrupt change of front.

‘What on earth for? Look, I must go, otherwise I’ll miss my train.’ Amber reached again for the door handle, only to find the door immovable beneath her urgent fingers.

‘I’ve locked it.’ He motioned towards the highly technical-looking dashboard. ‘And I won’t unlock it until you’ve answered my questions.’

‘But why? What possible interest could you have in me?’

’The very natural one of a prospective employer,’ came the totally unexpected reply. ‘I need someone to look after my son.’

‘How old is he?’ Ridiculously it was the first question which came into her mind.

‘Six.’

‘But why should you want to employ me? Before this evening we hadn’t even met. I don’t even know your name…’

‘That’s easily remedied. I’m Joel Sinclair. I live about eight miles away from here.’

‘And you need someone to look after your son. Surely a fully trained nanny would be better? And your wife…’

He was shaking his head.

‘I’ve made up my mind that you’ll be ideal. What’s your name?’

Hesitantly, hardly daring to believe that the day might after all have have some benefit for her, Amber told him.

‘Amber? Because of your eyes, of course.’

She blinked at him, surprised that he had noticed. Rob had been going out with her for over a month before he had made the connection.

‘Mr Sinclair, are you sure? About this job, I mean?’ she asked formally. ‘You aren’t just…’ she fumbled for the right words, hating the thought that he might have offered her the job on impulse because of some misguided feeling of pity.

‘Sorry for you?’ His face hardened. ‘When you get to know me better you’ll learn that there isn’t room in my life for such unnecessary emotions.’

‘Well, hadn’t I better meet your son before we settle anything? I mean, he might not…’ She was glancing down at her leg, and she saw that he too was looking at the frail limb.

‘Oh, he’ll like you all right,’ came the response. ‘So, do I take it you’re prepared to accept the job?’

A tiny frown touched Amber’s forehead. He seemed to be treating the whole affair far too lightly. After all, what did he know about her, apart from what she had told him? What did she know about him, come to that? She moistened her lips, darting a quick glance up at him, dismayed to find him watching her with sardonic amusement.

‘It all seems so… so unconventional. I mean, you’ve just met me and you offer me the job of taking care of your son without asking for references, without…’

‘I know all I want to know,’ he told her, cutting her short, ‘In fact, Amber Douglas, you’re something in the nature of a gift from the gods.’ His laughter shocked and hurt her, although she tried to conceal it. Rob had thought her a gift from the gods once, but not in the same terms as Joel Sinclair, who only saw in her twisted leg a flaw which would probably make her pathetically grateful for his offer of a job.

‘But we haven’t discussed terms,’ she said uneasily. ‘A contract…’

‘Don’t worry,’ he told her suavely, ‘you’ll have a contract; and you’ll be well paid. Now, are you interested, or shall I drive across the bridge so that you can escape on the train that’s due in any moment now?’

Well paid! Amber knew that he hadn’t missed her expression of indecision. Goodness knows, she needed all the money she could get her hands on, and presumably she’d be living all found. She wanted to ask him exactly what he would be prepared to pay her, but pride—and the look in his eyes—prevented her.

She took a deep breath.

‘I’m interested.’

‘Good.’ He switched on the engine. ‘In that case, I’ll take you up to Lake Fyne now, so that you can meet Paul first-hand.’

She thought about the long journey back to Birmingham, the cold, inhospitable room waiting for her, and then darted a glance at the man sitting beside her.

‘Any objections?’

Without giving herself time to think she shook her head, feeling the powerful surge of the engine as the car pulled swiftly away, and the darkness swallowed them up.

Joel Sinclair had told her that he lived eight miles from the village, but it might as well have been eighty for all the sense of direction Amber experienced on the drive. Mist swirled all around them; the odd sheep materialising in the powerful headlights as they swept the grey blankness of the road, and the now frost-rimed hillsides stretching uproads from the tarmac.

Lake Fyne! She couldn’t remember ever hearing the name before, but then she knew that the Lake District possessed many small lakes whose names were not universally known, and she assumed this must be one of them.

The road curled upwards, a pale grey ribbon, disappearing into the mist.

Sitting on the edge of her seat, gripping the expensive hide cover, Amber was unaware of the fear in her eyes, until Joel turned towards her mockingly, commanding her to relax, telling her there was nothing to fear.

What did he know? she demanded inwardly in a flash of irritation. He had never had to face people with her disability to see the expression in their eyes. She had yet to be accepted by his son and his wife. She could just picture her; a man like him would demand sophistication and elegance in the woman who bore his name; she would be blonde, almost undoubtedly; expensively dressed, an ex-model perhaps, who would raise her eyebrows pityingly when she saw the stray waif her husband had brought home.

They came to an abrupt halt. The mist lifted momentarily and Amber had a brief glimpse of moonlight on water—Lake Fyne?—and then they were driving through huge wrought iron gates which had opened as though at some magic command from Joel to allow the car to move smoothly down a gravel drive towards, the grey granite house slowly materialising ahead of them out of the mist.

Joel, stopped the car. The silence was almost uncanny, heavy, and somehow waiting. There were no lights from the house, and Amber presumed that there must be rooms overlooking the back, where no doubt his wife eagerly awaited his return.

He climbed out of the car, and for one awful moment Amber thought he intended to leave her, but even as she moved frantically towards her door, he was opening it, assisting her to alight, his fingers hard and warm beneath her elbow.

Gravel crunched underfoot. The house was huge, Victorian and austere, and Amber shivered as she waited for Joel to unlock the door.

‘Housekeeper’s night off,’ he told her with heavy irony as the door swung open and he ushered her into a large but cold hall. He saw her shiver and told her, ‘Mrs Downs is Lakeland born and bred and thinks central heating should be kept only for the depths of winter.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s too late for you to see Paul tonight, he’ll be asleep, so I’ll show you to a room, and then in the morning…’

‘But surely your wife will want…’ Amber began, only to be silenced by the look of grim mockery she saw on his face.

‘Ah yes, my wife. Well, you see, my dear Amber, I no longer have a wife, which is why I need you—to take her place.’

The room reeled. Amber placed her hands to her head, telling herself that she was leaping to absurd conclusions.

‘You mean you need someone to look after Paul full time because you don’t have a wife? she said hesitantly, her heart starting to sink when saw him dislodge himself from the wall upon which he had been leaning and come towards her, his hands on her shoulders as he pulled her forward into the harsh overhead light of the hall.

‘What I mean, Amber,’ he said slowly and coolly, ‘is that I need a wife. Not just any wife, but you.’

‘You must be mad!’

He seemed amused rather than affronted.

‘Not mad, just determined. Determined that my ex-wife won’t revoke the custody ruling which gave Paul into, my care. So determined, in fact, that I am prepared to pay you very generously for say, six months of your life… Very generously,’ he repeated significantly, his eyes resting on the tell-tale pulse throbbing in her throat.

‘No!’

‘No?’ Again he seemed more amused than annoyed. ‘I’m going to give you the night to think over your decision, Amber, and don’t forget, will you, that I saw the look on your face in the car when I said I was prepared to be generous.’

Hating herself for the question, but knowing she just had to ask it, Amber ran her tongue nervously across dry lips and asked huskily, ‘How generous?’

She almost missed the surprised contempt in his eyes—it was banished so quickly by mocking satisfaction.

‘Twenty-five thousand pounds!’

Her heart almost stopped beating. Twenty-five thousand pounds—far, far more than she had imagined. Far, far more than she could ever envisage earning in so short a space of time, and more than enough to cover all the expenses of her operation, plus the plastic surgery she would need afterwards.

‘You can’t do it,’ a tiny inner voice warned her. ‘It isn’t right. You’ll have to refuse.’

The words were on the tip of her tongue when she looked down at her leg and all her good resolutions fled. What were six months, after all?

‘It would have to be purely a business arrangement,’ she began hesitantly. ‘I mean…’

‘I think we can take what you mean as read,’ came the smooth rejoinder, ‘and certainly I can assure you that I have no sexual designs upon your person, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

Amber flushed to the roots of her hair. Of course he hadn’t. What man in his right mind would have, never mind a man as stunningly attractive as Joel Sinclair?

Chagrined, exhausted and defeated by her own desire to be restored to what she had once been, she gave in.

‘Very wise,’ Joel Sinclair told her softly. ‘I am glad we were able to reach an agreement. Tell me, the money—do you need it for any special purpose?’

In a moment he might guess about her leg, and Amber couldn’t bear his pity. Quickly she interrupted, ‘No more special than any other woman’s. I want to enjoy life before it’s too late. I’ve always fancied a world cruise…’

‘With the bonus of some gullible male thrown in?’ Joel Sinclair suggested sardonically. ‘Still, why should I complain? In this instance your mercenary greed is furthering my ends as well as yours. I’ll take you to your room now,’ he told her. ‘I have to go out again—some business I have to attend to, but in the morning we’ll talk again.’

They had reached a long landing and he had paused outside a panelled mahogany door, and Amber had almost collided into him before she realised he had stopped.

He opened the door and stood back to allow her to enter the room. It was furnished with timelessly elegant Regency antiques, but despite the expensive furniture, the soft pale green carpet and daintily femine décor the room had a cold almost unwelcoming atmosphere, and Amber shivered as she stepped inside it.

‘The bathroom’s through there,’ Joel Sinclair told her, indicating another door opening off the bedroom. ‘We normally have breakfast about eight. I have business interests in Kendal and try to leave the house by nine, although recently my schedule has been somewhat interrupted.’

Amber stared up at him, wanting him to leave and yet reluctant to be abandoned in a strange house.

‘Something wrong?’ he enquired dulcetly, watching the shadows chase across her golden eyes. ‘Or are you waiting for me to seal our bargain in the traditional manner?’

It was several seconds before Amber realised what he meant, and she cringed inwardly wondering if he thought she had been mutely hoping that he would kiss her.

‘Certainly not,’ she told him with as much cool composure as she could muster. ‘You’re buying my time, not my body.’

His suave, ‘Perhaps that’s just as well,’ left a bitter aftertaste long after he himself had gone, reminding her yet again that she was no longer a girl men would want to hold in their arms or kiss. For several totally irresponsible seconds she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to be kissed by Joel Sinclair. His kisses wouldn’t be like Rob’s, she thought instinctively; there would be nothing tentative or rushed about them. He would know exactly how to arouse a woman’s desire; how to fan it until it threatened to become a raging inferno. Horrified by the train of her thoughts, she started to undress, realising almost too late that she had nothing to wear. Shrugging wearily, she decided that she was too tired to care whether she slept in a nightdress or the nude. Fortunately the bathroom, unlike the bedroom, was adequately heated, and she was able to wash out her undies and tights and place them on the hot towel rail to dry ready for the morning.




CHAPTER TWO (#uba272bdd-5eee-51ce-8f57-e42cc303eecf)


IT was the sound of a child crying that eventually roused Amber. She sat up in bed, listening in the darkness preceding dawn, and stretched her ears for the sound which had disturbed her slumbers. It came again—bitterly hopeless sobs; not the normal cry of a young child, and strangely moved, she slid out of bed, intent on discovering what was happening.

She was halfway across the room before she remembered she had no robe. The bathroom afforded a huge bathsheet which she wrapped sarong-wise around her too thin body, before opening her bedroom door.

It wasn’t hard to find Paul’s room; but what did surprise Amber when she opened the door was that the little boy was all alone, curled up in a small foetal ball in the middle of a rumpled heap of bedclothes.

‘Paul.’ She whispered his name, and had the satisfaction of seeing his tears stop as he registered her presence.

‘Who are you?’ The words were wrung from him between sobs.

Amber walked awkwardly towards the bed and switched on the lamp, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the small boy’s features properly for the first time. He was a perfect miniature replica of his father!

‘My name’s Amber.’ she answered matter-of-factly. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Paul Sinclair, and this is my daddy’s house.’

‘Were you having a bad dream?’ Amber asked him conversationally.

The small face closed up. ‘Sort of.’ The reply was deliberately uncommunicative.

‘Horrid, aren’t they?’ Amber sympathised, pretending she had not noticed his withdrawal. ‘Would you like me to get you a glass of milk?’

‘I’m not thirsty. What are you doing here?’

‘Your daddy brought me,’ Amber explained, starting to smooth the crumpled sheets. As she did so, she accidentally revealed the thin child’s body, dressed in over-large pyjamas which had ridden up to reveal a scarred and very frail-looking leg.

She could feel Paul going rigid when he knew she was looking at him, and her heart went out to the small child. She knew exactly what he was feeling. A thought suddenly struck her. Was this one of the reasons why Joel Sinclair wanted to marry her, because he thought she would have something in common with his son? But no; he had stipulated that their marriage was only to last six months, and besides, he didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would marry simply because of emotion.

Paul had turned away from her and was lying rigidly in the bed, his stiff little back expressive of all she herself had felt and never been able to say. She could almost feel him wishing her away.

She touched his arm gently. ‘Paul… You don’t have to hide your leg away from me, you know.’

If anything the little boy became even more stiff.

‘Look,’ she said lightly, ‘my leg’s the same.’

At first he didn’t move, and then very slowly and disbelievingly he turned towards her.

‘Let me see it.’

Obligingly she raised the hem of the bathsheet, holding her breath as she waited for Paul’s reaction. For some obscure reason it had become overwhelmingly important that she win the confidence of this withdrawn, too thin and pale child. Perhaps it was an innate fellow-feeling that told her that he had been fibbed to and fobbed off too often to accept platitudes any longer, and for the first time since her accident she actually didn’t mind someone seeing the unpleasant scars.

Even when Paul’s small stubby fingers touched the ridged and puckered skin she didn’t flinch.

‘I was knocked down by a car—how did you get yours?’ she asked conversationally.

‘He was in a car accident—with his mother,’ drawled a mocking familiar voice from the doorway.

Shock jolted through Amber as she saw Joel’s lean frame propped up against the door, the brief terry towelling robe he was wearing doing nothing to conceal the potent masculinity of his body. As though it were a magnet it drew Amber’s fevered gaze, hot pulses beating insistently through her veins in mute reaction to the sensuality of the lean-muscled male body. What was happening to her? She had never felt like this with Rob. Was it something to do with the fact that she now knew that there would be no lover, no fulfilment for her? Was that what was making her so intensely aware of Joel Sinclair; a stranger?

‘Oh, don’t look like that,’ Joel drawled, totally misunderstanding the reason for her shocked expression. ‘She got off completely unscathed. You ought to be asleep,’ he told his son, walking across to the bed, which depressed under his weight.

‘I heard him crying,’ Amber explained the reason for her presence.

‘And like the compassionate motherly creature that you are you came to investigate.’

‘Her name’s Amber,’ Paul told his father, suddenly joining in the conversation. ‘And her leg is like mine.’

Over his head golden eyes met grey, and Amber knew that in some part she had been right, unbelievable though it seemed, and that Joel Sinclair had made her that offer of a temporary marriage because of his son’s damaged leg.

‘Are you going to stay with us?’ he demanded suddenly of Amber, adding to Joel, ‘I like her, Daddy—make her stay. I don’t want her to go away like Mummy did.’ Tears filled his eyes, and Amber’s tender heart was wrung with pity. Why wasn’t this child with his mother, wherever she was? It was obvious from what Joel had said that he wasn’t a widower, so where was his wife? Obviously she couldn’t ask in front of Paul.

‘I won’t, Paul,’ Joel assured him softly. ‘Amber is going to come and live with us for a while.’

‘Will she be my new mummy?’

The air was fraught with sudden tension. Amber could feel it in the sudden tensing of Joel’s body, the watchful expression in his eyes.

‘We’ll see, Paul. Now try to go back to sleep.’

‘I want Amber to kiss me first,’ Paul protested, turning towards her.

Amber’s own eyes were damp as she leaned down to kiss the soft childish skin. Paul put his arms round her neck, hugging her fiercely, and it was Joel who released the small clinging fingers and switched off the bedside light.

‘Perhaps I ought to stay with him until he falls asleep,’ Amber suggested in a soft whisper. There was a chair beside the bed, and she would be quite happy to sit in it until Paul drifted off.

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind? I didn’t get back until the early hours.’

It was very peaceful, listening to the gradually deepening sounds of Paul’s breathing, going over what she had just learned. Poor Paul! The accident must have been a traumatic experience for him; doubly so because his mother had been with him at the time. And what of her? How she must have suffered, Amber reflected, especially if she had been driving. She must ask Joel how seriously damaged Paul’s leg was. Slowly her own eyes started to close, and when dawn finally tinged the sky Amber herself was too deeply asleep to see it.

The warm male fingers on her shoulder felt vaguely familiar. Submerged in dreams, she murmured Rob’s name, rubbing her face against the male hand, a slight smile curving the soft warmth of her mouth.

‘Darling…’ The word left her lips of a faint sigh, her eyes opening, golden with happiness and love, trust in the shyly provocative manner in which she raised her face for Rob’s kiss.

Only there was no Rob any longer, but the knowledge came too late to stop the swift downward descent of a dark male head, predatory lips capturing the softness of her own in a kiss that tingled warmly right through her body to her toes, bringing it fully alive for the first time in months.

Joel’s hands gripped the slenderness of her body beneath her arms, and hauled her effortlessly out of the chair.

‘Well, well!’

Fully awake, Amber saw the dangerous glitter in the grey eyes she had previously thought of as cold. Now they were hot, burning with an anger that threatened to destroy everything in its path.

‘And just who is Rob?’

‘He was my fiancé.’ When she had told him about her accident and her mother’s remarriage, Amber had omitted to mention Rob and their now defunct engagement.

‘Rob?’ The razor-sharp word warned her that she was treading treacherous ground.

‘We were engaged,’ she told him. ‘He’s a doctor, but he wants to specialise, and specialists can’t afford invalid wives.’

‘So he ditched you?’ he asked crisply.

Stung, Amber retorted, ‘What makes you think that?’

‘If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t be dreaming about him the way you were. Don’t ever mistake me for another man again, Amber, and just to make sure you won’t…’

She could feel the palms of his hands resting against the gentle swell of her breasts and her heart started to thunder in panic, but there was no avoiding those punishing lips, bent on exacting revenge for her mistake, and teaching her that he was most definitely not Rob. Rob had never kissed her like this, with a cool skill that demanded contempt, but which instead brought from her trembling lips a response that astounded her in its intensity. She tried to pull away, and felt her bathsheet begin to slip, her face crimsoning as she realised that Joel was gazing with frank enjoyment as the swelling femininity of her breasts.

‘I take it there’s no chance of a reconciliation with this Rob?’ he questioned softly as Amber secured her towel.

She shook her head.

‘No, and even if there was I wouldn’t want one.’

‘You’re after bigger game now, is that it? A struggling physician is no longer your beau ideal?’

In his bed Paul stirred, and Joel frowned. ‘I came to tell you it’s nearly eight. Let Paul sleep on this morning. I want to talk to you before I leave for Kendal.’

‘I’ll be downstairs in half an hour,’ she promised curtly.

In her own room, dressing in the same clothes she had worn the previous day she tried not to remember how she had felt when Joel kissed her. Since Rob had left her she had been driven by one ambition and one only: to recover her old mobility and then confront him with all that he had thrown away when he had turned his back on her love because she was no longer the whole, unharmed girl she had been before this accident.

This compulsion had been the only thing that had kept her going; the only reason she had even considered Joel Sinclair’s outrageous suggestion, and yet now she was experiencing another emotion—compassion for Paul, a child who was obviously suffering as much as she was herself. poor little boy. Why wasn’t his mother with him?

Perhaps if she stopped dawdling in her room and went down for breakfast she might find out, she told herself briskly. In the bright morning light her clothes looked dowdy and dull, and just for a moment she regretted the new, pretty things she had bought for the holiday she and Rob had planned, but that moment was swiftly banished, and the fierce light of battle entered her eyes as she remembered how Joel Sinclair had looked at her and kissed her. She wanted the twenty-five thousand pounds he was offering her badly enough to accept his proposition, but she fully intended to make it absolutely clear to him that their marriage would be a business arrangement only, a big step along the road to achieving her ultimate goal; although he was not to know that. The way in which she intended to spend the money he paid her was nothing to do with Joel Sinclair.

She found him in a large, beautifully modernised kitchen with dark oak units and a mellow tiled floor. To Amber’s amazement he was standing by a hob frying bacon, the rich aroma filling the room. Nearby coffee percolated, and the table had been set for breakfast, with grapefruit in two bowls and cereal in the third.

‘What’s the matter?’ Joel enquired in amusement when she came to an abrupt halt just inside the door. ‘Surprised to discover I know how to fend for myself? It’s one of the first rules of survival, although I admit I’m no Cordon Bleu. Besides, a father bringing up a child alone needs to know at least the rudiments of running a home. I’m fortunate in having Mrs Downs, but in the eyes of divorce judges, housekeepers aren’t particularly adequate substitutes for mothers, which is why I need to furnish myself with a wife—albeit on a temporary basis. Hungry?’ he asked, indicating the pan of sizzling bacon and reaching across for some large brown eggs. On the point of shaking her head, Amber suddenly changed her mind. She had had next to nothing to eat yesterday, or for several days come to that, and the bacon did smell tantalisingly appetising.

‘A little,’ she admitted, surprised that she had lowered her guard for long enough to make the admission. ‘Shall I wake Paul?’

‘No, let him sleep. It will be easier for us to talk without him here. You can see what a dangerously vulnerable emotional state he’s in—a result of a combination of things; his accident and losing his mother mainly.’

It was significant that Joel put Paul’s accident first, Amber thought. He was too hard a man to fully appreciate the effect losing his mother would have on a small child—or to admit perhaps that he might himself be in some way to blame for Paul’s vulnerability.

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He seems to have similar injuries to mine.’

‘Which is one of the reasons I put the proposal I did to you.’

‘I guessed,’ Amber supplied wryly. ‘Have the doctors given you any indication as to how bad it will be?’

Joel shrugged. ‘They’re reluctant to commit themselves at this stage—understandably. Paul’s case is complicated by the fact that at the same time as he received his injuries he underwent severe emotional trauma. I’ve already said that he was with his mother at the time. What I didn’t tell you—couldn’t tell you while he was there—was that she was on her way to see her lover and intended to leave Paul with her friend for the afternoon. They say those most closely involved are always the last to know—a cliché, but true in my case. I had no idea. Oh, I knew there was something, Teri had made that much perfectly plain—I even suspected there were… diversions, but not that one of them was serious enough to make her put her child’s life at risk so that she could be with her lover. He was an American working on the North Sea oilrigs whom she met while he was on holiday here. As the son of a Texan oil millionaire he had a super-abundance of the quality that appeals most to Teri in men—money—a trait she apparently shares with you,’ he added cynically. ‘Which is one of the reasons I decided to put my suggestion to you. A woman who can be bought for a few paltry thousand pounds isn’t going to allow emotion to cloud issues at a later stage. This marriage is most definitely only of a temporary nature—I didn’t want someone who might get the wrong idea and want to make things permanent.’

There was no reason why his words should be like a douche of icy water, and certainly in the circumstances Amber had no right to feel mortally affronted both by his cynical observation and being classed with Paul’s mother, and yet for some obscure reason she did.

‘Where is Paul’s mother now?’ she asked curiously, recoiling a little from the heaped plate of bacon and eggs he put in front of her.

‘Eat it while it’s hot,’ he admonished, putting another plate on the table and pulling up a chair to sit down opposite her. ‘Paul’s mother? As far as I know she’s living in bliss and the lap of luxury as Mrs Hal Bryden the Fourth, somewhere in the good ole U.S. of A.’

‘She divorced you?’

Joel shook his head, his eyes hardening to a flinty grey. ‘I divorced her—not because she was unfaithful—I’m not naïve enough to think he was the first. No, I divorced her because of Paul. She’d risked his life once for her own pleasure, I wasn’t about to let it happen again. I asked for custody and got it—now she’s contesting the judge’s decision, claiming that although at the time of the divorce she wasn’t able to offer Paul a stable family background, now that she has remarried she’s more able to claim full custody. My solicitor believes she has grounds for a good and plausible case, and because I can’t afford to take any more risks with Paul’s life, I’m determined not to give her the slightest opportunity of changing the judge’s decision; and that means being able to provide him with as much of a family background as she can—a father and a mother!’

‘But you said you only wanted to be married for six months?’ Amber protested.

‘The longer I have sole custody of Paul without any problems the less likely a judge is to reverse his decision. I know Teri; patience was never her strong suit. Within six months she’ll be ready to admit defeat.’

‘And Paul?’ Amber asked, suddenly angry on the little boy’s behalf. ‘Has anyone consulted him? Has he been asked whether or not he wants to stay with you?’

‘No,’ Joel told her evenly, ‘and for the simple reason that ever since the accident he has never once—until last night—mentioned his mother. In point of fact he didn’t see much of her before the divorce. Teri spent a good deal of time in the States with her family, and she always refused to take Paul, claiming that he was too young to travel. Too young to travel, but not too young to send away to school, or so she was trying to persuade me. Oh, I’m not trying to put all the blame on her. I was equally neglectful,’ Joel admitted. ‘My business takes me away a good deal, and weeks would go by with me only seeing Paul for the odd half hour when he was in bed. It took the accident to show me what was happening; how I was missing out on my son’s formative years, depriving him of the love and affection which as my son he had a right to expect from me. In time, with care and a stable background, he should outgrow the trauma of what happened—he was trapped in the back of the car when it crashed. Tori always drove far too fast. She left him alone when she ran back to the telephone kiosk she’d passed to ring her lover and warn him not to expect her, and the poor kid must have thought she’d deserted him for good. He was hysterical by the time the doctor got to him, and in trying to pull himself free had worsened the injury to his leg.’

Amber was appalled, sickened by the crass selfishness of Paul’s mother. How could any mother desert her child at a moment like that?

‘The doctors believe that once the emotional scars start to heal his leg will respond better to treatment, but another emotional upheaval like being suddenly forced to go and live with Teri could set him back years.’

Amber could well understand Joel’s dilemma.

‘I’m hoping to persuade an aunt of mine, who at present lives in Australia to make her home with us and act as a surrogate mother to Paul, someone he can come to rely on and trust. He never trusted Teri; she was too changeable, her moods too violent for him to know where he was with her. She never wanted a child; Paul’s conception was a mistake. In more ways than one,’ he added under his breath. ‘Once she knows I’ve remarried, Teri will do everything she can to try and get the court to revoke their decision in her favour, and for that reason, to the outside world at least, our marriage must be seen to be completely normal. Her husband is an extremely rich man; rich enough for Teri to be able to hire private detectives to spy on us in public. Inside this house, when we’re alone, we can live as strangers, but to the rest of the world you must be a girl I’ve fallen deeply in love with and who loves me in return. You will share my bedroom and my bed.’ He saw Amber’s expression and raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘Something wrong?’

Amber forced herself to meet his glance squarely, reminding herself how desperately she needed his money.

‘Our marriage will be strictly a business arrangement?’

‘By which I take it that you mean no sex?’ Joel countered coolly. ‘But of course. I thought I’d made that plain; even if you were Venus herself you’d be perfectly safe. Mercenary women have no appeal for me—in fact I find them a complete turn-off; and your charms…’ His eyes flicked cruelly over her too thin body and misshapen leg before returning to her paper-white face, ‘such as they are, are not sufficient to change my mind. In public we will be newly married lovers; but there’s no likelihood of me forgetting that it’s just a charade. Want to back out?’

The words which would free her from his taunting presence hovered on her lips, but before she could utter them two pictures flashed through her mind. The first, surprisingly, was of Paul, small and vulnerable as he watched her with wary eyes; and the second was of Rob, embarrassed and uncomfortable as he left her hospital bedside for the last time. Together they were powerful enough to bridle her tongue, and taking her silence as a denial, Joel continued smoothly, ‘Very well. There’s no point in delaying unnecessarily. I’ll organise a special licence—it will make our marriage appear all the more romantic; there’s something recklessly foolhardy about a man who marries with all the haste implied by a special licence, don’t you agree?’ Without waiting for her reply he added, ‘Oh, there’s just one more small detail. Before we do marry I should like you to sign a document I’ll have drawn up acknowledging the temporary nature of our marriage and the fact that you’re being paid to serve in the capacity of my wife for a brief period. A form of insurance for me just in case you get any silly ideas.’

‘You flatter yourself,’ Amber gritted at him. ‘Hasn’t losing one wife to another man taught you anything about the opposite sex?’

She had the satisfaction of seeing the faint flush of anger lying along his cheekbones and leaping to life in the granite eyes, but he had himself under control almost immediately, the anger masked by the cynical expression she was coming to recognise.

‘A great deal,’ he drawled, ‘but millionaires naïve enough to fall for women like you and Teri are thin on the ground, and you might just decide to settle for second best.’




CHAPTER THREE (#uba272bdd-5eee-51ce-8f57-e42cc303eecf)


‘EVERYTHING is arranged. I’ve fixed the ceremony for Tuesday, which gives us the weekend to get organised. First on the agenda, I suspect, will be a shopping trip. You’ll need a wedding ring,’ Joel informed Amber dryly, ‘and new clothes.’ His eyes slid assessingly over the plain grey skirt and dull white blouse she had been wearing for her interview, and which were still the only clothes she possessed, after two days in his home, having vetoed her suggestion that she returned to Birmingham to collect her others. There were things she had to do, she protested—her mother to tell; her landlady.

All tasks which which could be attended to by telephone, Joel had reminded her, letting her know that he wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to back out of their arrangement.

They were in his study, an attractive masculine room at the back of the house furnished with comfortable leather chairs, a desk, some beautiful reproduction Georgian filing cabinets disguised as bow-fronted chests and bookcases containing a wide variety of books from novels to highly technical literature on computer technology which Amber had learned was the field in which his companies operated.

Tomorrow would be her first test as Joel’s fiancée. Mrs Downs, whom Joel had telephoned and asked not to bother to come in the other two days, was due to arrive in the morning. Joel had assured her that she would not find it difficult to keep up the pretence in front of the other woman, but Amber wasn’t too sure.

‘Worrying about tomorrow?’ Joel drawled, accurately reading her mind. ‘Don’t be. Just think of yourself as an actress hired to play a part, for which you’re being paid extremely generously. After that the rest should come naturally. All women are actresses at heart.’

His cynical observation jarred, even though she tried to pretend it left her unmoved. She glanced at her watch. Joel had arrived from Kendal half an hour before and it was now nearly seven.

‘It’s Paul’s bedtime,’ she reminded him. ‘I promised I’d read to him. Shall I wait until you’ve seen him?’

‘Why don’t we both go up together?’ Joel suggested. ‘That way we can break the happy news to him.’

Amber knew that Joel had been observing Paul’s reaction to her—and hers to him—but much as she liked the little boy, she had no intention of encouraging him to become too fond of her. It simply wouldn’t be fair either to him or to her. In some way she almost wished he had taken a dislike to her, but she knew beyond any shadow of doubt now that if he had Joel would have instantly abandoned his plans to marry her. Think of the money, she kept reminding herself; the money which was to be the instrument of her eventual revenge against Rob. If she closed her eyes and thought hard enough she could almost conjure up the image of how it would be; of her own unannounced arrival at wherever Rob was, and his astonishment when he saw her restored to full health, walking as gracefully as she had done in the past. She would be beautifully dressed, elegantly made up; and she would have the pleasure of watching him see what he had so callously thrown away.

As always the mental imagery helped to reinforce her determination. Paul wouldn’t be hurt, she promised herself. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. And Joel? She glanced sideways at him. Any man who could strike the type of bargain he had struck with her and demand written acknowledgement of that bargain wasn’t capable of being hurt.

But he must have been once, a tiny inner voice reminded her, otherwise he would never have married Teri in the first place. What was she like? Amber wondered.

‘So that’s settled,’ Joel said suavely, cutting through her thoughts, ‘Tomorrow we go to Kendal shopping. Mrs Downs will look after Paul. We’d better make a full day of it—and an evening as well. It will be expected; after all, it isn’t every day a man gets engaged.’

Not a woman either, Amber thought sadly, and this would be her first formal engagement. Rob had never given her a ring.

Paul was playing with some toy soldiers when they went up to his room.

He and Amber had grown quite friendly during the two days she had been staying at the house. He accepted her presence as a friend of his father’s without comment, but his mother and the life the three of them had shared before his accident were never mentioned. Amber understood. Like him she found the past still too raw a wound to discuss it with others, and perhaps because of their similar injuries a bond seemed to have been formed between them; to such an extent that Paul had begun to talk freely to her about his leg, comparing it to hers and asking her numerous questions about the operations she had undergone his favourite seemed to be whether Amber would ever get properly better, and recognising it as a plea for assurance that he would get better, she had lied and told him what he wanted to hear.

He asked her again, as she knelt awkwardly to help him pack away the soldiers.

‘I expect so,’ she lied, determinedly cheerfully, glad of the long sweep of her hair to conceal her expression from Joel.

‘Will I?’

This time it was Joel who answered, lifting the little boy up in his arms until the two male faces, so similar in features, were only inches apart. ‘Yes, you will, Paul,’ he assured him firmly. ‘But it won’t be easy. You’ll have to help—do those exercises Doctor Raines told you about.’

Paul pulled a face.

‘I don’t like them,’ he protested. ‘They hurt!’

‘Only at first,’ Amber felt moved to say, adding to Joel, ‘I studied physiotherapy for a few months before I decided on general nursing, if you like I could help Paul with his exercises…’

‘We could do them together,’ Paul suggested, pleased, glancing at Amber’s leg. ‘Then we’d both get better.’

Amber already knew that exercises would do little to improve her own injured muscles; the only hope of full mobility she had was the American operation which replaced destroyed muscles with fresh tissue grafted from other parts of the body, a lengthy and expensive business; but she didn’t want to destroy Paul’s optimism, so she smiled and agreed that indeed it would.

‘Thanks for reassuring Paul like that,’ Joel said when Paul was asleep and they had returned downstairs. ‘One of the most difficult problems has been trying to get over his aversion to the exercises he has to do. The problem is he’s too young to understand the need for them properly, but Doctor Raines says that without them…’ he looked closely at Amber. ‘Can you help him with them?’

‘I think so. I’ll need someone to show me exactly what has to be done.’

‘Doctor Raines told me that swimming would help, but there just aren’t sufficient facilities locally, otherwise both of you…’

‘It wouldn’t do any good in my case,’ Amber began, breaking off as she realised how close she had come to confiding the truth to him.

‘Why not?’ His eyes sharpened and she felt a prickle of awareness as his eyes slid down her body to the leg she had tucked from habit behind the healthy one.

‘I… I have to have another operation,’ she prevaricated a little wildly, ‘in six months’ time.’

‘But you will recover fully?’

‘Oh yes.’ Her voice sounded brittle and false even to her own ears. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘No wonder you accepted my proposition so readily,’ Joel said grimly. ‘A ready-made comfortable existence until your operation; with the bonus of twenty-five thousand at the end of it.’

‘I didn’t ask you to pick me,’ Amber flared. ‘If you want to change your mind…’

‘Incredible,’ Joel muttered under his breath as he shook his head. ‘Who would have dreamed anyone so innocent-looking could be so hard?’

If I am it’s because that’s what your sex made me, Amber longed to scream at him, but the words were suppressed, her face a tight mask as she forced a smile almost as mocking as his own, and reminded him,

‘But that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? A gold-digger whom you could pay off with a clear conscience and no complications?’

Mrs Downs arrived in the morning just as they were finishing breakfast, a tall gaunt woman with greying hair and a forbidding expression, which belied the smile warming her eyes when Joel introduced her to Amber.

‘So it’s getting wed the two of you are, is it?’ she said forthrightly when Joel had broken the news.

‘We are indeed,’ Joel confirmed, smiling and slipping a hard arm round Amber’s shoulders, drawing her back against the firm warmth of his chest. In other circumstances she would have found something distinctly reassuring about the comfortingly steady thud of his heart, the calm way in which he dealt with Mrs Downs’ surprise, the aura of strength and reliability emanating from him and wrapping her in a protective embrace.

‘So, and you’ll want me to keep an eye on young Paul here while you’re off to Kendal?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Joel agreed courteously. ‘I should like to take Amber out to dinner tonight, if you’re able to stay with Paul. Everything has happened so quickly we haven’t even been able to celebrate our engagement yet.’

The tender look he gave her almost made Amber catch her breath in astonishment; it was so plausibly real. Her eyes widened, and like the skilled master tactician he was Joel was quick to take advantage of the moment, turning her gently towards him and rubbing his thumb provocatively across her parted lips before closing them with a light kiss.

Amber could almost see Mrs Downs’ reserve melting and read the other woman’s mind. It was obvious that Joel had convinced her that they were deeply in love, and her own wildly flushed cheeks and flustered manner would only serve to reinforce her belief.

Paul regarded them with interest from his chair.

‘Why are you kissing Amber?’ he questioned curiously.

He had already accepted Joel’s information that he and Amber were to marry, but still Amber found herself holding her breath, half expecting the little boy to protest about their intimacy.

‘Because she’s going to marry me,’ Joel replied evenly when Mrs Downs bustled out to remove her coat and outdoor shoes.

‘You and Teri were married, but you never kissed her like that,’ Paul remarked, startling Amber both by his use of his mother’s christian name and what he had said.

‘That was different,’ was Joel’s oblique comment, and Amber sensed from his withdrawn look that he was probably re-living certain intensely private moments of his relationship with his ex-wife; moments to which Paul would not have been privy. A kind of dull sickness took possession of her, and as she struggled to fight it off she heard Mrs Downs returning.





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