Julia James - Diamonds are for Deception

Gladly she abandoned herself to his kiss. Simon loved her. He didn’t want to be parted from her for even a short time. If she had harboured any faint doubts as to his feelings, that fact alone should have been reassuring.

Having kissed her into a state of mindless bliss, he queried, ‘Then everything’s settled?’

She nodded.

‘And you’re happy?’

‘Yes.’ The sober answer reflected hardly anything of the joy that filled her and made her cup of happiness overflow.

Touching her cheek with a single finger, he said, ‘Though I’m very tempted to stay and make love to you all morning, I’d better fetch my coat and get moving. Otherwise Grandfather will be wondering what’s happened to us.’

‘Is there any chance of getting the car started?’ she asked when he returned almost immediately, shrugging into his coat.

‘A faint one, possibly, but if I have no joy I’ll start walking back.’

‘If you wait until I’m dressed I’ll come with you.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s a long way, and, though the weather looks to be reasonable this morning. it’s bound to be bad underfoot.’

Remembering the previous night, and how difficult even a comparatively short distance had seemed in high heels, she gave in gracefully.

‘While I’m gone, you can get a shower of sorts, and there are plenty of books.’

‘I’ll find something to do.’ She looked at the tray and the rumpled bed.

Following her glance, he said, ‘Don’t worry about the dishes or the bed; I’ll get one of the servants to come in and set the place to rights.’

He tossed another couple of logs on the fire, and a moment later the door closed behind him.

Struggling against the sense of loss his departure caused, she went along to the bathroom and, discarding the shirt, stepped into the bath, pulled the plastic curtain into place and turned on the shower unit.

The water was a comfortable temperature and the shower gel fresh and tangy, but instead of enjoying it she found herself thinking of Simon, wishing he had kissed her again before he’d left.

Perhaps he didn’t really love her?

Her father had always kissed her mother before he went out, even if he was only going to the local shop to buy a paper.

But she was just being silly, she scolded herself. Simon did love her. He’d said so.

All at once, in spite of the hot water, she went cold inside. He hadn’t actually said he loved her. He had said his heart stood still, that she was exquisite, that he wanted her, but he had never mentioned the word love.

Though why would he be rushing her into marriage if he didn’t love her? If it was only because of the risk of her being pregnant, it would have done no harm to wait and see, before he proposed.

Perhaps, when the chance arose, she would ask him exactly how he felt about her.

No, she would do nothing of the kind. The last thing she wanted was to become one of those insecure women who needed so much reassurance that they became pathetic, a burden to the man in their life.

After all, he hadn’t asked if she loved him . So either he took it for granted, or he didn’t care.

Neither was ideal, she thought as she towelled herself dry. But though she didn’t want her feelings taken for granted, it had to be better than him simply not caring.

After the steamy heat of the shower the air struck chill, and, shivering a little, she reluctantly donned yesterday’s undies, skirt and top and, her jacket over her arm, returned to the warmth of the fire.

She had combed the tangles out of her hair and was just knotting it loosely in the nape of her neck, when the door opened and Simon walked in.

Her spirits rising with a bound, she queried hopefully, ‘How did you get on?’

‘Started first time. I’ve left it just across the bridge with the engine running, so if you’re about ready to go…?’

‘All ready.’ She pulled on her jacket, slid her feet into shoes that felt a little stiff, picked up her bag and followed him outside.

It was a fine, bright morning with not a breath of wind. Sun glinted through the trees, turning a million droplets of water into diamonds and making the saturated ground steam slightly.

When he’d locked the door behind them, they made their way out of the small garden and over the old humpbacked bridge.

A noisy brown torrent was surging through the single arch, carrying branches and loose boulders that battered at the stone foundations. The force seemed to make the whole structure shake, and she was glad to reach the other side.

As Simon helped her into the car she glanced back at Owl Cottage. So much had happened there, it would always be special to her. Though if it hadn’t been for the storm, the cottage wouldn’t have come into the equation, and events would almost certainly have moved at a much slower pace.

But would she have wanted them to?

Before she could answer the question, following the direction of her gaze, Simon asked, ‘No regrets?’

After a moment she replied steadily, ‘No regrets,’ and knew it was the truth.

The road through the woods was littered with storm debris and several times he had to stop the car and get out to move the bigger branches. On one occasion they were forced to leave the track altogether to find a way around a fallen tree. Once they had left the woods, however, and were into smoothly rolling parkland, they made much better time.

When they reached Farringdon Hall, Mrs Reynolds came hurrying to meet them. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said to Simon. ‘Sir Nigel’s been anxious since he asked for you and discovered you weren’t back.’

‘Thanks, Ann. Perhaps you’ll let him know we’re home safely and we’ll be in to see him as soon as we’ve changed.’

A little while later when Charlotte emerged from her room dressed in fresh undies, her oatmeal trousers and mulberry-coloured sweater, Simon was waiting.

After an appreciative glance at her slim trimness, he queried, ‘All set? Then we’ll go and tell Grandfather the good news, shall we?’

She went reluctantly. Though Simon seemed to think his grandfather would be pleased, she seriously doubted it. Why should Sir Nigel welcome a working-class girl into his aristocratic family?

And the whole thing had happened far too quickly. He would probably think that in so short a time she couldn’t possibly have come to love his grandson. He might even think that she was just after his money…

Glancing at her face as they made their way along the corridor to the old man’s room, Simon asked, ‘Feeling nervous?’

‘Scared stiff,’ she admitted.

‘You’ve no need to be,’ he reassured her.

‘But suppose he doesn’t accept me?’

‘He will,’ Simon said with certainty. ‘He took you to his heart the moment he saw you.’

As they reached the sickroom door it was opened by the nurse, who sighed with relief. ‘Thank the good lord you’re back. Sir Nigel’s been on edge since breakfast time waiting for you—’

‘Simon, my boy,’ her patient’s voice cut across the discreet whisper, ‘is everything all right?’

‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Not too long, now,’ the nurse cautioned, and slipped quietly away.

‘We had some trouble with the car,’ Simon explained, ‘and because of the weather conditions we decided to stay the night at Owl Cottage.’

‘Very sensible,’ Sir Nigel approved.

Taking Charlotte’s hand, Simon drew her to the bed. ‘We have some good news, haven’t we, darling?’

Looking even more gaunt and fragile, the old man was sitting propped up by pillows. His dark eyes moving from face to face, he waited.

‘We’re going to be married.’