Sharon Kendrik - His Baby!

Daisy nodded numbly.

‘Mr Hamilton just phoned. Said as you had a nasty shock, and that you were on your way over. Said that you was to wait in here until he came to pick you up.’ The landlady sighed. ‘Didn’t talk for long. Seemed in a hurry. He’s got such a way with him, Mr Hamilton, hasn’t he?’

Yes, you could say that, thought Daisy.

‘And wicked handsome.’

‘Yes,’ mumbled Daisy automatically.

‘Always has been. Even when he was a little boy, I remember he had a way of looking at you with them big grey eyes and that bit of dark hair falling into them—Well, that look could have melted butter.’ She took the empty teacup from Daisy’s unprotesting fingers and put it on the sideboard. ‘Terrible shame about his wife, wasn’t it? Real beauty, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Daisy, again automatically.

‘And him left with a young baby to bring up on his own. Imagine. Still, shouldn’t imagine he’ll be on his own for very long, not someone like Mr Hamilton. Oh!’ She cocked her head to one side to listen. ‘That sounds like him now.’

Dimly, Daisy heard the approaching throaty roar of a powerful engine which must definitely have been exceeding the speed limit, then the scorching sound of tyres braking dramatically outside. Then came the slamming of a door and hurried footsteps and there stood Matt in the doorway, big and powerful and commanding, a frown knitting his dark brows together and his grey eyes narrowed as his gaze swiftly swept over her, like a policeman assessing the scene of a crime.

And then he was with her, crouched down in front of her, holding her two cold hands in the warm comfort of his.

‘Are you OK?’ he said quietly, but she sensed the urgency behind his question and dumbly she nodded.

‘Sure?’

Her teeth started to chatter, and he picked up her black coat and helped her into it, buttoning it all the way up for her, and then helped her to her feet. ‘Come on,’ he said, and his voice sounded almost gentle. ‘I’ll take you home.’

Home. It sounded like heaven. Like dreams she’d had for years. Home with Matt. Daisy registered that his arm was resting on her shoulder, supporting her, and the temptation to lean even closer against him was overwhelming. He was thanking the landlady now, and Daisy falteringly did the same, and then he led her out of the pub with such a forbidding look on his face that all the interested pairs of eyes which had been watching them dropped self-consciously to survey their pints of beer. Outside, he strapped her into the big, dark green Bentley and got in beside her.

He waited until the car had purred away before he barked out a question. ‘What happened?’ he demanded. ‘The truth, Daisy.’

Daisy swallowed. ‘Mick had too much to drink, too quickly. He was showing off in front of his friends. He asked me to dance, and he ... he ...’

‘He what , Daisy?’ His voice sounded very urgent. ‘What exactly did he do?’

‘Touched me up a bit on the dance floor.’ It all sounded so tame in the telling. ‘It was nothing—really.’

‘Nothing?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Nothing?’ His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he swore softly and extremely eloquently beneath his breath and Daisy was quite shocked; she’d never heard Matt swear before.

He didn’t say another word to her all the way home, and when she risked a peep at his set profile it was hard, almost cruel, and unbelievably angry. She’d never seen him look so angry, either.

Daisy felt like a complete fool. He had warned her, and she had ignored him, gone and worn something thoroughly unsuitable to a small village dance. She had dressed provocatively, but the provocation had all been for one man, and one man alone, she realised. The man who was sitting beside her. ‘Matt?’ she whispered tentatively, but he shook his head emphatically.

‘Not now, Daisy.’

She bit her lip, praying that the journey would soon be over so that she could crawl away to bed like a beaten dog.

As they crunched their way up the drive towards Hamilton Hall, she risked one more question. ‘Where’s Sophie?’

His voice softened by a fraction. ‘Asleep. My mother promised to look in on her.’ The car drew up to a smooth halt and he came round to help her out. ‘Let’s go in by the back entrance,’ he said quietly. ‘My mother will only spend the night worrying if she sees you’ve been crying.’ He gave a bitter kind of smile. ‘I’ve never known you to cry before. It isn’t something you normally do, is it, Daisy?’

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