The Millionaire's Baby

'Oh, yes? Make a habit of it, do you? Falling in love with married men—making love with married men?'

His scorn flayed her. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and held her crumpled cot­ton top in front of her. 'You're not a married man,' she croaked miserably.

'You thought I was. At the time. Which comes to the same thing, at least from the point of view of where you stood a couple of weeks ago.'

'I wouldn't have let things go any further.' Caro pulled on the nearly dry cotton top, fastening the but­tons with fingers that felt like a row of swollen thumbs. Whatever she said she was digging a pit to bury herself in. 'It had been my idea of a fitting re­venge but—'

'Cruel as well as devious!' he taunted, then snagged his hand through his rapidly drying hair, making it stick up in endearing tufts. He walked across the room to check on Sophie. The baby was beginning to stir, kicking her legs under the blanket. 'I think you should go,' Finn said. 'The storm's passed over; it's barely raining at all. I was told you'd borrowed a baby seat from the hotel. I'll make sure it's returned—put it in the Range Rover, would you? It is unlocked.'

He bent and plucked his now gurgling baby daugh­ter out of her makeshift cot and held her against his broad, naked chest.

And Caroline Fair walked out into the soft summer rain and let the tears she'd vowed she wouldn't shed pour down her face.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Caro checked the dashboard clock again. She was going to be late.

A family dinner at eight at the big house, during which, apparently, Gran would break some important news, followed by a sedate drinks and nibbles party for family and friends to celebrate Katie and David's engagement.

Caro didn't really want to be in on either event. It was three weeks since Finn had pushed her out of his life and she was still feeling wounded and raw, in no mood for parties or one of Gran's interminable din­ners. But she hadn't been able to make up an excuse when her mum had phoned the invitation through.

'They delayed the engagement party until I was back on my feet again—wasn't that sweet of them? And Gran's surprise is a biggy, I can promise you that. But my lips are sealed. I promised. But you know, she's changed. She's much softer lately. I never thought I'd see the day when I forgot to be frightened of my mother-in-law!'

At least that was something positive, Caro thought as she drove past the lodge on the way up to the big house. And there it was, a huge Gothic pile drowsing in the early evening sun.

She left her car alongside David's and sent up a brief prayer of thankfulness because her sister had found someone who would keep her feet firmly on the ground and her head out of the clouds.

The main door at the head of the wide flight of stone steps was open, the vast hall empty, dim and echoing. She heaved a sigh. Dinner at eight. It was already twenty past. Time and Gran waited for no one, she misquoted in her head, and went through to the great polish-smelling, mahogany-dark dining room.

Her grandmother said, 'You are exactly twenty minutes and thirty seconds late. What kept you?'

'The traffic, Gran.' And the manifestly dreary in­ability to rouse herself to do anything more than plod through each interminable day and endless night. 'Sorry, everyone.'

Her mother and Katie were looking party-pretty and Gran, as usual, dominated the gathering both with the strength of her personality and her patrician looks. Yet David, spruced up, his hair neat, his wide shoulders covered by a commendably fine lightweight jacket, looked as if he could hold his own with the old lady, no trouble at all.

'We forgive you,' the matriarch granted before ruining the gracious tone entirely. 'Everything's cold. So help yourself from the sideboard and make sure you have enough. You've lost weight and look dread­ful. Your clothes are hanging off you. Most unbecom­ing. Are you ill? Or is the baggy look the latest fash­ion?'

Caro shrugged. OK, so she had got to be a bag of bones in hardly any time at all and nothing fitted, least of all the ivory silk shirtwaister she'd uninterestedly buttoned herself into this evening. And she knew Gran used rudeness to mask the way she cared but no way was she about to break down in tears and confess that she was pining away for the only man in the world she could ever love.

'I don't think so. But I knew Mum and Katie would be looking like princesses and I didn't want to out­shine you as well!' She grinned at her grandmother and saw her eyes twinkle in response.

'Touche, young lady! Now, fill your plate. The sooner we've all finished eating, the sooner you will hear my news. And you are all going to like what you hear. Isn't that so, Emma?'

As Caro helped herself sparingly from the selection of cold meats and salads she marvelled at how perky her mother sounded. She was chattering about the coming party, who had been invited, what they would be given to eat, and how she and Katie had spent all day helping Mrs Fai

rchild prepare the food.

In the past Elinor Fair had had nothing but scorn for her 'wishy-washy' daughter-in-law and the more scorned Emma had been, the more wishy-washy she had become, hardly daring to open her mouth in her formidable mother-in-law's presence.

It had been a vicious circle. But, fingers crossed, Caro thought, smiling across the table at David as he poured wine for her, the circle was broken.

'The party guests will start arriving in half an hour so we'll have coffee in the small drawing room,' Elinor said after the summer pudding had been re­duced to crumbs. 'The Fairchilds and Polly will be joining us—what I have to say affects them, too. And Finn Helliar should be already waiting, I think. I in­vited him to have dinner with us, but he made some excuse and declined.'

There was general movement as everyone got to their feet. Apart from Caro who was solidly glued to her chair. There was a roaring sound in her ears and she wondered hazily if she was about to faint for the first time in her life and whether everyone would come rushing back and make her put her head be­tween her knees.

'I'll see if Mrs Fairchild has brought the coffee through,' Emma said, obviously unaware that her el­der daughter was in shock. 'If not, I'll give her a hand. We don't have a lot of time.' And she followed Katie and her brand-new fiance out of the door.

'Close your mouth, Caroline. Drink the rest of your wine if you're in need of Dutch courage,' Elinor said into the very heavy silence. 'Then you may escort me to the drawing room.'