Savage Obsession

Again the spiking, clawing pain, but she howled straight through it. 'She walked out on you again, didn't she? Oh, I know she told you she was tired of being a single parent, and Harry needed his father, but she still walked out in the end. And I hoped you'd think twice about letting her do that to you again. But no, oh, no!' Her even, white teeth showed in a mirthless smile. 'The minute she shows again you're all over her like a rash—holding her, kissing her. You make me sick!'

He shot her a dark, complicated look. There were so many different emotions colouring his eyes black, too many to untangle, and she wasn't interested in trying, was she? she questioned herself snappily as he turned his attention back to the road and told her heatedly, 'You've got more than a few wires crossed.'

'Is that so?' Cool indifference might be more telling than any amount of justifiable ire and she turned her head to look out of the window at her side.

They had left the village behind and were on the main road and it wouldn't take longer than another five minutes to reach the exclusive private ma­ternity home where she was booked in. She couldn't wait—in more ways than one!

'Beth—'

'Don't try to soft-soap me!' she grated through whatever it was he was beginning to say. 'And don't think I can't see through you. If you want to keep your options open, fine. But don't look to me. Whether Zanna stays or goes, it's all one to me be­cause I won't be coming back. Not this time.'

For some crazy reason her throat clogged, unshed tears stinging at the backs of her eyes. She blinked furiously, aware of his hard sideways stare, the harsh intake of his breath.

And just for a moment his foot eased on the ac­celerator, as if he was contemplating pulling out of the traffic on to the side of the road, the better to give his full attention to the row they were having. But as a fresh spasm gripped her she gave a shud­dering gasp and closed her eyes and his foot went down again. And all he said was, with a kind of bitter calm, 'We'll talk this over in a day or two. Right now I suggest you save your energy. You're hysterical.'

He could be right, Beth anguished, her eyes glued shut. Finally bringing things out into the open, speaking her mind, showing her utter disgust at the way things were between him and Zanna, had helped to take her mind off the horrible thought of having her baby in a lay-by. And now, in the tense silence, she wasn't so sure she was going to be able to avoid such an undignified happening!

In the event, it was the early hours of the following morning before the tiny, red-faced bundle was laid in her arms. Beth's heart went out instinctively, ir­redeemably and eternally and as her fingers stroked gently over the velvety cheek she whispered, 'Your name is Aidan John, my precious.'

'No "Charles"?' Soft-footed, Charles stood in the open doorway, the look in his eyes unrevealing. He advanced very slowly. 'Let's see—Aidan, be­cause you like the name, I presume. John, for your father. But nothing for me, his father?'

Although she had told him she didn't want him near her, he had insisted on staying and, if she was honest, she had been more than merely grateful for the way he'd offered his hand for her to mangle, the way he'd stroked something cool and slightly fragrant over her heated skin. He'd never been more than inches away, completely supportive, and now, although she made a half-hearted attempt to come up with a withering comment, she couldn't find one.

She was tired but completely euphoric and now, with her hour-old son in her arms, wasn't the time to start another unholy row. But her unresisting capitulation, the tenderness in her smile as she glanced from her tiny son to his father, surprised her, and she acknowledged huskily, 'Charles Aidan John Savage—to be known as Aidan to avoid confusion.'

'Ah. Of course.' He had reached the bedside and was hunkering down, unfurling his son's tiny fingers, and devils were dancing in his sexy eyes as he murmured, 'I think it's time you got some rest, Mrs Savage. I'm glad to see you've worked your way through your own particular confusion.'

As if on cue, one of the nurses came in, took the sleeping baby and dimmed the light.

'Rest now, Mrs Savage,' she echoed, 'and if there's anything you need, just press the bell. Mr Savage…?' The tilt of a blonde eyebrow was frankly flirtatious, the blue eyes full of female as­sessment, and Beth felt a sleepy smile drift across her mouth. Maybe she should feel jealous, but she didn't. Women had been giving Charles Savage the come-and-get-me since he'd reached his late teens and there was no room for jealousy or resentment, just a glorious sense of pride. Which was strange, she pondered exhaustedly as she heard him reply, 'Is staying put until his wife falls asleep,' and felt the rough, needing-a-shave brush of his cheek against hers as the dark waves of sleep pulled her under and her last conscious thought was that maybe he was right. Maybe her confusion was over.

In the early afternoon, holding court among a positive bower of hot-house flowers—the largest and most lavish of which had come from Charles—Beth knew that nothing was over, certainly not her 'confusion', if that was what he'd thought her de­cision to remove herself from his life to be.

He had phoned much earlier, full of supposedly loving enquiries, but she'd cut him short, saying her room was full of gabbling visitors, which was true—except for the gabbling bit—and that she couldn't hear herself think—which wasn't true at all because she'd heard the hard bite in his voice when he'd said he'd be with her later.

And now her parents were on their way out, taking Mrs Penny with them because she'd begged a lift to see the new arrival. And Allie inched her way in as they were going out, and although Beth would have welcomed the opportunity to have a good long thinking session, planning exactly what she would say to Charles when he got his two-timing, louse-like person here, she greeted her best and oldest friend with pleasure.

After the obligatory peek into the cradle, and en­thusiastic cooings, Allie laid her offering of spring flowers on the counterpane and grimaced.

'Coals to Newcastle, I see! Never mind, I've got something you might appreciate more.' She put a bulky package on Beth's knees. 'It came to the agency this morning. There was a covering letter so I know what it is. Go on, open it!'

It was, it transpired, after she had dealt with Sellotape and brown paper, bound proofs of William's latest bo

ok, the one she had worked on with him. And her face went pink with embar­rassment as she read the accompanying card:

If you ever need your job back, or anything else, don't hesitate. I'll always be here. Yours, Will.

Which was misguided of him, but sweet, and not at all helpful when a narrow-eyed Charles walked into the room and enquired, so silky-smooth, 'Someone sent you a book? Hi, Allie.' He glanced in the other girl's direction, but only briefly; he was intently reading the message on the piece of paste­board he'd taken from Beth's nerveless fingers.

And then his eyes went black as outer space as he tossed the card back on the bed and took the two strides necessary to have him hovering over the cradle.

Beth knew, she just knew what was going on in his twisted, devious mind and a wildness took over her brain as she hissed, regardless of Allie's presence, 'If you're looking to see if there's any likeness—forget it. And if you mention tests to es­tablish paternity, I'll kill you!'

He slewed round on his heels, his face granite, the impeccable cut of the dark suit he was wearing making him seem unapproachable, the menace in him distancing him from his surroundings as he clipped out coldly, 'Save your breath. Your re­action to my accusation, back in France, convinced me. You wouldn't have put a foot back over my doorstep if I'd had the slightest doubt.'

'I'll—I'll be off, then.' Allie's fluttery, awkward words were lost to them both as Beth sniped back at him.

'You do have a nice trusting nature, don't you?' she said, and didn't even flinch when his brows came down in a threatening bar.