Had he smiled at those other girls like that? she asked herself as she flexed her toes in the warmth from the electric blanket--it was almost
October now and had been a particularly cold autumn. If so, she could understand why they had been smitten. Not that it affected her like that, she assured herself hastily, definitely not. She knew what he was really like--cold, aloof, hard and quite inexorable, but nevertheless. The softening of the austere classical features would cause any female's heart to give a little jump.
Thank goodness she was immune. She nodded to herself firmly. He was pleased with her because she did her job well and was guaranteed not to get any romantic ideas about him. Well, that suited her just fine.
She didn't need any complications in her life at the moment. Hannah more than filled any spare time she had. She turned over in the big double bed and pounded her pillow into shape with unnecessary vigour.
There had been me odd suitor since Matthew died, but none had remotely stirred her blood or her heart and she had never repeated any of the dates more than once. Perhaps she would never marry again, never find a man to replace Matthew? She shut her eyes and let her thoughts roam where they would.
She had known Matthew forever: they had grown up next door to each other from babies and she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been going out with him. Marriage had been a natural progression. He was as familiar to her as her own skin, and life had been _comfortable, peaceful and relaxed with him--no big highs, no desperate lows. Perfect. She curled into a little ball in the warmth of the bed. Their lovemaking had been gentle and infrequent, but that had suited both of them. They had been busy with their separate careers. She didn't believe in the sort of mindless passion one read about in books, anyway. She smiled whimsically in the darkness. Such emotion was a figment of writers' imaginations, poetic licence, and if it became a reality would probably prove to be unbearably uncomfortable.
The last three years had been a hard struggle, she reflected quietly, and painful at times, but she had managed to get through by her own determination and fortitude, finding within herself a tenacity she hadn't known she possessed. She had still been a child in many ways when Matthew died, protected and cocooned by circumstances and his love, but she had had to grow up very suddenly, and now her hard-won independence was precious, very precious.
She straightened in the bed, fingering her wedding- band as her thoughts wandered on. It hadn't occurred to her for a long time to take it off--in a way it was a solid link with Matthew that time couldn't erase--but when a friend had hinted she ought to think about doing that very thing, she had been shocked and horrified. Hannah deserved all her time and love for the next few years. Her daughter had been cruelly robbed of her natural father and no one, no one, could replace a father's love. She had seen too many situations where the children of a first marriage were subtly pushed aside as a new baby made an appearance. No. She wouldn't betray Matthew's memory or
Hannah's trust by giving her anything less than her whole heart.
Besides. She twisted restlessly in the bed. She had got used to being alone, _to making her own decisions, she had. And everyone got lonely at times, even people who had been happily married for years.
No, everything was fine in her world, just fine. It didn't occur to her that this was the first time she had ever had to assure herself of the fact, which was probably just as well because sleep was a long time in coming. A certain hard, masculine face, with eyes the colour of a winter sky, kept getting annoyingly in the way.
CHAPTER TWO
Lydia awoke very early the next morning, aware that she had been dreaming but unable to remember what about. But it had been a disturbing dream. She nicked her long blonde hair out of her eyes and glanced at the tiny alarm next to the bed. Five o'clock. Even Hannah wasn't stirring yet. She padded through to the small bedroom next to hers and stared down at the delicate baby face of her tiny daughter.
She had been asleep when Lydia had got home the night before. She said a quick mental prayer for staunch grandmothers who insisted baby-sitting was a joy, but she-had missed the nighttime routine of bath and then story in bed with Hannah. She wished she could see more of Matthew in the minute features, but they were all. her own.
Everyone commented on the remarkable likeness between mother and daughter.
Within an hour, the instant Hannah opened huge, liquid brown eyes, in fact, the small house was a hive of activity, the normal morning routine of breakfast, shower and dressing taking all Lydia's concentration.
"You didn't kiss me night-night, Mummy." Hannah's face was reproachful as she spooned corn flakes into her rosebud mouth.
"Gamma told the story all wrong."
"Did she, darling?" Lydia stroked the top of the silky blonde head lovingly.
"You didn't tell her that, did you?"
"Course not." Hannah was a true diplomat even at three.
"Are you going to pick me up from nursery today?"
_"I doubt it, sweetheart." Lydia knelt down by the breakfast stool and cupped the heart-shaped face in her hands.
"Did Grandma tell you about my job?"
"Uh-huh." Hannah was distinctly disenchanted.
"But I want you to pick me up."
"Well, this job is a bit different from my usual ones," Lydia said carefully.
"The man I work for needs me to work much longer hours sometimes, but he is going to give me a lot of money if I do that.
How about if we think of a new bedroom for you? You could choose the curtains and quilt and everything, even a new carpet if you want. "
"Really?" Hannah planted a swift milky kiss on her cheek.