Starting Over

'It's all right, Jon,' David soothed him. 'And Jenny does have a point, even if she is wrong about one thing. I do care about both Jack and Livvy, Jenny, and I care very much.'

David was still frowning. Jenny's outburst had shocked him but nowhere near as much as the information she had given him about Olivia. He had known things weren't very good for her, of course, but Jenny's words had painted a picture of someone so totally alone and isolated that he had immediately felt the strongest urge to do something to help and protect her. Flesh of his flesh...his daughter...his child. David closed his eyes. He had to do something...he must....

'JENNY, how could you speak to David like that?' Jon asked in bewilderment as they drove home having taken Ben back to Queensmead first, both of them sitting in a mutually hostile silence as they waited to be alone to vent their true feelings.

'Like what? I simply told him the truth,' Jenny defended herself. 'There he is celebrating the conception of another child when poor Livvy...'

Jon frowned. If he hadn't known better he might almost have suspected that Jenny was jealous of Honor and David and the baby they were expecting.

'HONOR, I've been thinking, about this problem that Livvy is having finding someone to help with the children. Well, I've got plenty of spare time and they are my grandchildren. Since Jenny can't help her...' David's voice trailed away as he saw the way Honor was looking at him.

'You don't think it's a good idea,' he guessed dis-heartened.

'I think it's an excellent idea,' Honor assured him.

'But I doubt that Olivia will.'

'It's worth going to see her and offering to help,'

David told her eagerly. 'This could be the break-through I've been looking for, Honor, a way of showing Livvy, proving to her how much I regret... And I want to see her, anyway,' he added gruffly. 'I owe it to her and to...him or her, whichever it turns out to be,' he smiled as he touched her stomach gently, 'To tell her about our baby myself.

'You don't want me to do it, do you?' he asked her quietly when he saw her expression.

'I don't want you to be disappointed or...or hurt,'

Honor countered. 'I know how much it would mean to you to mend the rift between you, David, and I know, too, how much Olivia needs to have that rift mended even if she herself won't admit how much she needs the healing that forgiving you and herself will give her.' She paused and sighed. 'But I just don't feel that she's ready yet.'

'You're a wonderful woman—have I ever told you that?' David whispered as he kissed her. 'I understand what you're saying, Honor,' he acknowledged when she smiled. 'But I'm still going to try. From a practical point of view, if nothing else, Livvy needs help and, after all, I am her father. I'll go and see her tomorrow.

It's Sunday and she won't be at work. You must curse me sometimes for bringing you so many family problems.'

'Your family is nowhere near as problem-driven and

-riddled as mine,' Honor told him with a grin.

Leaning over, she kissed his forehead and then his nose, sighing in soft pleasure as he drew her down against him.

'Is this all right?' he asked her in a whisper, brush-ing his fingertips against her stomach. 'I mean...'

'It's fine,' Honor assured him. Making love with David wasn't going to damage or harm their baby, but at some stage she would have to take the decision whether or not to have the kind of tests that could potentially do so. As an older mother it was sensible to check that everything was progressing well for the baby. But right now she didn't want to think about that. Right now she simply wanted to enjoy what there was...what she had in the here and now...right now....

'Mmm...that feels good,' she told David huskily as he stroked her breast, snuggling closer to him as she whispered, 'Do it again....'

CHAPTER TEN

SARA SMILED happily to herself. It was her day off and she was on her way to the exclusive health and golf complex near Chester where Frances and her family were members to spend the day at their expense enjoying the spa's facilities.

'It's the least we can do after the terrific job you've done for us with the paperwork,' Frances had assured her.

And so here she was armed with Frances's careful directions, making her way through the pretty Cheshire countryside.

Along with her derogatory and unflattering comments about the Crighton family, Tania had been equally unenthusiastic about their home town, con-demning it as a dull country backwater, but Sara had found it to be anything but and Tania had neglected to mention the town's historic past.

Just as soon as she could, Sara had promised herself that she would explore the town's environs, walking the route of its ancient walls, visiting the salt mine museum and the castle; but today she was content to be in her car on her way to her destination.

Frances had raved about the club's beauty treatment facilities whilst her husband had been equally enthusiastic about its golf courses.

'You'll love the swimming pool, and the restaurant is pretty good as well.'

'But not as good as yours, of course,' Sara had responded with a grin.

'Of course not,' Frances had laughed back.

And now here she was turning in at Camden Park's gates and driving down the curving drive that mean-dered through the greens.

Smiling a little ruefully to herself she pulled up her small car in a car park which seemed to be full of top-of-the-range BMWs, four-wheel drives, Jaguars and Mercedes—had no one in Cheshire heard of compact cars?

The spa's receptionist, though, couldn't have been more pleasant or helpful, inviting Sara to choose from a range of options available from the beauty treatment rooms.

Having made her choice, a long luxurious massage and a facial, Sara decided to use the time beforehand with a healthy, invigorating swim.

The pool area was as luxurious as Frances had said, its walls painted with Italian frescoes. A long columned arcade led to the Jacuzzi and steam room and the human beings adorning the area were equally as decorative as the backdrop, Sara acknowledged as she studied the women in their obvious designer leisure wear, their menfolk... Suddenly she froze. There, standing at the opposite end of the pool, thankfully so deep in conversation with his female companion that he was unaware of her presence, was Nick Crighton.

She had been right about one thing, she decided shakily. His body was every bit as sexily male and muscular as she had imagined, his skin sleekly brown and still damp from his swim. Sara could hear the woman laughing at something he had said to her as he shook the water from his hair, a soft deliciously feminine sound that matched her appearance.

Enviously Sara discreetly studied her. She was tall, possibly even six foot, Sara recognised, with a tiny waist and firm curves which her swimsuit revealed subtly rather than clinging to it in any obvious kind of way. Her hair was clipped up but Sara guessed that it might be long—and whoever she was, it was obvious to Sara that she and Nick Crighton knew each other very well. When she lifted her hand and placed it on Nick's arm, he moved closer to her. A white-hot sheet of envy enveloped Sara, shocking her with the explicitness of the message it carried. She wanted to be the one who was touching Nick. She wanted—

Nick was walking away from the woman now and diving cleanly into the pool. Compulsively Sara watched him as he swam. A strong powerful crawl took him easily down the length of the Olympic-size pool, each movement clean and strong, droplets of water glinting on his bare arm as he raised it. A scar, old and silvery, made a jagged line on his upper arm. Sara winced as she saw it—how had it happened? A sensation of sweet hot weakness poured through Sara's body like a dark forbidden narcotic. She wanted to go to him, hold him, touch him, be held and touched by him. She wanted to lick the droplets of water from his skin, cling to him, wrapping herself around him. She wanted...

Helplessly she closed her eyes, mocking her own weakness by telling herself with mental derision, 'He's just a man swimming...that's all....'

Against her will her gaze was drawn back to him.

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He was swimming on his back now, again with long powerful strokes. The images that the sight of such thoroughly sensual male strength and control were creating inside her were causing havoc in her senses. She could imagine him ...feel him almost.... Aghast, she licked her suddenly dry lips. Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing, her insides...

Jealousy twisted through her. Who was the woman he was with and what right did he have to be with her after what he had said to her—Sara? Her own thoughts shocked and appalled her. What was happening to her?

She scarcely recognised her normal sane self in this tortured creature of sensual need and jealousy that she had suddenly become.

Nick was climbing out of the pool now and as he did so, for the first time Sara saw the long jagged scar on his torso.

Helplessly she expelled her breath on a sharp surge of vocal shock.

Even though he was surely too far away to have heard her, suddenly for some reason, he went still and stared in her direction frowning. Immediately Sara stepped back and turned on her heel. She could hear Nick calling her name but there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she had been watching him...wanting him....