On the morning of their sixth day at the farmhouse Candy awoke to see Quinn, clad in the short black silk robe that was his only concession to nightwear, and then only once he was out of bed, packing his clothes into the black leather suitcase he had brought with them. 'Time for us to go, sweetheart.'
Her heart leapt wildly at the 'sweetheart'—he had taken to using such endearments now and again, in a casual, easy fashion that told her she couldn't put any store by them but which, nevertheless, were painfully sweet to hear—and she sat up in bed, careless of her nakedness, and said plaintively 'Why? It's wonderful here, and I don't care about seeing the rest of the world!'
'Because, my beautiful little siren, Matt phoned first thing this morning to say that his wife's mother has been taken ill and they're arriving home tomorrow, and it might shock the kiddies to find a naked man and woman in their parents' bed.' He had strolled across to her as he'd spoken, moving with the fluid animal grace that made him twice as sensual as any man had a right to be, and now he sat on the edge of the bed at her side and ran one winsome finger round her right nipple. 'Such deliciously dark rude nipples,' he murmured appreciatively, before his mouth took hers, urgent and hungry.
It was another hour before the packing was resumed.
They left the farmhouse just after midday, and Candy felt quite bereft for a few moments as she glanced backwards until she couldn't see the beautiful thatched building any more, in spite of the fact that Quinn had promised he would set the ball rolling to purchase the estate.
They had had such a wonderful few days, locked away in their own private paradise where no one could contact them, and they had been completely alone. It would be different when they were living there permanently, of necessity the world would intrude and real life would rear its demanding head, but the last six days had been magical, enchanting.
She would never be so happy again. She pushed away the nasty little voice in her head that had caused a dark chill to run down her spine and turned round in her seat, her back straight and her eyes fixed ahead.
Whether she was happy or not was up to her, wasn't it? And, having come this far, she wasn't about to throw in the towel and give in to defeatist mode. All her life Xavier had instilled in her that she could do anything she wanted, be anything she desired, if she wanted it badly enough. It had been that mind-set which had got her through the first horrific weeks after the crash and enabled her to walk again, as well as empowering her to throw off the numbing effects of Harper's betrayal and the deep depression that had resulted from it.
Well, she wanted Quinn—-body, soul and spirit—and she had already got the first part, which was something. More than something! She glanced at the dark, handsome figure at the side of her, his jet-black hair gleaming in the sunshine and his impressive body relaxed as he expertly manoeuvred the powerful car, and wanted him so much she ached with it.
He had married her on the understanding that the arrangement would benefit them both—socially and career-wise. They would stand together, united in mutual respect and friendship against any outside forces, and through the bond of good-fellowship and fondness carve a satisfactory future. He expected her to be a career woman, not the mother of his children; an excellent hostess and companion, not a home-maker who met him at the door with his pipe and slippers and shared all the highs and lows of his day.
And she would never trick him into fatherhood like Laura had done. Whatever, she wouldn't do that.
'Penny for them?'
She breathed in deeply and flashed a carefree smile at him, 'Just wondering how soon we can decently stop for lunch,' she said lightly. 'That cooked breakfast seems like years ago.'
'You'll get fat,' he warned amusedly, with a swift glance at her slender shape, 'but I'll still—' He stopped abruptly, swerving slightly to avoid a large crow that was sitting in the middle of the road with the sort of expression that said, My territory, Buster! and then continued, 'I'll still do my duty as an obedient husband.'
'How very gracious of you!' For a moment—just a split second—she had thought he was going to say something else, but that wa
s ridiculous. Love didn't feature in Quinn's vocabulary, not any more.
The last two weeks of their honeymoon passed in a haze of different hotels and sights and sounds as Quinn showed Candy most of Wales and part of Yorkshire in a whirlwind tour that left her breathless.
It was different from the time at the farmhouse, but then she had known it would be, and she enjoyed seeing more of the country that she would be living in from now on. Nevertheless, those first lazy, sensual days were engraved on her memory and became more precious as time flew by, although the nights were just as steamy, and they often didn't get to sleep until dawn was colouring the night sky in soft pastel shades.
It was strange returning to the practice as Mrs Ellington and learning to live in the apartment above the surgery. She knew it wouldn't be for ever—Quinn had put in an offer for the farmhouse, and his friend had accepted it, but Matt's mother-in-law's illness was more serious than they had thought and for the moment all efforts to find a house in America had been put on hold.
As the country plunged into a record-breaking July, with the pavements hot enough to fry eggs on and streams and rivers drying up all over England, Candy had to acknowledge to herself that she was pinning all her hopes on moving to the farmhouse.
It wasn't that she was desperately unhappy with Quinn. Not all the time anyway. Sometimes she was deliriously happy, floating on cloud nine when there seemed to be some breakthrough in his iron resolve to keep the door in his emotions labelled 'love' tightly shut, but always it was followed by a definite retreat—one step forward and two back—and then she would have to act a part that was growing increasingly hard as her love for him grew.
The cats were completely settled into their new home, which was one weight off Candy's mind, and the pressures of living 'above the shop' didn't seem to worry them at all, although Candy knew the farmhouse and its surrounding grounds would be a feline—and canine—paradise.
Quinn had already offered Jamie the promotion to practice manager-cum-vet, with the apartment as part of the package, and as Jamie and his fiancée were getting married at the end of the year the younger man had nearly snapped Quinn's hand off, so fast had he grabbed at the proposition.
For the time being Candy was using the spare bedroom as her studio, and the fact that she had to concentrate hard on meeting her schedules helped enormously. She was too busy to brood, although always at the back of her mind there was a shadow clouding what should have been one of the happiest periods of her life.
And then a new and very real worry wiped out all introspection in one fell swoop.
Candy had been ringing Xavier and Essie every afternoon for a regular update—Essie had been due to have the baby at the end of June, but by the end of the first week of July baby Grey still hadn't made an appearance.
'It's too comfortable in there,' Xavier had informed her cheerfully the last time they had spoken. 'Food on tap, no worries, every need catered for! A Grey knows a good thing when it sees one!'
But her uncle's voice hadn't been so light-hearted when the telephone had rung the next morning, at six a.m.
Quinn had taken the call, listening quietly for a few moments before saying, 'She's in the best place, Xavier; it'll be fine, I know it Here, I'll pass you on to Candy.'
'What's the matter? Is it Essie?' Candy had shot up in bed as soon as Quinn had mentioned her uncle's name; she had been expecting the call to be for Quinn, who was on call that week.