Quinn had his hand over the receiver as he said quickly and softly, 'Essie's okay; she's had the baby, a little girl, but the baby needs an emergency operation. Here, Xavier will explain, but be upbeat, right?'
She nodded dazedly, taking the telephone and saying tentatively, 'Xavier?'
'Hi, Cottonsocks.' It was his pet name for her, and in spite of Quinn's previous admonition the endearment brought stinging tears to her eyes, but she endeavoured to keep all trace of them from her voice when she said, 'Essie's had the baby?'
'A little girl.' It didn't sound like her uncle's voice, and she knew he was trying to keep a whole host of emotions under control when he continued, 'She's beautiful, very much like you were when you were born. A mass of black hair and great big blue eyes; the nurses are raving over her. The thing is…'There was a pause, and Xavier's voice was husky when he said, 'She has something wrong with her heart. There's a long technical name for it but I can't pronounce it She needs an operation right away, within the next twenty-four hours.'
'I'm coming out.' She didn't stop to think about it.
'There's no need. You're busy and—'
'I'm coming, Xavier.'
A longer pause this time, and then Xavier's voice was even thicker when he said, 'Essie would like that She's…she's holding on in there, but she would definitely like that.'
'I'll phone the airport right away. Give Essie my love and tell her it will be all right. Oh, Xavier, I love you.'
'I love you, Cottonsocks.'
And then, as he went to put the phone down, she said urgently, 'Oh, I forgot to ask. What's the baby's name?'
'Rose Candice, like her big cousin. Goodbye, Cottonsocks.'
'Goodbye, Xavier.'
She was crying now, she couldn't help it, and as Quinn took the telephone from her shaking fingers and replaced it by his side of the bed she said bewilderedly, 'They've named her after me. I'm Candice Rose and they've called her Rose Candice,' through the flood of tears pouring down her face.
'Candy.' Quinn caught her to him and held her fast for some minutes as she wept against his bare chest, but he said little.
When she pulled herself away, saying, 'I must phone the airport and get a flight,' he merely nodded, his face almost expressionless.
'I'll arrange that,' he said. 'You go and have a shower and get ready and I'll run you to Heathrow.'
He wasn't coming with her. She knew she shouldn't ask. It wasn't part of the arrangement to sit and hold her hand— she was supposed to be the cool career woman and hostess with the mostest—but she found herself saying, 'You…you don't think you could arrange for Jamie and the others to cover for you for a few days?'
'I'd prefer not.' It was short and succinct.
'I'd like you to come, Quinn. I…I need you.'
'Candy.' It was too harsh, and immediately, as he glanced at her white tear-stained face, his voice gentled, but the darkness was in his eyes as he said, 'I thought you understood. I'm no good at these heart things, and I couldn't do anything anyway. Phone me to tell me how things are and I'll be waiting for you when you get back.'
He would be waiting for her when she got back. She stared at him as her lovely face paled still further. All they had shared over the last weeks and she hadn't touched him at all. Not really.
Well, she could beg. Or she could throw a tantrum, or use emotional blackmail, or any one of a number of ploys, but she wouldn't; she loved him too much for that. When he came to her, if he ever came to her, it would have to be because he wanted to commit himself utterly and for no other reason.
But she had been wrong in one respect. She stared at him, her beautiful blue eyes with their thick dark lashes glittering with tears. She couldn't live one more day, one more hour as they had been doing, without telling him how she felt about him. That burden, on top of everything else, was too great. And if he couldn't cope with how she felt then he would have to decide what he was going to do.
Her heart turned over and pounded madly. How did one handle someone like Quinn? She could only love him, that was all the skill she possessed, and for this situation it was useless. If she told him she loved him she might lose him altogether, but the only way she could continue in this impossible marriage was with a foundation of truth.
'I understand.' She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for her robe draped on the chair to one side and slipping into it before standing to face him as she pulled the belt tight 'You've always been honest about how you feel.'
'But?' He had positioned several pillows behind his back and was leaning against them, the dark curls on his chest emphasising his tanned maleness as he watched her with unreadable hooded eyes. 'I feel there's a 'but' coming on.'
She nodded tightly. 'There is. The 'but' is that I haven't been honest with you. Not lately anyway.'
'Skeletons in the cupboard?' His voice was soft and even, but she had seen the ebony eyes flicker and she knew, however lazy and relaxed he was trying to appear, that the spectre from the past had reared its head again. Laura had tricked him into marriage and then used whatever it took to try and emotionally emasculate him until their lives had been a living hell.
'No, no skeletons in the cupboard,' she said quietly. 'Not in the sense you mean anyway. I am what I am, Quinn, and the person I am loves you. That's all I want you to know. I don't expect you to respond to that in any way, but I thought it was only fair to tell you. If you can't deal with it…' She paused, and then took a deep breath as she said what had to be said. 'Then we'll talk about it and sort something out. If you need to walk you are free to walk.'