Living Together

‘Not when I told them you were beautiful and that they’ll like you. If it had been someone like Crystal they probably wouldn’t have been very enthusiastic. As it is, they’re looking forward to meeting you.’

Her eyes became shadowed. ‘You don’t think they’ll recognise me? My face was on the front of all the national newspapers for some time. I couldn’t bear it if—’

‘They won’t recognise you, Helen,’ Leon cut in gently, one of his hands momentarily touching hers as they clenched and unclenched on her lap. ‘And even if they do they won’t judge you. No one who really knows you could suspect you of doing anything underhand.’

’Do they know I’ve been married?’

‘I didn’t go into your life history on the telephone, Helen. Besides, I don’t consider you have been married—one night together can hardly be called a marriage.’

‘It was one night that managed to produce a child,’ she pointed out sharply.

‘I hate the thought of you carrying his child,’ Leon said grimly. ‘And the thought of him—God, I can’t stand it!’ he groaned, putting a hand up to his temple, a heavy frown to his brow.

Helen put her hand on his arm. ‘I hated every minute of it, Leon. I—I thought I loved him, but—but what he subjected me to showed me it was just infatuation. It died as instantly as it had begun.’

Leon had turned to look at her. ‘That’s the first time you’ve touched me of your own volition,’ he said huskily.

She snatched her hand away. ‘I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—’

‘Oh, but you should,’ he smiled at her, his tawny eyes sensuous. ‘You can touch me any time you like. Now that you’ve made the first move perhaps it will come easier to you next time.’

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed hollowly. She was surprised at herself for daring to make such a move. Perhaps everything could be all right between them, perhaps in time…Oh God, she hoped so! She did want to feel again, she did!

‘Just touch me whenever you want to,’ he encouraged. ‘I like it.’

Helen felt selfconscious about her involuntary action, and her uncertainty returned. She had touched Leon without thinking, but now found that she liked the feel of his firm flesh beneath her hand, that she liked the male strength of him.

‘You’re going to be very tired tomorrow.’ She changed the subject to hide her confusion.

‘I’m hoping it will have been worth it,’ Leon said softly.

‘Will there be anyone else there besides your parents?’ Again she tried to introduce another subject and this time Leon seemed to take the hint, assuring her there would be no one else there.

Helen was more relaxed by the time he turned the car up the driveway to his parents’ home, slowing the car down to drive over the cattle grid that was the only means of stopping the ponies and their foals actually wandering into the well-laid-out garden. She had noticed that all the houses in this area were fenced in and had the cattle grids. No doubt the ponies could do quite a lot of damage if they were allowed to roam in the gardens.

‘Do you think they’ll like me?’ She voiced her nervousness, smoothing her dress down as she stepped out of the car.

‘They’ll love you,’ Leon assured her. ‘My parents are nothing like Muriel and Trafford West,’ he added hardly.

‘It’s hardly the same situation,’ Helen dismissed. ‘You don’t think they’ll imagine we’re—’

‘No, they won’t imagine anything,’ he cut in harshly. ‘Just relax, Helen, and enjoy your visit.’

She smiled shyly as his mother came out to greet them, a tiny woman with iron-grey hair that had once been the blonde colour of her son’s, a woman still beautiful because she was utterly serene, completely happy with her life.

Leon bent down to kiss his mother’s powdered cheek, and a look of affection passed between the two. ‘Where’s Dad?’ he enquired lazily.

‘In his greenhouse,’ his mother smiled. ‘I’ve sent Ash to get him.’ She turned to Helen, her smile returning after the first piercing glance. ‘And you must be Helen.’ She took her arm. ‘Come into the house, my dear. My husband shouldn’t be long.’

Helen turned uncertainly to Leon, relaxing slightly as he moved to stand on her other side at her silent plea. ‘What does your husband grow in his greenhouse, Mrs Masters?’

‘Roses,’ she smiled indulgently. ‘Until we moved here he’d never grown a thing, now he finds he has a green hand, let alone green fingers! Still, he enjoys it, and it keeps him busy.’

‘And out of your way,’ her son drawled. ‘My mother runs so many committees from here that Dad’s often glad to have somewhere to escape to,’ he teased affectionately.

‘Leon, my boy!’ boomed a deep attractive voice as Charles Masters came into the room.

Helen watched as the two men shook hands, amazed at how alike they were, both tall and lean, Charles Masters still very attractive in spite of his seventy years. She had no doubt that Leon would look very like this at the same age; the tawny eyes were the same in both men.