She glanced sideways at his grim profile, etched in the lights of a passing car, and her own fear seemed to lessen slightly when she thought of what he had to face.
'Is this it?' The car ground to a halt outside the front door of the cottage.
'Yes.'
'Nice, but hardly your style,' he murmured, following her up the porch steps, his travel bag in one hand, hers in the other. He glanced up at the comfortable-looking old house and then around the headland to the sea beyond.
She made no response as she fiddled in her bag for the door key; finding it, she opened the door, walked into the hall and switched on the light. She was bone- weary, jet-lagged and totally depressed. In a few hours' time Margy would be bringing Val home but until then all she wanted to do was collapse into bed. But good manners dictated that she take care of her guest first.
'Follow me; I'll show you to your room. If-- '
'Correction.' Justin caught her arm and spun her round to face him; his hard black eyes clashed with hers, a derisory anger in their depths.
'Our room, Zoe. You sleep with me. I told you last night, I'm not into celibacy—especially when I have a perfectly good wife at hand.'
'My, you have changed your tune. I seem to remember you always preferred separate bedrooms,' she was goaded into replying.
'At the time I thought it was for the best, but after last night I realised what a mistake I had made. Your fragile exterior cloaks a strong, sexy woman and I have no intention of making the same mistake again.'
She looked up at him, puzzled. She didn't understand his comment, but she was too tired to worry about it. 'Right at this moment all you have is an exhausted woman,' she said flatly.
Until now she had not really thought about what bringing Justin into her life would entail; she had not thought of much at all beyond wanting to save her child. Seeing his harshly determined face, she knew it would be pointless to argue.
Turning on her heel, she proceeded up the spindle- railed staircase to the landing and along to the main bedroom. She dropped her bag on the bed and crossed to the adjoining bathroom. 'Make yourself at home, why don't you?' she flung facetiously over her shoulder as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
'Mom, Mom, I missed you.'
'Yes, darling, and I love you,' she murmured sleepily, and felt the warm touch of lips on her brow. Reassured, she drifted back to sleep.
Zoe blinked; she could vaguely hear voices whispering and the sound of childish laughter. She blinked again and opened her eyes. The small face was peering over the edge of the bed, and she smiled sleepily.
'Hello, darling; you're up early,' she murmured, and then she noticed his small hand curved in a much larger one. She glanced sideways, and slowly up long, jean- clad thighs, a plaid shirt, to the smiling face of her husband. She blushed scarlet and scrambled up into a sitting position, pulling the bedclothes with her, the events of last night flashing through her mind. 'Good morning, Justin,' she mumbled.
'Is it?' he queried, with a conspiratorial grin at Val. 'What do you think son?' And as Zoe watched they both burst out laughing.
'Nearly afternoon, Mom. Dad and I've been waiting ages for you to wake up. I've promised to take Dad to my favourite picnic place. Mrs B has got everything ready.'
'What? Oh!' Her startled gaze flashed from father to son and back to the man again. 'Give me five minutes,' she said, flustered by the insolent gleam of masculine appreciation in his dark eyes as they lingered on her small figure, and inexplicably angry at the ease with which Val called Justin Dad as though he had known him all his life.
She glanced at their joined hands and a shaft of pained jealousy arrowed through her.
'Come on, son. Let's leave your Mum to drink her coffee and dress in peace.'
'Not until I've had a cuddle,' Zoe insisted, her gaze resting lovingly on Val's face. 'I've missed you, darling,' she murmured, leaning forward and wrapping her armsaround his thin little body. She buried her face in his sweet-smelling hair. He clung for a moment and then began to wriggle free.
'I'm glad you're home, Mom, but hurry up.'
It was fifteen minutes later before, with hesitant steps, she descended the stairs and pushed open the door into the large family-room. Justin was sitting on the battered old hide sofa with Val curled up on his lap, his small face a picture of rapt concentration as Justin's deep voice was describing what the Tower of London looked like.
'When can I go, Dad?
'As soon as you're a hundred per cent-- '
'Hey, what happened to our picnic?' Zoe cut in, and they both turned identical brown eyes up to hers and her heart squeezed with a hope and a longing so intense that she had to turn away. 'Race you to the car,' she said, and fled, with father and son a few steps behind her.
It was one of those perfect, early spring days; the sun shone with the first real warmth of the year, the trees were in bud, the grass, awakening from winter, was turning a richer green, and as Justin manoeuvred the Range Rover along the narrow, winding coast road, with Val strapped happily in the back, keeping up a constant flow of chatter, she felt a new sense of hope growing in her heart.
And the hope grew stronger and brighter with every hour that passed. They parked the car and, with Zoe leading the way, Justin swung Val up on his shoulders and followed her down the winding path through the pine forest to the sea.