the ragged top of the stone wall beside him and the metallic flash that had caught his eye.
As it receded in his rear-view mirror he realised that someone must have crashed into it at some time because the flash had been a reflection from broken shards of glass or a mirror.
‘Thank goodness it didn’t happen tonight,’ he murmured when he noted the lack of tyre tracks in the layer of snow beginning to gather across the road and on the limestone blocks that made up the bordering walls. ‘I pity anyone who crashes up here tonight. If the snow keeps falling like this, it could be days before anyone finds them.’
With new caution in each movement, he allowed the car to pick up a bit of speed again. There was no point loitering in the middle of nowhere in this weather when he could be booking into the hotel in Edenthwaite.
‘I’ll make some phone calls tonight to find out where she’s staying. If she was making for Edenthwaite, it’s probably because she’s hoping to get a job in the hospital, or she’s about to take up a post there. By tomorrow, I should be able to start asking some questions,’ he said firmly. ‘There must be some reason why she’s been moving about so much—some reason why she was heading in this particular direction—and I’m going to find out what it is.’
Then, perhaps, he’d be able to go back to Russia with a clear conscience. At least he wouldn’t be left with the nagging feeling that he should have tried just a little harder to find the woman who was never very far from his mind.
‘Where are all the cars when I need them?’ Laurel groaned, her eyes fixed on the cock-eyed view in the mirror. At least she wasn’t totally upside down any more. The car seemed to be on its side.
The cold had seeped into the car slowly at first but there was no heat left at all now. She was shivering all the time, and her head was aching after the collision with the door frame. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious but her brain was still functioning well enough to appreciate the irony of the situation.
‘After all this time of keeping a low profile and making sure I don’t do anything to draw attention to myself,’ she groaned. How many times had she caught sight of her pursuer and known that it had been time to move on yet again? It must be four or five times since she’d read that letter and realised the significance of it.
Not that she had realised the full significance until she’d made a few enquiries. The whole thing had seemed utterly fantastic…totally unbelievable…until she’d taken a chance and had barged into the lawyer’s office without the courtesy of an appointment and had demanded some straight answers.
‘I’m a twin,’ she whispered, feeling the smile spread over her chilly face again, the delight growing with each repetition. ‘She’s somewhere out there—in Edenthwaite, perhaps—and when I find her, I’ll finally be able to get the answers to fill in all the rest of the pieces to the puzzle.’
And there were so many questions, more with every day that had passed since she’d read that fateful letter.
Her mother’s letter.
Her real mother.
She had a copy of it with her now, sewn into the lining of her coat, but for safekeeping had lodged the original and the will and birth certificates that had accompanied it with her mother’s solicitor until she completed her search.
She didn’t need to see the faded script on the first page to recall the heartbroken words, apparently written just hours after she’d given birth and had had to watch her precious babies being taken away for others to nurture into adulthood.
The first time she’d read the letter, she’d been shocked, then overwhelmed with anger at the deception that had shaped her life. It had taken her several months before she’d been able to find sympathy in her heart for the mother who had abandoned her then deliberately distanced herself from any contact.
Laurel closed her eyes against the hot prick of tears, cradling her hands over the swell of her own child. It hadn’t been until she’d realised that she was pregnant and had felt that instant flood of maternal love that she’d been able to understand how a mother would do anything to make sure her child was taken care of, even give her up for adoption.
She was just grateful that society had changed enough in the last twenty-eight years that she could make her own choices, not have them forced upon her by appalled family and friends.
And they would be appalled if they knew what she’d been doing for the last year.
She gave a brief wry chuckle when she realised just how close to twelve months it had been since she’d left the only home she’d known and had tried to disappear.
It would be Christmas in just a few days, and exactly one year ago she’d been a meekly dutiful part of the lavish planning and preparations for her wedding.
She still didn’t know whether Grant had been privy to her father…no, not her father…to Robert Wainwright’s machinations. When she’d realised what had been going on, she hadn’t paused even long enough to leave him a note and hadn’t dared to contact him in the meantime.
Not that she believed for a moment that she’d left Grant with a broken heart. As far as she could tell, theirs had been a marriage brokered solely in pursuit of financial gain.
One thing that had persuaded her into agreeing to it had been the fact that she would finally be escaping from Robert’s incessant criticism. It would be such a relief not to have to pretend any more that she was still taking those wretched tablets and to be able to live her own life. The fact that she would finally be able to wholeheartedly follow the nursing profession she’d fought so hard for had been enough to convince her to accept Grant’s proposal.
It wasn’t as if she’d had any other suitors lining up, not with Robert keeping an eagle eye on every spare moment when she hadn’t been on duty. Anyway, she’d never really wanted a man in her life. A lifetime under the overbearing control of one had made her wary about any sort of social interaction. It had been enough for her that she’d finally completed her training as a nurse.
Laurel sighed when she remembered just how long she’d had to campaign to be allowed to apply for a place and her surprise when her mother…no, not her mother, Robert’s wife, had added her weight to the argument in her favour.
She would always see the day of her interview as a milestone in her life. For a few moments she’d wondered if she’d made an enormous mistake when she’d explained in detail how she’d become addicted to tranquillisers and the steps she’d taken to rid herself of the problem.
Looking back, she believed that it had been her willingness to consider herself on probation and the offer to permit blood tests at any time to confirm that she was ‘clean’ that had prompted them to give her the chance she’d wanted.
Those years had been hard work but she didn’t regret a single bedpan. Not only had they given her a way to escape the poisonous atmosphere that seemed to surround her whenever she was in the same room as Robert Wainwright, they’d also made her realise that she’d found the purpose to her life.
And that wasn’t all. There was another, even more important reason.
If she hadn’t fought to get out from under Robert Wainwright’s thumb—if she hadn’t insisted that she wanted to train as a nurse—she’d never have been in the right place at the right time to meet Dmitri.
This
