on the cliff he had looked tired, almost defeated. Today he was clearly incandescent, and her heart began to thud in alarm.
His hand closed, not gently, on her arm. ‘In the name of God,’ he grated, ‘what have you done to yourself?’
‘I’ve had my hair cut.’ She tried unavailingly to free herself from his grasp. ‘It’s not a crime.’
‘That,’ Ross said crushingly, ‘is a matter of opinion.’
‘And, anyway,’ Jenna went on, her own anger sparking into life, ‘it’s none of your damned business what I do.’
‘So, if I see an act of vandalism being committed—a work of art being defaced—I’m to say or do nothing? Or should I stand back and applaud?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘It’s not the same thing at all, and you know it.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s far worse. It’s a travesty—a sacrilege.’ His eyes held hers. The noise around them—the hum of voices, the stutter of traffic, and the crying of gulls from the harbour—seemed to fade, enclosing them in a strange and potent silence.
Then, over his shoulder, Jenna saw Betty Fox emerge from her shop, ostensibly to rearrange the newspapers in the outside rack, her glance darting avidly towards them, and the spell was sharply broken.
She said tautly, ‘I thought we had a truce. Yet here we are brawling in public, for all the world to see. Now, will you kindly let go of me?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’
He set off down the street, still holding her arm, taking Jenna with him whether she wanted to go or not, turning the corner on to the harbour.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing.’ She was flushed, breathless with indignation at being whirled along in this undignified manner.
He had always done this, she thought. Starting with that night in London when they’d met again. Recognised each other in a totally new way …
‘Come.’ He’d taken her arm then, hurrying her from the room—from the building and into the street. Striding so fast that she’d had to run to keep up with him.
‘Where are we going?’ She’d been overwhelmed by all she felt for him—scared, joyous and hungry all at the same time.
And he’d stopped suddenly, and turned to her, his hands framing her face with heart-stopping tenderness. ‘Does it matter?’
Now, even though there was nothing remotely lover-like in his touch, she was shocked to find it could still shake her to the core. Or was that the memory it evoked?
‘Making amends, darling,’ he flung back at her. ‘Being amazingly civilised.’
He pushed open the door of the Quayside Café and marched her in. For a startled moment the buzz of conversation at the occupied tables faltered, then resumed at a slightly higher pitch as Ross ushered Jenna to a table beside the window and ordered two coffees from the flustered proprietress.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked Jenna, glancing towards the counter laden with cakes, biscuits and scones.
‘Thank you, no,’ she returned glacially.
His face relaxed into a sudden grin. ‘Because it would choke you?’
It did not help her temper to know she’d actually been tempted, just for a moment, to smile back. ‘This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?’ she said in a furious undertone.
His brows lifted. ‘Far from it, sweetheart,’ he drawled. ‘A tragedy, perhaps.’ He paused. ‘Now, perhaps we should find some bland neutral topic to keep us from each other’s throats until the coffee comes.’
‘You think of something,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m not into small talk.’
‘Fine.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Are you planning to go on holiday this year?’
‘I haven’t decided yet.’ She looked down at the checked tablecloth. ‘I might go for a last-minute booking on some Greek island.’
‘Alone?’
She shrugged. ‘I can hardly go with Natasha. One of us has to be there to run the gallery.’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said softly. ‘Thirza told me that you were now in business together.’
There was a note in his voice that reminded her that Natasha’s low opinion of him had been entirely reciprocated.
She lifted her chin. ‘How kind of your stepmother to take such an interest in my affairs.’
‘A slight exaggeration.’ The dark eyes glinted. ‘She merely mentioned it in passing.’
‘I see.’ She hesitated. ‘What about you? Are you—planning any kind of vacation?’
He smiled faintly. ‘For me, as ever, a holiday is simply to stop travelling.’
But you did stop—when you married me. You said you’d finished with that kind of life. The thought forced itself upon her before she could prevent it.
‘But I suppose I’ll go back to the house in Brittany,’ he went on. ‘Apparently the last lot of tenants weren’t the most careful in the world, and it needs some work.’
‘You’ve been renting out Les Roches?’ The place where we spent our honeymoon? ‘I—I didn’t know.’
Ross shrugged. ‘Houses shouldn’t be left empty, or the heart goes out of them.’
Jenna examined a fleck on her thumbnail. ‘You’ve never considered selling it?’
‘No.’ The response was crisp and instant. ‘It’s always been a family home.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘And one day I intend to have a family there.’
She had not seen that coming, and she felt as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus. There was an odd roaring in her ears, and when she parted her lips to say something—anything—no sound would come.
The arrival of the coffee saved her. By the time the cups had been placed on the table, and cream and sugar brought, she was able to speak again. To cover, she hoped, the momentary hiatus.
‘My God.’ She even managed a little laugh. ‘Is the rolling stone coming to rest at last?’
‘It would seem so.’ His mouth twisted. ‘As they all do—eventually.’
‘I thought you might prove to be the exception.’ She could only hope the lightness in her tone was convincing. ‘What’s caused the change of heart?’
‘I became ill.’ His gaze met hers. ‘And, as you know, I’m not used to that. It made me think. Perhaps—adjust my priorities.’ He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Also, there is—someone in my life. Someone important.’ He shrugged. ‘What
