Christmas.
‘No. he won’t be home until quite late. But if you go to sleep like a good girl, when he gets here I’ll ask him to come in and give you a kiss.’
‘Tell me the toad story?’ Caitlin pleaded. She was getting tired, and her long silky lashes kept drooping.
Heart melting with love, Caroline agreed. ‘All right, if you close your eyes while you listen.’
Obediently the child’s bright eyes closed, and a small thumb went into her mouth.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, in the pool of golden light cast by the bunny lamp, Caroline began the fairy story that during the last month had become Caitlin’s favourite.
‘Once upon a time there was a handsome prince...’
‘What was he called?’
‘He was called Matthew...’
This part had become a familiar routine, with the same question, the same answer, and the same giggles because, on the first occasion, when Caroline had asked, ‘What do you think he was called?’ Caitlin had unhesitatingly chosen the name Matthew.
‘Now, poor Matthew had been turned into a toad by a naughty witch, and the only way to break the spell was for a beautiful princess to kiss him. One fine morning, when he was hopping through the forest...’
The story was one from her own childhood, and Caroline knew it off by heart. The words were soothing, familiar, allowing her thoughts to wander...
It seemed incredible that it was only about a month ago since Matthew had insisted on driving her to Morningside Heights to pick up her things.
While he had talked to Lois Amesbury she had packed—her few clothes and possessions going into a single suitcase—and said goodbye to the twins. With the prospect of having Caitlin to take care of, leaving the family hadn’t proved to be the wrench it might have been.
Mrs Monaghan had been kindness itself, and Caroline had settled into the penthouse well. To her very great relief there had been no mention of Matthew’s former fiancée, and the days had been filled with the kind of happiness she had never expected to know again.
But, while she gave Caitlin all the love and attention the child needed, Caroline was trying not to make the little girl too dependent on her. Always, at the back of her mind, was the knowledge of how uncertain the future was.
It was a blessed relief—or so she’d told herself—that after the first few days she had seen very little of Matthew.
At first he had watched her as relentlessly as a cat watches its potential prey, then, observing that she had won the child’s trust and affection, he had left her to it and set about catching up on a huge backlog of work before heading for Hong Kong.
Without his dynamic presence the apartment had seemed curiously empty, devoid of life and warmth and excitement.
While she admitted that she ought to feel safer when he was away, part of her longed to see him, to hear his voice and know he was close at hand...
‘And the beautiful princess said, “Little toad with crooked leg, open quick the door I beg...”’
Seeing Caitlin had fallen asleep, Caroline stopped speaking and, rising softly to her feet, took the child’s hand from her mouth and tucked it beneath the duvet, before stooping to kiss the rosy cheek.
As she switched on the monitoring system and turned to the door the tender smile lingering on her lips gave way to a gasp of fright.
The tall, shadowy figure, lounging in the doorway straightened. ‘I’m sorry,’ Matthew murmured mockingly, ‘did I startle you?’
Wondering how long he’d been standing there listening, she stammered, ‘I...we...weren’t expecting you home so early.’
He was still wearing his dark business suit. His lean face looked a little strained, she thought, as though even his magnificent stamina had been tested by such an intensive trip.
She felt a rush of tenderness, a longing to open her arms to him and welcome him back.
But even as she wished she had that right she saw that his eyes held a glint, a dangerous sparkle that made warning bells ring.
As he moved into the room she attempted to slip unobtrusively past him, her heart thudding, when he caught her wrist. ‘Don’t go...’
Ignoring her sharp intake of breath, he stooped to touch his lips to Caitlin’s forehead before leading the way out of the nursery and into the playroom, where a single shaded night-lamp burnt. ‘We have some unfinished business.’
‘Unfinished business?’ Alarmed by his air of intent, the build-up of tension she could feel, Caroline made an attempt to free her wrist.
His grip merely tightened, until his fingers felt as though they might crush the delicate bones. Moving closer, he suggested silkily, ‘Surely we need the beautiful princess to kiss the poor toad?’
Finding she’d been backed into a corner, and trying not to panic, she said as lightly as possible, ‘It’s just a fairy story Caitlin’s taken to.’
‘Ah, but a fairy story has to have a happy ending, and as the leading character...’
His dark face was only inches away. She looked at his mouth, that austere yet sensual mouth, and remembered with stunning clarity what it felt like when it touched hers.
A treacherous wave of heat engulfing her, somehow she managed, ‘I really don’t think I’d rate as a beautiful princess.’
‘You may not rate as a princess, but you’re certainly beautiful enough.’ All at once he sounded angry, driven.
Terrified of what might happen if he touched her, she begged hoarsely, ‘Oh, please, Matthew...’
Ignoring the plea, he took her face between his hands and his mouth closed over hers.
All thought obliterated, her whole being melted instantly, completely, so that without the support of the wall she couldn’t have remained on her feet.
His touch, his kiss, was what her heart and mind and body had craved. When finally he lifted his head, it took her a few seconds to gather herself and register that he was breathing as though he’d been running hard.
Knowing he’d only kissed her because he was inexplicably angry, she felt a fierce satisfaction that he hadn’t remained totally unmoved.
‘Well, well, well...’ he drawled, and his voice had a harshness to it. ‘Who would have dreamt such a prim-looking nanny was capable of so much passion?’
Terrified that her uncontrolled response might have stirred memories in him that were best forgotten, she said raggedly, ‘Please let me go. You have no right to treat me like this.’
‘Can I plead provocation?’ He was laughing now, making fun of her. ‘Promise never to touch you again?’
‘I’d prefer it if you did, Mr Carran.’
‘Why
