crouched down and began tugging at the laces of her borrowed boots. One of his sisters had left them at his house, he’d explained, and although they were half a size too big, Zoë had assured him they would be fine. Now she found herself wishing that she’d told him they had fitted perfectly. At least then she wouldn’t have had to suffer in silence as his fingers gently prodded her toes.
Heat flashed along her veins and she shifted her feet, wanting to make him stop. She could cope so long as Ben didn’t touch her, didn’t make her remember all the other occasions when his hands had caressed her. He’d been such a passionate lover, showing her with his hands and his mouth how much he had wanted her. Zoë had tried to hold something of herself back, to not respond so fully, so completely, but she’d never succeeded. When Ben had made love to her, she had given him everything—her heart, her mind and her soul. And that’s what had scared her most of all. She had no control when she was in Ben’s arms.
‘They’re perfectly adequate for the amount of walking we’re going to be doing today,’ she said briskly, moving away.
‘Good.’
He didn’t react to her brusqueness as he straightened and contrarily Zoë wished he had done so. At least she would have had an outlet for her feelings if they’d had one of their rows.
She sighed as she followed him to the stile. Was that what she really wanted, to fight with him like she’d done in the last weeks they’d been together? Every day had been a battle, every minute they’d spent together so full of tension that she’d felt sick all the time. Ben had wanted her to give in and accept that they could be happy together for ever and ever, but she’d known it wouldn’t work.
Love might seem endless in the beginning but it didn’t last. Once passion faded, interest waned, and that was when the problems began. Even though she’d been only ten when her parents had divorced, she’d endured years of anguish beforehand as she’d watched her mother and father tearing themselves and each other apart.
It had been a relief when she’d been taken into care after her mother had suffered a breakdown following the divorce. By that time her father had left England and made a new life for himself in Australia; he hadn’t wanted the responsibility of caring for a ten-year-old child. The social workers had tried to explain it to her as gently as possible but Zoë had understood: her father didn’t want her.
Life in the children’s home had been bleak but at least there’d been nobody there she had cared about, and nobody who had cared about her either. She’d been freed from the emotional trauma of watching the people she loved destroy their lives. Her mother had never fully recovered from her breakdown and had been deemed too fragile to take care of her so Zoë had stayed in the home until she was sixteen when she had moved into a hostel. They exchanged Christmas and birthday cards but that was all. Their relationship had ended a long time ago.
‘Careful! It’s very slippery on this side. Here, take my hand.’
Ben grasped her hand as she climbed over the first bit of the stile and Zoë managed not to pull away, but her reluctance to let him help her must have shown. His mouth thinned but once again he didn’t say anything and it surprised her. Was Ben afraid of causing a row? she wondered. He must be as aware as she was of how fragile their truce really was.
The thought helped her put everything into perspective. Zoë realised that she had to do her bit to make the day as stress-free as possible for both of them. She nodded her thanks as she alighted from the stile, feeling her heart catch when Ben smiled at her. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve in the past where she’d been concerned. He’d never been able to hide how much he had loved her and it had made her own reserve all the more marked. However, she’d been afraid to lower her guard, apart from when they had made love.
How did he feel about her now? Although his smile seemed genuine enough, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, and it troubled her. The old Ben had been so open about his feelings and she hated to think that he had changed so much. She might not be capable of giving herself to him but it didn’t mean she didn’t care about him.
They were halfway up the hill when Ben suddenly stopped. Zoë just managed to stop as well before she cannoned into him. She frowned when she saw him turn and look over to their left.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I thought I heard something—a moan or a shout, I’m not sure.’
He shrugged, his handsome face looking unusually stern as he stared across the open countryside. Zoë realised with a start how much older he looked than the last time she’d seen him. There were lines around his hazel eyes that definitely hadn’t been there two years ago and silver threads laced through his dark brown hair. Even the contours of his face had changed. He’d always been an extremely handsome man, and he still was, but there was a new austerity about his features, an authority that merely added to his appeal. At thirty-four years of age, Ben was in his prime and he looked it too.
A shiver ran down her spine as her brain logged all the small but significant changes. It was an effort to focus on the present but she couldn’t afford not to. There was no future for her and Ben—there never had been.
‘Do you think someone’s in trouble?’ she asked, deliberately removing any trace of emotion from her voice.
‘It could have been a bird, I suppose…’
‘But you don’t think so?’ she finished for him and he sighed.
‘No. I’m ninety per cent certain that I heard someone calling and that it came from over there.’
‘So what do you want to do?’
‘I don’t think we have much choice. We’ll have to take a look.’
Zoë followed as he turned off the main path. They had to walk in single file because the track was so narrow. It was lined on both sides with prickly bushes which snagged their trousers as they forced a way through them.
‘This must be a sheep track,’ Ben called over his shoulder.
‘Pity the poor sheep if they have to wriggle through all these thorns,’ Zoë retorted, and he chuckled.
‘I imagine it’s a bit different to strolling down the Champs Elysées.’
‘It certainly is. You might get jostled about on the pavement there but you definitely don’t have to pick thorns out of your flesh when you get home,’ she replied, and he laughed again, a rich deep sound that made her skin tingle.
It took them a good five minutes to reach the spot Ben had pointed out but there was nobody in sight. He sighed as he stared around. ‘Looks like I’ve brought you on a wild-goose chase. Sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she began then broke off when she heard a low moan. ‘There is someone here!’ she exclaimed, trying to locate from where the sound had come. It came again and she pointed towards a huge spiky bush off to their right. ‘There!’
Ben hurried forwards, the wicked-looking thorns tearing at his hands as he parted the branches. ‘It’s a child! I’ll see if I can get her out.’
‘Here, let me help you.’
Zoë forced her way through the undergrowth, wincing as the thorns dug into her. She could see the child now lying right in the very centre of the bush. Heaven only knew how
