The Baby Swap Miracle (16 page)

‘Sounds good. We’ll have a picnic.’ He turned on the shower and pushed her into it. ‘Go on, we’d better not share or it’ll be dark by the time we get back outside.’

Shame. She’d quite been looking forward to it…

‘Where’s the fizz?’

‘In your fridge. I put it in there earlier.’

‘Let’s take it out with us,’ he said, and they carried it out and put it his new table, and he opened the wine and
poured two glasses, and they strolled along the paths and drank to the garden.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ he said with an awed smile, pausing by the arbour. ‘You’ve done a fantastic job. Thank you.’

‘It’s been a pleasure.’

She took a deep breath, and went on, her voice curiously fervent, ‘I owe you so much, Sam, and I can never repay you. There’s no way you can put a price on the peace of mind and security you’ve given me, for the time to find my feet and decide what to do, but then I realised how much you love this garden. For some reason, it has a significance beyond price. I don’t know why, I just know it was important enough to you that you bought the house on the strength of it.’

She lifted her hand and touched his face tenderly. ‘I don’t really know what happened to you, Sam. You’ve never told me all of it, and I don’t really like to ask, but I know it hurt you deeply. And I can’t make you whole again, but maybe the garden can. That was why I wanted to do it for you, to give you somewhere where you can heal, somewhere you can sit whenever you need to be at peace.’

Her words choked him. He realised for the first time what she’d been doing, why she’d been so driven, so focused. And he looked around, seeing for the first time everything she’d done for him, with so much love, and he felt his eyes burn.

She was wrong, he realised. She could make him whole again, if only he could dare to trust that they could make something real and lasting out of this ridiculous situation.

‘It’s beautiful, Emelia,’ he said quietly. ‘And you’ve worked so hard. I never meant you to work so hard, but I promise you, it won’t ever go in vain. Even if I get a gardener in the future, this will always be mine, and I’ll care
for it and keep it just as it is now. Thank you. Thank you so much.’

‘Oh, Sam, it was a pleasure,’ she said, going up on tiptoe and pressing a kiss to his cheek, her eyes glittering. ‘And I could help you, if I’m still living here, in the cottage.’

If? Did she mean she was thinking of moving away still? His gut clenched. For a brief moment of madness, he’d imagined her in the house with him, sharing his life in a much greater way, but if she was thinking of going…

‘You’ve done enough. I couldn’t ask you to do more.’

‘I’d love to. And I can tackle the rest, bit by bit. So long as you aren’t in a hurry, because the baby’s getting in the way a little now and it’s harder to bend over.’

‘There’s no hurry,’ he said, and slipping his arm round her shoulders, he hugged her to his side. ‘It really is beautiful,’ he murmured, absorbing the scents and sounds as well as the colours. ‘Beautiful.’

‘It was always beautiful underneath. You knew that.’

‘But I didn’t know how to set it free. You’ve done that, let it breathe again, and I’ll treasure it forever.’

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, his kiss gentle, a kiss of gratitude for her kindness and understanding. ‘Thank you, Emelia. Thank you for my garden.’

She rested against him for a moment, then together they strolled back to the table and sat down facing it, the last of the sun warming them as Sam fed her the tiny morsels—smoked salmon curls, on blinis with soured cream and herbs, fingers of cucumber and carrot dipped into humus—and then he brought out the bowl of strawberries and cream and fed her those, until they couldn’t take it any more.

Every time his fingers touched her lips, he groaned. Every time his lips closed on her fingers, she inhaled softly.

Then a strawberry slipped from her fingers, and she
leant in and licked the juice from his chin, the stubble rough against her tongue, and she couldn’t hold back the tiny whimper of need.

His breathing ragged, he tilted her face to his and took her mouth in a kiss so fiercely tender and yet so possessive that it robbed her of her breath.

‘Emelia,’ he said on an uneven sigh, and scooping her into his arms, he carried her up to his room.

They woke in the morning in a tangle of arms and legs, and he made love to her again, savouring every moment.

It was amazing. She was amazing. Her body was beautiful, smooth and firm and utterly feminine. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she was so responsive, demanding everything and yet giving so much more.

That was so like her, though. She’d given him more than he could ever have imagined, and he’d given her so little in return. There was one thing he owed her, though. One thing he had to do, and he couldn’t put it off any longer.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘I
’M GOING
to feed Daisy and let her out,’ he said, getting reluctantly out of bed. He showered, dressed and went down, and she followed more slowly, her hair towelled but still dripping, and found the back door open and no sign of him.

‘No eggs,’ he said disgustedly, coming back in empty-handed with Daisy at his heels. ‘I was relying on them, there’s nothing else. They truly are the most useless chickens. Maybe I should just admit defeat and get rid of them.’

‘That’s such an empty threat.’

He grinned. ‘Teach me to give them names.’

And she’d bet her life none of them were called Alice…

‘There must be something else,’ she said, and opened the fridge.

Nothing. Well, nothing suitable for breakfast.

‘Humus?’ he said, looking over her shoulder, and she gave a little chuckle.

‘For breakfast?’

‘Whatever. It’s about all there is to put on toast. I ran out of marmalade the other day. And butter. I meant to shop. I’ve been busy.’

‘Oh, Sam, you are hopeless. You need—’

She broke off, and the smile died as his mouth firmed to a hard, uncompromising line.

‘What?’ he asked, his voice flat. ‘What do I
need
? Finish the sentence, Emelia.’

She looked at him, registering the change in his voice, knowing this was a tipping point. She gave a resigned sigh. ‘It was a joke, Sam. I was teasing you. I know you’ve been busy. But I also think you’re lonely, you’re rattling around in this great place—you’re nesting, Sam. That’s what you’re doing, and you don’t even seem to realise it.’

‘I’m happy,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t need a wife. I don’t need anything.’

‘Well, I do,’ she said, just as firmly. ‘I need breakfast, and I’m obviously not going to get any here, so why don’t we go over to my place and I’ll cook for you? Truce?’

He nodded slowly, the tension gradually leaving him, and he gave her what had to be a half-hearted smile. But at least he was trying. ‘Truce,’ he agreed, and followed her, Daisy at his heels.

He was being stupid. For a second there he’d thought she was offering herself for the job, but why would she? She was still grieving for James, he’d seen the grief at first hand when she’d picked up her things—but she’d slept with him last night, made love with him again and again. Was that the act of a grieving widow? Or a woman alone in the world and afraid for her future? A woman desperate to secure a future for herself and her child. He could hardly blame her, but he was damned if he was going to fall for that one twice.

But her eyes had held such reproach, and for the umpteenth time, he reminded himself she wasn’t Alice.

‘Emelia—’

‘Bacon and eggs?’

He put his thoughts on hold. For now. He knew damn
well he was in the wrong and owed her an apology. An apology, and an explanation. But breakfast first.

‘How about a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea on the bench?’ he suggested. And then he could talk to her.

About Alice.

He felt his throat close, but there was no choice. It was time.

‘I need to tell you about Alice.’

Emelia glanced at him, sitting beside her on the bench in the sunshine. ‘Is she the woman who told you she was pregnant with your baby?’

A muscle bunched in his jaw, and he glanced away, then met her eyes again and nodded briefly.

‘It isn’t pretty,’ he warned.

‘I didn’t imagine it would be.’

‘She worked for me. She was an accountant, and we started seeing each other. Stupid, really. It was nothing serious but she was a beautiful woman and it was no hardship. I took her out for a meal one night, and she had to leave early because her mother wasn’t well. She had Alzheimer’s, apparently. We went out for the odd drink after that, and I kissed her, but nothing more. I’ve always made it a rule not to mix business and pleasure, and I was sort of sticking to it. Then she told me there was someone taking money from the firm. The auditors were coming in, and she’d been doing a little work in preparation, and something didn’t quite add up.

‘I left her to deal with it. It was nothing major, she said, only petty fraud, but she wanted to get the evidence before we contacted the police. I went abroad—I was working all over the world at the time, a night in New York, a night in Sydney, a night in Singapore. I was sick of it, ready to settle down, and on the last morning I woke up and didn’t know
where the hell I was. I had to check my BlackBerry to find out. And when I got off the plane, she was there to meet me. She said she had good news—she’d got the evidence to nail the employee but she hadn’t called the police. She took me out for dinner to celebrate, and then she took me home and stayed the night. Two weeks later, she told me she was pregnant.’

Emelia closed her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. Oh, poor Sam. It was the oldest scam in the world, and he’d fallen for it. No wonder he was so damned wary. ‘And?’ she prompted, knowing there was more to this—much more. He’d said it was a professional couple. So who—?

‘I didn’t know how she could be. I was always very careful—I don’t do unsafe sex.’ He frowned, and she realised he hadn’t used a condom last night, not once. And there were more reasons than pregnancy for using them, so had it been his way of showing her he trusted her?

‘Anyway, she was definitely pregnant, and as I said, I was tired of jetting all over the world and suddenly there it all was on a plate—a wife, a child, a real home. It didn’t hurt that she was clever and beautiful as well. You were absolutely right about me. I was ready to settle down. And I fell right into her trap. I asked her to marry me, and within seconds, it seemed she had a shortlist of houses for us to look at. “We can’t bring up a baby in your apartment,” she told me, and promptly found a house overlooking Richmond Park that was apparently perfect. Then of course she needed an engagement ring—a stonking great diamond nearly as big as the house—and the wedding was booked. Nothing lavish, oddly, just a quiet registry office do with dinner out for a few close friends and family.

‘That was fine. I didn’t want a huge wedding, but I was surprised she didn’t. And then, just a week before the wedding, when the house was bought and the nursery furniture
was on order and the interior designers were in, I asked her what she wanted as a wedding present.’

‘What, on top of all that?’

He smiled wryly. ‘Everyone was doing it, she told me. The big house, the diamonds. All her friends. So when she asked me what I wanted, I said she’d given me all I could possibly want. I was getting excited about the baby, really beginning to look forward to the birth. She’d started to show, and I was absurdly proud. It was ridiculous.’

‘It wasn’t ridiculous,’ she said, having a horrible feeling she knew where this was going and aching for him, because she’d seen how tenderly he’d touched their baby, his hand caressing him, smiling as he felt the movements, and she could feel his love for Max coming off him in waves.

‘Anyway, even though I’d already got her the matching diamond earrings, I asked her what she wanted, and she said if I really loved her, I could prove it by making her a partner in the company.’

Emelia felt her eyes widen. ‘Just a little present, then.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Indeed. And I finally, belatedly, smelled a rat. I smiled and stalled her, made some vague comment that basically suggested she’d have to wait and see. She’d had a text while we were having dinner, and she went to the ladies’ and left her phone on the bench seat. It must have fallen out of her bag, and I checked the text. “Did he fall for it? X” So I made a call, and had her followed. She wasn’t staying at mine that night—her mother needed her, she’d told me. And she went home to a man who had a conviction for fraud.’

Of course. ‘So—did you call the police?’

‘Yes. She was convicted of fraud and given a suspended sentence and struck off. She’ll never work as an accountant again. I also found and apologised to the man she’d framed to get close to me, but when I told her there was no way
she was bringing up my child, she just laughed in my face and said it wasn’t my child anyway. I’d lost it all, as if I’d woken up and realised it had only been a dream. Only it was a nightmare, and it was real.’

A spasm of pain crossed his face, and she reached out a hand and placed it over his where it lay on his thigh. ‘Oh, Sam, I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah. Me, too. She’d been going to marry me and take half the company. The house and the diamonds were just icing on the cake. And there was no mother with Alzheimer’s.’

‘Was that when you ended up in hospital?’

He turned his hand over, threaded their fingers together and stroked his thumb idly over hers. ‘No. I threw myself into work and spent nearly a year trying to kill myself with caffeine-induced tachycardia and chronic insomnia before I’d admit I was hating every minute of it. So I sold the company, retained another one which I’d started years before and which has always looked after me nicely, and bought the house. I was ready to settle down, ready to take time out, and then I saw the rose garden.’

‘And you were lost.’

He smiled a little sadly. ‘I was lost. There was something inside me that needed to be here, something about this place which I just knew would make it all right again.’