Snowed in with the Billionaire

Snowed in with the Billionaire Caroline Anderson Caught in a blizzard, Georgia Beckett is forced down a narrow lane she hoped to avoid… and not just because of the snow! The road takes her past the beautiful abandoned house of her youth, the new residence of her childhood sweetheart.Sebastian Corder’s shocked to hear the doorbell ring - he never expected to see Georgia again. Nine years ago, both chasing different dreams, they went their separate ways. Now Sebastian’s hand hesitates. Is he ready to open the doors to the past?But the snow’s getting heavier… and there’s only one way to find out! He looked at the screen on the intercom and frowned. He couldn’t see anything for a moment, just a swirl of white, and then the screen cleared momentarily and he made out the figure of a woman, huddled up in her coat, her hands tucked under her arms. Georgie? He felt the blood drain from his head and hauled in a breath, then another one. No. It couldn’t be. He was seeing things, conjuring her up out of nowhere because he couldn’t stop thinking about her while he was in this damn house. “Can I help you?” he said crisply, not trusting his eyes, but then she swiped the hair back off her face and it really was her, her smile tentative but relieved as she heard his voice. Snowed in with the Billionaire Caroline Anderson www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) CAROLINE ANDERSON has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, “I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband, John, and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!” Caroline also writes for the Mills & Boon® Medical Romance™ series. For Angela, who gave me insight into the harrowing and difficult issues surrounding adoption, and for all “the girls” in the Harlequin Romance group for their unstinting help, support, and amazing knowledge. Ladies, you rock! Contents CHAPTER ONE (#u55bda0ff-3244-579f-95ad-f0987ddc1d52) CHAPTER TWO (#u93a34113-0594-536f-a3b5-9ee050f71fe1) CHAPTER THREE (#u4026ddf5-16e5-5567-8937-524eaca8e558) CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo) EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE ‘OH, WHAT—?’ All Georgia could see in the atrocious conditions were snaking brake lights, and she feathered the brake pedal, glad she’d left a huge gap between her and the car in front. It slithered to a halt, and she put on her hazard flashers and pulled up cautiously behind it, trying to see why they’d stopped, but visibility was minimal. Even though it was technically still daylight, she could scarcely see a thing through the driving snow. And the radio hadn’t been any help—plenty of talk about the snow arriving earlier than predicted, but no traffic information about any local holdups. Just Chris Rea, singing cheerfully about driving home for Christmas while the fine, granular snow clogged her wipers and made it next to impossible to see where she was going. Not that they’d been going anywhere fast. The traffic had been moving slower and slower for the last few minutes because of the appalling visibility, and now it had come to a complete grinding halt. She’d been singing along with all the old classics as the weather worsened, crushing the steadily rising panic and trying to pretend that it was all going to be OK. Obviously her crazy, reckless optimism hard at work as usual. When would she learn? Then the snow eased fleetingly and she glimpsed the tail lights of umpteen cars stretching away into the distance. Far beyond them, barely discernible in the pale gloom, a faint strobe of blue sliced through the falling snow. More blue lights came from behind, travelling down the other side of the road and overtaking the queue of traffic, and it dawned on her that nothing had come towards them for some minutes. Her heart sank as the police car went past and the flashing blue lights disappeared, swallowed up by the blizzard. OK, so something serious had happened, but she couldn’t afford to sit here and wait for the emergency services to sort it out with the weather going downhill so quickly. If she wasn’t careful she’d end up stranded, and she was so nearly home, just five or six miles to go. So near, and yet so far. The snow swirled around them again, picking up speed, and she bit her lip. There was another route—a narrow lane she knew only too well. A lane that she’d used often as a short cut, but she’d been avoiding it, and not only because of the snow— ‘Why we stop, Mummy?’ She glanced in the rear-view mirror and met her son’s eyes. ‘Somebody’s car’s broken down,’ she said. Or hit another car, but she wasn’t going to frighten a two-year-old. She hesitated. She was deeply reluctant to use the lane, but realistically she was all out of options. Making the only decision she could, she smiled brightly at Josh and crossed her fingers. ‘It’s OK, we’ll go another way. We’ll soon be at Grannie and Grandpa’s.’ His face fell, tugging her heartstrings. ‘G’annie now. I hungry.’ ‘Yeah, me, too, Josh. We won’t be long.’ She turned the car, feeling it slither as she pulled away across the road and headed back the way she’d come. Yikes. The roads were truly lethal and they weren’t going to get any better as more people drove on them and compacted the snow. As she turned onto the little lane, she could feel her heart rate pick up. The snow was swirling wildly around the car, almost blinding her, and even when it eased for a second the verges were almost obliterated. This wasn’t supposed to be happening yet! Not until tonight, after they were safely tucked up with her parents, warm and dry and well-fed. Not out in the wilds of the countryside, on a narrow lane that went from nowhere to nowhere else. If only she’d left earlier... She checked her mobile phone and groaned. No signal. Fabulous. She’d better not get stuck, then. She put the useless phone away, sucked in a deep breath and kept on driving, inching cautiously along. Too cautiously. The howling wind was blowing the snow straight off the field to her right and the narrow lane would soon be blocked. If she didn’t hurry, she wasn’t going to get along here at all, she realised, and she swallowed hard and put her foot down a little. At least in the fresh snow she had a bit more traction, and she wasn’t likely to meet someone coming the other way. She only had half a mile at the most to go before she hit the other road. She could do it. She could... A high brick wall loomed into view on the left, rippling in and out like a ribbon, the snow plastered to it like frosting on a Christmas cake, and she felt a surge of relief. Almost there now. The ancient crinkle crankle wall ran alongside the lane nearly to the end. It would give her a vague idea of where the road was, if nothing else, and all she had to do was follow it to the bigger, better road which would hopefully be clear. And halfway along the wall—there it was, looming out of the blizzard, the gateway to a hidden world. The walls curved in on both sides of the imposing entrance, rising up to a pair of massive brick piers topped with stone gryphons, and between them hung the huge, ornate iron gates that didn’t shut. Except that today they were firmly shut. They’d been painted, too, and they weren’t wonky any more, she realised as she slowed to a halt. They’d always hung at a crazy angle, open just enough to squirm through, and that gap had been so enticing to an adventurous young girl out for a bike ride with her equally reckless older brother. The gryphons guarding the entrance had scared them, mythical beasts with the heads and wings of eagles and the bodies of lions, their talons slashing the air as they reared up, but the gap had lured them in, and inside the wall they’d found a secret adventure playground beyond their wildest imaginings. Acres of garden run wild, with hidden rooms and open spaces, vast spreading trees and a million places to hide. And in the middle of it all, the jewel in the crown, sat the most beautiful house she’d ever seen. A huge front door with a semi-circular fanlight over it was tucked under a pillared portico that sat exactly in the centre of the house, surrounded perfectly symmetrically by nine slender, elegant sash windows. Not that you could see all the windows. Half of them were covered in wisteria, cloaking the front and invading the roof, and the scent from the flowers, hanging delicately like bunches of pale lilac grapes against the creamy bricks, had been intoxicating. It had been empty for years; with their hearts in their mouths, she and Jack had found a way inside through the cellar window and tiptoed round the echoing rooms with their faded grandeur, scaring each other half to death with ghost stories about the people who might have lived and loved and died there, and she’d fallen head over heels in love with it. And then years later, when her brother had started to hang out with Sebastian, she’d taken him there, too. He’d come over to their house one day to see Jack but he’d been out, so they’d gone out for a bike ride instead. His idea, and she’d jumped at it, and they’d ended up here. It had been their first ‘date’, not really a date at all but near enough for her infatuated sixteen-year-old self, and she’d dragged him inside the still-empty house just as she had her brother. Like her, he’d been fascinated by it. They’d explored every inch of it, tried to imagine what it would have been like to live there in its hey-day. What it would be like to live there now. They’d even fantasised about the furnishings—a dining table so long you could hardly see the person at the other end, a Steinway grand in what had to have been the music room and, in the master bedroom, a huge four-poster bed. In her own private fantasy, that bed had been big enough for them and all their children to pile into for a cuddle. And there’d be lots of them, the foundation of a whole dynasty. They’d fill the house with children, all of them conceived in that wonderful, welcoming bed with feather pillows and a huge fluffy quilt and zillion-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. And then he’d kissed her. They’d been playing hide and seek, teasing and flirting and bubbling over with adolescent silliness, and he’d found her in the cupboard in the bedroom and kissed her. She’d fallen the rest of the way in love with him in that instant, but it had been almost two years before their relationship had moved on and fantasy and reality had begun to merge. He’d gone away to uni, but they’d seen each other every holiday, spent every waking moment together, and the kisses had become more urgent, more purposeful, and way more grown up. And then, the weekend after her eighteenth birthday, he’d taken her to the house. He wouldn’t tell her why, just that it was a surprise, and then he’d led her up to the master bedroom and opened the door, and she’d been enchanted. He’d set the scene—flickering candles in the fireplace, a thick blanket spread out on the moth-eaten carpet and smothered in petals from the wisteria outside the window, the scent filling the room—and he’d fed her a picnic of delicate smoked salmon and caviar sandwiches and strawberries dipped in chocolate, and he’d toasted her in pink champagne in little paper cups with red hearts all over the outside. And then, slowly and tenderly, giving her time even though it must have killed him, he’d made love to her. She’d willingly given him her virginity; they’d come close so many times, but he’d always stalled her. Not that day. That day, when he’d finally made love to her, he’d told her he’d love her forever, and she’d believed him because she loved him, too. They’d stay together, get married, have the children they both wanted, grow old together in the heart of their family. It didn’t matter where they lived or how rich or poor they were, it was all going to be perfect because they’d have each other. But two years down the line, driven by ambition and something else she couldn’t understand, he’d changed into someone she didn’t know and everything had fallen apart. Their dream had turned into a nightmare with the shocking intrusion of a reality she’d hated, and she’d left him, but she’d been devastated. She hadn’t been back here in the last nine years, but just before Josh was born she’d heard on the grapevine that he’d bought it. Bought their house, and was rescuing it from ruin. She and David had been at a dinner party, and someone from English Heritage was there. ‘I gather some rich guy’s bought Easton Court, by the way—Sebastian something or other,’ he’d said idly. ‘Corder?’ she’d suggested, her whole body frozen, her mind whirling, and the man had nodded. ‘That’s the one. Good luck to him. It deserves rescuing, but it’s a good job he’s got deep pockets.’ The conversation had moved on, ebbing and flowing around her while she’d tried to make sense of Sebastian’s acquisition, but David had asked her about him as they were driving home. ‘How do you know this Corder guy?’ ‘He was a friend of my brother’s,’ she said casually, although she was feeling far from casual. ‘His family live in that area.’ It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth and she’d felt a little guilty, but she’d been shocked. No, not shocked. Surprised, more than anything. She’d thought he’d walked away from everything connected to that time, as she had, and the fact that he hadn’t had puzzled her. Puzzled and fascinated and horrified her, all at once, because of course it was so close to home, so near to her parents. Too close for comfort. But a few days later Josh had been born, and then only weeks after that David had died and her whole world had fallen apart and she’d forgotten it. Forgotten everything, really, except holding it all together for Josh. But every time since then that she’d visited her parents, she’d avoided the lane, just as she had today—until she’d had no choice. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Was he in there, behind those intimidating and newly renovated gates? Alone? Or sharing their house with someone else, someone who didn’t share the dream— She cut that thought off before she could follow it. It didn’t matter. The dream didn’t exist any longer, and she’d moved on. She’d had to. She was a mother now, and there was no time for dreaming. She dragged her eyes and her mind away from the imposing gates and the man who might or might not be behind them, flashed her son a smile to remind her of her priorities and made herself drive on. Except her car had other ideas. It slithered wildly as she tried to pull away, and the snow swirled around them, the wind battering the car ferociously, reminding her as nothing else could just how perilous their situation was. Gripping the wheel tighter, her heart pounding, she pressed the accelerator again more cautiously and drove on, almost blinded by the blizzard. Before she’d gone more than a few feet she hit a drift with her right front wheel, and her car slewed round and came to rest across the road, wedged up against the bank behind her. After a few moments of spinning the wheels fruitlessly, she slammed her hand on the steering wheel and stifled a scream of frustration tinged with panic. ‘Mummy?’ ‘It’s OK, darling. We’re just a teeny bit stuck. I need to have a look outside. I won’t be long.’ She tried to open her door, but it wouldn’t budge, and she wound the window down and peered out into the blizzard, shielding her eyes from the biting sting of the snow crystals that felt as if they were coming straight from the Arctic. She was up against a snowdrift, rammed tight into it, and there was no way she’d be able to open the door. She shut the window fast and shook the snow out of her hair. ‘Wow! That was a bit blowy!’ she said with a grin over her shoulder, but Josh wasn’t reassured. ‘Don’t like it, Mummy,’ he said, his lip wobbling ominously. Nor do I. And I don’t need them walking in a winter wonderland on the radio! ‘It’s fine, Josh. It’s just snowing a bit fast at the moment, but it won’t last. I’ll just get out of the other door and see why we’re stuck.’ ‘No! Mummy stay!’ ‘Darling, I’ll be just outside. I’m not going away.’ ‘P’omise?’ ‘I promise.’ She blew him a kiss, scrambled across to the passenger side and fought her way out into the teeth of the blizzard to assess the situation. Difficult, with the biting wind lashing her hair across her eyes and finding its way through her clothes into her very bones, but she checked first one end of the car, then the other, and her heart sank. It was firmly wedged, jammed between the snowdrift she’d run into on the right and the snow that had fallen down behind them, probably dislodged as she’d slid sideways. The car had embedded itself firmly against the right bank, and there was nothing she could do. She could never dig it out alone with her bare hands, not with the snow drifting so rapidly off the field in the howling wind. It was already a few inches deep. Soon the exhaust pipe would be covered, and the engine would stall, and they’d die of cold. Literally. Their only hope, she realised as she shielded her eyes from the snow again and assessed the situation, lay in the house behind those beautiful but intimidating gates. Easton Court. The home of Sebastian Corder, the man she’d loved with all her heart, the man she’d left because he’d been chasing something she couldn’t understand or identify with at the expense of their relationship. He’d expected her to drop everything and follow him into a lifestyle she hated, abandoning her career, her family, even her principles, and when she’d asked him to reconsider, he’d refused and so she’d walked away, leaving her heart behind... And now her life and the life of her child might depend on him. This house, the house she’d fallen so in love with, home of the only man she’d ever really loved, was the last place in the world she wanted to be, its owner the last man in the world she wanted to ask for help. She didn’t imagine he’d be any more thrilled than she was, but she had Josh with her, and so she had no choice but to swallow her pride and hope to God he was there. Heart pounding, she struggled to the gate, lifted a hand so cold she could scarcely feel it and scrubbed the snow away from the intercom with her icy fingers. ‘Please be there,’ she whispered, ‘please help me.’ And then, her heart in her mouth, she pressed the button and waited. * * * The sharp, persistent buzz cut through his concentration, and he stopped what he was doing, pressed save and headed for the hall. This would be the last of his Christmas deliveries. Hurray for online shopping, he thought, and then glanced out of the window and did a mild double-take. When had it started snowing like that? He looked at the screen on the intercom and frowned. He couldn’t see anything for a moment, just a swirl of white, and then the screen cleared momentarily and he made out the figure of a woman, huddled up in her coat, her hands tucked under her arms—and then she pulled a hand out and swiped snow off the front of the intercom and he saw her clearly. Georgie? He felt the blood drain from his head and hauled in a breath, then another one. No. It couldn’t be. He was seeing things, conjuring her up out of nowhere because he couldn’t stop thinking about her while he was in this damn house— ‘Can I help you?’ he said crisply, not trusting his eyes, but then she swiped the hair back off her face and anchored it out of the way, and it really was her, her smile tentative but relieved as she heard his voice. ‘Oh, Sebastian, thank goodness you’re there. I wasn’t sure—um—it’s Georgie Pullman. Georgia Becket? Look, I’m really sorry to trouble you, but can you help me? I wouldn’t ask, but my car’s stuck in a snowdrift just by your gateway, and I don’t have a spade to dig myself out and my phone won’t work.’ He hesitated, holding his breath and staring at her while he groped frantically for a level surface in a world that suddenly seemed tilted on its axis. And then it righted and common sense prevailed. Sort of. ‘Wait there. I’ll drive down. Maybe I can tow you out.’ ‘Thanks. You’re a star.’ She vanished in a swirl of whiteout, and he let go of the button with a sharp sigh. What the hell was she doing driving along the lane in this weather? Surely not coming to see him? Why would she? She never had, not once in nine years, and he had no reason to think she’d do it now—unless it was curiosity about the house, and he doubted it. Not in this weather, and probably not at all. Why would she care? She hadn’t cared enough to stay with him. She’d hated him in the end, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d hated himself, but he’d hated her, too, for what she’d done to them, for not having faith in him, for not sticking by him just when he’d needed her the most. No, she wasn’t coming to see him. She’d been going home to her parents for Christmas, using the short cut, and now here she was, purely by chance, stuck outside his house and he had no choice—no damn choice at all—but to go and dig her out. And that would mean talking to her, seeing her face, hearing her voice. Resurrecting a whole shed-load of memories of a time he’d rather forget. Dragging that up all over again was the last thing he needed, but just moving here had done that, anyway, and there was no way he could leave her outside in a blizzard. And it’d be dark soon. The light was failing already. He’d dig her out and send her on her way. Fast, before it was too late and he was stuck with her. Letting out a low growl, he picked up his car keys, shrugged on his coat, grabbed a shovel and a tow rope from the coach-house and threw them into the back of the Range Rover he’d bought for just this sort of eventuality. Not that he’d ever expected to be digging Georgia out of a hole. He headed down the drive, his wipers going flat out to clear the screen, but when he got to the gates and opened them with the remote control, there was no sign of her. Just footprints in the deep snow, heading to the left and vanishing fast in the blizzard. It was far worse than he’d realised. There were no huge, fat flakes that drifted softly down and stayed where they fell, but tiny crystals of snow driven horizontally by the biting wind, the drifts piling up and making the lane impassable. He wondered where the hell she was. It would have been handy to know just how far along— And then he saw it, literally yards from the end of his drive, the red tail lights dim through the coating of snow over the lenses. He left the car in the gateway and got out, his boots sinking deep into the powdery drifts as he crunched towards her. No wonder she was stuck, going out in weather like this in that ridiculous little car, but there was no way she’d be going anywhere else in it tonight, he realised. Which meant he would be stuck with her. Damn. He felt anger moving in, taking the place of shock. Good. Healthy. Better than the sentimental wallowing he’d been doing last night in that damn four-poster bed— Bracing himself against the wind, he turned his collar up against the needles of ice and strode over to it, opening the passenger door and stooping down. A blast of warmth and Christmas music swamped him, and carried on the warmth was a lingering scent that he remembered so painfully, excruciatingly well. It hit him like a kick in the gut, and he slammed the lid on his memories and peered inside. She was kneeling on the seat looking at something in the back, and as she turned towards him she gave him a tentative smile. ‘Hi. That was quick. I’m really sorry—’ ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said crisply, trying not to scan her face for changes. ‘Right, let’s get you out of here.’ ‘See, Josh?’ she said cheerfully. ‘I told you he was going to help us.’ Josh? She had a Josh who could dig her out? ‘Josh?’ he said coldly, and her smile softened, stabbing him in the gut. ‘My son.’ She had a son? His heart pounding, he ducked his head in so he could look over the back of the seat—and met wide eyes so familiar they seemed to cut right to his soul. ‘Josh, this is Sebastian. He’s going to get us unstuck.’ He was? Well, of course he was! How could he refuse those liquid green eyes so filled with uncertainty? Poor little kid. ‘Hi, Josh,’ he said softly, because after all it wasn’t the child’s fault they were stuck, and then he finally let himself look at Georgie. She hadn’t changed at all. She had the same wide, ingenuous eyes as her son, the same soft bow lips, high cheekbones and sweeping brows that had first enchanted him all those years ago. Her wild curls were dark and glossy and beaded with melted snow, and there was a tiny pleat of worry between her brows. And her face was just inches from his, her scent swirling around him in the shelter of the car and making mincemeat of his carefully erected defences. He hauled his head out of the car and straightened up, sucking in a lungful of freezing air. Better. Slightly. Now if he could just nail those defences back in place again— ‘I’m really sorry,’ she began again, peering up at him, but he shook his head. ‘Don’t. Let’s just get your car out of here and get you inside.’ ‘No! I need to get to my parents!’ He let his breath out on a disbelieving huff. ‘Georgie, look at it!’ he said, gesturing at the weather. ‘You’re going nowhere. I don’t even know if I can get your car out, and you’re certainly not taking it anywhere else in the dark.’ ‘It’s not dark—’ ‘Almost. And we haven’t got your car out yet. Just get in the driver’s seat, keep the engine running and when you feel a tug let the brakes off and reverse gently back as I pull you. And try and steer it so it doesn’t go in the ditch. OK?’ She opened her mouth, shut it again and nodded. Plenty of time once the car was out to argue with him. * * * It took just moments. The car slithered and slid, and for a second she thought they’d end up in the ditch, but then she felt the tug from behind ease off as they came to rest outside the gates and she put the handbrake on and relaxed her grip on the wheel. Phase 1 over. Now for Phase 2. She opened the car door and got out into the blizzard again. He was right there, checking the side of her car that had been wedged against the snowdrift, and he straightened and met her eyes. ‘It looks OK. I don’t think it’s damaged.’ ‘Good. That’s a relief. And thanks for helping me—’ ‘Don’t thank me,’ he said bluntly. ‘You were blocking the lane, I’ve only cleared it before the snow plough comes along and mashes it to a pulp.’ She gulped down the snippy retort. Of course he wasn’t going to be gracious about it! She was the last person he wanted to turn out to help, but he’d done it anyway, so she swallowed her pride and tried again. ‘Well, whatever, I’m still grateful. I’ll be on my way now—’ He cut her off with a sharp sigh. ‘We’ve just had this conversation, Georgia. You can’t go anywhere. Your car won’t get down the lane. Nothing will. I could hardly pull you out with the Range Rover. What on earth possessed you to try and drive down here in weather like this anyway?’ She blinked and stared at him. ‘I had to. I’m on my way home to my parents for Christmas, and I thought I’d beat the snow, but it came out of nowhere and for the last hour I’ve just been crawling along—’ ‘So why come this way? It’s hardly the most sensible route in that little tin can.’ She bristled. Tin can? ‘I wasn’t coming this way but the other road was closed with an accident—d’you know what? Forget it!’ she snapped, losing her temper completely because absolutely the last place in the world she wanted to be snowed in was with this bad-tempered and ungracious reminder of the worst time of her life, and she was seriously leaving now! In her tin can! ‘I’m really sorry I disturbed you, I’ll make sure I never do it again. Just—just go back to your ivory tower and leave me alone and I’ll get out of your hair!’ She tried to get back in the car, desperate to get away before the weather got any worse, but his hand shot out and clamped round her wrist like a vice. ‘Georgia, grow up! No matter how tempted I am to leave you here to work it out for yourself—and believe me, I am very tempted at the moment—I can’t let you both die of your stubborn, stiff-necked stupidity.’ Her eyes widened and she glared at him, trying to wrestle her arm free. ‘Stubborn, stiff-necked—? Well, you can talk! You’re a past master at that! And we’re not going to die. You’re being ridiculously melodramatic. It’s simply not that bad.’ It was his turn to snap then, his temper flayed by that intoxicating scent and the deluge of memories that apparently just wouldn’t be stopped. He tugged her closer, glowering down into her face as the scent assailed him once more. ‘Are you sure?’ he growled. ‘Because I can leave you here to test the theory, if you insist, but I am not leaving your son in the car with you while you do it.’ ‘You can’t touch him—’ ‘Watch me,’ he said flatly. ‘He’s—what? Two? Three?’ The fight went out of her eyes, replaced by maternal worry. ‘Two. He’s two.’ He closed his eyes fleetingly and swallowed the wave of nausea. He’d been two... ‘Right,’ he said, his voice tight but reasoned now, ‘I’m going to unhitch my car, drive into the entrance and hitch yours up again and pull you up the drive—’ ‘No. Just leave me here,’ she pleaded. ‘We’ll be all right. The accident will be cleared by now. I’ll turn round and go back the other way—’ His mouth flattened into a straight, implacable line. ‘No. Believe me, I don’t want this any more than you do, but unlike you I take my responsibilities seriously—’ ‘How dare you!’ she yelled, because that was just the last straw. ‘I take my responsibilities seriously! Nothing is more important to me than Josh!’ ‘Then prove it! Get in the car, shut up and do as you’re told just for once in your life before we all freeze to death—and turn that blasted radio off!’ He dropped her arm like a hot brick, and she got back in the car, slammed the door unnecessarily hard and a shower of snow slid off the roof and blocked the wipers. ‘Mummy?’ Oh, Josh. ‘It’s OK, darling.’ Hell, her voice was shaking. She was shaking all over— ‘Don’t like him. Why he cross?’ ‘He’s just cross with the snow, Josh, like Mummy. It’s OK.’ A gloved hand swiped across the screen and the wipers started moving again, clearing it just enough that she could see his car in front of her now, pointing into the gateway. He was bending over, looking for the towing eye, probably, and seconds later he was dropping a loop over the tow hitch on his car and easing away from her. She felt the tug, then the car slithered round and followed him obediently while she quietly seethed. Behind them she could see the gates begin to close, trapping her inside, and in front of them lights glowed dimly in the gloom. Easton Court, home of her broken dreams. Her prison for the next however long? She should have just sat it out in the traffic jam. CHAPTER TWO HE TOWED HER all the way up the drive and round into the old stable yard behind the house, and by the time he pulled up he’d got his temper back under control. Not so the memories, but if he could just keep his mouth shut he might not say anything he’d regret. Anything else he’d regret. Too late for what he’d already said today, and far too late for all the words they’d said nine years ago, the bitterness and acrimony and destruction they’d brought down on their relationship. All this time later, he still couldn’t see who’d been right or wrong, or even if there’d been a right or wrong at all. He just knew he missed her, he’d never stopped missing her, and all he’d done about it in those intervening years was to ignore it, shut it away in a cupboard marked ‘No Entry’. And she’d just ripped the door right off it. She and this damned house. Well, that would teach him to give in to sentiment. He should have let it rot and then he wouldn’t have been here. So who would have rescued them? No-one? He sucked in a deep breath, got out of the car and detached the tow rope, flinging it back into the car on top of the shovel just in case there were any other lunatics out on the lane today, although he doubted it. He could hardly see his hand in front of his face for the snow now, and that was in the shelter of the stable yard. Dammit, if this didn’t let up soon he was going to be stuck with her for days, her and her two-year-old son, with fathoms-deep eyes that could break your heart. And that, more than anything, was what was getting to him. The child, and what might have happened to him if he’d not been there to help— ‘Oh, man up, Corder,’ he growled to himself, and slammed the tailgate. * * * ‘OK, little guy?’ She turned and looked at Josh over her shoulder, his face all eyes and doubt. ‘Want G’annie and G’anpa.’ ‘I know, but we can’t get there today because of the snow, so we’re going to stay here tonight with Sebastian in his lovely house and have an adventure!’ She tried to smile, but it felt so false. She was dreading going inside with Sebastian into the house that contained so much of their past. It would trash all her happy memories, and the tense, awkward atmosphere, the unspoken recriminations, the hurt and pain and regret lurking just under the surface of her emotions would make this so difficult to cope with, but it wasn’t his fault she was here and the least she could do was be a little gracious and accept his grudging hospitality. She glanced round as her nemesis walked over to her car and opened the door. ‘I’m sorry.’ They said it in unison, and he gave her a crooked smile that tore at her heart and stood back to let her out. ‘Let’s get you both in out of this. Can I give you a hand with anything?’ ‘Luggage? Realistically I’m not going anywhere tonight, am I?’ She said it with a wry smile, and he let out a soft huff of laughter and started to pick up the luggage she was pulling from the boot. He wondered how much one woman and a very small boy could possibly need for a single night. Baby stuff, he guessed, and slung a soft bag over his shoulder as he picked up another case and a long rectangular object she said was a travel cot. ‘That should do for now. I might need to come back for something later.’ ‘OK.’ He shut the tailgate as she opened the back door and reached in, emerging moments later with Josh. Her son, he thought, and was shocked at the surge of jealousy at the thought of her carrying another man’s child. The grapevine had failed him, because he hadn’t known she’d had a baby, but he’d known that her husband had died. A while ago now—a year, maybe two. While she was pregnant? The jealousy ebbed away, replaced by compassion. God, that must have been tough. Tough for all of them. The boy looked at him solemnly for a moment with those huge, wary eyes that bored right through to his soul and found him wanting, and Sebastian turned away, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, and led them in out of the cold. * * * ‘Oh!’ She stopped dead in the doorway and stared around her, her jaw sagging. He’d brought her into the oldest part of the house, through a lobby that acted as a boot room and into a warm and welcoming kitchen that could have stepped straight out of the pages of a glossy magazine. His smile was wry. ‘It’s a bit different, isn’t it?’ he offered, and she gave a slight, disbelieving laugh. The last time she’d seen it, it had been dark, gloomy and had birds nesting in it. Not any more. Now, it was... ‘Just a bit,’ she said weakly. ‘Wow.’ He watched her as she looked round the kitchen, her lips parted, her eyes wide. She was taking in every detail of the transformation, and he assessed her reaction, despising himself for caring what she thought and yet somehow, in some deep, dark place inside himself that he didn’t want to analyse, needing her approval. Ridiculous. He didn’t need her approval for anything in his life. She’d given up the right to ask for that on the day she’d walked out, and he wasn’t giving it back to her now, tacitly or otherwise. He shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of a chair by the Aga, then picked up the kettle. ‘Tea?’ She dragged her eyes away from her cataloguing of the changes to the house and looked at him warily, nibbling her lip with even white teeth until he found himself longing to kiss away the tiny indentations she was leaving in its soft, pink plumpness— ‘If you don’t mind.’ But they’d already established that he did mind, in that tempestuous and savage exchange outside the gate, and he gave an uneven sigh and rammed a hand through his hair. It was wet with snow, dripping down his neck, and hers must be, too. Hating himself for that loss of temper and control, he got a tea towel out of the drawer and handed it to her, taking another one for himself. ‘Here,’ he said gruffly. ‘Your hair’s wet. Go and stand by the Aga and warm up.’ It wasn’t an apology, but it could have been an olive branch and she accepted it as that. They were stuck with each other, there was nothing either of them could do about it, and Josh was cold and scared and hungry. And the snow was dripping off her hair and running down her face. She propped herself up on the front of the Aga, Josh on her hip, and towelled her hair with her free hand while she tried not to study him. ‘Tea would be lovely, please, and if you’ve got one Josh would probably like a biscuit.’ ‘No problem. I think we could probably withstand a siege—my entire family are here for Christmas from tomorrow so the cupboards are groaning. It’s my first Christmas in the house and I offered to host it for my sins.’ ‘I expect they’re looking forward to it. Your parents must be glad to have you close again.’ He gave a slightly bitter smile and turned away, giving her a perfect view of his broad shoulders as he got mugs out of a cupboard. ‘Needs must. My mother’s not well. She had a heart attack three years ago, and they gave her a by-pass at Easter.’ Ouch. She’d loved his mother, but his relationship with her had been a little rocky, although she’d never really been able to work out why. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know. I hope she’s OK now.’ ‘She’s getting over it—and why would you know? Unless you’re keeping tabs on my family as well as me?’ he said, his voice deceptively mild as he turned to look at her with those penetrating dark eyes. She stared at him, taken aback by that. ‘I’m not keeping tabs on you!’ ‘But you knew I was living here. When I answered the intercom, you knew it was me. There was no hesitation.’ As if she wouldn’t have known his voice anywhere, she thought with a dull ache in her chest. ‘I didn’t know you’d moved in,’ she told him honestly. ‘That was just sheer luck under the circumstances, but the fact that you’d bought it was hardly a state secret. You were rescuing a listed house of historical importance on the verge of ruin, and people were talking about it. Bear in mind my husband was an estate agent.’ He frowned. That made sense. He contemplated saying something, but what? Sorry he’d died? Bit late to offer his condolences, and he hadn’t felt able to at the time. Because it felt inappropriate? Probably. Or just keeping his distance from her, desperately trying to keep her in that cupboard she’d just ripped the door off. And now, in front of the child, wasn’t the time to initiate that conversation. So, after a pause in which he filled the kettle, he brought the subject back to the house. Safer, marginally, so long as he kept his memories under control. ‘I didn’t realise it had caused such a stir,’ he said casually. ‘Well, of course it did. It was on the at-risk register for years. I think everyone expected it to fall down before it was sold.’ ‘It wasn’t that close. There wasn’t much wrong with it that money couldn’t solve, but the owner couldn’t afford to do anything other than repair the roof and he hadn’t wanted to sell it for development, so before he died he put a restrictive covenant on it to say it couldn’t be divided or turned into a hotel. And apparently nobody wants a house like this any more. Too costly to repair, too costly to run, too much red tape because of the listing—it goes on and on, and so it just sat here waiting while the executors tried to get the covenant lifted.’ ‘And then you rescued it.’ Because he hadn’t been able to forget it. Or her. ‘Yeah, well, we all make mistakes sometimes,’ he muttered, and lifting the hob cover, he put the kettle on, getting another drift of her scent as he did so. He moved away, making a production of finding biscuits for Josh as he opened one cupboard after another, and she watched him thoughtfully. We all make mistakes sometimes. Really? He thought it was a mistake? Why? Because it had been a money-sink? Or because of all the memories—memories that were haunting her even now, standing here with him in the house where they’d fallen in love? ‘Well, mistake or not,’ she said softly, ‘I’m really glad you’re here, because otherwise we’d still be out there in the snow and it’s not letting up. And you’re right,’ she acknowledged. ‘It could have ended quite differently.’ He met her eyes then, his brows tugging briefly together in a frown. He’d only been back here a couple of days. And if he’d still been away— ‘Yes. It could. Look, we’ll see how it is tomorrow. If the wind drops and the snow eases off, I might be able to get you to your parents in the Range Rover, even if you can’t get your car there for now.’ She nodded. ‘Thank you. That would be great. And I really am sorry. I know I was a stroppy cow out there, but I was just scared and I wanted to get home.’ His mouth flickered in a brief smile. ‘Don’t worry about it. So—I take it you approve of what I’ve done in here?’ he asked to change the subject, and then wanted to kick himself. Finally engaging his brain on the task of finding some biscuits, he opened the door of the pantry cupboard and stared at the shelves while he had another go at himself for fishing for her approval. ‘Well, I do so far,’ she said to his back. ‘If this is representative of the rest of the house, you’ve done a lovely job of rescuing it.’ ‘Thanks.’ He just stopped himself from offering her a guided tour, and grabbed a packet of amaretti biscuits and turned towards her. ‘Are these OK?’ he asked, and she nodded. ‘Lovely. Thank you. He really likes those.’ Josh pointed at them and squirmed to get down. ‘Biscuit,’ he said, eyeing Sebastian as if he didn’t quite trust him. ‘Say please,’ she prompted. ‘P’ees.’ She put him on the floor and took off his coat, tugging the cuffs as he pulled his arms out, but then instead of coming over to get a biscuit from him, he stood there next to her, one arm round her leg, watching Sebastian with those wary eyes. He opened the packet, then held it out. ‘Here. Take them to Mummy, see if she wants one.’ He hesitated for a second then let go of her leg and took the packet, eyes wide, and ran back to her, tripping as he got there and scattering a few on the floor. ‘Oops—three second rule,’ she said with a grin that kicked him in the chest, and knelt down and gathered them up. ‘Here,’ he said, offering her a plate, and she put them on it and stood up with a rueful smile, just inches from him. ‘Sorry about that.’ He backed away to a safe distance. ‘Don’t worry about it. It was my fault, I didn’t think. He’s only little.’ ‘Oh, he can do it. He’s just a bit overawed by it all.’ And on the verge of tears now, hiding his face in his mother’s legs and looking uncertain. ‘Hey, I reckon we’d better eat these up, don’t you, Josh?’ Sebastian said encouragingly, and he took one of the slightly chipped biscuits from the plate, then glanced at Georgia. ‘In case you’re wondering, the floor’s pristine. It was washed this morning.’ ‘No pets?’ He shook his head. ‘No pets.’ ‘I thought a dog by the fire was part of the dream?’ she said lightly, and then could have kicked herself, because his face shut down and he turned away. ‘I gave up dreaming nine years ago,’ he said flatly, and she let out a quiet sigh and gave Josh a biscuit. ‘Sorry. Forget I said that. I’m on autopilot. In fact, do you think I could borrow your landline? I should call my mother—but I can’t get a signal. She’ll be wondering where we are.’ ‘Sure. There’s one there.’ She nodded, picked it up and turned away, and he glanced down at the child. Their eyes met, and Josh studied him briefly before pointing at the biscuits. ‘More biscuit. And d’ink, Mummy.’ Georgia found a feeder cup and gave it to him to give Sebastian. ‘What do you say?’ she prompted from the other side of the kitchen. ‘P’ees.’ ‘Good boy.’ Sebastian smiled at him as he took the cup, and the child smiled back shyly, making his heart squeeze. Poor little tyke. He’d been expecting to go to his loving and welcoming grandparents, and he’d ended up with a grumpy recluse with a serious case of the sulks. Good job, Corder. ‘Here, let’s sit down,’ he said, and sat on the floor, handed Josh his plastic feeder cup, and they tucked into the biscuits while he tried not to eavesdrop on Georgie’s conversation. * * * She glanced over her shoulder, and saw Josh was on the floor with Sebastian. They seemed to be demolishing the entire plateful of biscuits, and she hid a smile. He’d never eat all his supper, but frankly she didn’t care. The fact that Josh wasn’t still clinging to her leg was a minor miracle, and she let them get on with it while she soothed her mother. ‘Mum, we’re fine. The person who lives here is taking very good care of us, and he’s been very kind and got my car off the road, so we’re warm and safe and it’s all good.’ ‘Are you sure? Because you can’t be too careful.’ ‘Absolutely. It’s just for tonight, and it’ll be clear by tomorrow. They’ve got a Range Rover so he’s going to give us a lift,’ she said optimistically, crossing her fingers. ‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then,’ her mother said with relief in her voice. ‘I’m glad you’re both safe, we were worried sick when you didn’t ring, so do keep in touch. We’ll see you tomorrow, and you stay safe. And give my love to Josh.’ ‘Will do. Bye, Mum.’ She cut the connection and put the phone back on the charger, then turned and met his eyes. A brow flickered eloquently. ‘They?’ he murmured. ‘Figure of speech.’ And less of a red flag to her mother than ‘he’... He humphed slightly. ‘You didn’t tell her where you are.’ She blinked. ‘Why would I?’ The brow flickered again. ‘Lying by omission?’ She shrugged off her coat and draped it over a chair next to his at the huge table. ‘It’s not a lie, it’s just an unnecessary fact that changes nothing material. And what she doesn’t know...’ He didn’t answer, just held her eyes for an endless moment before turning away. The kettle had boiled and he was making tea now while Josh cleaned up the last few crumbs on the plate, and she picked it up before he could break it. ‘Here—your tea.’ Sebastian put her cup down in the middle of the table out of Josh’s reach and picked up his coat. ‘Give me your keys. I’ll put your car away in the coach-house. Is there anything else you need out of it?’ ‘Oh. There’s a bag of Christmas presents. There are some things in there that don’t really need to freeze. It’s in the boot.’ ‘OK.’ She passed him the keys and he went out, and she let the breath ease out of her lungs. Just one night, she told herself. You can do this. And at least you know he’s not an axe murderer, so it could have been worse. ‘Mummy, finished.’ Josh handed her his cup and she found him a book in the changing bag and sat him on her lap. She was reading to him when Sebastian came back in a few minutes later, stamping snow off his boots and brushing it off his head and shoulders. She put her tea down and stared at him in dismay. ‘No sign of it stopping, then?’ He shook his head and held out her keys, and she reached out to take them, her fingers closing round his for a moment. They were freezing cold, wet with the snow, and she shivered slightly with the thought of what might have been. If he hadn’t been here... ‘Sebastian—thank you. For everything.’ His eyes searched hers, then flicked away. ‘You’re welcome.’ He shrugged off his coat and hung it up again. ‘I’ll go and make sure your room’s ready.’ ‘You don’t need to do that just for one night! I can sleep on a sofa—’ He stared at her as if she’d sprouted another head. ‘It’s a ten-bedroomed house! Why on earth would you want to do that?’ ‘I just don’t want you to go to any more trouble.’ ‘It’s no trouble, the rooms are already made up. Where do you want these?’ ‘Ah.’ She eyed the presents. ‘Can you find somewhere for them that’s not my room? Just to be on the safe side.’ ‘Sure. If you need the cloakroom it’s at the end of the hall.’ He picked up all her bags and went out, and she let out her breath on another sigh. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding it again, and the slackening of tension when he left the room was a huge relief. She felt a tug on her sweater. ‘Mummy, more biscuit.’ ‘No, Josh. You can’t have any more. You won’t eat your supper.’ ‘Supper at G’annie’s house?’ he said hopefully, and she shook her head, watching his face fall. ‘No, darling, we’re staying here. Grannie sends you her love and a great big kiss and she’ll see you tomorrow, if it’s stopped snowing.’ Which it had better have done soon. She scooped him up and kissed him. ‘I tell you what, why don’t we play hide and seek?’ she suggested, trying to inject some excitement into her voice, and he giggled and squirmed down. As she counted to ten he disappeared under the table, his little rump sticking out between the chair legs. ‘I hiding! Mummy find me!’ ‘Oh! Where’s he gone? Josh? Jo-osh, where are you?’ she called softly, in a sing-song voice, and pretended to look. She opened the door Sebastian had got the biscuits from, and found a pantry cupboard laden with goodies. Heavens, he was right, they were ready for a siege! The shelves were groaning with expensive food from exclusive London shops like Fortnum’s and Harrods, and the contents of the pantry were probably equal to her annual food budget. She shut the door quickly and went back to her ‘search’ for the giggling child. ‘Jo-osh! Where are you?’ She opened another cupboard, and found an enormous built-in fridge, then behind the next door a huge crockery cupboard. It was an exquisitely made hand-built painted kitchen, every piece custom made of solid wood and beautifully constructed, finished in a muted grey eggshell that went perfectly with the cream walls and the black slate floor. And rather than granite, the worktops were made of oiled wood—more traditional, softer than granite, warmer somehow. The whole effect was classy and elegant at the same time as being homely and welcoming, and it was also well designed, an efficient working triangle. He’d done it properly—or someone had— ‘Mummy! I here!’ ‘Josh? Goodness, I’m sure I can hear you, but I can’t see you anywhere!’ ‘I under the table!’ ‘Under the table?’ She knelt down and peered through the legs of the chairs, bottom in the air, and of course that was how Sebastian found her when he came in a second later. ‘Georgie?’ She closed her eyes briefly. Marvellous. She lifted her head and swiped her hair back out of her eyes as she sat back on her heels, her dignity in tatters. She could feel her cheeks flaming, and she swallowed hard. ‘Hi,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘We’re playing hide and seek.’ He gave a soft, rueful laugh. ‘Nothing much changes, does it?’ he murmured, and she felt heat sweep over her body. They’d played hide and seek in the house often after that first time, and every time he’d found her, he’d kissed her. She remembered it vividly, so vividly, and she could feel her cheeks burning up. ‘Apparently not,’ she said, and got hastily to her feet, brushing the non-existent dust from her jeans, ridiculously flustered. ‘Um—I could probably do with changing his nappy. Where did you put our bags?’ ‘In your room. It’s the one at the end of the landing on the right—do you want me to show you?’ ‘That might be an idea.’ Not because she needed showing, but because she didn’t want to be tempted to stray into his room. He would have the master suite in the middle at the front, overlooking the carriage sweep, and the stairs came up right beside it. Too tempting. She called Josh, took his hand in hers and followed Sebastian up the elegant Georgian staircase and resolutely past the slightly open door of the bedroom where she’d given him her body—and her heart... * * * Why on earth had he brought up the past when she’d mentioned hide and seek? Idiot, he chided himself. He’d already had to leave the kitchen on the pretext of putting the cars away when she’d taken her coat off and he’d seen the lush, feminine curves that motherhood had given her. She’d always had curves, but they were rounder now, softer somehow, utterly unlike the scrawny beanpoles he normally came into contact with, and he ached to touch her, to mould the soft fullness, to cradle the smooth swell of her bottom in his hand and ease her closer. Much closer. So much closer that he’d had to get out of the kitchen and give himself a moment. Now he realised it was going to take a miracle, not a moment, because when he’d run out of things to do he’d walked back in to the sight of that rounded bottom sticking up into the air as she played under the table with the baby, and then she’d straightened, her cheeks still pink from bending over, and he’d seen straight down the V neck of her sweater to the enticing valley between those soft, rounded breasts and lust had hit him like a sledgehammer. ‘Here,’ he said, pushing open the door of her room. ‘It’s got its own bathroom, but I haven’t put up the travel cot, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t know where to start—is that OK? Can you manage?’ ‘Oh. Yes. That’s fine. Um—I don’t suppose you’ve got a small blanket—a fleecy one or something? And a sheet? I don’t have any bedding with me because my mother keeps some at hers.’ ‘I’m sure I can find something. I’ll see you in the kitchen when you’re done,’ he said, and left them to it. She looked around at the lovely room, beautifully furnished with antiques, and wondered who’d sourced everything. Him? It seemed unlikely. He’d probably paid an interior designer an obscene amount of money to do it, but that was fine, he had it. He’d been outrageously successful, by all accounts, made a killing on the stock market in the early days and re-invested the money in other businesses. He had a reputation for being fair but firm, and companies that he’d taken over had been turned around and sold for vast amounts, or retained in his portfolio to earn him a nice little income. Not that she’d been keeping tabs on him... She sighed. ‘Come here, Josh. Let’s do your nappy.’ But Josh was exploring, investigating the utterly decadent bathroom with its free-standing white-enamelled bateau bath, the vintage loo with ornate high level cistern and gleaming brass downpipe, the vintage china basin set on an old marble-topped washstand painted the same soft grey as the kitchen and the outside of the bath. There was a rack piled high with sumptuous, fluffy white towels, and expensive toiletries stood on the side of the washstand. Gorgeous. Utterly, utterly gorgeous. She eyed the bath longingly. Maybe later. ‘Come on, tinker. Let’s change you.’ But he ran off, giggling, and she had to chase him and catch him and pin him down, squirming like an eel and brimming with mischief. No wonder she didn’t need the gym! Even if she had time, which she didn’t. She hitched his trousers back up victoriously, mission accomplished, and grinned at him. ‘Right, let’s go back downstairs and have that tea, shall we?’ And see Sebastian again. She bit her lip. He was being polite but distant, and she told herself it was what she wanted. Well, of course it was. Except apparently her heart didn’t think so, and a tiny corner of it was disappointed that he hadn’t seemed pleased to see her. Well, what had she expected? She’d dumped him because he was too ambitious, too driven, too different from the boy she’d fallen in love with four years earlier, and he hadn’t even tried to understand how she’d felt. She obviously hadn’t been that important to him then, and she certainly wouldn’t be now, toting another man’s child. She rounded Josh up, took his hand and led him towards the stairs, but then he slipped out of her grasp and ran through a doorway. The doorway to the master bedroom, she realised, and her heart sank. ‘Josh? Come out. That’s not our room.’ Silence. Which left her no choice but to go in... She pushed the door open and looked around, and the first thing she saw was the bed, huge, beautiful, piled high with snowy white linen and taking her breath away. To be fair, it would have been hard to miss even in such a large room, but it dominated the space, leaping out of her fantasies and taunting her with its perfection, and she felt her cheeks burn. She dragged her eyes away from it and looked around. There was no sign of Josh—but the cupboard was there in the corner, the cupboard where she’d hidden, where Sebastian had found her and kissed her the first time. And there, in front of the fireplace, was where he’d spread the blanket covered in petals and— ‘Mummy, find me!’ She pressed a hand to her chest and sucked in a slow, steadying breath. What on earth was she doing? Why was she there? She shouldn’t be here, in this room, in this house, with this man! With her memories running riot— ‘Mummy!’ She let out her breath, drew it in again and pinned a smile on her face, because he could always tell if she was smiling. ‘Ready or not, here I come,’ she sang, and heard the words echo down the years, ringing in the empty corridors as she’d hidden in the cupboard and held back her innocent, girlish laughter. And then he’d kissed her and everything had changed... CHAPTER THREE THEY WERE TAKING AGES. Maybe she’d decided to unpack, or bath Josh, or perhaps she was lost. He gave a soft snort. As if. She knew the house like the back of her hand. More likely she was exploring, giving herself a guided tour. She’d always considered the house to be her own private property. The concept of trespass never seemed to occur to her. He went to look for her, taking the soft woollen throw he’d found for Josh’s bed, and saw his bedroom door standing wide open and voices coming from inside. ‘Josh, now! Come out from under there this minute or I’m going downstairs without you.’ Irritated, he walked in and was greeted yet again by that delectable bottom sticking up in the air. Was she doing it on purpose? He dragged his eyes off it. ‘Problems?’ he asked crisply. She jerked upright, her hand on her heart, and gave a little gasp. ‘Oh—you startled me. I’m so sorry. The door was open and he ran in here and he’s hiding under the middle of the bed and I can’t reach him.’ She sounded exasperated and embarrassed, and he gave her the benefit of the doubt. ‘Two-pronged attack?’ he suggested with a slightly strained smile, and went round to the other side of the bed and lay down. ‘Hello, Josh. Time to come out, little man.’ Josh shook his head and wriggled towards the other side, and then shrieked and giggled as his mother’s hand closed over his arm and tugged gently. ‘Come on, or you won’t have supper.’ ‘Want biscuits.’ Sebastian opened his mouth to offer them and caught the warning look she shot him under the bed, and winked. ‘No biscuits,’ he said firmly. ‘Not unless you come straight out and eat all your supper first.’ He was out in seconds, and Georgie scooped him up and plonked him firmly on her hip. She was smiling apologetically, her hair wildly tangled and out of control, those teeth catching her lip again, and he wanted her so much he could hardly breathe. The air was full of tension, and he wondered if she was remembering that he’d kissed her here for the first time. They’d been playing hide and seek, and she’d hidden in the cupboard beside the chimney breast. He’d found her easily, just followed the sound of her muted laughter and hauled the door open to find her there, hand over her mouth to hold in the giggles, eyes so like Josh’s brimming with mischief and something else, something much, much older than either of them, as old as time, and he’d followed her into the cupboard, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. ‘You kept the cupboard,’ she said, her eyes flicking to it briefly, and he knew she was remembering it. Remembering, too, when he’d spread a picnic blanket on the middle of the bedroom floor and scattered it with the petals of the wisteria that still grew outside the bedroom window and laid her gently down— ‘Yes. Well, it’s useful,’ he said gruffly, and dragged in some much-needed air. ‘I put the kettle on because your tea was cold. It’ll be boiling its head off.’ She seemed to draw herself back from the brink of something momentous, and her eyes flicked to his and away again, just as they had with the cupboard. ‘Yes. Yes, it will. Come on, Josh, let’s go and find you some supper.’ She spun on her heel and walked swiftly out, the sound of her footsteps barely audible on the soft, thick carpet, and he didn’t breathe until he heard her boot heels click hurriedly across the hall floor. Then he let the air out in a rush and sat down heavily on the edge of the huge four-poster bed his interior designer had sourced for him without consultation and which haunted him every time he came in here. He sucked in another breath, but her scent was in the air and he closed his eyes, his hands fisting in the soft woollen throw, and struggled with a tidal wave of need and want and lust. How was he going to survive this? The snow hadn’t let up at all, and the forecast was atrocious. With that vicious wind blowing the snow straight off the field and dumping it in the lane, there was no way they’d be out of here in days, Range Rover or not. Nothing but a snow plough could get past three foot drifts, and that’s what they’d been heading towards an hour ago. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/caroline-anderson/snowed-in-with-the-billionaire/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.