A Little Revenge Omnibus (23 page)

CHAPTER SIX

T
UCKING
THE
NEWSPAPERS
he had just bought under his arm, Ward quickened his step as he hurried back to his car. It had taken him rather longer than he had planned to check out of the hotel and make his way back to Anna’s home. He only hoped that the paper he had bought for her would be to her taste. It had seemed a fairly safe bet; his mother read it.

He had almost reached his car when his attention was caught by the display of fresh flowers at a small outdoor stall.

Ward hesitated, looked at the blooms, turned away and made to walk past, but then changed his mind and turned to walk in the direction of the stall.

The friendly young woman who had served him was certainly a persuasive salesperson, he acknowledged ruefully ten minutes later as he opened the boot of his car to place the newspapers and the bouquet of flowers he had just bought in it.

He had no idea what Anna’s taste in flowers was but there was no denying that the artistically arranged assortment of soft cream blooms spiked with dark green foliage and varying shades of lilac to deepest purple, both looked and smelled attractive.

It was only when he was in the car and on his way back to Anna’s home that he thought to question just what he was doing buying a bouquet of flowers for a woman whom he claimed to dislike and despise.

He had bought them because it was the sort of gesture she would probably expect, he told himself defensively. That was all. There was no more personal meaning behind the gesture. After all, it wasn’t as though he had bought her red roses, was it? His actions certainly hadn’t been inspired by any kind of tender feelings for her. That was impossible. Wasn’t it? The very thought that he might be guilty of such uncharacteristic behaviour made Ward scowl darkly.

He was still scowling five minutes later when, having retrieved everything from the boot of his car, he walked up to Anna’s front door and rang the bell.

Anna had used Ward’s absence to good effect; she had had a shower, dressed in a pair of soft chambray trousers and a comfortable white shirt and then she had gone downstairs and started to prepare their breakfast.

When she opened the front door to him, the first thing that Ward could smell was the appetisingly rich aroma of freshly ground coffee; the second, as she leaned forward to take the flowers he was handing her, was Anna’s perfume.

It must be because he was hungry that he had experienced that peculiar heart-stopping moment of dizziness, Ward decided as he closed the front door behind himself.

‘Flowers. Oh, Ward, they’re so beautiful,’ Anna breathed ecstatically. ‘And you chose my favourites... Oh, Ward...’ Her eyes were bright with happy tears as Anna looked up at him. ‘I was just thinking again when you were gone how very, very lucky I am.’

Ward closed his eyes and turned away from her so that she wouldn’t see his expression. By rights he ought to feel pleased that she was exposing her emotions to him like this; that she was putting herself in his power, in a position where, ultimately, he would have the ability to humiliate her. But for some reason what he did feel was a confusing mixture of anger and pain—anger because she was so recklessly and foolishly leaving herself unprotected and at his mercy, and pain...

Ward had no idea why he should feel pain and, what was more, he didn’t want to know.

‘You could have used your key, you know,’ Anna was telling him conversationally as she led the way back to the kitchen.

His key!

Ward opened his mouth to tell her that he didn’t possess a key to her house and then closed it again.

‘You’ve got time to go up and have a shave before breakfast,’ Anna told him, pausing before saying ruefully, ‘I didn’t know...what you’d like, but I have to confess there isn’t much choice. I must have planned to go shopping yesterday, I think.’

Anna had been dismayed to discover how little there was in her fridge to satisfy the appetite of a man the size of Ward. Somehow, even without the benefit of her memory, she doubted that he would be happy to eat the simple breakfast of bio yoghurt and raw fruit which she knew instinctively she preferred. There was wholemeal bread and eggs and, to her relief, she had found some smoked salmon in her freezer along with a leg of lamb. They could have the lamb for lunch and then tomorrow she would shop for proper man-filling food. Odd. What an odd thing memory was; she knew, for instance, exactly where the shops were and how to cook, but she had no idea of Ward’s culinary tastes.

‘I’ll have whatever’s going,’ Ward told her almost brusquely. At home he lived and ate simply. He could cook, when he had to, but eating solitary meals did not encourage him to spend time in the kitchen preparing them so he normally relied on ready-prepared supermarket ones or ate out.

Whilst he was upstairs, Anna arranged her flowers, humming happily to herself. They really were beautiful, her favourite colours, and she quickly coaxed them into a lovely soft, relaxed display.

Upstairs in the bedroom they had shared the previous night, Ward deliberately ignored the now neatly remade bed. He still couldn’t understand how he had come to behave in the way he had.

To simply say that the opportunity she had presented had been too much of a temptation for him to resist was too simplistic and just didn’t lie easily on his conscience. He had always been so controlled, so in control of himself and his desires. From both his mother and his stepfather he had learned the value of respecting both himself and others. Casual sex, once he had been past the experimental eagerness of his extreme youth, had simply never been something which held any appeal for him.

He swallowed hard as he made his way to the bathroom with his razor. Even now, just thinking about last night made him feel...made him want... Ward clenched his jaw. Well, what he wanted he certainly could not have, he informed himself sternly. Last night had been a mistake which wasn’t going to be repeated tonight.

But Anna thought that they were lovers and she would expect them to share a bed, he reminded himself.

Maybe, but that didn’t mean that he had to touch her, did it? It didn’t mean that he had to stroke her silky skin or kiss her soft mouth; it didn’t mean he had to...

Hell!

Why on earth had he started to think about that—about her? It had been an accident, an error of judgement, something that should never have happened and most certainly would never ever happen again.

* * *

‘I
HOPE
YOU
like smoked salmon and scrambled eggs,’ Anna told Ward ruefully as he came into the kitchen. He looked so handsome, all freshly shaved and smelling subtly of something tangy and slightly citrusy. She was glad he wasn’t the kind of man to wear a heavy, ostentatious aftershave, but even though he looked and smelled good now there had been something very special and erotic, something deeply personal and intimate about the way he had smelled—and tasted—last night.

Anna blushed a little as she realised where her thoughts were taking her—and why.

Heavens, if Ward were to suggest that they forget about breakfast and feast off one another instead, she knew she would be very easily persuaded to agree. The way she had behaved last night was totally outside her own experience of herself, and she had to confess that once she had got over the shock of her physical desire for Ward she had positively enjoyed the liberating experience of exploring her own sensuality.

Smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. Ward’s eyes lit up and his mouth started to water; it was one of his favourite breakfast dishes.

‘Wonderful,’ he told Anna warmly, unable to take his eyes off her face as he saw the pretty way she started to blush. Surely this wasn’t how a woman of her type should behave, blushing just because he had shown approval of her choice of breakfast?

Anna could have told him that it wasn’t so much that that was making her skin colour up so rosily as the fact that she felt so euphorically happy, so sensually sensitive and aware that she was very tempted to ignore the habit of a lifetime and take the initiative by suggesting boldly to him that they take their breakfast back to bed.

Instead, she told him a little breathlessly, ‘I...er...found a bottle of champagne. It’s in the fridge. If you could open it we could have Buck’s Fizz...’

Champagne!

Ward’s eyebrows rose.

‘It...I...’

What was his voice implying? Anna wondered. That she was being extravagant, both emotionally and financially, going over the top, perhaps? It was so frustrating not being able to rely on her knowledge of him, her previous experience with him, to judge what his reactions meant or what his views were.

‘It doesn’t matter if you’d rather not,’ she began hesitantly, and then changed her mind. Honesty was a vital component of any relationship so far as she was concerned, even if sometimes it had to be softened a little with tact.

Her head held high, she told Ward, ‘I wanted to make this special. Memorable.’ Her face flushed rosily again as she added truthfully, ‘You made last night so very special for me. I may not be able to recall the memories, the special times we’ve already had together, Ward, but at least I can make sure that the new ones we’re creating now are good ones. For me, this morning will be a first celebration of our love for one another and our relationship. Although perhaps the champagne is a little excessive...’

She paused and gave him a wry smile. ‘If you’d rather not...’

For a moment Ward was too caught off guard to speak. The words she had used, the emotions she had just expressed, had made him shockingly, shamingly aware of just what he had done.

But she wasn’t really the person she now appeared to be, he reassured himself fiercely. In reality the words she was saying to him meant nothing; the emotions she had expressed just did not exist, could not exist in the woman he knew her to be. But how could she possibly manufacture such a very different personality from her own? Ward had to admit that he didn’t know and that perhaps he should have questioned the hospital consultant a little more thoroughly.

By rights he knew full well that the last thing he should be doing was toasting a relationship, a love that simply did not exist with Buck’s Fizz, whilst eating à deux with a woman who was completely unaware of the real situation between them, but as he looked into Anna’s eager, happy face Ward knew that there was no way he could disappoint her.

* * *

T
HEY
ATE
THEIR
breakfast in Anna’s sunny conservatory, with Missie curled up in her basket and the cat, Whittaker, basking in a pool of sunlight.

‘I’ll help you clear up,’ Ward offered when they had finished. Smiling at him, Anna got up. She had put his flowers on a small side table and as she caught sight of them her smile deepened. Instead of starting to clear the table she walked to Ward’s side and leaned over him, one hand on his shoulder, the other very gently, hesitantly almost, touching his face as she bent her head to kiss him.

‘Thank you again for my beautiful flowers,’ she told him softly.

It wasn’t a passionate or intimate kiss, just the soft brush of her mouth against his—nothing really, Ward would tell himself angrily later, and certainly no reason for him to reach out and slide his arms around her body, pulling her onto his knee, his mouth fastening hungrily over hers, one arm cradling her against his body whilst he lifted his free hand to slide it behind her head so that he could hold the nape of her neck as his mouth fed greedily on hers.

Anna almost felt as though she would swoon with delight.

When she had made that abrupt decision to kiss Ward she had hoped, of course, that he would respond, reciprocate, but the intensity of his response had exceeded even the most adventurous of her hopes. She forgot that she was thirty-seven years old, that she was a woman whose desires were far more cerebral than physical. Her mouth opened beneath Ward’s, her tongue twining sensuously with his. Beneath the hand she had originally placed against his chest to steady herself she could feel the suddenly accelerated thud of his heartbeat. The still warm air of the conservatory was filled with the sound of their breathing and the soft, frantic endearments Anna was whispering to Ward against his mouth.

Already her body was starting to ache with need for him, all the wild, sweet, wanton feelings she had experienced with him before rushing back over her.

The soft weight of her body pressing against him combined with the responsive murmur of her voice as she responded to his kiss was too much for Ward’s precarious self-control. His mind might deplore what he was doing, but his body was working on a very different agenda.

His hand shook as he unfastened the buttons of Anna’s shirt and then slipped it off her shoulder so that he could kiss the fragrant warmth of her skin. A tiny rash of goose bumps betrayed her responsive reaction to him and through the sheer transparency of her ivory-coloured bra he could see the dark burgeoning of her nipples.

Now it was his turn to vocalise his desire, and Anna shivered deliciously beneath the warm gust of his breath against her breast as he whispered her name.

As Ward bent his head down towards her, a shaft of sunlight touched the exposed nape of his neck, burnishing his thick dark hair, highlighting not just his masculinity but also an unbearably poignant vulnerability which touched Anna’s emotions so intensely that her eyes filled with tears.

Very gently she stroked his exposed nape, almost as a mother might a child. Mother and child—immediately the images her thoughts conjured up sent a shocking surge of emotion right through her body. What had Ward been like as a child? What would it be like to have his child?

Ward’s mouth nudged aside the fabric of her bra, his tonguetip circling urgently around her nipple. Anna shuddered wildly as her body reacted compulsively to his touch, all thoughts of anything other than what was happening between them forgotten. Ward’s mouth covered her nipple, hot, wet, tugging urgently on her eager flesh.

Anna’s dining chairs, charming though they were, had not been designed for the use they were currently putting them to and, although she had impatiently tugged Ward’s shirt free of his trousers, right now Anna needed far more intimate contact with his body than their present situation allowed.