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‘I will buy her a basket out of my own money, Papà, and she can sleep in my room. She’ll be good; I know she will.’
‘I said we will discuss it tomorrow. For now, sleep, yes?’ Slade’s voice was very firm and after opening his mouth to argue Francesco caught his father’s eye and sank back down under the covers, but the big brown eyes continued to beseech his father until Slade closed the door of the bedroom after Daisy had switched on the mushroom night light.
Once on the hushed landing Slade turned to her, and there was something in his face which stilled the light comment Daisy had been about to make to dismiss the more embarrassing connotations of Francesco’s conversation with his father.
‘I should have told you as soon as I got home this afternoon,’ he said without any prevarication, ‘Your ex-husband appeared at the hospital this week and caused quite a scene when they refused to inform him of your whereabouts. I understand you had left orders to that effect?’
Daisy’s stomach clenched. She looked away, the blood draining from her face and her soft mouth tightening. ‘Yes, I did,’ she said shortly. This was what she had been dreading for weeks.
‘Somehow he had got hold of my name,’ Slade continued evenly, and then, as her eyes shot to meet his, he a
dded slowly, ‘Yes, he came to see me,’ in answer to the unspoken question in her horrified face. ‘Again he learnt nothing beyond that it was my car which knocked you down, and this he knew anyway.’
‘He… You didn’t—’ Daisy paused, her heart hammering as she struggled for control. ‘There wasn’t any unpleasantness?’ she managed shakily.
‘Not at all.’ Slade didn’t add that he had disliked the other man on sight and with an intensity which had surprised him. Ronald McTavish had been charming—too charming, his manners too polished and slick and his handsome face suspiciously sincere. And this was the guy who had broken her heart. Did she still love him? His senses recoiled from the possibility. But women always had the crazy notion that they could reform the real swines, didn’t they?
‘And he doesn’t know I’m living with you?’ And then she flushed a livid scarlet as she realised how she’d phrased it.
‘No, he doesn’t.’ This was the first time she had talked about her husband and he wanted to know more. ‘After your instructions to the hospital staff I assumed you’d want it that way?’ he questioned with careful flatness. And then he said, when Daisy nodded, ‘He stated the divorce was a mistake, that the solicitors had engineered things to fly away out of control.’
‘No, they didn’t.’ Her heartbeat was in her throat and she could scarcely breathe. ‘I wanted the divorce.’
Slade could feel her tension; it was a live thing, hot and claustrophobic, and he sensed there was much, much more she wasn’t saying. Had he beaten her along with the womanising? Was that it? Or maybe he was some sort of pervert? Sex could be a terrible weapon in the wrong hands. His careful investigations had shown that Ronald McTavish played around—constantly—but nothing much beyond that. But there were some things too intimate for general knowledge. He felt the possibility twist his insides.
‘He seems to think there’s a chance you will return to him, Daisy.’ He kept his voice steady and even, but it surprised him how much he wanted to hear her answer.
Again it was succinct. ‘I won’t.’
She wouldn’t. Hell, was that it? Along with his curiosity and concern he recognised a thread of anger and it irritated him. He took a hard deep breath and deliberately gentled his voice. ‘This is good,’ he said quietly. ‘You are worth far more than this man.’
She was worth far more than Ronald? How right he was, Daisy thought bitterly. ‘I know that.’ Her voice was harsh and not at all like herself and it shocked them both.
‘What is it?’ He had moved closer as she had spoken and now he took her arms in his hands, the warmth of her soft fragrance teasing his nostrils and causing his muscles to clench.
‘Don’t.’ She tried unsuccessfully to draw away but he seemed oblivious to the movement and she didn’t like to force the issue. He might think she thought he was making a move on her and she knew it wasn’t like that. She had made a fool of herself before on this issue with Slade Eastwood and once bitten, twice shy.
‘What is it, Daisy? What did he do to make you fear him so badly?’ Slade asked softly.
‘I’m not frightened of him,’ she said tightly. And she wasn’t frightened of Ronald, not really. It was more herself. She just didn’t know how she would react if she ever saw his face again. For a time after Jenny’s death she had wanted to kill him; she had actually wondered how she could accomplish it and that had been terrifying. That stage had passed, along with the sleepless nights when she had walked the bedroom and wondered how people could endure such agony and remain sane, but she still didn’t know how she would react if she looked into that handsome, lying face again. One thing she did know—she loathed him more than she had dreamt possible.
‘Has he threatened to hurt you? Is that it?’
‘No.’ Why did he keep questioning her like this? she thought feverishly. And he was too close, much too close. She could feel his strength and warmth through the hands on her arms and it was making her shiver. ‘It’s over and I don’t want to see him, that’s all; there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’
‘Of course not.’ His voice was soothing now and perversely it added to her turmoil. He was being kind, she knew that, and he probably felt sorry for her. He was a man who was clearly used to women; he knew how to draw them out and that was dangerous. She couldn’t talk to him about Jenny; she hadn’t talked to anyone—even Stephanie or her mother—about Jenny; she just couldn’t.
She should never have come to this house, she should never have agreed to work for Slade Eastwood and get involved with Francesco. This was not going to help her; it was making everything ten times worse.
‘You need a break from routine and I know just the thing.’ Slade smiled, a sexy easy smile, as he let got of her arms and stepped back a pace, his dark head slightly tilted as he looked into her white face. He didn’t betray by so much as the flicker of an eyelash that he sensed she was at the end of her tether. ‘There’s a concert in the town tonight and I just happen to have tickets,’ he said nonchalantly.
‘You mean go with you, just the two of us?’ Daisy asked hesitantly, wondering how best to refuse.
He smiled again, but this time it was cool. ‘Would that be so terrible?’ he asked evenly, before adding, before she could speak, ‘I meant in a group actually. A friend of mine is in the orchestra and is having a small party afterwards.’
‘Oh, in that case I wouldn’t want to intrude—’
‘You won’t be intruding, Daisy; you will be with me.’ His tone made it clear he wasn’t going to take no for an answer—not that she really wanted to refuse, she realised suddenly. An evening out on the town with a group of people all determined to enjoy themselves was immensely appealing. And that was all that was appealing, she told herself firmly. She would be feeling just as excited if she were being accompanied by Mario and Isabella!
