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Beth shook her head impatiently, ignoring the sudden pain in her side. Her heart was hurting too much to let a little thing like a stitch bother her. Zanna was here again—the thing she had dreaded had actually happened.
As lovely as ever, as vibrantly alive and charismatic as always—would Charles be able to resist her?
She closed her eyes briefly as Zanna began to walk around the back of the car and when she opened them again she was standing directly in front of her, running long, scarlet-tipped fingers through the tumbling riot of her red-gold hair.
There was no sign of Harry. Beth wasn't going to ask where the little boy was. And all she could say, thinly, was, 'Heathrow? You flew over from France?' Surely Charles didn't know about this. Surely he didn't? He would be as dismayed and annoyed as she was herself—of course he would, she told herself forcefully.
'Spain, actually. We've been in Spain for the last few months.' Zanna twisted round, inspecting the seams of her stockings, twitching at the pencil-slim skirt of the obviously designer-made suit she was wearing. And Beth wondered if she'd left the little boy behind, in the care of some Spanish child-minder while she obeyed the waywardly irresponsible impulse to fly over and see Charles again, boost her already over-inflated ego by proving, yet again, that he was hers for the asking…
But he wasn't! she screamed silently inside her head. He'd been obsessed by Zanna—everyone knew that—willing, at one time, to throw out his wife for her sake. But he was too strong-minded, too sensible, to allow himself to be put through that kind of hell all over again. Of course he was!
So when Zanna gave a theatrical shudder and said, 'I'm too exotic for the English climate; hop in, I'll give you a lift back to the house,' Beth was able to give her a cold, hard stare and refuse.
'I'd rather walk. Why are you here?' As if she couldn't guess, she scorned, her soft mouth twisting, and Zanna returned her glare, her lovely head tipped on one side as she came right back.
'God, but you're a frigid bitch. No wonder Charles—anyway…' She shrugged, obviously thinking better of whatever it was she had been going to say, which, Beth reflected bitterly, didn't need spelling out, did it? 'Look at me as if I'm poison if you want to—just as you did back in June—you'll find out why I'm here soon enough.' She turned to flounce back to the car but stopped as the Range Rover Charles was driving braked to a halt as he rounded the bend.
'Charles—darling!' Zanna, her arms outstretched, ran towards the parked vehicle and Beth went icy cold, clutching her coat collar tightly around her throat, the race of her heartbeats threatening to choke her. Everything hinged on his reaction, the way he greeted the woman who had twice walked out of his life, leaving him devastated.
She saw him leave the car, heard the slam of the door as he closed it behind him, saw the brief interrogatory glance he shafted in her direction, the slight shrug of those impressively broad shoulders, covered in impeccable tweed, and then his austere features were irradiated by a smile of sheer pleasure as he held out his own arms and caught the flying, green-suited figure, pulling her into the hard curve of his body.
Jealousy knifed wickedly through Beth's veins. She couldn't stand here on the sidelines, overlooked, one moment longer. She couldn't watch, but she couldn't help hearing Zanna's shriek of delight, her breathless, 'Darling—I've come back! Isn't it wonderful? Kiss me, do!'
It was unbelievable, incredible, and yet it was happening all over again. Zanna only had to pu
t in an appearance to have the so adult, so controlled Charles Savage acting like a besotted schoolboy. Beth couldn't cope with it and, fighting back a tide of nausea, forced her trembling legs to carry her back to the house.
The moment—the very moment—she got him on his own she would give him a huge chunk of her mind! And then walk out. No court in the land would give custody to a man who could behave as he did!
Reaching the hall, she closed the main door behind her and ground her small teeth together in temper. Anger was the only way to stop herself bursting into broken-hearted tears. All her foolish hopes for the future had been ground into the dust because Zanna Hall had chosen to flick an eyelash in his direction!
So much for last night's gentle interlude. The other woman only had to give him that gorgeous smile and he conveniently forgot everything else—his wife, his responsibilities, his marriage vows!
Stamping towards the stairs, she made it halfway up before she bent double, gasping in pain. And below her, Mrs Penny, with an armful of freshly ironed sheets, called anxiously,
'What is it? Are you all right?'
'Oh, fine,' Beth answered, catching her breath. She sat down on the stairs. 'I think the baby's on its way.'
'Not to panic' Mrs Penny put the bundle of sheets on a side-table. 'Better early than overdue. Where's that husband of yours?'
'I haven't the least idea.' The outright lie was better than having to admit that he was still devouring the love of his life in the middle of the drive! She was through with him. Through! Rage was the only salvation she could look for.
'Typical,' Mrs Penny muttered, hurrying up the stairs towards her. 'When you need them they're missing. When you don't they're crawling all over you, getting underfoot. Come on.' A helping arm heaved Beth to her feet. 'Phone your dad, he'll get you to the hospital. And I'll pop up and fetch your bag. Not to worry.'
Giving birth was the least of her worries, Beth thought sourly as she picked up the phone while the housekeeper rushed upstairs to fetch the bag Beth had packed a week ago. She would rather her father drove her. She didn't want Charles anywhere near her because she would only bawl him out, rip him to shreds with her tongue. And that wouldn't do her blood-pressure much good.
She began to punch numbers but hadn't got beyond the first two when a second contraction, much stronger than the first, had her dropping everything in sheer amazement.
And, of course, it was Charles who drove her. He had walked into the hall, one arm casually draped around Zanna's shoulders, and had sized up the situation immediately.
Putting the dangling receiver back on its rest, he'd taken the bag from the panting Mrs Penny and ushered her out of the door, lifting her into the passenger-seat of the Range Rover, which was parked at the front, right beside Zanna's showy sports job.
'You can drive me, because it will be quicker,' Beth told him, tight-lipped, as he swung in beside her, firing the ignition. 'But after that I don't want you near me.' She wiped the beads of perspiration from her upper lip with the back of her hand, meeting his narrowed, sideways glare defiantly. 'I wouldn't want the responsibility of keeping you from your little playmate. I'm sure she's got lots of lovely games for you to enjoy while I'm out of the way!'
'And what the hell is that supposed to mean?' His hands were tight on the wheel as they shot out of the main gates and on to the narrow country road, and his voice was a threat. But Beth had other things to think of right now and she tossed back exasperatedly,
'You know what it means! I overheard you talking, remember?' She winced, holding on to the edges of her seat as they flew over a hump-backed bridge. Perspiration dewed her small pale face all over again, but it had nothing to do with the speed. He was driving fast, but it was a controlled speed. He knew these roads like the back of his hand and wasn't taking any risks. And when she'd regained her breath she castigated, 'When she brought your son to meet you, back in June, you'd have divorced me like a shot to marry her. I only agreed to come back to you because I was pregnant—'
