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The name escaped her in a whisper as she saw the man stretched out on the settee, so obviously deeply asleep that even her tentative ring at the doorbell hadn’t woken him. Peering through the glass, she could just make out the long-limbed masculine form, the strongly carved face, the dark hair dimly illuminated by the flickering light of the fire.
Her hand was already raised to rap on the glass when she changed her mind. She couldn’t just intrude on him like that, startling him awake. She could just imagine how he would feel, jolted from sleep to find the ‘wife’ he had thought he’d left well behind peering in at him.
But what could she do? As she pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets her fingers touched the cold hardness of metal. The keys that Davey had given her.
‘Ronan told me to use his house as my own,’ her brother had told her. ‘That’s why he gave me his keys. Take them with you; you never know, they might come in handy.’
Her heart racing fearfully, Lily hurried back to the front of the house and inserted the key in the lock. Turning it cautiously, so as to make as little sound as possible, she opened the door and crept into the large hallway.
She was barely inside before every one of her senses went on red alert. Something was wrong, very wrong; instinctively she sensed it.
Glancing round nervously, she sniffed the air like a nervous cat. Burning! All the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted in panic. Something was burning close at hand.
Moving swiftly, she crossed to the door she believed led to the room she had seen from outside and pushed it open. The smell was worse now, and drifts of smoke were already clouding the room. As she froze in horror the fire spat again, and a second glowing coal landed on the rug beside the first, flaring into flame as it caught the edge of a discarded newspaper.
The flames licked greedily at the paper, growing brighter, moving steadily, creeping towards…
‘Ronan!’
With a cry she launched herself forward, grabbing a cushion as she went. Frantically she beat at the flames with her improvised extinguisher, heedless of the way they curled up around its edges, catching her hands. She didn’t stop until she was sure that they were all out, continuing long after the last one had finally died.
On the settee, Ronan moved restlessly, disturbed by the noise. Heavy eyelids flickered open and he stared in disbelief at the scene before him.
Lily, here? No, it couldn’t be true. He had to be still asleep and dreaming, as he so often did, that she had come back into his life. But he always woke to find that once more his imagination had been playing cruel tricks on him. As it was doing now.
Blinking hard, he focused again, and found that the blonde-haired woman was still there.
‘What…? Lily?’
From behind her Lily heard Ronan’s voice. He sounded dazed, confused, and still only half-awake.
‘Lily…for God’s sake, Lily, it’s out!’
Firm hands closed over her arms, stilling their panicked movements.
‘It’s out!’ he repeated more emphatically, the phrase laced with undertones she couldn’t begin to interpret.
‘Oh—yes…’
Her own voice came and went like a badly tuned radio, finally failing her completely as he hauled her to her feet and held her close just for a moment.
But she was released almost immediately, Ronan leaving her side to cross the room. The light was switched on, and when he turned to face her she was shocked by the change in his appearance.
Dressed in a black sweatshirt and jeans, he had obviously lost weight, and there were deep shadows under the blue eyes. He looked haggard and drawn, as if from loss of sleep. His evident exhaustion was clearly the reason why he hadn’t sensed the fire before she had.
Was it possible that she was the cause of this? Had Davey been right when he had told her that he thought Ronan was missing her?
‘God, Lily, your hands!’
Ronan’s shocked exclamation had her looking down, staring in blank incomprehension at the red marks on her palms and wrists.
‘You’re hurt! You must have burned yourself.’
‘I—I hadn’t realised.’
It was true. She hadn’t felt any pain, or even thought about herself. Her only concern had been to save Ronan.
‘You—’ Ronan broke off sharply, swallowing down what he had been about to say. ‘Let me look.’
Lifting her hands, he touched the injured palms with gentle fingers, his strong-featured face absorbed.
‘This one needs a dressing on it. Come into the kitchen. There’s a first-aid kit in there.’
Lily followed obediently, submitting to his ministrations in silence. She wouldn’t have been able to speak if she’d tried. His concern, his care was almost too much for her to bear.
‘I’m not sure that I shouldn’t take you to the hospital.’ Ronan had caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes and mistaken the reason for them. ‘Are you in a lot of pain?’
Compared with the emotional distress she felt, any physical discomfort was negligible, but she couldn’t tell him that. Not when in spite of the concern and attention he had shown her he had spoken no word of affection, revealed no sign of being glad that she was there.
‘No, there’s no need for that, really.’
Besides, how could she say the things she’d come here to tell him in the impersonal, clinical surroundings of a hospital accident unit?
‘This will be fine, honest.’ She brandished her hand to display the bandage he’d applied.
But the careful bravado of the gesture was ruined when a sudden wave of dizziness assailed her, making her sway on her feet and press her fingers against her temples.
‘Lily…’
His hands went out to her, but she pulled away sharply. The urge to sink into his embrace, to surrender completely to the need to be held was almost overwhelming but she couldn’t give in to it. Ronan was kind and attentive, but that was all. He would do the same for anyone who was hurt. It wasn’t evidence of any stronger feeling for her alone.
‘It’s just a reaction. If I could sit down…’
‘Of course.’
He led her back into the sitting-room, which Lily now saw was decorated in shades of rust and cream, and settled her on the terracotta-coloured settee.
‘If the fire bothers you, I could…’
‘No,’ she reassured him hastily. ‘It’s fine.’
And it was. The flames leaping in the grate no longer troubled her. She had faced her fear of fire and overcome it; if only she could do the same where Ronan was concerned. But there she had so much to lose that she didn’t dare take the risk of tackling it head-on.
Ronan came to sit in the chair opposite her, leaning towards her, his arms resting on his knees. His eyes were dark and intent as they fixed on her face.
‘Lily, just why are you here? What brought you to London?’
Frantically Lily hunted for some sort of answer that wouldn’t give too much away.
‘It’s about this marriage of ours,’ she managed at last. ‘We can’t go on this way any longer.’
‘I see.’
Ronan sat back abruptly, feeling as if something had struck him hard. He could feel the blood draining from his face, taking with it every trace of the hope he had foolishly allowed himself to let into his mind.
Holding back on the divorce had been his final gamble. He had let himself believe that if he dragged his feet on that, if he delayed putting it in the hands of his solicitors, then Lily might just reconsider. She might come round to forgiving him for the appalling things he’d done and be prepared to give him a chance to make their parody of a marriage into a real one.
But it had been a long shot, and it seemed that it had failed.
‘Of course.’ His voice was low and flat, no emotion in it. ‘I wondered when this would happen. Who is he?’
‘Who is who?’ Lily couldn’t follow his logic.
‘The other guy. The one you want to be with. I take it you’ve come to find out why I’ve been so slow about arranging the divorce.’
‘I’ve come about no such thing!’ The words escaped her before she had a chance to consider whether they were wise. She only knew that she couldn’t let Ronan believe there was any other man in her life.
Something raw and unconcealed flared in his eyes.
‘Then why are you here?’
The moment had come, but at the thought of actually revealing what was in her heart panic, sharp and searing, raced through her veins. From being shiveringly cold she was now burning hot, in a way that was not just the effect of the fire.
With a shaking hand she brushed the beads of sweat from her forehead, then wished she hadn’t as she saw Ronan’s vigilant gaze follow the slight movement.
‘Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable if you took off your coat?’
Lily knew she had no choice but to do as he suggested. To refuse would only be to alert his suspicions, make him wonder just what she had to conceal.
Drawing a deep breath, she stood up slowly and slipped off the navy raincoat that had concealed her shape until now.
He saw the change in her at once. Far more quickly than Davey had done. But then he was much more intimately acquainted with her body than her brother had ever been. And only now did she realise how the rose-coloured floral print of her dress matched exactly the shade of the silk shift she had worn on that momentous night when he had taken her to the club in Leeds. The night when she believed their child had been conceived.
