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Willow continued to give herself a stern talking-to until she left the cloakroom a few minutes later, by which time she was in control of herself once more. Feeling slightly silly at the way she’d panicked and left the table, admittedly—but reason had reasserted itself and she was confident Morgan hadn’t assumed she was inviting herself into his bed. She was out of practice at conversing over dinner with a member of the opposite sex, that was the trouble, she told herself ruefully as she retraced her steps. Despite offers, since Piers she hadn’t dated.
When she entered the dining room Morgan was sitting where she’d left him, staring broodingly into his wineglass. For a second she studied his face, noticing the strength in the square-boned jaw, the cleanly sculpted mouth and straight nose.
His attractiveness went far beyond looks, she thought with a sudden jolt to her equilibrium. In spite of being a very masculine male, there was nothing bullish or brutal about him. It would be easier to dismiss him from her mind if there were.
Morgan looked up, the brilliant blue eyes unreadable. ‘Did I offend you just now? And please be honest, Willow.’
‘What?’ Completely taken aback, she stopped in her tracks before recovering and taking her seat at the table as she said, ‘No, of course not. You didn’t, really.’
‘Upset you, then? And again, be honest.’
She stared at him. He clearly didn’t believe in pushing awkward issues under the carpet. She was about to make a dismissive reply and change the subject when she saw there was real concern in the hard face. She hesitated, colour creeping up her cheeks, and then said in a rush, ‘You didn’t offend or upset me, Morgan, I promise you. It’s just that—’ she took a deep breath ‘—I don’t normally wear my heart on my sleeve.’
He nodded slowly, his voice soft when he said, ‘Is it still painful to talk about?’
He had refilled her wineglass while she’d been in the cloakroom and she took a long sip to gain some time. She wanted to say she didn’t wish to discuss this any further so it was with something akin to surprise she heard herself say, ‘I don’t love him any more if that’s what you mean.’
He took the wind out of her sails for the second time in as many minutes when he said quietly, ‘I don’t know what I mean, to be truthful. I hadn’t imagined…’ He shook his head at himself. ‘I guess because you look so young I hadn’t considered something like marriage. Nothing so serious or…permanent.’
Tonelessly, she said, ‘I met Piers six years ago and we married eight months later. I—I was very unhappy.’ She stared into the wineglass, swirling the ruby-red liquid as she spoke. ‘He wasn’t who I thought he was before we married. I knew I’d made a terrible mistake within the first few months but—’ she shrugged ‘—I thought I could make it work if I tried. I was wrong. Something happened—’ a few drops of wine escaped the glass, staining the linen tablecloth like blood ‘—and I left. We’re now legally divorced. End of story.’ She raised her eyes, her smile brittle. ‘Just one of many said little tales happening up and down the country.’
‘Perhaps. But this is your tale and marriage.’
‘Was.’ As she spoke Kitty bustled in with the main course, and Willow had never been so glad of an interruption in all her life. ‘Something smells wonderful,’ she said brightly.
‘Steak with red-wine butter,’ said Kitty cheerfully. ‘You don’t go in for all that slimming carry-on, do you?’
‘Not me.’ She had lost so much weight in the aftermath of the break-up with Piers she’d fought for months to gain weight, not lose it, having gone down to skin and bone—as Beth had put it. She’d never been voluptuous but she liked her curves.
‘Good. Can’t abide lettuce eaters. There’s toffee-ripple cheesecake with fudge sauce for dessert. It’s quite rich so you won’t manage much but it’s one of Morgan’s favourites.’
‘All your desserts are my favourites, Kitty.’
Kitty gave a rich chuckle. ‘Go on with you.’ But she was red with pleasure as she left them.
Willow looked at him. She was beginning to realise Morgan was more complex than she’d initially thought. She’d felt comfortable putting him down as a wealthy bachelor with a different girlfriend for each day of the week and a jumbo ego the size of a small mountain. The first part was probably still true, but he didn’t act like a man who had an inflated opinion of himself. He was obviously intelligent and determined—no one got to where he had without possessing such qualities along with a healthy dose of tenacity and intuitiveness—but he wasn’t brash or conceited. And the way he was with Kitty was lovely.
