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‘So tell me about outdoor teaching.’
Her shoulders lifted in a fractional shrug and she began by hoping to bore him but then, despite herself, warming to the subject until she heard herself talking about key-stage attainment and came to an abrupt halt. There was boring and then there was being an anorak.
‘So you’re basically telling me that kids are more engaged when learning outdoors?’
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t come across the sceptical response before, and was usually tolerant of it, but in this instance her chin came up. ‘Quite definitely,’ she said confidently. ‘Learning through direct experience gives a greater understanding and research shows it raises academic attainment and—’
‘It’s fun,’ he cut in with a quirky smile that made her heart flip. He thrust one hand in the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a vibrating phone. Silencing the low purr, he replaced it without even glancing at the screen. ‘Relax.’
Gwen almost laughed at the advice, and so would he if he knew about Ellie. No, he probably wouldn’t be laughing at all, but what he would be doing remained something of a question mark, and she was quite happy for it to remain that way.
‘I’m all for anything that doesn’t involve falling asleep in a stuffy classroom, although it might be tough to do in a city. But here—’ his glance took in the parkland that surrounded the school buildings ‘—you have the advantage in that you don’t have to go far to find a green space.’
‘It’s very lovely,’ she agreed gravely. Who would have known when she got up this morning that in just a few short hours she’d be discussing the countryside with the father of her child? How long would it be before they got onto the topic of the weather?
‘But not a cheap place to set up home?’ he asked, clearly digging for information on what job her so-called husband did.
‘We live in a cottage in the grounds.’ Now, if he chose to assume that theweshe referred to was a husband, that was his business. She hadn’t lied; not that she wouldn’t if she had to in order to protect Ellie. The problem was she wasn’t very good at it. For once she was thoroughly glad of the outdated tradition in the school—so far unchallenged—which meant that every female teacher, regardless of her marital status, was referred to asMrs.
The muscles along Rio’s jaw clenched and he had a sour taste in his mouth as her words conjured an image of bucolic domesticity. He had never craved for domesticity, bucolic or otherwise.
Being bound to your soul mate for life might be some people’s dream, but it definitely wasn’t his. Leaving aside the fact that soul mates occupied the same space in his brain as unicorns, to him the marriage contract was not a cause for celebration and certainly not one he ever planned to put his name to.
He was ready to concede that it was possible notallmarriages were toxic—perhaps even his parents’ marriage had had a honeymoon period—but why take the chance? He’d often been called a risk-taker in business, but his risks were calculated and based more on facts than speculation. Marriage was just a risk too far for him.
The sound of a child crying behind him provided a distracting respite from his thoughts, but, respite or not, the wail had a nerve-shredding intensity and brought an expression of pained irritation to his face. However, the irritation turned to speculation when he saw the expression on Gwen’s face. She was frozen with fear, but this was the first time he had seen it. The only movement was provided by her long lashes fluttering like some exotic butterfly’s wings against her bone-white skin and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts under the blue cotton shirt that looked like a paler version of her striking cobalt eyes. She looked so dreadful he was convinced she was about to pass out and he tensed, ready to catch her before she hit the ground.
Then, as he watched, she unfroze like a statue coming to slow life, her eyes swivelling from a point beyond his shoulder to his face. A tiny amount of colour seeped back into her skin, robbing it of its marble appearance, and her expression was now almost...resigned?The furrow between his darkly etched straight brows deepened, but before he could ask what was wrong an older woman dressed in a floral-print dress that looked as if she’d fashioned it out of the curtains of a small bungalow rushed past, barging him with her elbow as she struggled to soothe the child she was carrying. He was no expert but this tiny dark-haired bundle did not look anywhere near school age, although she did look as though she might be rather a handful.
‘Gwen, I’m so sorry,’ the crèche assistant gasped. ‘We simply couldn’t pacify her; she just wants you, I’m afraid.’
‘Has she been like this for—?’
‘No, it’s only been the last half-hour.’
‘Don’t worry, that’s fine.’ Gwen held out her arms, and Ellie, still sobbing, wrapped her arms and legs limpet-wise around her. Hot and sticky, the heat of her small body penetrated through Gwen’s shirt and made her think of that first moment when Ellie had been laid on her chest, so warm and heavy. ‘Hush, sweetheart, I know...’ She smiled at the other woman feeling oddly calm now the worst was actually happening and she had no other option than to just deal with it. ‘Thanks and don’t worry.’
‘Poor sweetheart...’ The motherly woman stroked the child’s dark hair before turning away. ‘I have to get back, Gwen.’
‘Of course and thanks again. I had a feeling she wasn’t right this morning and I wish I’d kept her home now.’ She had time owing in lieu of the sixth-form economics after-school club she had filled in for last month. It was a role she’d originally arrived at the school to take up, covering maternity leave. She’d had nothing to go to afterwards and the offer of a six-month stint in the reception class had seemed like a gift.
At the end of the six months she had been offered a permanent contract and she had found her niche in a place it would never have occurred to her to look. The days when she imagined that monetary rewards and kudos would make her happy seemed a long time ago.
Rio found himself rooted to the spot as the cogs in his brain clicked incredibly slowly. He considered the facts in front of him, but, despite a reality that was literally staring him in the face, it still took him a few seconds for comprehension to dawn. He waited until the pretty floral woman moved outside hearing distance before he spoke.
‘She’s yours.’ He ignored the twisting sensation in his chest; the problem was all in his head, where Gwen had remained frozen in time as the incredibly desirable, ambitious young executive who had seemed so sweet, so open and honest, that he’d started to feel guilty, among other things, that their affair was only temporary, until he’d caught her reading his correspondence. It had instantly resurrected toxic memories of watching his father read his mother’s mail, take her phone and check her messages, delete numbershefelt she didn’t need.Dios, he’d only just got his head around Gwen being married and now it seemed she was a mother too.
‘Yes...now, if you’ll excuse us...’
‘Hold on!’ He bent down.
She ran her tongue across her dry lips and tightened her grip on the child, who now lay limp in her arms. It looked as if the crying had tired her out; she was almost asleep.
Rio straightened up and held out the dog-eared stuffed rabbit that the little girl had dropped.
‘Is this yours?’
He waited as the child’s head lifted from her mother’s shoulder. She regarded him with deep suspicious eyes like velvety brown pansies before she snatched the toy from his hand and buried her face back in her mother’s neck.
