Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda Lee

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      Tabby opened the box to find an unusual ring in the shape of a rose with a ruby at the centre.

      ‘What do you think?’ Acheron demanded anxiously. ‘I wanted you to know that it was made in the image of your tattoo because it will always remind me what made you the special woman you are.’

      ‘It’s...gorgeous!’ Tabby carolled as he removed his late mother’s engagement ring from her wedding finger and replaced it with the new ring. The diamonds on the rose petals caught the sunlight and cast a rainbow of little sparkling reflections across the white bedding. ‘But why on earth do you think I am so special when I’m so ordinary?’

      ‘You’re special because in spite of all the bad things that happened to you, you still have an open heart and a loving spirit. You love Amber, you love me—’

      ‘So much,’ Tabby emphasised feelingly as she smiled up at him. ‘Although you might feel you love me a little less when you see what I spent on my credit card.’

      ‘Never,’ Acheron contradicted. ‘You’re the least extravagant person I know.’

      ‘You might change your mind on that score,’ she warned him, hoping he at least appreciated the gift of the pen on his birthday in three days’ time.

      ‘I love you,’ he breathed softly, his attention locked on her smiling face.

      He had fallen in love with her, he had genuinely fallen in love with her, Tabby savoured finally, and she allowed the happiness to well up inside her along with a sense of release from all anxiety. Somehow, by the most mysterious process of love known to mankind, two people who had loathed each other on sight because of their misconceptions had found love and formed a happy home and family and she was delirious with the joy of that miracle.

      * * *

      Tabby sucked in her tummy and studied the mirror. No, it was pointless: she was pregnant and there was no escaping that pregnant apple shape, no matter how well cut her maternity clothing was. With a wry smile at the foolishness of her vanity, Tabby went downstairs to check the last-minute arrangements for Amber’s fourth birthday party.

      The party was a catered affair, everything set up to entertain a whole posse of Amber’s nursery-school friends. There was a bouncy castle in the garden of their London town house, purchased after the birth of their first child, Andreus, who was already a rumbustious noisy toddler. Closely pursued by his nanny, Teresa, who had become as much a part of the family as the children, Andreus hurtled across the hall to throw his arms up to be lifted by his mother.

      Tabby tried not to wince at the weight of her son, but, at eight months along in her second pregnancy, lifting a child who was already outstripping his peers in size was becoming quite a challenge. He hugged her tight, black curls like his father’s silky against her throat, her own big blue eyes bright in his little smiling face. Sometimes, Tabby was still afraid that if she blinked her happy family life would disappear and she would discover she had been trapped in an inordinately convincing and wonderful daydream. And then she would look at Acheron and the children and she would be soothed by the closeness of their bonds.

      Admittedly she would never have picked Acheron out as a keen father figure when she first met him, but exposure to Amber’s charms had soon raised a desire in Acheron to have a child of his own. By the time the legalities of Amber’s adoption had been settled and she had officially become their daughter, Tabby had been expecting Andreus. The little girl whom Tabby was currently carrying had been more of an accidental conception, thanks to a little spur-of-the-moment lovemaking on the beach in Sardinia where they had first found love, and which of all Acheron’s properties they visited the most, although they had quickly extended the house to add on more bedroom capacity.

      His father’s widow, Ianthe, and her two surviving children had stayed with them there to attend Kasma’s funeral. It had been a sad and sobering occasion but it had also done much to build a bridge between Ash and his father’s former family. Ianthe had admitted to having been seriously worried about her daughter’s mental health but Ash’s late father, Angelos, had refused to face up to that reality. Kasma’s brother, Simeon, and his family also had young children and the two couples had become close friends since that last sad encounter.

      The front door opened and Andreus scrambled down from his mother’s arms to hurl himself violently at Acheron, shouting, ‘Dad!’ at the top of his voice.

      Tabby watched Acheron scoop his son up, and a warm smile curved her generous mouth because she never loved Acheron more than when she saw him with the children. He was kind, affectionate and patient, all the things that they had both so badly lacked when they were kids themselves. ‘I thought you wouldn’t make it back in time.’

      ‘Where’s the birthday girl?’ Acheron enquired.

      Amber came racing downstairs, a vivid little figure clad in a flouncy new party dress, and flung herself at her father with very little more circumspection than her toddler brother. ‘You’re here!’ she carolled. ‘You’re here for my party.’

      ‘Of course, I am,’ Acheron said in the act of producing a present from behind his back, only to laugh as the housekeeper opened the door to let Amber’s best friend and her mother enter and the two little girls went running off together. ‘So much for being flavour of the month there!’ he teased.

      ‘But you’re always my favourite flavour,’ Tabby rushed to assure him in an undertone before she went to greet the arriving guests.

      Acheron watched her acting hostess with quiet admiration. His Tabby, the best and luckiest find he had ever made, always warm, sunny and bright and still the most loving creature he had ever met. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that he loved her more with every passing year.

      * * * * *

      Read on for an extract from A MAN WITHOUT MERCY by Miranda Lee.

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘WHAT DO YOU mean, I can’t have Vivienne?’ Jack said. ‘I always have Vivienne.’

      Nigel suppressed a sigh. He didn’t like disappointing his best client but there was nothing he could do about it.

      ‘Sorry, Jack, but as of yesterday Miss Swan doesn’t work for Classic Design any longer.’

      Jack’s head jerked back with shock. ‘You fired her?’

      Now it was Nigel’s turn to look startled. ‘Hardly. Vivienne was one of my best designers. No,’ he added, with true regret in his voice. ‘She quit.’

      Jack could not contain his surprise at this second piece of news. Admittedly, he didn’t know Vivienne all that well, despite her having worked for him on his last three building projects. She was an extremely self-contained young woman who didn’t engage in idle chitchat. When on a job, her focus was always on her work, which was simply brilliant. He had asked her not long ago why she didn’t open her own interior design firm, and she’d replied that she didn’t want that kind of stress, especially now that she was engaged to be married. She’d said she didn’t want to live just for work any longer, a sentiment which Jack had not appreciated—till yesterday.

      He’d been driving around the Port Stephens area, looking for suitable land for another retirement village, when he’d come across a small acreage for sale which had totally blown him away. It wasn’t what he was looking for, not even remotely. СКАЧАТЬ