His Baby!. Sharon Kendrick

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      Her heart was pounding and her breath was coming in short, painful bursts which looked like smoke against the blackness of the night. At least the snow of earlier hadn’t settled, she thought fleetingly as she stumbled along. She tried to reason with herself that she was probably overreacting, that Mick had just been a little drunk and over-amorous, and that he wouldn’t actually have tried anything.

      But there had been something so determinedly sinister about the way he had been holding her against her will that nothing she told herself gave her any comfort. For the first time in her life Daisy felt vulnerable and weak and abused. She had come up against a superior masculine strength which had been cruelly manipulative and had threatened her, and she didn’t like it one little bit.

      Haring down the road and scarcely able to keep her balance on the icy silver surface of the glittering hoar-frost, she almost fell into the public telephone box and scrabbled around in her bag for change. It seemed to take for ever to find a fifty-pence piece and with a shaky finger she dialled the number, momentarily disconcerted and then hopelessly relieved when she heard the curt, clipped tones of Matt.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Matt—’ And Daisy burst into tears.

      ‘Daisy?’

      She made a gulping sound, waiting for his terse interrogation, but it didn’t come. All he said, in an urgent and yet tightly controlled voice, was, ‘Where are you?’

      ‘In ...’ She gulped.

      ‘Daisy—for God’s sake just pull yourself together and tell me where you’re phoning from.’

      ‘The—call box.’

      ‘Go into the pub—’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Now,’ he ordered. ‘And wait for me there.’

      She heard the click as the line was disconnected, and she replaced the receiver as though it were a very heavy weight.

      The pub, she thought, and looked just yards down the road to where the Red Lion was festooned with blazing fairy lights for Christmas. Dazedly, she could see the sense of Matt’s logic—it was a far better idea to wait in the warmth and security of the pub than to stand alone in an isolated phone box—but the last thing in the world she felt like doing was having to face all the local revellers in the state she was in.

      But in the event she didn’t have to, because as soon as she pushed the door open the landlord’s wife came bustling out from behind the bar and laid a plump, comforting arm around her shoulders.

      ‘Come with me, dear,’ she said firmly, and propelled Daisy behind the bar and through the connecting door which led to the landlord’s private apartments.

      Dazedly, Daisy allowed herself to be seated on an over-stuffed sofa, and obediently sipped at the disgustingly sweet cup of tea which was placed in her hands, while the landlady kept up a running commentary.

      ‘Are you all right, dear?’

      Daisy nodded numbly.

      ‘Mr Hamilton just phoned. Said as you had a nasty shock, and that you were on your way over. Said that you was to wait in here until he came to pick you up.’ The landlady sighed. ‘Didn’t talk for long. Seemed in a hurry. He’s got such a way with him, Mr Hamilton, hasn’t he?’

      Yes, you could say that, thought Daisy.

      ‘And wicked handsome.’

      ‘Yes,’ mumbled Daisy automatically.

      ‘Always has been. Even when he was a little boy, I remember he had a way of looking at you with them big grey eyes and that bit of dark hair falling into them—Well, that look could have melted butter.’ She took the empty teacup from Daisy’s unprotesting fingers and put it on the sideboard. ‘Terrible shame about his wife, wasn’t it? Real beauty, wasn’t she?’

      ‘Yes,’ agreed Daisy, again automatically.

      ‘And him left with a young baby to bring up on his own. Imagine. Still, shouldn’t imagine he’ll be on his own for very long, not someone like Mr Hamilton. Oh!’ She cocked her head to one side to listen. ‘That sounds like him now.’

      Dimly, Daisy heard the approaching throaty roar of a powerful engine which must definitely have been exceeding the speed limit, then the scorching sound of tyres braking dramatically outside. Then came the slamming of a door and hurried footsteps and there stood Matt in the doorway, big and powerful and commanding, a frown knitting his dark brows together and his grey eyes narrowed as his gaze swiftly swept over her, like a policeman assessing the scene of a crime.

      And then he was with her, crouched down in front of her, holding her two cold hands in the warm comfort of his.

      ‘Are you OK?’ he said quietly, but she sensed the urgency behind his question and dumbly she nodded.

      ‘Sure?’

      Her teeth started to chatter, and he picked up her black coat and helped her into it, buttoning it all the way up for her, and then helped her to her feet. ‘Come on,’ he said, and his voice sounded almost gentle. ‘I’ll take you home.’

      Home. It sounded like heaven. Like dreams she’d had for years. Home with Matt. Daisy registered that his arm was resting on her shoulder, supporting her, and the temptation to lean even closer against him was overwhelming. He was thanking the landlady now, and Daisy falteringly did the same, and then he led her out of the pub with such a forbidding look on his face that all the interested pairs of eyes which had been watching them dropped self-consciously to survey their pints of beer. Outside, he strapped her into the big, dark green Bentley and got in beside her.

      He waited until the car had purred away before he barked out a question. ‘What happened?’ he demanded. ‘The truth, Daisy.’

      Daisy swallowed. ‘Mick had too much to drink, too quickly. He was showing off in front of his friends. He asked me to dance, and he ... he ...’

      ‘He what, Daisy?’ His voice sounded very urgent. ‘What exactly did he do?’

      ‘Touched me up a bit on the dance floor.’ It all sounded so tame in the telling. ‘It was nothing—really.’

      ‘Nothing?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Nothing?’ His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he swore softly and extremely eloquently beneath his breath and Daisy was quite shocked; she’d never heard Matt swear before.

      He didn’t say another word to her all the way home, and when she risked a peep at his set profile it was hard, almost cruel, and unbelievably angry. She’d never seen him look so angry, either.

      Daisy felt like a complete fool. He had warned her, and she had ignored him, gone and worn something thoroughly unsuitable to a small village dance. She had dressed provocatively, but the provocation had all been for one man, and one man alone, she realised. The man who was sitting beside her. ‘Matt?’ she whispered tentatively, СКАЧАТЬ