The Forbidden Innocent (13 page)

Too perfect? she wondered. Or was she just indulging in that leftover habit from childhood? Imagining a worst-case scenario to toughen herself up just in case it actually happened.

She dressed, went downstairs and lit the fire—but when Jack returned her heart gave a little leap of anxiety as she saw the expression on his face.

‘Is something wrong?’

There was a pause. ‘I ran into Christine.’

‘Oh?’

‘She looked a little surprised to see me carrying a copy of
Bridget Jones’s Diary
and a large packet of salted popcorn.’

‘Yes, I can imagine she might be. What did you say?’

‘I didn’t
say
anything,’ he answered coolly as he
handed her the film. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to anyone—least of all to my housekeeper.’

Ashley felt an unfamiliar tension invade the atmosphere as his sudden haughtiness seem to reinforce all the differences between them—until the more disturbing thought occurred to her that Christine’s suspicions might be alerted. And would her relationship with Jack end? Would he decide to put a stop to it before word got round and people began to gossip about them?
I don’t want it to end,
she thought fiercely as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.
I want this to continue for as long as it can.

Jack held himself still for a moment—until the softness of her kiss made him dissolve, just the way it always did. ‘Oh, Ashley,’ he said roughly, just before he began to deepen the kiss. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

She strived for just the right, light touch. ‘Maybe you don’t,’ she mused.

They settled themselves down for the evening.
Bridget Jones
was one of Ashley’s favourite films—but she quickly discovered that its plot failed to captivate when a man like Jack Marchant was making love to you on the sofa. Afterwards he carried her upstairs and slowly undressed her and then propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her naked body as she lay on the moon-washed bed.

‘You are an amazing woman, do you know that?’

‘I’m not anything special, Jack.’

He shook his head. She was wrong—but could he blame her for thinking it? If she was special then he
wouldn’t insist on secrecy. And after seeing the narrow-eyed look on his housekeeper’s face earlier that evening, surely the need for secrecy was now academic.

He was still thoughtful next morning and when Ashley woke she began to make wordless and urgent love to him—and he gave a laugh of delight as he twisted her beneath him.

Afterwards, she leaned over him, her hair tickling his face. ‘That was the most gorgeous thing in the world,’ she whispered.

‘You say that every time.’

‘That’s because it’s true.’ She hesitated. ‘You’re a wonderful lover, Jack.’

He heard the soft tremor of truth in her voice and her slight hesitation—and yet her shyness made the compliment more profound than any he’d ever been given before. She was so sweet, he thought suddenly. So soft and gentle. He had never known such moments of contentment as these spent lying in her arms—or imagined that he might ever find this kind of peace. So what was he going to do about it? he wondered with a sharp pang of conscience. For a while, he lay looking up at the ceiling—before getting out of bed and going over to take something from the small safe his lawyers insisted he keep.

Sleepily, Ashley watched him, remembering the blue scarf she had once found tucked away in a walnut bureau and which she had never asked him about. But that moment had long gone and, besides, it no longer seemed important. The only thing which mattered was
this incredible thing they had between them. Was it love? On her part, certainly—but Jack never, ever gave his feelings away. Maybe that was yet another legacy of army life. And suddenly all her thoughts were forgotten as Jack approached, holding something tightly within his clenched hand.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. ‘I have something I want to give you, Ashley.’

The expression on his face made her heart skip a beat. It was a look she could never have described if she had lived to be a hundred and wouldn’t have dared to—just in case she had misread it. She looked down at his fist. ‘Wh-what is it?’

‘This.’ Slowly, his fingers unfurled to reveal a ring lying in the very centre of his palm. A rectangular diamond, surrounded by a glittering band of smaller stones and set in platinum. It was an old-fashioned ring—and it might not have been to everybody’s taste, but Ashley loved it on sight. She stared up into his face.

‘It belonged to my mother,’ he said in answer to her unspoken question. ‘And I want you to have it.’

Ashley swallowed. ‘Why?’ she whispered.

‘Can’t you guess why?’

‘I can try, Jack—but I’m worried that it might be the wrong guess. A ring is a… strange present to give a lover,’ she added shakily. ‘Even I, with my scant experience of the opposite sex, know that it’s a gesture which could so easily be misinterpreted.’

‘I don’t think there can be any misinterpretation in this case.’ He reached across and took her hand in his.
‘But just to make entirely sure that you understand. what if I told you that I love you, and that some day I want to marry you? That you have rebuilt my troubled soul brick by brick and that I can’t contemplate life without you?’

His quietly passionate words felled her and she stared at him as if waiting for him to burst out laughing and tell her that it was nothing but a joke and that the ring was really from a cracker. But the expression in his black eyes was deadly serious. ‘Jack—’ But she was trembling so much that she couldn’t continue.

‘You’re shocked?’

‘Of course I’m shocked.’

‘But not surprised, surely? And before you answer that, Ashley—just think about it. Ask yourself whether we don’t seem to fit each other like a hand inside a glove. Whether the term soulmates—which up until recently I’d always scorned—shouldn’t be applied to us. It’s been like that between us from the very beginning—that sense of looking into someone’s eyes and feeling as if you’ve suddenly come home. Hasn’t it?’

Ashley nodded. She was having to swallow very hard in an attempt to hang onto her composure, and she looked down at the ring—afraid to meet his burning gaze for fear that she would dissolve and make a fool of herself. Because hadn’t his words crystallised all her wishes and dreams—the ones she’d kept hidden, even from herself? Hadn’t they given her a glimpse of some happy world which she knew existed but which she’d
never felt part of before? Not until now. Now she could dare to dream.

‘Oh, Jack,’ she whispered. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—but I don’t need a ring to love you. You see, I think I’ve always loved you.’

‘Sweet Ashley.’ Even her words of love were more generous than he deserved. He took her hand and rubbed its palm with his thumb so that the urge to lift her eyes to his was irresistible. ‘Totally without guile or artifice. Strong and dignified in spite of everything which fate has thrown at you. Don’t you know how much I admire your spirit? Your ability to speak the truth without fear and your remarkable powers of calm—you who can soothe a man with one gentle look, or one soft and serene smile.’

‘Jack,’ she breathed.

‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘And I want to marry you.’

For a moment, she was speechless—her eyes searching his face.

‘Do you think you could bear to be my wife?’ he continued softly.

Her mouth was working but no words seemed to be coming and then she nodded, and her words seemed to fall over themselves in their eagerness to be heard. She, Ashley Jones who could never find a foster family to love her, was being proposed to by Jack Marchant? He was telling her that he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Was she dreaming—or was this really happening? ‘Yes, oh yes! I mean, I do. Of
course I’ll marry you. How could I not when I love you so much? I can’t… I can’t believe. Oh, Jack! ‘

He slid the ring onto her finger—and then kissed her trembling lips.

‘You’re happy?’ he asked.

‘I’m beyond happy… I’m… ecstatic. It feels like a dream. Oh, Jack.’

‘There’s just one thing.’ He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. ‘I don’t want you to tell anybody else about this. Do you understand? Not just yet.’

Her bubble of happiness wobbled as she saw the diamond’s light reflected on his lips. ‘Is there… a particular reason why?’

‘It’s complicated. Can you trust me, Ashley?’

There was a pause. Yes, she could trust him. If she had given him her heart then she
had
to trust him.
Not just yet,
he had said. And surely she could understand that. He was a fiercely private man and this was to be theirs. Theirs alone—nobody else’s.

‘Does that mean I shouldn’t wear the ring?’ she questioned.

‘Well, not as a general rule, no—not yet. How about only wearing it in the bedroom?’ he murmured as he bent to kiss her. ‘Let’s say it’s the
only
thing you’re allowed to wear in the bedroom.’

It seemed a reasonable—and provocative—request. And, of course, Ashley adapted to the situation because she
wanted
to. Just as she wanted him—more than she had ever wanted anything. If she’d been older or wiser, she might have questioned his request and asked herself
why he was so intent on keeping it a secret from the world. But Ashley was too blinded by love and excitement to care. Each morning, she would hold her hand up to the light to stare at the ring—where the ice-white dazzle of the stone reminded her that this
wasn’t
all a figment of her imagination.

Maybe it was happiness which made her careless.

Jack had gone down to London for a couple of days to meet with his literary agent and his lawyers, leaving Ashley behind to work on the manuscript. He didn’t ask her to accompany him and she didn’t expect him to—but it was the first time they’d been parted since they’d become lovers and she missed him desperately. She continued to sleep in his bed, even though she hated the empty space beside her. And she would press her face into his pillow, breathing in his distinctive scent and longing for the time when he would be home.

At least having the place to herself meant that she could get on with her work. Uninterrupted in the quiet house, she made huge inroads into his book and was tackling chapter ten when Christine walked into the office one morning. Ashley looked up in surprise. ‘Christine!’

‘Why, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ observed the housekeeper.

‘B-but you’re not supposed to be here!’

‘There’s been a package delivered to the post office for Mr Marchant and they rang to ask me to collect it as they couldn’t get a reply from here. Perhaps I should
have run it past you first?’ said Christine with a slight edge of sarcasm in her voice.

With a sudden lurch of her heart, Ashley realised that she was still wearing her ring and quickly she slid her hand onto her lap. Had the other woman seen it? And would it be obvious if she started trying to tug the ring off underneath her desk? Oh, this was
insane.
Why had Jack done this? she wondered with a sudden rare burst of anger. Did he mean to make her feel as if she was not only an object of affection but also one of shame?

‘I didn’t mean to sound rude, Christine.’

‘Of course you didn’t.’ The housekeeper hesitated for a moment, and then she pulled a funny kind of face. ‘Perhaps you ought to know that people round here are beginning to talk.’

‘Talk?’ Ashley stilled. ‘What do you mean exactly?’

‘These small villages are hotbeds of gossip—and word gets around. One of the cleaners has been talking about you—saying that you and Mr Marchant seem very.’

‘Very what?’

‘Close.’

Don’t react,
Ashley told herself as she surreptitiously slid the ring from her finger and let her fingers close round it. ‘Well, we
do
work closely together.’

There was an awkward pause. ‘You’re a nice little thing, Ashley—and I’d hate to see you hurt.’ Christine’s face grew pink. ‘Just remember that the rich don’t always
have it easy—and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. They have their secrets and their troubles, too.’

Ashley wanted to ask what she meant—but how could she possibly do that when she was sitting with the claws of the precious diamond ring digging into her palm? To start discussing such a contentious subject with Christine would surely lay her open to all kinds of complications—and weren’t things already complicated enough?

‘I’ll try to remember that,’ she said lightly.

But Christine’s words brought all her insecurities flaring into life.
I’d hate to see you hurt,
the housekeeper had said. Did that mean that she had witnessed this kind of scenario before, watching as a stream of secretaries were seduced by Jack and then cast aside when he’d tired of them?

No. Ashley’s lips tightened. She didn’t believe that—not for a minute. He wasn’t the kind of man to do something like that—some bone-deep instinct told her that, though she couldn’t have said why. People talked because they loved to create a scandal. And if they wanted to gossip because they suspected that a lowly secretary was having an affair with the rich and aristocratic Jack Marchant—then let them. Perhaps it might even do them both a favour. Mightn’t it be better if it all came out into the open—so that they wouldn’t have to keep behaving in this furtive way?

When he came back from London, she would talk to him about it. Tell him that she loved him but was
uneasy about all this secrecy—and hope that he agreed with her.

He was due in at six and she prepared for his return in a high state of excitement. She spent ages drying her hair and she left it loose—so that it fell in a shining caramel curtain over her shoulders. Then she put on a simple cream woollen dress, which hugged at hip and breast. Her only adornment was her diamond ring—and its icy brilliance sparkled on her finger.

She heard his key in the door and rushed to meet him. Flakes of snow clung to his raven hair and his rugged face looked taut and strained, she thought. ‘Jack,’ she said softly.