Читать книгу That Devil Love - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 7

JOINING the Friday morning rush, Annis caught a train to Oxford Circus then hurried the few blocks to her Regent Street office, a cramped first-floor room from which she ran Help, her own small temp business.

She employed ten women of diverse ages from varied walks of life, each with the willingness and ability to do several different jobs.

Requests for secretarial, nursing, housekeeping, cooking and catering help were the most common. But she and her staff could, and did, fill a variety of other roles.

Having unlocked the narrow, slightly shabby street door squeezed between a boutique and a video shop, she climbed the uncarpeted stairs and let herself into her office. Two wooden chairs and a desk were its only furnishings.

As she switched off the answering machine and hung her stone-coloured mac on a hook behind the door, the phone started to chirp.

A woman’s businesslike voice identified herself as being from, ‘Blair Electronics. Mr Blair’s personal assistant…’ and requested immediate help in the form of a competent secretary for the managing director.

Adding, ‘I was advised to ask for a Miss Warrener, if she’s available.’

‘I’m Miss Warrener,’ Annis said, and, a frown tugging at her well-marked brows, queried, ‘But surely I haven’t worked for you before?’

‘No, but I understand you were highly recommended by the sales manager of one of our subsidiaries.’

‘How long will you need my help for?’

‘Miss Winton will be away for a month.’

All the details having been settled, Annis jotted down the address and promised, ‘I’ll be with you inside an hour.’

In a little over forty-five minutes, she was climbing the steps to the Marylebone office block which housed the electronics firm.

At the desk in the foyer she stopped to give her name and state her business.

‘Turn right, then left,’ the frizzy-haired receptionist told her, ‘and you’ll find the MD’s office at the end of the main corridor. Go straight in, Miss Warrener. You’re expected.’

Her heels sinking into the luxurious carpet, Annis made her way down the wide corridor. When she reached the unmarked door at the end, she knocked and walked in, as instructed.

Just inside the threshold she stopped short, feeling as though she’d received a punch in the solar plexus, as she saw the powerfully attractive face of the man sitting behind the leather-topped desk.

The shorn black curls, the green-gold eyes and bony, slightly crooked nose, the wide, thin-lipped mouth and cleft chin, were indelibly printed on her mind. If she never saw him again she would carry his hated image to her grave.

‘Good morning, Annis.’ A smile in those tawny eyes, he added, ‘Close the the door and come and sit down.’

When she made no move to do either, he queried, ‘Did you like the flowers?’

Somehow she found her voice. ‘My next-door neighbour did.’

‘So you gave them away?’

‘What did you expect?’ Without waiting for an answer, she rushed on, ‘And I don’t know what you hope to gain by dragging me here… I can’t afford to play silly games. I’ve a business to run.’

‘So have I. That’s why I need a secretary.’

Trying to ignore the unnerving gaze fixed on her face, she demanded, ‘How did you know where to find me?’

‘Leighton was only too willing to provide any information I wanted. It was really quite amusing… But please do sit down.’

She shook her head. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now I’m going.’

Softly, he said, ‘I think not. We have a verbal contract. You agreed to work for me for a month.’

‘The agreement was that I should work for the managing director of Blair Electronics.’

‘Exactly.’

So this was yet another firm controlled by AP Worldwide.

Feeing the trap closing, she protested, ‘Surely making me come here was just to prove how well you can manipulate people? You don’t really want me to work for you…’

‘Oh, but I do. Since having bronchitis just after Christmas, Miss Winton hasn’t been at all well. I gave her a month’s sick leave, so I require someone to fill her place.’

Annis’s long-lashed almond eyes, beautiful eyes which slanted up a little at the outer corners, were blazing with anger and indignation. ‘You mean you got rid of her on purpose!’

He moved his shoulders in a slight shrug. ‘She needed a holiday. A few weeks’ complete rest will do her a world of good.’

Reading Annis’s mind with frightening accuracy, he went on, ‘Of course I can’t force you to stay. But you seem to be building up a nice little business, and if you value it you’d be wise to think carefully before doing anything rash.’

‘That sounds remarkably like a threat.’ Her voice shook a little as it was borne on her what power a man like him could wield.

‘Merely good advice,’ he said smoothly. ‘After all, what’s a month?’

As he spoke he got to his feet and strode over. A moment later he had closed the door, relieved her of her scarf and mac, and was ushering her to a chair.

It was done with such cool assurance that she was sitting down before she had time to weigh up what possible damage he could do Help if she ignored his ‘good advice’.

Resuming his own seat, he observed, ‘You won’t find the work here too onerous. Apart from letters, all I need is someone to accompany me to meetings and take notes, and to act as my hostess if I do any entertaining.’ Casually, he added, ‘It will give you a chance to get to know me.’

‘I don’t want to get to know you,’ she informed him icily.

‘Then I’ll have to see what I can do to change your mind… Now to business. I don’t always tape record—’ he pushed a pad and pencil towards her ‘—so how’s your shorthand?’

‘Slow and inaccurate,’ she informed him sweetly.

He laughed, as if genuinely amused, then, eyes gleaming devilishly, suggested, ‘Well if you prefer, I’ll settle for making use of your other talents.’

Biting her lip, she snatched up the pad and pencil.

They worked without a pause until twelve o’clock. His dictation was fast and decisive, giving no quarter, and she needed every ounce of her concentration to keep up.

All the same she was constantly and acutely aware of the man sitting opposite, of how much she loathed and detested him. Reluctantly aware also of his dark attraction, of the strong pull his magnetism had on her senses.

With a kind of horror she realised that if she hadn’t had such cause to hate him, she might easily have fallen victim to his fascination. Might have found herself hopelessly infatuated with him.

As Maya had been. Maya—the one person Annis had really loved. Her life been a source of wonder to her, her death the greatest of pains. And she had died because of one man—Zan Power.

‘Use my cloakroom if you want to wash and brush up before lunch.’ His voice broke into her thoughts.

Looking up to meet those brilliant eyes, she said blankly, ‘Lunch?’

‘Yes. I want you with me.’ She was about to refuse curtly, when he added, ‘I have a luncheon appointment with Cyrus Oates, the American tycoon. As it’s at his hotel, his wife will be with him.’

‘I’m not dressed for lunching out,’ she objected.

‘You’re dressed like the perfect secretary,’ he assured her mockingly. ‘Which is just as well, because after lunch I’ve a meeting at the bank, and I’d like you to take notes.’

She emerged from the cloakroom some five minutes later, hair and make-up checked, and they took the lift down to the underground car park where his silver BMW was waiting for him.

‘What do you usually do for lunch?’ he queried, when they were settled in the car.

‘Buy a sandwich,’ she told him, omitting to add that with high rents to pay both for her furnished flat and the Regent Street office it was all her tight budget would stand.

As they climbed the ramp to street level and joined the flow of traffic, he ordered, ‘Tell me about your business.’

‘I thought Stephen had given you all the information you wanted.’

Ignoring her prickly response, he asked, ‘Do you usually work alongside your staff as well as coping with the administration?’

‘Yes,’ she answered shortly.

‘But, being the boss, you can take your pick of the assignments?’

Oh, well, if he was determined to talk… And perhaps it was better than sitting beside him in strained silence.

‘It doesn’t usually work like that,’ she answered a shade ruefully. ‘I often get landed with the jobs no one else wants to do.’

Zan gave her a swift sideways glance and raised a black brow. ‘Such as?’

‘Well, there was taking care of George while the family went on holiday…’

‘George?’

‘A twelve-foot python. He turned out to be quite docile, not to say friendly. But feeding him proved a bit of a problem. The worst thing about pet snakes is they prefer their food on the hoof, so to speak. Have you ever tried making a very dead rat look alive?’

He was still laughing when they drew up outside the Farndale Hotel.

They were crossing the foyer when a large, balding man with rimless glasses and a paunch advanced on them. He held out a ham-like fist. ‘Hello, Power. Glad you could make it. This is my wife, Dorothy.’

An equally large lady with eyes as pale as ripe goose-berries in a fleshy face, came forward with an outstretched hand. Having greeted the pair courteously, Zan said, ‘May I introduce Miss Warrener, my secretary.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Warrener,’ Cyrus Oates boomed, while his shrewd grey eyes assessed her slim figure, her cool, patrician beauty.

During lunch, while the men discussed business, Annis asked, ‘Is this your first visit to England, Mrs Oates?’

The polite query was all that was needed to induce a flood of talk with the battering force of Niagara. A look of interest and an occasional word kept it flowing.

They were at the coffee stage, when with a suddenness that took Annis by surprise Mrs Oates finished an account of her visit to Harrods and said in strident tones, ‘Gee, but your boss sure is good-looking. Don’t you think he’s handsome, honey?’

‘I wouldn’t describe him as handsome myself,’ Annis said. Adding with a tight smile, ‘Any more than I’d describe the north face of the Eiger as pretty.’

Her comparison went over the American’s head.

‘But don’t you just love working for him?’

Annis caught a gleam of amusement in Zan’s heavy-lidded eyes which made her aware he was following both conversations.

Evading the issue, she answered, ‘I don’t actually work for Mr Power. I’m only a temp.’

Overhearing the last few words, Cyrus Oates exclaimed, ‘A temp?’ Then to Zan, ‘You don’t get many secretaries look that good. Guess you won’t want to part with her, huh?’

Catching Annis’s eye, Zan said with smooth meaning, ‘I shall certainly be taking steps to keep her with me on a more permanent basis.’

The subtle threat made a shiver crawl over her skin and her palms grow clammy with cold perspiration.

Lunch over, business matters apparently settled to everyone’s satisfaction, they made their farewells and set off for the bank. It was nearly half-past four by the time the meeting was finished, and Annis, who had attracted quite a few curious and interested glances, was feeling stiff and tired. Though she was not normally prone to headaches, her head throbbed dully and the back of her throat was rough and dry.

Outside it was a bleak, prematurely dark afternoon, with more than a hint of snow in the air.

Turning the BMW into the traffic stream, Zan remarked, ‘It’s too late to go back to the office. I’ll take you straight home.’

‘Really, there’s no need to go to all that trouble,’ she said stiltedly. ‘If you drop me at the next corner I can easily get the Tube.’

‘It’s no trouble.’ His tone was quietly adamant.

After a pause, when the expected opposition failed to materialise, he asked, ‘Have you lived at Fairfield Court long?’

‘About three years.’ She tried to hold at bay the hurt, the bitter memories crowding in on her.

‘Do you like being there?’

‘Not particularly.’ The modern, characterless flat, with its small, square rooms, was functional rather than pleasing.

‘Where does your brother live?’

Annis stiffened at the mention of Richard. Then, her voice as casual as she could make it, said, ‘He and Linda have a house in Notting Hill.’

‘Have you any more family?’

Like flicking a lighted match into a keg of gunpowder, that innocent question seemed to explode inside her head. She wanted to strike at him, to claw her nails down his handsome face, to watch him bleed.

Badly shaken by that flare of raw, primitive passion, the violence of her feelings, hands clenched into fists, she shook her head mutely.

Glancing at the frozen blankness of her face, Zan knew he’d hit a nerve. Though he didn’t know how or why. There was so much about this woman that he didn’t know. But he intended to.

When they reached Fairfield Court, Zan accompanied her to the door and waited while she unlocked it, but to her very great relief he made no move to follow her inside.

As she said a coldly formal, ‘Thank you,’ he stooped and touched his lips to hers in another of those light but proprietorial kisses that left her feeling as if she’d been caught in some terrifying whirlpool.

‘Au revoir, Annis.’

A hand to her mouth, she watched him slide behind the wheel and drive away. She was still standing like a statue in the doorway when his car disappeared from sight.

Once inside she made herself a strong cup of tea, took a couple of aspirins and reviewed the catastrophic events of the day.

He’d managed so easily, so effortlessly to trick her into accepting the assignment at Blair’s. But, hating him as she did, and frightened by the way each meeting added more fuel to her desire for revenge, she knew she couldn’t go on working for him.

Anne and Sheila were both first-class secretaries, and on Monday, no matter what kind of upheaval it involved, she would send one of them in her place, and let him do his worst!

If he tried to ring her she would put the phone down, and if he came to her door she would refuse to open it. So long as she was careful, she would never have to see him again.

A hot bath alleviated some of her aches and pains and made her feel a great deal better. But, showing she was still very much on edge, she jumped when the phone shrilled.

‘Annis?’ Stephen’s voice held a mixture of triumph and excitement. ‘I’ve got tickets for Malibu, for this evening. I know it’s short notice but you will come, won’t you?’

‘Well, I don’t really…’

‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ He was instantly deflated.

‘Any other time I would have been, only I don’t feel much like going out tonight. In any case, I promised to be on hand this weekend to take care of the twins if Linda has to go into hospital, and I—’

‘Before we left work I had a word with Richard,’ Stephen broke in with plaintive eagerness, ‘and he told me it might be several days yet before anything happens. Please change your mind…I’m sure it’ll buck you up no end.’

Reminding herself yet again of just how much she owed Stephen, Annis forced herself to say brightly, ‘You’re probably right. Very well, I’ll come.’

‘Wonderful!’ Once again he was bubbling over. ‘I’ll pick you up in about an hour.’

When Stephen knocked she was ready, resolved for his sake to at least appear to be enjoying herself.

‘You look marvellous,’ he told her, eyeing the simple, but elegant dress whose colour perfectly matched her eyes.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him, then asked, ‘How on earth did you manage to get tickets for Malibu? I thought they’d been sold out for months.’

‘You’ll see,’ he said mysteriously. Adding, ‘I’ve a taxi outside, so we’d better get off. We haven’t a lot of time.’

Why a taxi? she wondered. But perhaps he was intending to have a drink? Make the evening a festive one? Full of childlike pleasure and importance, he was clearly labouring under great excitement.

Only when they reached the theatre, and it was too late, did she realise why.

In the foyer, two people were waiting for them. A well-dressed woman with black curly hair and a superb figure, and the man Annis had promised herself she would never need to see again.

Coming face to face with him so unexpectedly gave her the same sensation as dropping in a high-speed lift, making her stomach clench and her heart begin to race with anger and alarm.

‘Good evening, Miss Warrener… Leighton,’ Zan said pleasantly.

‘Sorry we’re a bit late…’ Stephen began.

Zan waved away his apology. ‘I’d like to introduce Mrs Gilvary, my—’

‘Don’t be so formal, Zan,’ the woman cut in with a teasing glance. Her smile friendly, she held out her hand first to Annis then to Stephen. ‘I’m Helen, Zan’s sister… How nice to meet you.’

As they were shaking hands the call bell went. Unable to think of any way out of the situation without hurting Stephen, Annis allowed herself to be ushered into the auditorium.

With smooth panache Zan placed her between the younger man and himself, remarking as he did so, ‘I’m glad you were able to join us, especially as it’s such short notice.’ Sotto voce, he added sardonically, ‘But then you told me you always try to please Leighton.’

Annis gave him an inimical glance. ‘In this instance it was Stephen trying to please me.’

Catching the last few words, Stephen said eagerly, ‘I knew you wanted to see Malibu, and when Mr Power said he had two spare tickets and suggested we join him…’

‘You just knew I’d be delighted,’ Annis murmured, the words holding an irony she was well aware the man on her far side had picked up.

Turning her head, she met those thickly lashed, heavy-lidded eyes with a cool challenge which almost faltered at the answering gleam which leapt into their green-gold depths.

In what she could now see was going to be a war of attrition, she would need every ounce of her fighting spirit, she thought, shakily. And was more than thankful when any further exchange was precluded by the lights going down and the orchestra breaking into a lively overture.

Living up to its notices, the musical proved to be bright and fast-moving. But though her eyes were fixed on the stage Annis took scarcely any of it in, all her attention, her awareness focused on the dark, powerful man beside her.

During the interval they had a drink in the bar and discussed the show. If Annis found little to say, no one appeared to notice.

Alternately hot and shivering, her limbs aching, her throat sore, she couldn’t wait for the evening to end.

As soon as the final curtain went down to enthusiastic applause, with unobtrusive efficiency Zan shepherded them out ahead of the crush.

Demonstrating the effect of power and money, his car had been brought round and was standing by the kerb, a light drifting of snow beginning to settle on its shining bonnet.

When Stephen mumbled something about getting a taxi, Zan shook his head. ‘You might have problems on a night like this. I’ll drop you both.’

His tone brooked no argument, and Annis felt sure that had been his intention all along.

Only when she’d been handed into the front passenger seat did she fully appreciate the smoothness of the operation.

‘Zan’s marvellous when it comes to organising things,’ Helen remarked, echoing her thoughts.

‘That’s how you get to the top.’ Stephen’s approving comment precluded the tart rejoinder Annis had been about to make.

‘And stay at the top,’ Helen added for good measure, making them sound as if they were forming the Zan Power Admiration Society.

As the two at the rear struck up a conversation, Annis, sitting silent and aloof beside the man who had always been her bête noire, puzzled over the situation. Dazzled by Zan and all he stood for, Stephen seemed to find nothing amiss in the way they’d been paired off, but it struck her as strange that Helen Gilvary, who was laughing now, showed no resentment at being relegated to the back seat.

Expertly threading his way through the late-night traffic, Zan addressed the younger man. ‘I’ll take Helen home first. You live at Knightsbridge, don’t you?’

‘That’s right…’ By the time Stephen had given him the exact location they were turning into Elwood Place, a quiet street in Mayfair lined with elegant houses.

When they drew up outside the porticoed entrance of number fifteen, Helen smiled and said a pleasant goodnight to them both before getting out.

Displaying his usual courtesy, Zan accompanied her to the door. When he bent his dark head to kiss her cheek, she put her arms around him and kissed him back with obvious affection.

It was a comparatively short drive to where Stephen lived. When he got out, with a reckless determination to rile Zan Annis followed him on to the snowy pavement.

Standing on tiptoe to touch her lips to his, she said, ‘Goodnight, and thank you, darling.’

He looked as startled and delighted as a man who had come into riches beyond his wildest dreams.

When she got back into the car, Zan’s face was as black as thunder. ‘Fasten your seatbelt,’ he ordered brusquely, and drove on, his mouth a thin, angry line.

Suddenly doubting the wisdom of her action, Annis leaned back against the head-rest and closed her eyes.

A finger flicking her cheek aroused her and she sat up, half stupefied, to find they were outside Fairfield Court.

‘Where’s your key?’ Zan asked curtly.

Remembering his furious face when she’d kissed Stephen, she cravenly found herself wishing she hadn’t deliberately provoked him.

‘There’s really no need for you to get out.’

Ignoring her uneasy protest, he made a swift search through her bag and located her key. ‘Wait here.’

She followed him a moment later, shivering as soon as the wind whipped round her.

He turned on the fire and drew the curtains before helping her out of her silver fun-fur. Then, looming tall and dark and overpowering in the small room, he said coldly, ‘I should put you over my knee for that little piece of bravado.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she muttered.

‘You know perfectly well what I mean. I’m aware you only did it to annoy me, but you shouldn’t have raised the poor devil’s hopes like that, when it’s obvious that you don’t care a jot for him.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong! I do care.’

‘Only in as far as it affects your brother.’

Seeing her freeze, he asked silkily, ‘Did you think I wasn’t aware how Leighton has been propping him up? Covering for him? It’s common knowledge. I’ve known for weeks.’

Annis gazed at him with horrified eyes.

He smiled mirthlessly, and she found herself abstractedly noting the excellence of his mouth and teeth.

‘I also know, despite the fact that he’s a married man with a family, how you still tend to worry about him, mother him…’

‘But how could you know?’ she protested. ‘Until last night you’d never set eyes on me.’

He shook his head. ‘I saw you about three weeks ago. You came to Leighton’s office when he was working late one evening. Then you walked out together and got into his car. I made some enquiries, found out who you were…’

Her heart missed a beat, then went racing on as she realised he’d spoken too casually to mean what she’d thought he meant.

‘I hoped very much that he would bring you to the party. If he hadn’t, I would have had to think up some other way of meeting you.’

Her head throbbing, her legs feeling as if they might buckle under her, Annis dropped into the nearest chair.

Studying the mauve shadows like bruises beneath her eyes, the translucent skin stretched tight over delicate bones, the faint dew of perspiration on her upper lip, Zan remarked, ‘You look terrible.’ Towering over her, he put a cool hand on her burning forehead. ‘I think you’re coming down with flu.’

She jerked away and muttered, ‘Don’t touch me.’ Then, at the end of her tether, ‘I wish you’d go. Leave me alone. Stay away from me permanently.’

His lips took on a wry slant. ‘I can’t stay away from you any more than I can stop breathing.’

Tilting her chin, he looked deep into her cloudy eyes. ‘I intend to break down those defences, melt the ice you’ve surrounded yourself with, make you want me as much as I want you.’

There was a dark, brooding passion in his face, a relentless purpose that made her shiver.

‘You’re wasting your time,’ she told him raggedly. ‘There’s no way I’ll ever feel like that about you.’

Apparently unperturbed, he said, ‘You already feel more strongly about me than you do about Leighton.’

She jumped to her feet. ‘That’s quite true. I’m fond of Stephen. You I hate. Now will you get out? I never want to see you again.’

‘That might be difficult as you’re working for me.’

‘I’m not. Not any longer. If you really need help, on Monday I’ll send you a competent secretary, but that’s…’

The phone shrilled through her words.

Reaching out, Zan picked it up and answered with a brisk, ‘Yes?’

After a moment he handed her the receiver.

She gave him a furious look and, taking a deep, calming breath said, ‘Hello?’

‘Thank God you’re back…’ Richard sounded distraught. ‘I’ve been trying to get you for over an hour. I’m at the General Hospital…’ He made a sound halfway between a sob and a groan.

‘What’s the matter?’ Annis demanded in sudden fear. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Linda tripped and fell downstairs. She has a broken arm and there may be internal injuries… The shock caused her to go into labour, but they said it might be hours yet…’

Annis could have wept for her brown-haired, blue-eyed sister-in-law, pretty as a picture and not twenty-one until next month.

‘Mrs Duffy is with the twins, but her husband works nights and she needs to get back to her own family.’

‘I’ll go straight over,’ Annis said through stiff lips. ‘Try not to worry too much. Everything will be all right, I know it will.’

Shaking from head to foot, she depressed the receiver rest, then released it again to call the taxi-rank.

Before she’d put in the first digit, Zan, who’d been standing close enough to hear both sides of the conversation, took the receiver from her hand and replaced it.

‘What are you doing?’ she cried. ‘I need a taxi to get to Notting Hill.’

‘I’ll take you.’

‘I don’t want you to take me,’ she cried fiercely. ‘I don’t need you or your help.’

‘Don’t be a fool, Annis,’ he said shortly. ‘You’re about out on your feet.’

‘I’ll manage,’ she declared stonily.

‘You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met!’ He turned off the gas fire, then dropping her coat around her shoulders fairly hustled her out of the flat and across the snowy forecourt to his car.

‘Whereabouts in Notting Hill?’ he asked, as he pushed her in and took his place beside her.

Feeling harassed to death, unable to fight any longer, she told him, and let him remove the safety belt from her fumbling fingers and click it into place.

Resting her pounding head against the soft grey leather of the seat, she prayed silently, feverishly, please let Linda and the baby be all right.

Despite her anxiety she must have dozed again, because when she opened her eyes they were drawing up outside the end-of-terrace villa that Linda and Richard had bought just before the recession sent house prices tumbling.

Snowflakes swirled around them, and her feet, inadequately clad in suede court shoes, were wet and cold before they reached the glass-panelled door.

A plump, dark-haired, flustered-looking woman in her middle thirties answered the knock promptly and exclaimed, ‘Oh it’s you, Miss Warrener! What a relief! They’re both awake. You can probably hear them crying…’

‘I’m sorry I’ve been so long getting here.’ Annis’s voice was croaky.

Mrs Duffy pulled on her coat. ‘Well, now you are here I’d best be off. My own kids are ten and twelve, but I still don’t like to leave them in the house on their own.’

‘It’s very good of you to have stayed so long,’ Annis said gratefully.

‘Can I take you home?’ Zan offered.

Looking gratified, she said, ‘Thanks, but I only live next door.’

The crying, which had temporarily abated, was resumed, rising to a crescendo as Annis hurried up the stairs.

When she reached the narrow landing, all at once feeling sick and light-headed, she staggered a little and was forced to lean against the nearest wall.

Zan’s fingers encircled her wrist, keeping her there while he checked her pulse rate.

‘Let me be,’ she tried to shake off his detaining hand. ‘I’m going to see to the twins.’

‘You’re doing nothing of the kind,’ he corrected firmly. ‘Firstly, you’re not up to it—’ while he was speaking he was opening doors ‘—and secondly, you don’t want to risk them catching any infection.’

She could see the sense in that, all the same…

‘Ah…this looks like the spare room.’ He propelled her inside. ‘Now you’re going to get into bed and I’ll bring you some hot milk.’

‘But what about…?’

‘I’ll deal with the twins.’

And he probably could. He appeared to be able to deal with anything.

The combination of illness and emotional strain making her feel too spent to battle any longer, she stripped down to her undies and, climbing into bed, sat shivering.

In just a few minutes Zan returned carrying a couple of hot water bottles, and a tray with a beaker of milk and two red plastic feeding cups.

Having settled her with a hot water bottle behind her back and another at her feet, he put the beaker and two aspirin tablets on the bedside table before vanishing again.

She was just wondering anxiously how the twins would react to a strange man appearing in the nursery when, as if by magic, the crying stopped.

Sipping the hot milk, which had been liberally laced with brandy, she listened to the murmur of Zan’s voice and thought bitterly how easy he seemed to find it to charm females of any age.

As soon as the beaker was empty she lay down, and within seconds was sound asleep.

Annis surfaced slowly and reluctantly to find her bedroom was full of snowy light. Only it wasn’t her bedroom…

The events of the previous night rushed in like a tidal wave, and she sat up abruptly.

As soon as the room stopped spinning, she struggled out of bed and peered into the nursery. Both cots were empty.

Snatching a robe from behind the bathroom door, she went downstairs as fast as her shaky legs would allow.

No one was in the living-room, but a pillow and a neatly folded blanket suggested Zan had slept on the couch.

The smell of toast and coffee directed her to the kitchen.

Showered, shaved, immaculately—if a shade inappropriately—dressed, and clearly in command of the situation, Zan was putting boiled eggs into Beatrix Potter egg-cups.

Strapped in their high chairs, Rachel and Rebecca, models of rectitude, and as alike as two peas in a pod, contentedly spooned up their breakfast cereal.

‘Hello, darlings.’ Not wanting to get too close, she blew them a kiss.

Rachel, always the more solemn of the two, stared at her round-eyed, while Rebecca smiled and crowed and dribbled ground rice and apricots down her chin.

‘Good morning.’ Zan gave Annis a smile that stopped her breath as effectively as a silken noose. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Fine,’ she muttered untruthfully.

He set a mug full of milky coffee on the table and pulled out a chair for her. ‘You look as if you need to sit down.’

‘First I must phone the hospital.’

‘I’ve just been talking to them. Your sister-in-law is as well as can be expected. She’s suffering from shock, but they don’t think the internal injuries are too severe.’

Annis’s pale lips framed the almost inaudible question, ‘And the baby?’

‘You’ve got a brand new nephew, born safely an hour ago.’

The relief was so great that Annis sat down abruptly and burst into tears.

A folded handkerchief was put into her hand.

While she dried her eyes and blew her nose, Zan added evenly, ‘I’ve assured your brother that everything is all right at this end, so he’s going to stay at the hospital… Now, do you feel up to some toast?’

Gulping the milky coffee gratefully, she shook her head.

‘Then as soon as Mrs Sheldon arrives I propose to take you home to bed.’

‘Who’s Mrs Sheldon?’

‘She’s an ex-nurse and a very competent nanny. I’ve borrowed her from Helen, whose family, though still young, no longer really need her. She’ll look after the twins for the time being.’

‘But Linda and Richard can’t afford a nanny,’ Annis protested.

‘That’s all taken care of.’ There was a knock, and he added, ‘Ah, this sounds like her now.’

He returned after a moment or so with a neatly dressed, pleasant-faced woman in her forties.

When he’d made the introductions, Mrs Sheldon said cheerfully, ‘Now don’t you worry, Miss Warrener. I’ll take care of everything.’

Feeling like death, Annis gave in and made her way upstairs to get dressed, recognising that even if she could manage to look after the twins it was in their best interest that she shouldn’t.

But someone was paying Mrs Sheldon, and the very last thing she wanted was for any of her family to be in Zan Power’s debt.