Once More, With Feeling

David had put on some music, and, emboldened by the champagne and the look in his eyes, she stood up, swaying softly to the music.

‘Dance with me,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘Dance for me,’ he murmured.

So she did, slipping the dressing-gown over her shoulders to puddle on the floor, teasing and taunting until with a ragged groan he drew her down before the fire and made love to her again …

‘Emily?’

She turned, startled, to find David framed in the doorway.

Her first thought was that he wasn’t naked. Her second was that her memories must be written all across her face in letters ten feet high.

She felt colour rush to her cheeks and was grateful for the gloomy light in the room.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘I was just passing and I saw your car,’ he told her. His eyes were on the fireplace, then flicked back to her kneeling on the hearthrug where they had made love that very first time. Something flickered in his eyes, and she could tell he was remembering, too.

She struggled to her feet.

‘I was just having a look.’

He glanced round. ‘For old times’ sake? It hasn’t changed,’ he said softly.

Their eyes met, clashed, locked. Her breath clogged her throat, her heart beating a wild tattoo against her ribs.

‘No,’ she murmured.

‘No, what?’ he asked, his voice husky.

‘No, not for old times’ sake,’ she said, firming her voice. ‘I’m going to be living here.’

‘Oh.’ His eyes travelled slowly over her, so that she was conscious of her nipples straining against the fine fabric of her blouse. His eyes strayed lower, then jerked back to her face with an almost physical effort. ‘Good idea,’ he said, his voice still touched with that smoky gruffness she remembered so well from the intimate moments of their marriage. ‘It’s very handy for the practice—is Sarah renting it to you?’ he asked.

She dropped her eyes. ‘No—she’s—Sarah died two years ago. She left me the cottage.’

‘Oh, Emily—I’m sorry. What happened?’

His voice had changed instantly, softening with compassion, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought back to the awful night when Sarah had died.

‘A car accident,’ she told him hollowly. ‘It was foggy. A drunk driver—’

David groaned. ‘What a waste. Oh, my love, I’m sorry.’

So was Emily, because she hadn’t wanted Sarah to drive in the fog. ‘Stay,’ she had begged her, but she should have been more insistent, hidden her keys or something. Sarah had been upset, too, too upset to drive really, because that was the day she had found out that Philip was dying of cancer—Philip, her beloved husband, Jamie’s father—and the man Emily had then married so that her godson’s future would be secure.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_84652d7e-7634-5fca-9db2-af1db0f1dbcf)

EMILY arrived to take up her post two weeks later, having sent the housekeeper on ahead to clean up the cottage and prepare it for her arrival with Jamie.

He was thoughtful about leaving the big house in Surrey where he had lived with his parents, but she explained that they wouldn’t be selling it yet and could always come back for visits. Anyway, she remembered how much Jamie had wanted to move to Devon, how he had begged her. That was one reason, probably the most significant, why she had taken the job. She just hoped for all their sakes that it didn’t prove a huge mistake.

‘Are we going to live in Mummy’s cottage, Emmy?’ he asked for the hundredth time on the drive down. He was so insecure now, and she hastened to reassure him.

‘Yes, darling. We’ll be there tonight.’

‘Will I have my own room?’

‘Yes, of course.’

There was the question of where she would sleep, but as the cottage had four bedrooms there was no need for her to use the room that Sarah and Philip had used—and that she had slept in with David on their honeymoon.

Mrs Bradley, the housekeeper who had been with Philip’s family for years and who was to stay on to help care for Jamie at Philip’s behest, would have the large room next to Jamie as her bed-sitting room. Emily would have the fourth bedroom.

It was small, but she was on her own, so it didn’t matter. Anyway, it had a distant view of the sea down the valley and across the rooftops of Biddlecombe, and the sun would wake her every morning.

They arrived at the cottage to a warm welcome from Mrs Bradley, and within a very short time Jamie was settled in his bed, his teddy under his arm, his thumb tucked in his mouth, and Emily was sitting down with Mrs Bradley going over the arrangements for the beginning of the next week when Emily started work and Jamie would join the village school. She had managed to get a place for him, and the headmaster was looking forward to meeting the boy on Monday.

The only thing left to concern her was David, and the prospect of working with him made the ergonomics of her accommodation and Jamie’s schooling pale into insignificance.

In fact her first morning at the surgery was much easier than she had expected, because he greeted her with a friendly smile, gave her a cup of coffee and took himself off, leaving it to Laurence to make her feel at home and show her where everything was kept.

Her first patients were genuinely in need, but she had no doubt that after a few days word would get round and she would be inundated with people giving their noses a treat.

Her clinics, she noticed, were already booked some way ahead, especially the family planning and antenatal.

They like a woman for a woman’s domain,’ Sue said with a smile. ‘I have to agree—but if you feel you’ve got too many I can shift some back to David, although he won’t like it. Some of them flirt with him, but you can’t blame them. He’s just such a sexy beast—Oh, lord, I’m sorry!’ Her hand flew over her mouth, and Emily smiled at her discomfort.

‘Sue, forget it. It was ages ago, and I’m over him,’ she lied. ‘Don’t feel you have to walk on eggshells, please. One thing, though—I’d rather the patients didn’t know we’d been married.’

‘Oh, of course not,’ Sue agreed. ‘It’s nobody’s business but your own, and I’m sorry I said what I did.’

Emily smiled again. ‘You’re right, though—he is a sexy beast.’

‘You couldn’t be talking about me, could you?’

David’s voice behind made her jump, and she turned towards him with a cool smile. ‘Your ego’s still intact, I see. No, we were talking about Robert de Niro, actually. Excuse me.’

She slipped past him and retreated to her office, closing the door behind her.

It opened almost immediately.

‘Can I have a word?’

She shrugged. She couldn’t shut him out of her life completely; they had to work together.

‘Of course.’