The Secret Mother

Taking a deep breath, she lied, ‘No.’

‘It’s a wonderfully scenic area of woods and mountains and hot springs that’s very popular with New Yorkers. That’s why I decided to build a health spa there.’

With a touch of derision, he went on, ‘It allows the jaded city-dwellers—or at least the ones who can afford it—to relax and be pampered in picturesque surroundings.’

‘You sound a little...disdainful...’

‘Though I love the lake, I’ve always found the club atmosphere somewhat cloying—not to say claustrophobic. A couple of months ago, when an old house that I liked in that area came on to the market I decided to buy it. That way, when the renovations are completed, I’ll have somewhere that’s really my own to go to when I feel the need to get away from the city...’

Caroline was just starting to relax and breathe freely again when he added, ‘My stepbrother liked to get away from the city, too, but he usually stayed in a hotel north of the lake. He was having a break up there when he met the woman who became his wife. I gather they bumped into each other in the hotel lobby. It seems to have been love at first sight, at least as far as he was concerned... He fairly doted on her...’

Why was Matthew telling her all this? Caroline wondered painfully. It was almost as if he was deliberately tormenting her.

‘Though I imagine he had no idea what she was really like...’

There was anger and bitterness in Matthew’s voice now, as he added, ‘I’m sorry to say Caitlin’s mother had neither scruples nor morals.’

Caroline shivered. It was quite plain that, even after all this time, Matthew still hated his stepsister-in-law.

Signalling the end of the conversation, he pressed a button on the dashboard stereo and the plaintive sound of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ filled the car.

Feeling drained, emotionally exhausted, Caroline put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

She must have slept for some time, because when she opened heavy lids they were pulling into the grounds of the luxury spa complex that she had first seen almost four years ago.

Then there had been blizzard conditions. Now the scene was serenely beautiful. Snow covered everything in a soft white blanket and odd flakes were still drifting down—a light scattering from what seemed to be an almost clear sky.

Well-lit roadways spread from the central area, where a tall Christmas tree hung with sparkling baubles stood in front of the main entrance. Light spilled from the long windows and lay in pools of gold across the snowy expanse.

Caroline was surprised when, instead of drawing up in front of the steps, Matthew took a road to the left and stopped outside a single-storey chalet-type house, set apart from the rest.

Catching her look of surprise, he asked curtly, ‘Something wrong?’

‘No... I just presumed that we’d be staying in your apartment in the main building.’

‘How do you know I have an apartment in the main building?’ The question was quiet but lethal.

‘Well, I—I don’t, of course... I—I just thought...’ Stammering helplessly, she broke off.

‘Well, as it happens, you’re quite right. I do have a suite of rooms kept for my own use, but there are only two bedrooms—which would have meant you sharing with Caitlin. Or me.’

Watching the burning colour pour into Caroline’s pale face, he added sardonically, ‘I didn’t care for the first option, and I thought you might not care for the second.’

Opening the car door, he got out, his feet crunching on the fresh snow. Alarmed and disturbed by his black mood and her own stupid blunder, she followed him.

Strapped into the car seat she shared with Bamaby, Caitlin was still sleeping soundly. Lifting her out with care, Matthew carried the child and bear into the chalet and through to a small, cosy room fitted out as a nursery. Then, while Caroline tucked the pair into bed, he went outside again to deal with the baggage.

When she had switched on the monitoring system and turned the nightlight down low, Caroline kissed the little girl’s sleep-flushed cheek before going back to the attractive open-plan living area.

The middle of the room was sunken, and a couch piled with soft cushions queened it in front of a copper-canopied central fireplace, where a log fire blazed merrily. To one side was an all-mod-cons kitchenette, its fridge well stocked with food.

Caroline took off her coat and hung it behind one of the sliding doors in the hallway, her thoughts still in a turmoil. She had expected to be in a hotel atmosphere, surrounded by people, and the idea of being alone here with Matthew was both wonderful and disturbing.

Not to mention dangerous. Since he’d returned from his trip his mood had been so strange and intense. So quietly explosive.

She remembered his, ‘...if I find it impossible to keep my hands off you...’ and shivered. He would only have to kiss her, touch her, and she would be lost...

When they’d first met, though she’d been already half involved with another man, she had looked at him and loved him.

He had fulfilled some deep, primitive need in her, and as she recalled her overwhelming and ecstatic response to his lovemaking perspiration dewed her forehead and made her palms grow clammy.

That depth and intensity of feeling had seemed to be mutual. But, while sweeping her off her feet with a passionate urgency, he’d been kind and caring and heartbreakingly tender.

In the intervening years, however, he seemed to have developed a streak of cruelty, and she didn’t doubt that if she gave him the slightest opportunity in his present frame of mind he was capable of tearing her apart...emotionally speaking...

The door swung open and Matthew was back, loaded with luggage, snowflakes melting on his dark hair. He put her case in the bedroom next to the nursery, then went to dispose of Caitlin’s things and his own.

It had been a long drive, and, knowing he must be ready for a drink, Caroline filled the kettle and put it on to boil.

She was spooning coffee into the pot when she heard his footsteps returning, and, glancing up incautiously, she met his eyes. For a long moment they looked at one another in silence.

A drop of melted snow ran off his hair and trickled down his lean cheek. She wanted to lift her hand and wipe it away. Instead she asked jerkily, ‘Can I make you some supper?’

‘I don’t expect you to look after me as well as Caitlin.’ His voice was brusque.

Flushing a little, she said, ‘It’s no trouble, really.’

‘In that case, thank you.’

While she made a plateful of cheese and ham sandwiches he sat on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, gazing into the flames. His dark face wore a sombre, brooding look that boded ill for the holiday.

Caroline put the coffee pot and sandwiches on a tray and carried them over to a small table nearby. As she turned away he demanded, ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m a bit tired,’ she answered awkwardly. ‘I thought I’d go to bed.’

‘Sit down and have a cup of coffee and a sandwich.’

‘She shook her head. ’I’m not hungry, and coffee this late will keep me awake.’

‘Then stay and talk to me.’ It was an order.

Biting her lip, she took a seat on the other end of the couch and asked as levelly as possible, ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘You. I’d like to know why you’re calling yourself Miss Smith.’

Shock made Caroline catch her breath. Somehow she answered, ‘Because it’s my name.’

‘Miss—when you’ve been married?’