Her Husband's Christmas Bargain

Charlotte was speaking now. ‘Do you think, Mummy, that ‘cos I asked Santa for a daddy and he’s given me one, he won’t leave me anything else?’

‘Of course he will, sweetheart,’ answered Megan, gathering the child into her arms and giving her a great big hug.

Luigi felt an unbelievable sadness. He’d never experienced a mother’s arms around him like that. All he’d ever been to his mother was a nuisance, someone to be fed and clothed and told to keep out of the way, often left in the house for long periods alone.

‘I expect he’ll leave you lots,’ he said to his daughter now, and was hurt when Megan gave him a damning look. What did she expect, that he wouldn’t give his daughter anything? That he’d given her enough with the few things he’d put into her room? They were nothing, just a few toys to make her feel at home. Wait until tomorrow, she would be the happiest girl alive.

And Megan too; he had no intention of leaving her out, even though she was making it very clear that she wasn’t pleased to see him. All that would change, he felt certain, when she realised how much better it would be for Charlotte to have a father as well as a mother.

He couldn’t even begin to understand why Megan had kept their daughter a secret. If he hadn’t spotted her in Gerards he might never have known. Charlotte would have grown up and had children, his grandchildren, and he would have been none the wiser.

The very thought sent a spurt of anger through him and he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. Was Megan being truthful when she said that she’d left him because of the long hours he worked? Or had there been another man involved? Was there still someone else? The one he had seen coming and going from her house, for instance?

Luigi’s lips compressed at the thought that there might be some other man in her life. And in his daughter’s life! This man could be the reason why Megan had been so adamant about wanting to spend as little time with him as possible. He needed to speak to her about it, about him, and soon.

The opportunity presented itself as soon as Charlotte had been bathed and put to bed. He’d stood and watched, marvelling at the bond between mother and daughter. It was something he wanted, something he’d missed out on, and he vowed that whatever it took, however much he had to bribe or force, Megan and Charlotte would become a part of his life—for ever!

At least they were still married, that should make things easier. He wondered why Megan had never got around to divorcing him. On his part it was because he’d never met anyone else he wanted to marry—though there’d been plenty of girls who wanted to marry him. But Megan, what was her story? Did she love the man she shared the house with? What sort of a guy was he that he was content to live with a woman who could never be his in the eyes of the law?

‘Asleep at last,’ said Megan as she left Charlotte’s bedroom and discovered Luigi still lurking. ‘She’s so excited. Sleeping in a strange house and wondering what Santa’s going to bring her is a lot for a little girl.’

‘And will it be a lot for her mother, sleeping in a strange house? A house she doesn’t particularly like?’ he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It had disappointed him that she hadn’t been as enthralled as he was. He had expected her to be impressed by how well he’d done. In fact he had hoped that it might prove a deciding factor in bringing them back together.

‘I don’t expect I’ll sleep very much,’ she admitted.

‘Are you excited about Christmas too?’

‘Not on your life,’ she retorted. ‘I wish I was anywhere but here.’

Luigi felt as though she’d kicked him in the stomach, although, he supposed reluctantly, it had been a big step for Megan to take. She had been honest about why she’d run away and he’d virtually forced her here. Not that he regretted it.

They would both grow to love it, he felt sure. All they needed was time. At least Megan did. Charlotte seemed happy enough, though he wasn’t sure whether she’d be so content if her mother didn’t stay. In fact he knew she wouldn’t. Which made it even more imperative that he persuade Megan to move in with him permanently.

He would need to treat her with kid gloves, which might be difficult because he wasn’t used to holding back. And he’d need to show her what she and Charlotte would be missing if she went back to their cramped little house. She’d made it very homely but, given the choice between there and here, he couldn’t see there was a choice. This house would win hands down. And he would win too; he would make sure of that.

Couldn’t Megan see that Charlotte would be far better off? Not only because of the space in the house, but the grounds as well. There was a copse, a tennis court, a swimming pool, a lake. It was a child’s dream. There were even stables, though he had no horses yet. But if Charlotte wanted a pony then it would be hers for the asking.

‘It’s too early for you to judge whether you’re going to be happy here,’ he said to Megan now. ‘When—’

‘It’s not altogether the house,’ she retorted sharply, ‘even though I think it’s too pretentious. It’s you! You’re obsessed with money. You’ve always been the same. You think you can buy happiness. Well, let me tell you, Mr Rich Guy, you can be happy living in the tiniest hovel, so long as you’re with the right person.’

‘And you’ve found the right person?’ He couldn’t avoid the hard edge to his voice. He wanted to kill the guy, whoever he was. This was his wife.

‘I was talking generally.’

She flashed her grey eyes at him and he thought how beautiful she was, still flushed from bathing Charlotte, her hair in slight disarray. His groin stirred and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her—thoroughly. He wanted to prove to her that their love had never gone away; it had simply got lost. ‘But there is someone else? I know because you didn’t refute it earlier. In fact I’ve seen him.’

Megan’s head jerked, her eyes widened. ‘You have?’

‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’ He led her downstairs into a cosy little room with panelled walls and a log fire. Red velvet curtains were drawn against the cold winter day and table lamps cast a warm glow. He saw Megan looking around appreciatively. There were a few pieces of antique furniture that he had chosen himself and actually the room was overcrowded, but he quite liked it that way.

‘This is my den,’ he told her. ‘It’s—’

‘The smallest room in the house,’ she finished for him. ‘Proving that you don’t need a mansion. Big rooms are too impersonal; you can’t relax. It’s like living in a National Trust property that’s open to the public.’ She perched herself on the edge of an easy chair.

‘So you’re saying small is cosy?’ He had hoped she would flop down and relax. It looked as though he still had a long way to go. He dropped into the chair opposite so that he could study her to his heart’s content, and stretched out his long legs.

‘Absolutely.’

‘That’s why you’re happy in your own home?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s not because you can’t afford anything bigger?’ Lord, she was more beautiful than ever. What a fool he’d been not to continue his search. He would have promised her the earth if she’d come back to him. Instead he had given up and got on with what really interested him. And it was only now that he realised his mistake.

Megan sucked in a disapproving breath. ‘There you go again, bringing money into it. I tell you, money doesn’t interest me.’

‘You’re one on your own, Megan, do you know that?

‘Because every other woman you’ve met has been more interested in your bank balance than you?’ she asked sharply.

Her words struck home. It was quite true. He’d never appreciated before he had acquired his wealth how mercenary some girls could be. In one way it pleased him that Megan was different; on the other hand he felt irritated because he wanted her to be excited by what he had achieved.

‘It would make life a lot easier for you if you moved in here,’ he said, trying his hardest to sound gentle. In reality he wanted to shake her. He had no idea that she could be so stubborn. This was a side of her that had never surfaced in the early years of their marriage.

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ she retorted.

He could see by the glint in her eyes that she meant living with him would be abhorrent, and it hurt. ‘You’d never need to work again. That must be every woman’s dream?’

‘I admit it would be nice not to have to leave Charlotte. On the other hand, she enjoys playing with other children. And soon she’ll be at school.’

‘Will that make any difference?’ he asked tersely. ‘What if she becomes ill? Can you take time off work? Would your boss understand? Admit it, Megan, you’d be far better off giving up your job and moving in here. Unless, of course, it’s the boyfriend! Is he the one holding you back?’

‘So you have been spying on me?’ Megan spat the words loudly and, without giving him time to answer, added, ‘How low is that?’

He hadn’t considered it low. He’d wanted to find out where she lived, what sort of a lifestyle she had. He wanted to make sure she didn’t move again. Was that wrong? ‘I must confess that when I discovered your address I did sometimes keep watch. Not that it was my intention to spy, Megan. I was hoping to catch sight of you so that we could talk. I would have preferred it that way rather than knocking on your door and giving you the surprise of your life.’

‘Fright of my life, more like,’ she riposted.

‘So, tell me about your boyfriend. He’s clearly not asked you to marry him, otherwise you’d have sought a divorce. What does he mean to you? How long have you known him? Does he have a good job?’

‘I think,’ said Megan tightly, ‘that it’s none of your business.’

‘You’re my wife. It’s every bit my business,’ he challenged.

‘In name only,’ she retorted. ‘Our marriage was over a long time ago.’

‘Then why haven’t you applied for a divorce?’ he asked. This surely had to be in his favour.