‘Please,’ she interrupted. ‘Can we forget about last night?’ But he was not about to let her off so lightly.
‘No, Josie, we can’t. You can’t bury your head in the sand for ever,’ he said quietly. ‘However much you may like to.’ Pushing the plates to one side, he caught her small hand in his much larger one. His touch sent every sensible thought out of her head. Helplessly she stared at him. She had thought he would be as reluctant as she was to mention last night, but that was obviously not the case.
‘Last night happened, Josie, and you can’t pretend it didn’t. What we have to decide is where we go from here.’
She paled at his words, and, apprehensive about what was to follow, she rushed into speech. ‘Last night was a mistake, a rush of blood to the head or something, and it will never, ever happen again, I can assure you.’
‘The blood rushed to a quite different part of my anatomy,’ Conan drawled with wicked amusement, and she blushed scarlet
‘Never again,’ she repeated, at a loss for words.
‘How can you be so sure? You’re a married woman now. Do you honestly want to live the rest of your life like a nun?’
His long fingers idly laced with hers, distracting her, and she was incapable of answering him. She wasn’t feeling the least bit nun-like—in fact quite the reverse.
‘I don’t believe you do, Josie. I think,’ he murmured, his eyes boring into hers, ‘you are a very passionate young woman.’ Her hand jerked under his and she tried to pull free, but he would not allow it. ‘No, Josie, hear me out. Last night I discovered just what a delightfully sensual woman lurks beneath the almost innocent exterior you present to the world, and I wanted you. Still do,’ he admitted casually. ‘And I think at first you wanted me. Am I right?’ he demanded.
‘Yes.’ There was little point in denying it. She had been so obvious.
‘Thank you. I’m glad you’re being honest. I didn’t like believing you were using me as a stand-in for Charles all the time.’ His grip on her hand tightened as he continued in a much harder tone, ‘I don’t know what made you change your mind—a misplaced attack of conscience, perhaps. But I did a lot of thinking last night and decided the only thing wrong between you and me was the timing. It was too soon for you, and I should have realised that.’
Josie could not believe her ears. She looked around the kitchen—anywhere but at her husband. He was sitting discussing sex as though it were a normal breakfast conversation. She had no idea how to cope with this sophisticated, mature male attitude, and it took all her will-power to lift her eyes back to his; but face him she did.
‘Conan, I do not wish to discuss last night. I’m a woman, you’re a man. It was lust, pure and simple. Over, finished with.’ And, wrenching her hand from his, she leant back in her chair.
‘“Pure” is not the word that springs to my mind, but at least you’re seeing me-as a man—a small step forward,’ he—said cynically.
Josie suddenly had a vivid mental picture of Conan standing by the bed, the ultimate male animal, naked, aroused, and in his prime. Oh! If only he knew just how much she wanted him; but it was impossible, and if she had any doubts on that score they were quickly d
ispelled by his next words.
‘I should have remembered you were pregnant. Damn it, it is only a couple of months since Charles died! I don’t know how I could have forgotten that.’ He shook his head in a gesture of frustration, and without meeting her eyes he added, ‘I should not have said what I did about Charles; after all, the poor devil is dead.’
‘It was the truth, though, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t have to disillusion you quite so soon. I could have chosen a better time to tell you.’
‘It’s not important; it’s academic now anyway,’ Josie muttered, and, pushing her chair back, added, ‘I think I’ll go and change.’
‘No, wait,’ Conan commanded, and reluctantly she sat back down, feeling incredibly weary all of a sudden.
‘What I meant to tell you last night before we got sidetracked was that I spoke to your father last week.’
Josie’s brow creased in a worried frown. She spoke to her father every week by telephone, but why should Conan want to talk to him?
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Conan reassured her. ‘As you know the estate hasn’t been run properly for years, but I can’t afford to spend much time there, so I’ve employed an estate manager. He’s a family man, and obviously he’ll need a house. Your father and I have discussed the manager moving into Low Beeches, and then your father can move into the Manor House with the Major.’
‘Give up our home?’ Josie cried. ‘But...but...’ What could she say? Her decision of last night to run back to her father, and quietly withdraw from the Zarcourts’ sphere of influence, had been well and truly wiped out.
‘Surely you can see, business-wise, it’s the ideal solution? That’s why I’m taking you down there today—so you can talk it over with your father.’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea. A man likes to have his own home; my father likes his independence.’
‘Rubbish. From what I’ve seen of your father, he’s not in the least independent. He’s had you running around after him for years,’ Conan declared, a thread of steel in his tone. ‘And when I suggested it he jumped at the chance. In fact he’s already at the Manor. It was I who insisted he discuss it with you for courtesy’s sake, nothing more.’
Josie knew his reading of the situation was right, but it did not make her like it. Her father would be delighted to live with his friend the Major, and with Mrs M., the housekeeper to look after him. But Josie hated the idea. What could she say? Sorry, no. Thanks very much but I’m leaving you and going back to live with my father, and to do that we need to keep our home? If only she dared. She sighed inwardly; it was all such a mess. She glanced at Conan and his cool, confident smile told her he was not expecting an argument.
‘I thought you could spend the next few days sorting out what you want to keep. Then later I’ll arrange for the removal of the rest. Your father and mine are each to have their own apartment once the renovations to the Manor House are complete. What do you say?’ Conan prompted.