A Special Kind of Woman (6 page)

‘Oh, late,’ Owen said with a sigh. ‘Friday night traffic is hideous. I thought I might avoid it and take Josh out for dinner. He said I could doss on his bed and he’ll sleep on the floor, but I think I need my creature comforts and, anyway, I have to get back for the dogs—unless you want to sleep there for me?’

‘I have to open the shop on Saturday,’ she reminded him, and he nodded.

‘That’s fine. I’ll come back tomorrow night late. Mrs Poole can go in and feed them at five, and they’ll be fine till I get home.’

‘Ring me when you get back—tell me how she looks,’ she said, and wondered if her voice was really as mournful as it seemed to her.

‘She’ll be fine. I might be very late.’

‘Still, please, ring. I want to know you’re safely home.’

His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite read, and he put the dress down carefully and drew her into his arms.

‘I have to go now,’ he said, cradling her against his body. ‘I’ve got work to do before I can leave tomorrow.’

‘I might do my next Law assignment so I don’t have to stay up all Sunday night again,’ she mumbled into his shirt, and then she breathed in deeply and sighed with contentment. He smelt warm and familiar and absolutely right, a combination of soap and man that was utterly intoxicating.

Maybe that was what had pushed her over the edge on Saturday?

Owen lifted his head and smiled at her tenderly. ‘I have to go.’

She nodded, and went up on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. ‘Don’t forget the dress,’ she reminded him, ‘or Cinderella won’t be going to the ball.’

‘Cinderella? Milly? Not a chance. By all accounts she hasn’t missed a single evening out—unlike her mother.’

‘Oh, her mother’s fine. Although…’ Cait tipped her head on one side and looked up at him with an ironic smile ‘…you know something? You know what I do for a living? I make and hire out ball gowns. And do you know I have never once, in my entire life, been to a ball? Isn’t that the silliest thing you ever heard?’

He gave a slow, lazy smile, and pulled something from his pocket. ‘That’s just about to change,’ he told her.’ Saturday week—in Audley. It’s a fundraiser for the League of Friends of the hospital. I bought two tickets. So,
Cinderella,
you shall go to the ball!’

‘Y
OU’VE
taken your wedding ring off.’

Owen glanced down at his finger, still strangely bare and feeling very naked, and nodded.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Have you got a woman?’

He looked at his son, trying to read his feelings and failing hopelessly. ‘I have met someone, yes.’

Josh looked away, his eyes veiled. ‘I wondered if you would, when I went away.’

‘It wasn’t planned.’

The boy shrugged, and Owen got the distinct impression he was trying to hide his hurt.

‘Josh, it’s just coincidence. I didn’t deliberately go out of my way to find someone the moment you were gone, but I met her, and the time seemed right.’

‘Are you sleeping together?’

He felt the shock of the question right down to his toes, and almost glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone else in the crowded restaurant had heard. It seemed unlikely.

‘Not that I think it’s any of your business,’ he said in a low voice, ‘but, no, I’m not. Not yet, at least.’

‘But you might.’

‘I might.’

Josh speared him with a penetrating stare. ‘Would Mum approve of her?’

He thought of Jill and Cait, so different and yet in many ways so similar, and he nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I think so.’

‘That’s all right, then. Just so long as you’re happy.’

‘I am,’ Owen said, and realised as he spoke that it was true. ‘I’m happier than I’ve been for years.’

‘Good.’ Josh changed the subject, obviously uncomfortable with it, and Owen eased out a sigh of relief and settled down to listen to the catalogue of wild parties and endless shenanigans the freshers had got up to since they’d last spoken.

Good grief, he thought, Cait and I are going to have to get a great deal wilder to compete with that lot!

‘Just don’t spend
all
your money on alcohol,’ he cautioned, which was a rash thing to do, because he ended up shelling out for a set of textbooks that cost more than he would have believed possible.

Ah, well, he thought, it’s only money. And then he wondered how Cait would provide for Milly, and thought again just how much she’d sacrificed to give the girl her chance in life.

Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get back to her.

‘Will I do?’

Cait twirled in front of him, the new gown she’d just completed swirling out around her and settling back with a silken whisper against her skin.

It was a wonderful deep sapphire colour, perfect with her colouring, and it made her skin look like alabaster. Owen felt his body surge to life, and cleared his throat.

‘You look lovely,’ he said, his voice sounding strained to his ears, and she smiled diffidently and coloured, a
soft wash of pale rose tinting her skin and bringing her to life. Lord, she was gorgeous. He hardly dared trust himself to touch her, but he helped her into her coat with fingers that trembled to caress her skin, and when he brushed her shoulder accidentally with the back of his hand, heat shot through him.

‘I’ve got my overnight things,’ she said, and he nodded curtly.

‘Fine. Let’s go, then. The taxi’s picking us up from home in fifteen minutes.’

He hardly had time to put her bag in the spare room before the taxi beeped outside, and he ran down, patted the dogs absently and ushered her out.

It was a clear night, crisp and cold, and he knew it would freeze later. He’d lit the fire—partly for the dogs, and partly so they would have a focus of warmth when they came back so they could sit up and drink coffee and talk into the wee small hours of the night.

He wasn’t thinking beyond that, wasn’t letting his mind or his imagination run away with him. He didn’t dare. One thing at a time, he told himself. One thing at a time.

The ball was everything Cait might have hoped for and more. Everyone was elegantly turned out, and she recognised some of her dresses in the crowd.

While Owen was getting them drinks, one of her regulars saw her and did a mild double take. ‘Cait?’ she said, and smiled a broad welcome. ‘We don’t usually see you at these things! How nice to see you on the other side of the counter, as it were. What a gorgeous dress!’

She turned to the tall and rather striking man beside her. ‘Darling, this is Cait Cooper—she’s got that wonderful ball gown hire shop in Wenham, and she makes
the most fabulous dresses. She’s amazing. Oh, that sounds so patronising, but it isn’t meant to be, Cait. You really are so talented. I can’t believe how lucky we are to have you.’

‘Aren’t we?’ Owen said, coming up behind her.’ Cait, allow me to introduce you to Ryan and Ginny O’Connor. By the sound of it you’ve met Ginny before, and Ryan’s someone I hope you’ll never meet professionally—he’s one of our A and E consultants.’

‘Ah! Right. Hi, there,’ she said, laughing softly at Owen’s introduction and shaking Ryan’s hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you. I hardly ever get to meet the husbands.’

‘They’re cheated,’ he said gallantly in a soft Canadian burr, and he winked at her. ‘I shall have to make a point of coming along for fittings in future.’

‘If you’re allowed,’ Ginny retorted. ‘It’s a girly thing, usually, isn’t it, Cait?’

‘Only because men get bored to death. They just don’t have our stamina.’

‘You can say that again,’ Ryan groaned. He slid an arm round his wife’s waist and drew her closer. ‘How about that dance you promised me?’ he murmured, and Ginny smiled at Cait and Owen and excused herself, and they went off towards the dance floor.

Cait’s eyes followed them longingly. She’d never danced anywhere except at a nightclub or a disco, and that only a very few times in her life. Certainly she’d never danced in a long, floaty dress with a man’s arms around her as he whirled her round the floor.

‘Sounds like a good idea.’ Owen’s voice was soft, his breath teasing her skin. He was still standing slightly behind her, and his hands came up and cupped her shoulders, bringing a shiver of anticipation to her skin. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think it sounds like a lovely idea,’ she said a trifle breathlessly, and turned towards him. ‘Could we?’

Heavens, was she really as wistful as she sounded? Owen’s eyes creased in a smile. ‘I’m sure we could.’ He cupped her elbow with his hand and led her to the dance floor, then turned her into his arms.

‘I don’t think I can remember any of the fancy things,’ she told him, and he chuckled.

‘I never knew them. Just relax. I won’t know if you do it wrong, and if you’re very careful I probably won’t tread on you more than a few times.’

He didn’t tread on her at all, and Cait was sure he was lying about not knowing the steps. She didn’t care. She just rested one hand on his shoulder, placed her other hand in his and let him guide her. At first he kept a discreet distance between them, but gradually they settled closer together, until her head was on his shoulder and their clasped hands were tucked in against their bodies, so that the back of his hand brushed her breast.

She could feel the shift of his thighs against hers as they moved slowly to the music, and after a while her steadily building awareness threatened to consume her. To an outsider they would have appeared just like any other couple dancing, she thought, and yet she could feel the tension humming in him, the savagely suppressed passion simmering just below the surface, like a banked furnace.

Finally the master of ceremonies called the last dance, and she could feel the tension in him mounting to unbearable levels. Then the music swirled to a halt with a flourish, the band were sent off to thunderous applause and Owen eased away from her and looked down into her eyes.

‘Time to go,’ he said gruffly, and she could see the desire burning in his eyes.

They were silent in the taxi, and when they arrived back at the house he put the dogs out, then filled the kettle and put it on the Aga.

‘Coffee?’ he asked, and Cait lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug.

‘If you want.’

Their eyes met and locked. ‘You know what I want,’ he said, his voice low and taut with emotion.

She smiled a little unsteadily. ‘So what are you waiting for, Owen?’ she murmured.

He closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again, and she almost staggered under the force of the need that blazed from them. ‘Dogs,’ he said distractedly, and went to the back door, calling them in.

He threw them a biscuit each, took the kettle off the hob and held out his hand. ‘Come to bed,’ he said softly, and her legs nearly gave way.

Reaching out her hand, she placed it in his, her trust in him absolute. She had never loved like this before, and she knew she never would again. As her hand linked with his, so did her heart and soul, and in that moment she gave herself to him completely.

The sun streaming in through the window woke Owen, and he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Cait. She was beautiful—her skin warm and flushed with sleep, her lashes like dark crescents against her rose-petal cheeks.

Her lips were slightly swollen from their kisses, and there was a touch of whisker-burn on her lip. He leant over and kissed it better, and her lashes fluttered up and she smiled at him.

‘Hi,’ she said, her voice shy and tentative, and he smiled back and kissed her again.

‘Hi yourself. How are you?’

‘Wonderful,’ she told him, her eyes shining. ‘How are you?’

‘Likewise.’ He eased the quilt away from her shoulders and looked down at her, at the soft dusky rose of her nipples puckering in the cool air, the smooth swell of her breasts, the flat plain of her stomach. She was beautiful, and he felt desire rip through him again.

He’d been right when he’d thought she’d be amazing to make love to. Her face was a mirror of her feelings, every touch, every stroke of his hands registering in her expressive features.

He kissed her again, and she reached for him, drawing him into her arms, and he was lost.

Cait had never been so happy. She’d thought she’d known what to expect, but afterwards she realised that her slight and very limited experience hadn’t prepared her at all for the love-making of a skilled and patient man. Every touch had registered, every kiss had found its target, and when he took her home on Sunday night, she felt more cherished and loved than she’d ever felt in her entire life.

Nevertheless, at the back of her mind she worried that they hadn’t taken any precautions, and so on Monday morning she went to see Max Carter, her GP.

‘I don’t think there’s the slightest danger that I’m pregnant,’ she told him frankly, ‘because it’s right at the end of my cycle, but I ought to go on the Pill for the future, I think.’

He nodded. ‘I can give you a prescription for the morning-after pill as it’s called, if you like, but you don’t sound as if you think it’s necessary, and it’s getting a bit late now for it to be effective anyway. It’s up to you.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I’m sure I’m safe. I’m as regular as clockwork. I know I can’t be pregnant.’

So he checked her over and gave her a prescription for the Pill, and she started taking it straight away to give her cover immediately after her period was over.

Except that it didn’t come. The week passed, and Milly came home for the weekend and slept for most of it because she was so exhausted, and Cait cooked for her and tried not to think about what was happening inside her.

Perhaps it was because of the Pill, she thought, and ignored the nagging doubt. Not that she needed to be on the Pill, as it turned out, because she hardly saw Owen.

First, Milly and Josh were both up for the weekend, and then he had to go away to a conference, but she didn’t really have time to miss him because she was into a frenzy with the Christmas ball rush starting and everyone panicking about their dresses.

He spoke to her on the phone from Italy, though, almost every day, and because she was so busy trying to ignore the time bomb that was going off inside her, she told him all about her Law course and how well it was going, and how she planned another course for the following year—maybe a residential course for a few weeks at a quiet time of the year, if she could afford it.

‘That’s great,’ he said, sounding quite enthusiastic, and she thought, Oh, lord, he doesn’t care if I go away. I wonder what he’s doing in Italy, and with whom?

She threw herself back into the ball gowns, ignoring Owen and her missing period and her sudden loss of interest in tea and coffee.

Then finally she could ignore it no longer, because she woke up on the Tuesday morning just over two weeks after the ball, went into the bathroom with a pregnancy test kit and came face to face with her worst nightmare.

‘You idiot!’ she berated herself, tears streaming down her face. ‘How could you have been such a fool? Twice, for goodness’ sake!’

She thought of Emily, of the struggle she’d had to bring her up, the endless nights walking the floor with her and then trying to work during the day while her daughter slept; she remembered their flat, cold in winter and hot in summer and damp all year round, and she wrapped her arms round her waist and rocked her baby and sobbed as if her heart would break, because she loved its father and he didn’t love her, and there was no way she could do anything but have it, and she was going right back to square one, her life in tatters all over again.

She went out of the bathroom and picked up the phone, staring at it blankly. Owen had rung at three o’clock in the morning to say he was back from his conference in Italy, and he wanted to see her again that night. Good, because she needed to see him, and suddenly she couldn’t wait till the end of the day. She punched in his number, and he answered on the third ring, sounding sleepy and sexy and wonderful.

Except that he thought it was a good idea for her to go away on a Law course for a few weeks or months or whatever.

Oh, lord.

‘I need to see you,’ she said, her hand trembling. The little indicator strip was mocking her, and she put it down before she dropped it. ‘Can I come round now?’

‘Now?’ he said, and she could hear the bedclothes rustling. ‘Um—sure. Just give me half an hour to shower and dress.’

She couldn’t wait that long. She got into her car, drove round to his house and sat outside, twisting her hands on the steering wheel until he opened the door and came out.