That Tender Feeling (21 page)

With that, lots of other thoughts came flooding in, things she hadn't exactly been wrong about, but which she hadn't been right about, either, because again she had been guilty of what she was accusing him of: looking at the situation with a biased viewpoint. Things like:
he
would have to play host to
her
friends. She didn't get a chance to list any more in her mind because a prickly feeling at the back of her neck told her that Cliff was standing at the door, watching her.

She turned to look at him, and he said, ‘Save yourself the trouble of packing any more things. I intend to tip the lot out. You're not going anywhere.'

‘I've already decided that for myself. If you'd used your eyes properly, you'd see that I've started to take out the things I'd packed.'

‘Because it dawned on you that it would be insane to drive with the roads the way they are?'

‘No. It would have been, but that isn't the reason. As soon as I was composed enough, I was coming down to ask you what the conversation we've just had was all about.'

‘I'm hanged if I know. I guess it all boils down to the fact that I didn't handle things too well. You're right. It was a pretty miserable proposal. I'm willing to have another go.'

She wouldn't let him climb down any further than that. Instead, she would try to measure up to him. ‘It isn't necessary. I've been very stupid. If the offer is still open, yes, please, I want to marry you very much.'

* * *

She hadn't imagined that life could be so beautiful. She had to drag herself from Cliff's side to return to the television studio for the final recording. He had taken it phlegmatically when she told him about that, declaring that he wasn't surprised—hadn't he previously stated that he wasn't surprised at anything she did? ‘Of course, some surprises are better than others,' he said, the dark gleam in his eye leaving her in no doubt about which surprise he was referring to. ‘The best Christmas present I
almost
received,' he joked. But his voice was serious as he went on, ‘You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I could so easily have lost you through my cussedness.'

‘
My
cussedness,' she insisted.

‘All right,
our
cussedness. What I'm trying to say is, if you think you've got a career in television, it's okay by me.'

‘What does “okay by me” mean?'

‘It means I'm not overjoyed at the idea of having a wife on television. I don't want to share you, but if it's what you want, I'll put up with it.'

She thought how different his attitude was from Jarvis's.

‘It isn't what I want. My ambition is to be with you.'

* * *

She shed tears when she got news of Edward Banks—but they were tears of gladness. He was responding to the treatment he was having. Cliff went with her to visit him in hospital, but Hannah was there, and Edward had eyes for no one else. Ros had high hopes of something coming of that. If their obvious affection for each other didn't result in another wedding, she would be very disappointed.

Sometimes, on waking, she'd catch her breath on the horrible fear that it hadn't happened, that it had all been a dream. The arm possessively round her waist was solid reassurance that it was true. Slowly, she would turn her head and look into the dark eyes of the man responsible for her permanent state of exalted happiness. No man had a more contented or happier wife. The gentle ardor with which he carried her into the throbbing heat of passion never failed to amaze her. He took her body into tender keeping and led her into rapture. She'd had an idea that it would be good between them, but it surpassed everything she had hoped for, and it was getting better all the time.

She felt very humble, undeserving of all that bliss. And she loved him so much that it hurt. Usually, he was the first to wake, but one morning, a few weeks after their marriage, she was waiting for his eyes to open, the question on her lips in keeping with the last thing he had told her before she went to sleep.

‘When did you first realize you loved me? Something must have triggered it off. What was it?'

‘I'm not quite sure, but this might have had something to do with it.' He reached out to the bedside table for his wallet, and from it he extracted the joke slip that had come out of the Christmas cracker about the girl getting to kiss a lot of frogs in her search for her prince.

She gasped. ‘I meant to pick that up and save it as a memento. You got to it first.'

‘Didn't I just! And it burned a hole in my wallet. Wouldn't give me a moment's peace or respite.'

She was touched that they had shared the same romantic impulse, even though she wasn't sure what he meant. ‘I don't understand. Was it because when it was so horrible between us, when we were quarreling, or icy and distant, it reminded you of the wonderful time we had together?'

His fingers caressed her midriff, releasing tiny bubbles of joy just below the surface of her skin, bubbles that burst to wrap her in an iridescent glow. A teasing smile came to his mouth. ‘No. For thinking of you kissing all the other frogs.'

‘Oh, Cliff!' She giggled.

‘If anyone got to kiss you, I wanted it to be me.'

Her lips lifted in confident anticipation. The sweet, fierce passion in his eyes warmed her as his tender hands brought her closer and his mouth lowered to possess hers in a long, clinging kiss.