Twins times two! (15 page)

Ross picked up the frame, caressing his wife's lips with his thumb. For long moments he gazed at her face, remembering the good times they'd had together, the home they'd created and the little girls they'd loved.

Then he opened the drawer, intent on putting her inside—but hesitated.

Not tonight. In the morning he would put the

picture away—if only for a little while. But not tonight.

Tonight he would say goodbye to his memories.

Then it would be time to move on.

In the days that followed, Cara eased into her role as Ross's wife and the children's mother. She was formally introduced to Rupert Stibbs, Ross's British butler. To her delight she learned that Stibbs had a wicked sense of humor, a passion for opera and a penchant for American soap operas. He worked "days only and had every second Wednesday off but he also had a soft spot for children and small animals—a plus since Ross's twins had hamsters that invariably escaped from their cages.

Just as Cara had suspected, Edna Graves offered her notice soon after the first meeting in the park. Cara, for one, was not disappointed. She found Mrs. Graves to be stern and rather forbidding. But interviewing a new nanny had proven to be unnecessary since Melba Wilson was swiftly recovering from her surgery and had expressed an interest in becoming the children's full-time nanny.

On the surface things seemed to be going well at the Gifford castle.

Seemed to be going well.

Cara sighed, knowing that she should be con-

tent. Ross was obviously happy with the way Cara had begun to run the finances and the household staff. So why couldn't she be content herself? Why did she constantly feel as if she needed to impress Ross? And what about the sensual tension between Ross and her that seemed to build a little more each day, until she was attuned to him with the intensity of a guitar string plucked by its master.

Groaning at her own inner musings, Cara hefted a laundry basket full of folded clothes against her hip. Most of the items in the basket belonged to the children, and she could have let Stibbs take them upstairs, but Cara enjoyed the task of putting tiny socks, underwear and shorts into their proper drawers. It gave her a sense of permanence that she wanted more desperately than she could have imagined.

Because she was growing to love Ross's children as quickly as she had bonded with her own.

Sighing, she made her way through the house. Once upstairs she tiptoed down the hall, her ear picking up the sound of childish bickering coming from the play area of the nursery. Today the children were spending the afternoon with Dr. Egs-trom, and Cara was under strict orders to leave the psychologist and the little girls alone. Even so, she couldn't help wondering how things were going. Although the children had been together every day,

they were still clearly upset over the changes made in their lives. Ross and Cara were hoping that some sessions with Dr. Egstrom would help them to see that they didn't have to fear the situation.

Slipping into Heidi and Zoe's room via the hall, Cara noiselessly restocked their clothing supply as she eavesdropped on what was happening in the playroom beyond.

It didn't take a session with Dr. Egstrom for her to know that Heidi and Zoe were still resentful about the move to a new home and the presence of Ross in their lives. All of the children were in turmoil with the new arrangements. They were clearly uncertain about their "mirror halves" and regarded each other with suspicion. After more than a week together, there were tears and tantrums as each set of twins fought for the attention of their customary parent. Heidi clung to Zoe, and Becca to Brianne even though they were obviously fascinated by the presence of a double. But that fascination seemed to prevent the bonding that Cara and Ross had so hoped would happen, and nothing seemed to budge their stubborn attitudes—not even when the twins accidentally mixed each other up. Cara could only hope that the doctor could help facilitate a childlike truce.

Closing the drawers, she tiptoed down the hall to Becca and Brianne's room, repeating her chore.

Again, she heard the low tones of Dr. Egstrom as he played with the twins, and she wished that someone could mediate in her relationship with Ross. She had already learned that living with Ross meant enduring her constant awareness of him. She was drawn to his brooding good looks, his infinite strength...

His passion.

In an effort to keep her sanity, Cara had done everything in her power to push away her attraction for Ross Gifford. She'd tried over and over to convince herself that he was too much like Elliot.

But already she'd discovered that such an argument was not entirely true. Although Ross was driven and ambitious, he aroused her in a way that her first husband never had. Moreover, her concerns that Ross would try to mold her into a trophy wife had so far proved unfounded—despite the comments he'd made to her that night in the nursery. Never once had he critiqued her clothes, her hair or her makeup. He didn't offer suggestions on how she should spend her days or ask her to run endless errands on his behalf. He seemed content to let her handle the finances and the children in the way she saw fit.

As well, there was a core of decency about him that urged her to trust him. She had no doubt that

he would be faithful to her. Just as he had been faithful to Nancy.

And continued to be faithful to her beyond the grave, Cara thought with a grimace.

Closing the door to the child-size armoire, she noted that a pair of Ross's polo shirts remained in the bottom of the basket.

Padding down the hall, she let herself into the master bedroom suite, feeling like an interloper. Despite the fact that she'd been in here several times to deliver laundry and newly bought toiletries, she still looked upon this room as being Ross's "private space." She felt no more comfortable entering it than she did probing the private pain that still lingered in his soul.

Automatically her eyes darted to the bedside table where he kept a picture of Nancy, and then she frowned.

Where was the picture?

Afraid it had fallen to the floor, she set the basket on the bed, then dropped to her knees. Had Becca or Brianne been in here? Or worse, Heidi and Zoe? Heaven only knew they'd been curious about the picture of the redheaded woman who graced the walls in the hall and Becca and Brianne's room. Had they given in to that curiosity and done something to Nancy's photo?

Lifting the bedskirt, Cara peered under the bed, then under the table.

"Lost something?"

Her head jerked up with such force that she banged it against the edge of the nightstand. Her face instantly grew hot and she damned her propensity to blush. It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. She was merely trying to see if the missing picture had been damaged or fallen.

But that didn't make her feel any less guilty.

Cara scrambled to her feet, wiping her hands down the legs of her jeans—then wished she hadn't. The betraying gesture made her feel even guiltier.

"I, uh, didn't see your wife's picture...and I... thought the children might have pushed it... off the edge."

She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a sparkle of something akin to amusement in Ross's eyes.

Great. She had made a fool of herself.

"I put it away."

Of all the things she had expected Ross to say, the reality took her completely by surprise.

"Beg pardon?" Again, she could have kicked herself for the betraying whisper.

"Nancy has passed away, and I have a new

wife. Don't you think that your picture should be the only one on my bedside table?"

"No. I. ..I mean—"

Ross chuckled and she was shocked by the sound. She had never heard anything even resembling laughter from Ross. She wasn't entirely sure she liked the way it made her stomach flutter with excitement and her knees grow weak.

Ross had paused in the doorway, but he continued on to his walk-in closet, his eyes trained ol his cuff links. Cara couldn't help herself. She trailed after him like a devoted puppy.

4 'We'll have to get your picture taken," he said offhandedly.

"Yes—I mean, no!"

He chuckled again, and she leaned against the doorjamb for support.

She had always thought that Ross was handsome—and there was no doubt that he could inspire a white-hot passion within her with the most casual of caresses. But hearing him laugh was more potent than anything she'd experienced yet.

"Damn it. Can you help me with these things?"

Before she could gather her wits, he was holding his cuffs in her direction. With fingers that trembled, she threaded the gold studs through the buttonholes, releasing the starched fabric from his

wrists. Strong wrists that could have been fashioned from stone by Michelangelo himself.

Now she was getting totally out of hand.

"How are things coming with the doctor? Any progress?"

Since he apparently wished to talk to her, Cara lingered in the doorway—even though it was apparent that Ross intended to undress.

"It's hard to say with the door closed," she said as she watched him drop the cuff links on a silver tray and begin unfastening the front of his shirt. "I hear noises, and the doctor's voice every now and then, but not enough to gather any conclusions."

"What kind of noises?"

"Nothing promising. Shrieks and shouts for the most part."

Ross grimaced. Shrugging from his shirt, he tossed it in the clothes hamper.

Cara's throat grew instantly dry. She had suspected that Ross was lean and athletically built, but she'd had no idea that his clothes hid such wide shoulders, taut pecs and a washboard stomach. She vaguely wondered when Ross found the time to work out with his already hectic schedule.

"We're going to need to throw a party sometime soon. How's the end of the month?"

She blinked and stared at him, having only caught a smattering of what he'd said.

"Beg pardon?"

"A party. Word of my marriage has leaked out, and I need to introduce you to some of my colleagues and clients. How would the end of the month work for you?"

"I—" She was suddenly awash in memories of her life with Elliot. He'd wanted nothing more than a beautiful hostess for his parties. He'd told her how to act, how to talk, how to dress. When she'd tried to develop her own ideas on the subject, he'd flown into a rage, telling her that she was his "social representative" and he wouldn't have her reflecting badly on him or his business.

If she'd only known then that he'd had an entirely different philosophy regarding the kind of woman he wanted in his bed, she might have suspected that he was keeping a mistress. As it was, she had played his game for years before discovering that she was nothing more to Elliot than a life-size doll to dress up and manipulate to his will.

"What kind of party would you like me to organize?"

"I'll take care of that."

"Oh." She was secretly hurt. Didn't he trust her judgment where his friends were concerned? "Would you like me to send out the invitations?"

"My secretary will handle that. I'll even arrange for some suitable clothes to be delivered so you

won't have to worry about your wardrobe. All I need is for you to be your usual beautiful and charming self."

Cara felt as if ice water were running through her veins.

Ross couldn't possibly know that he was reliving a scene she'd endured countless times before, but her heart ached nonetheless. She had been so sure that her life would be different with Ross. She'd thought that she would be able to fashion a place for herself in Ross's life. But after only a week of marriage, she was discovering that she was once again a trophy wife with no purpose other than to make Ross's life more comfortable.

Her throat squeezed tight with unshed tears. Why had she convinced herself that she could make a difference, that she could form an emotional bond with him? It seemed she wouldn't even be allowed to try. Stibbs ran the castle, and a nanny took care of the children. An accountant could have easily handled those responsibilities that Cara had been given.

But wasn't an accountant exactly what she was?

Her mouth grew dry. Why had she thought she could be anything more?

"Is something wrong?"

Ross was watching her, obviously waiting for a response, so she shook her head.

"No. Not a thing. The party sounds fine. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Then, before she could burst into tears, she turned on her toe and hurried out of the room.

Chapter Twelve

Perhaps it was childish, but when it became clear that she had no real place in Ross's life, Cara decided the time had come to assert herself. She would not become a life-size Barbie to be dressed and paraded in front of Ross's friends. She had enough pride and belief in herself to know that she had a great deal to offer this marriage if only she were given the chance.

But Cara was also wise enough to know that she would never be offered anything more than what she had unless she made it clear that she expected more of this marriage—and of Ross.

Her first show of independence was to inform Mrs. Graves that the children would no longer be requiring her services. The woman had been intent on working through her two-week notice, but she was so curt with the children that Cara felt they

would be better off without her help. Although Melba Wilson was still far from ready to work full-time, the older woman had stated she was eager to see the children three times a week for a few hours each time. Cara had jumped at the offer.

Mrs. Graves was clearl> alarmed by the fact that Cara intended to watch the children herself most of the time. Her self-righteousness merely made Cara more determined to do what she knew was right. Yes, it would be a challenge to watch all of the children at once. Yes, Cara was more than aware of the fact that she didn't have Mrs. Graves's formal training. But as far as Cara was concerned, she loved the children and that was far more important than a degree in child development.

Last of all Cara decided that something needed to be done about the house. Granted, it was beautiful—but it was also too elegant, opulent and overwhelming for everyday living.