Her Husband's Christmas Bargain

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.

Megan shrugged. ‘I never got round to it.’

‘Because you were secretly hoping that one day we’d get back together?’ he suggested.

‘You know that’s not true,’ Megan thrust. ‘And, while we’re on the subject, let me make it quite clear that I shall never come back to you. Never! So we might as well start divorce proceedings as soon as Christmas is over.’

Stunned by Megan’s statement, Luigi sat forward in his chair and looked at her in consternation. ‘Divorce? Now! When we’ve found each other again? When we have Charlotte to consider?’ Despite the warmth from the blazing logs a chill radiated out from his heart until his whole body felt as though it were packed in ice. This was the last thing he’d expected—or wanted! She couldn’t have given him a crueller Christmas gift.

‘I’m perfectly serious,’ she retorted. ‘We’re not compatible, you and I. We each want different things in life.’

‘I want Charlotte.’ He was adamant on that point. Whether Megan came with her was her problem, but he wasn’t letting the child go. She meant more to him than any amount of money. The thought surprised him because previously the state of his bank balance was the most important thing in his life.

‘Charlotte doesn’t come without me,’ she announced. ‘And as I have no—’

‘You’re not being given a choice,’ he warned her testily. ‘I’ve got you here now and you’re staying whether you like it or not.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘IS THAT a warning?’ asked Megan, the air constricting in her throat as it closed tightly over Luigi’s words. He sounded deadly serious.

‘It’s not a warning, it’s a fact,’ he announced. ‘And if you dare to defy me I’ll have every court in the country on your back. You’ve denied me my daughter all these years; you can no longer be allowed to get away with it.’

Panic struck in Megan’s heart. Could he do it? Had he the right? Surely the courts would find in her favour? Could she afford to take the risk? Was she stuck in this situation? She felt the colour drain from her face and sank back into the chair. ‘I can’t believe you’d do this to me.’

‘You can’t? After what you’ve done to me?’ he countered harshly. ‘I think you’ve got away with too much for too long.’

‘What if Charlotte doesn’t want to stay here? What if Charlotte doesn’t like you after she’s seen what a bad father you’ll be to her? Don’t forget I know how much time you spend away from home. She won’t like it, she won’t be very forgiving.’

‘Then I’ll have to spend more time here, won’t I?’ Dark brown eyes seared steadily into hers. He had beautiful eyes; she had always thought that. The whites were very clear and if you looked closely there was a black line around the brown iris. It gave them extra definition, and as he looked at her now she felt that he was seeing right into her mind.

And he was seeing the doubt, the unhappiness, the fear. And he was waiting for her to speak. ‘You know you won’t,’ she flared. ‘Maybe for a while, but you’d soon fall back into your old ways. It’s a way of life. You wouldn’t know what it was like to spend every evening and weekend with your wife and child. You’d be itching to get back to work, to check that things were running smoothly in your absence. You don’t know how to delegate. As a matter of fact you don’t even know how to play with Charlotte.’

Her rebuke hit home. A dark red flush swept across his face and the air suddenly went chill. ‘If I’d been given a chance then maybe I would,’ he shot back. ‘You’re the one who’s being unfair here, not me.’

‘I like that,’ she tossed fiercely. ‘You’ve more or less said that you’re going to hold us prisoner—yet I’m the one who’s being unfair? I don’t think so.’

Luigi jumped to his feet. ‘I’m sure that by the time Christmas is over you’ll have had the chance to see for yourself that it makes sense. It’s time for us to eat. Come, we mustn’t keep Cook waiting.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ protested Megan.

‘You will be when you see what culinary delights Edwina has managed to conjure up. She’s a marvel in the kitchen.’

Megan reluctantly allowed herself to follow him into the smallest of the two dining rooms where a walnut table had been set for the two of them. It looked very festive with a holly table decoration and red napkins tucked into gold rings, but Megan guessed that there would have been none of these seasonal trimmings if he were eating alone. He probably wouldn’t even have been home yet. He would dine out, or make do with a sandwich at around midnight. That used to be his normal practice.

William, the butler, served their meal and Megan found with surprise that she was hungry, very much so.

They started with mango and lobster on a green salad, a combination Megan had never had before, and she found it truly delicious and complementary. ‘Is your cook always this inventive?’ she asked between mouthfuls.

‘Always,’ he agreed. ‘She keeps urging me to have dinner parties so that she can show off her prowess.’

‘And do you?’ Megan dabbed a drop of French dressing from her lip with her napkin, an action Luigi watched closely. His eyes on her mouth reminded her of the time on their honeymoon when they’d shared a bowl of strawberries. He had dipped each one in cream and then held it between his teeth for her to take half. And any cream that was left on her lips he had licked off. It had been a truly sexually exciting experience and she dashed the memory away quickly. It was dangerous allowing such thoughts. Besides, such sensual activities had stopped once they were home and work consumed his every waking hour.

The whole meal was a gastronomic experience, making Megan wonder what Christmas Day itself would be like. Her own cooking skills were limited to plain cooking. She ensured Charlotte had a well-balanced diet, they had no takeaway meals or fast food and they ate plenty of fruit, but she wasn’t into this type of cookery.

‘You’re enjoying your meal?’ Luigi had hardly taken his eyes off Megan all the time they were eating.

‘Very much so,’ she said. ‘You’ve found a treasure in Edwina.’

‘You could eat her food all the time if you—’

‘And I’d end up piling on weight. No, thank you. I prefer my own simple cooking.’

‘Maybe I should give Edwina her marching orders?’

‘Maybe you ought to get the message that we’re not staying,’ Megan retorted coolly.

Luigi’s lips compressed and he said no more, but even when their meal was finished he wasn’t ready to let her go. ‘Where do you normally put Charlotte’s presents?’

‘I fill a stocking from Santa which I put by the fireplace, and a couple under the tree from me.’

‘Then we’d better start,’ he said.

Megan frowned. ‘It won’t take a minute; it’s too soon. What if she wakes and comes down?’

‘If she wakes we’ll hear the monitor. I thought it a wise precaution in a house of this size. We don’t want her getting lost and upset.’

We, thought Megan, as though he was already of the opinion that they were back together as husband and wife. But maybe it was a good idea to put the presents out because then she could go to bed early and escape him for a few hours. She really wasn’t looking forward to Christmas Day, which was a shame because it was normally the highlight of their year.

It wasn’t that easy to get away from him, though. After they’d placed their presents—and she was pleased to note that there was only one from Luigi for his daughter—he invited her to join him for a nightcap. Megan wasn’t really in the mood but Luigi was insistent, and she knew he wouldn’t let her go until she’d agreed.

She couldn’t help wondering how things would have been if she hadn’t run out on him. Would he be where he was today or would he have become a doting father and spent a lot more time at home? She would never know and, surprisingly, she felt a faint pang of regret that she’d never stopped to find out.

‘Would you have ever told me?’ he asked, his eyes steady on hers now as he sipped his Scotch.

‘About Charlotte?’ How had he known what she was thinking?

‘Of course.’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘Maybe one day, if Charlotte began asking about you. Not simply, Why haven’t I got a daddy?’

‘Then I can thank my lucky stars that I was in the right place at the right time. I could have waited a long, long time to meet my daughter.’ And with a swift change of subject, ‘You’re more beautiful than ever, do you know that? Motherhood suits you.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Megan assured him tartly.

His lips curved upwards into a gentle smile. ‘It’s not flattery for the sake of it, it’s the truth.’

They were back in his den, sitting in companion armchairs, the lights turned low, the fire flickering in the grate. The whole house was centrally heated, and she’d never thought Luigi the type to like old-fashioned comforts, but even so it was very welcome. Maybe the fire was in honour of Christmas. There was one already laid in the drawing room fireplace where the tree had been set up. Tomorrow she could imagine it roaring up the chimney, adding to the magic of Christmas for Charlotte.

‘Would you have gone to all this trouble if we hadn’t been here?’ asked Megan, preferring to steer the conversation back to safer grounds. ‘I mean the Christmas tree and the log fires.’

‘Truthfully?’

‘Truthfully.’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘What would have been the point? This is going to be the best Christmas ever for me—and for you too, I hope.’

‘I’m merely here to make Charlotte happy.’

‘You’re making me happy.’

His voice went down an octave, seeming to vibrate through her bones, and Megan turned her head away, concentrating on her drink, taking large sips of the vodka and orange he had mixed for her. A big mistake; it went straight to her head. Much more of this and she wouldn’t be in charge of her senses. ‘I’ve never seen you as the slippers in front of the fire sort of guy.’

‘So how do you see me?’ he asked with a roguish growl, his eyes reflecting the glow of the embers.

Megan felt them warming her—or was it the fire? Or even the drink? Whichever, she was growing hotter by the second. ‘As the tough businessman who’s feet never hit the ground. What made you buy Gerards? I thought you were in the IT industry.’

‘I still am, but I have my finger in lots of pies. I’ll tell you about them some day,’ he added dismissively, ‘but for the moment I want to talk about you. Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy? Why did you walk out without saying a word?’

‘Because I knew you’d stop me,’ she retorted, her eyes condemning as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. Her almost empty glass, she realised. ‘You’d probably have sworn that you’d change, but I knew differently. And I was right, wasn’t I?’

‘No one will ever know,’ he answered sadly. ‘It’s hard to accept that I’ve missed the first three years of my daughter’s life—it’s something I shall never forgive you for,’ he finished harshly as he tossed the last of his drink down his throat. ‘Ever!’

Megan finished her drink also and put her glass firmly down on the table. ‘I don’t want to talk about this. It’s late, I’m going to bed.’

As she stood, he too got up, and before she could stop him his arms came around her. ‘But you’re still my wife, the mother of my daughter, and I’d like a goodnight kiss.’

Megan struggled furiously but he refused to let her go. Instead his mouth came down on hers, one hand behind her head effectively cutting off her escape, the other against the small of her back. It was a long, punishing kiss and it sent resentment reeling through every inch of her body.

There was no escape. The kiss deepened, his arms tightened, and all too soon she felt herself beginning to respond. It was like a replay of when she had met him. She could remember the day very clearly. This handsome, dark-haired, Latin-looking young man had stopped to pick up a bag she’d dropped. Ironically, it had been a few weeks before Christmas and her arms had been full of purchases. When she’d looked into his eyes to thank him she’d been so taken with his good looks that she’d dropped another of her parcels.

‘I think,’ he said, with a smile that turned her legs to jelly, ‘that I’d better help you to your car, or the bus, or wherever you’re going. Home, in fact. You’ve got an extraordinary amount of packages.’

‘Christmas presents,’ she admitted shyly. ‘And I’m catching the bus.’

‘I think not,’ he said with a laugh, ‘not unless you want to lose the lot as you’re jumping on or off. I’ll run you home; my car’s just around the corner.’

‘But I don’t know you. I—’

‘I assure you you’ll be perfectly safe. My name’s Luigi Costanzo, I live in Mickleover, near Derby.’ He flashed his business card in front of her and then tucked it into one of her bags. And Megan knew instinctively that she could trust him. He had an open, honest face, and he had almost to pass her house to get to his own. It would be silly to refuse.

But still she hesitated.

‘I know how you must feel,’ he said. ‘A complete stranger and all that. The offer’s there if you want it, but I’ll still walk you to the bus stop if that’s what you’d prefer.’

Megan was eighteen and he was much older than the boys she usually hung around with. Mid twenties, she imagined, maybe even older than that. She was enchanted by him. And she found herself agreeing to let him give her a lift.

His car was smart, black and sleek. Whatever his business he was clearly doing well for himself. And he drove her straight to her door, even helping her with her parcels. Her parents’ eyes goggled when they saw her with a strange, handsome man, but they were clearly impressed.

Before he left, Luigi asked whether he could see her again. Megan couldn’t refuse. By this time she was completely bowled over. Her insides felt as though they had turned to mush—as they were doing at this moment!

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