Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(27)

'It's for the best. Really, it's for the best.' She began to walk,  knowing her movements were jerky but unable to do anything about it. She  half expected him to walk with her and when he didn't, she waited for  him to call her back. The call didn't come. She walked on but still it  didn't come.

Willow reached the end of the field and stepped onto the small style  that led into the lane. Then she was in the lane and walking swiftly,  woodenly, aware of the cold air on her face and the smell of woodsmoke.  Jim must have lit a bonfire, she thought vacantly. He often did on a  Sunday afternoon.

By the time she reached the cottage the tears were streaming down her  face and she fumbled with the key for what seemed like an age before the  door opened. She all but fell across the threshold, pulling the door  shut and then sinking down with her back against the wood as she sobbed  and sobbed.

It was over. As she had wanted it to be. He thought she didn't love him  and, Morgan being Morgan, that would be enough to keep him from  contacting her again. No more hour-long phone calls, which had changed  mediocre days into something wonderful; no more weekends filled with  laughter and music and life; no more being able to watch his face as he  talked and smiled; no more Morgan. What had she done? What had she done?                       
       
           



       

He had told her he loved her and she had flunked it big time, ruining  any chance for them in the future. She couldn't have put the final seal  on this relationship more effectively if she'd planned it for a  lifetime, she thought sickly. She had lied to him and, in lying, sealed  her fate.

Willow couldn't have said how long she sat there wallowing in misery,  but by the time she dragged herself into the kitchen it was dark outside  and beginning to snow. Fat, feathery flakes were falling in their  millions from a laden sky. Willow wondered briefly if she was going to  be able to get to work tomorrow, and then dismissed the thought just as  quickly. What did work matter? What did anything matter? she asked  herself wretchedly. If this was all there was, if life was going to  continue to be as horrible as it had been the last few years, she might  as well hibernate in the cottage and become a recluse.

After making herself a mug of hot chocolate she put a match to the fire  and curled up on the sofa, staring unseeing into the burgeoning flames.  Morgan said he loved her, but how could she know he wouldn't change once  they were together? She didn't let herself consider marriage;  togetherness was too frightening as it was. And he hadn't mentioned  marriage anyway.

Piers had been the perfect boyfriend before they'd got wed: charming,  amusing, loving, attentive. He hadn't put a foot wrong and she'd thought  she was the luckiest girl in the world. And then they'd tied the knot  and even on honeymoon he'd begun to show his true colours. How could  anyone ever really know anyone else?

'They can't,' she whispered into her mug of hot chocolate, cupping her  hands round its warmth. They can't, that's the truth of it. Some things  had to be taken on trust and she was all out of that commodity. She  couldn't, she just couldn't, take the risk.

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she told herself to get a  grip. She had a nice job, her own home and she was in good health.  Furthermore, she had plenty of friends and was as free as a bird to do  what she pleased. She was so lucky.

It didn't help. It should have, but it didn't.

After another hour or so of fruitless soul-searching she resolutely  switched on the TV. The weather girl was happily warning of severe  snowstorms causing major traffic problems, her hands waving like an air  hostess as she pointed out the worst-hit areas. It looked worse directly  where Willow lived.

Great, Willow thought. Still, she was warm and snug and had plenty of  food. Even if she was kept home for a day or two it wouldn't matter. She  sat gazing at the TV screen wondering if Morgan would come round to see  if she was all right if they got snowed in. He might, she thought, her  heart thudding, before picturing the look on his face when she'd said  she didn't love him. Of course he wouldn't come. Why would he? Silly to  expect it. He might go as far as sending Jim but he wouldn't come  himself. Not now. He'd stay away because he thought she wanted him to.

After another bout of crying she watched an inane comedy, which even the  studio audience didn't seem to find funny judging by the forced  laughter, and then made herself more hot chocolate. She had just  swallowed two headache pills when her mobile phone rang, causing her  heart to jump into her throat.

Her hands trembling, she looked at the number and could have cried again  but this time with disappointment. Beth's mobile. Likely her sister and  Peter were out somewhere and checking she was safely at home in view of  the weather. She was still faintly annoyed that Beth and Morgan had  been having private conversations she'd known nothing about, and her  voice was stiff when she said, 'Hallo, Beth?'

'It's me, Peter.'

She knew immediately something was badly wrong; she'd never heard stolid, reliable Peter's voice shake before.

'Beth's had a fall. I'm ringing on her phone because when the ambulance came I forgot mine but Beth's was in her handbag.'

Blow whose phone he was using. 'Where are you? What's happened?' she said urgently. 'Is Beth badly hurt?'

'We're at the hospital. Beth fell down the cellar steps earlier. Why the  hell she went down there without telling me I don't know; apparently  she wanted to sort the last of the packing cases we stored down there  when we moved. It had something in she wanted for the baby's room. The  first I knew I heard her scream-' His voice broke, then he went on, 'She  landed awkwardly, Willow. They-they think the baby's coming.'                       
       
           



       

A month early. Endeavouring to keep the alarm out of her voice, she said  quickly, 'It might be a false labour, Peter. A reaction to the fall.  Things might calm down. They often do.'

'No, we thought that at first but now they're pretty sure it's coming. Her waters have broken and everything.'

'Three or four weeks early is nothing these days,' she said  reassuringly, 'and babies are tougher than you think. It'll be fine, I  know it will. Beth's healthy so don't worry.'

'She's asking for you. Is there any chance of you coming to the hospital tonight? She … she needs you with her, Willow.'

She didn't have to think about it. 'Absolutely. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll leave straight away.'

'Drive carefully though, the roads are already getting pretty bad,'  Peter said worriedly. 'When you get here, go to the maternity reception  and they'll direct you. OK? I'll tell them you're coming and explain so  there won't be any problems.'

'That's fine. Now get back to Beth and hold her hand, and don't forget to give her my love and tell her I'm on my way.'

'Thanks, Willow.' His voice was husky. 'I appreciate it.'

She stared at the phone for a stunned moment once the call had finished,  and then leapt into action. Five minutes later she was dressed in  warmer clothes, the fire was banked down and the guard was in place, and  everything was off that needed to be off.

When she opened the front door and the force of the wind threatened to  tear it out of her fingers, she realised how bad the storm had become.  Already the snow was inches thick and it showed no signs of abating,  just the opposite.

Pulling her hat more firmly over her ears, she staggered to the car,  wondering if she was going to be able to get out of the lane, let alone  all the way to the hospital. In the event she needn't have worried. The  engine was as dead as a dodo.

She tried everything, including crying, praying and finally stamping her  feet and screaming like a two-year-old. It was after this she accepted  she was going nowhere in this car tonight. She would have to phone for a  taxi. It was going to cost a small fortune but it wasn't the time to  count the cost. Beth needed her. Whatever it took, she was going to get  to that hospital. 'Hold on, Beth,' she prayed. 'I'm coming.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

MORGAN sat staring down at the papers on his desk. He'd been sitting in  the same position for a while, his mind replaying for the umpteenth time  the whole disastrous last conversation with Willow. In fact ever since  he'd got home and immediately gone to his study, telling Kitty he had  some urgent financial reports to look through, he'd been dissecting  every word, every gesture, every glance they'd exchanged. It had been a  relief when Kitty and Jim had turned in early due to the weather, and  he'd had the house to himself. He appreciated Kitty's motherly concern  for his welfare, but there was the odd occasion when he was very  thankful their flat was situated over the garages and separate from the  main house, and this was one of them. He couldn't stand her fussing  tonight.