Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(28)

He scowled at the inoffensive papers. He didn't know how Kitty knew he'd  fed most of his supper to the dogs, but she'd looked at the empty plate  and then at him and asked him point blank if he and Willow had had an  argument. He'd snapped at her then, something he felt guilty about now.

Moving restlessly, he rose to his feet and went to stand by the fire,  his back to the flames. She was a good woman, Kitty. Gentle, kind. If  he'd been placed with someone like her as a boy, his childhood would  have been different.

Don't start feeling sorry for yourself, for crying out loud.  Self-contempt brought him straightening his shoulders before he bent to  pick up another log to throw on the fire.

He'd been lucky. Overall, he'd been very lucky to get to where he was  now. He'd worked hard, of course, but then so did lots of folk who never  got the break he'd got. One of his friends had said he'd got the Midas  touch where business was concerned, and maybe he had. It had enabled him  to rise in the world, to become more wealthy and successful than he had  ever dreamed of in his youth, and he had dreamed plenty.                       
       
           



       

Morgan smiled bitterly. He'd vowed every day of his childhood and  teenage years that he would make something of himself, if only to show  the relatives who had treated him so shamefully that he'd had the last  laugh. And one by one they'd come sniffing around once he'd made his  first million or two, hands held out. It had given him great  satisfaction to tell them exactly where they could go.

Yes, until a few weeks ago he'd been satisfied he had everything a man  could possibly wish for in life. Until Willow. He'd really thought he  was getting somewhere with her the last little while, though; there had  been something different about her since that night when he had  surprised her by walking away.

He should have taken her and be damned, he told himself savagely in the  next moment, spinning on his heel so sharply that the dogs-scattered  about the floor-rose as one to their feet with low barks. If he had  taken her that night she would probably have been in his arms right now.  But he had wanted more than the pleasure of her company in bed; he  still did, more fool him. He had slept with many women in his time but  until Willow he hadn't wanted to make love with one, and there was a  difference. Oh, yes, there was a difference.

'Enough,' he muttered as he crossed the hall. He was going to have a  drink. In fact more than one. A lot more. Enough so that when he closed  his eyes tonight he would sleep without thinking or dreaming. Oblivion  would be sweet tonight.

The sound of the front door bell stopped him in his tracks and sent the  dogs charging to perform their canine duty of repelling invaders. Morgan  frowned. Who the dickens was that on a night like this? Someone who'd  broken down possibly, but he had never felt less like playing the good  Samaritan in his life. He could do nothing less than answer the door,  though.

One sharp word of command brought the pack of dogs slinking behind him, ears pricked and eyes narrowed, as he opened the door.

'I'm so sorry, Morgan.' She was speaking before he'd even got the door  properly open. 'I would never have bothered you normally but Beth's in  the hospital and I have to get there and my car won't start and the taxi  cabs are refusing to turn out-'

'Hey, hey, hey.' He interrupted the frantic gabble by reaching out and  drawing the snow-covered figure into the warmth of the house. 'Slowly  now. From the beginning, Willow.'

'Peter phoned me. Beth's had a fall and the baby's coming early and she  wants me there. I promised, Morgan, but my car won't start and no taxis  are running because of the weather. I didn't know what to do … '

'Yes, you did,' he said quietly. 'You came to me and I'll sort it. The  snow won't bother the Range-Rover. We'll get through. I'll get my  things. Relax, it'll be all right.'

They stopped outside the garage block and Morgan explained to Jim what  was happening, then they were on the road and on their way. Willow had  always thought that snow was pretty, transforming even the dullest  landscape into a winter wonderland. Tonight she hated it. It was a  relentless enemy and unforgiving.

In spite of the powerful four by four's ability to tackle the most  atrocious weather conditions, she could see Morgan was having his work  cut out to keep the vehicle moving steadily forward. She sat in an agony  of impatience as they passed abandoned cars every few miles; the snow  was forming into great drifts in places and the roads were swiftly  becoming impassable. They didn't speak; she knew Morgan needed every  ounce of concentration if they were going to reach the hospital safely,  but she wouldn't have known what to say anyway. She had turned up on his  doorstep needing his help-yet again-and even after all that had  happened that afternoon he hadn't hesitated or made her feel bad. His  response had been immediate and unconditional. He was a man in a  million.

She glanced at him under her eyelashes. He was hunched over the wheel,  peering into the road ahead as the windscreen wipers laboured under  their burden of snow, every muscle and sinew focused on the job in hand.  She was cold, tired, worried and scared to death, but there was no one  in the world she'd rather be with in this situation than Morgan.  Ninety-nine out of a hundred men wouldn't have dreamt of turning out on a  night like this for a nightmare journey, certainly not for a woman who  had thrown their love back in their face only hours earlier. Piers  wouldn't have put his nose out of the door for his own sister, let alone  hers. She couldn't compare Morgan to Piers, or any other man if it came  to it. Morgan was Morgan, a one-off. Unique. And he loved her. As she  did him.                       
       
           



       

The wind was whipping the car and great swirls of snow were blasting the  windows, but for the first time since she had met Morgan the storm  within Willow was quietened. Any regrets she felt about the past would  be nothing to what she'd feel if she lost Morgan through her own  cowardice. She hadn't liked his straight talking earlier, but he was  right-it was time to move on. Every word he'd said to her was true.

The Range-Rover crawled the last few miles to the hospital and they were  within sight of the building when the snow finally won the battle. Two  cars had slewed across the road thereby blocking it completely, and  turning round wasn't an option.

'Looks like the last leg will have to be on foot.' Morgan cut the engine  as he spoke, stretching his arms above his head for a moment. 'Hold on  to me and we'll get there, OK?'

He had just encapsulated her thoughts for the future more neatly than  he'd ever know. Quietly, she said, 'I'm sorry I dragged you out on a  night like this. You seem forever destined to rescue me from one  disaster or another.'

'Beth falling down the cellar steps can hardly be laid at your door.' He smiled. 'Nor the blizzard.'

She smiled back. 'Thank you,' she said softly.

A shadow passed over his face but it had gone so swiftly she thought she  had imagined it. Words hovered on her lips, explanations, excuses, but  then she nearly jumped out of her skin as someone tapped Morgan's  window.

The police officer informed them the road ahead was impassable, as if  they didn't know. 'This is not a night to be out, sir,' he added, 'and  all the signs are the storm's getting worse. Have you far to go?'

Willow chimed in. 'My sister's expecting a baby and we're trying to reach the hospital. It's not far from here.'

The policeman nodded. 'You'll do that all right, but I suggest you think  about staying there the night. Come morning things will be easier but  any journey tonight is foolhardy. People don't realise how treacherous  these sort of conditions can be. Stay in the hospital and keep warm.'

'We'll do just that, Officer,' Morgan said appeasingly.

Once the policeman had trudged off, looking more like Frosty the Snowman  than anything else, Willow said again, 'I am sorry to have put you in  this position, Morgan. Will the Range-Rover be OK to leave here until  morning?'

'It'll be fine.' His tone was dismissive, even curt.

Again she told herself to say something but the moment-and her courage-was gone.

She watched as Morgan walked round and opened her door, helping her down  into the snow, which immediately rode over the old boots she'd pulled  on before leaving the cottage. The snow was blinding and she was glad of  Morgan's arm around her once they began walking. Far from being the  enchantingly feathery stuff of fairy tales, this snow was vicious. It  stung the eyes and lashed the skin, making the several hundred yards to  the hospital an ordeal. She'd never experienced snow like this.

When they reached the automatic doors leading into the maternity section  of the hospital, the warmth hit them as they walked in. Willow made  herself known at Reception as Peter had instructed, and the efficient  hospital machine kicked in. Within a few minutes a bright, cheery little  blonde nurse was standing in front of them. She explained Willow needed  to be fitted with a hospital gown before she joined her sister in the  delivery room, and Morgan could wait in a special area designed for that  purpose close to the room where Beth and Peter were.