Chapter 10 - Beyond Compare

Holly woke up slowly, like someone surfacing from a very deep ocean. Her body ached pleasurably and felt different. Tiny, darting thoughts battered against her drowsy mind, demanding admittance: sharp thorns of a pain she didn’t want to admit.

She opened her eyes, huge and dazed still, her skin softly pink with warmth, her dark hair silkily soft.

As she opened her eyes, she wondered why Drew was sitting on the side of her bed, watching her so gravely. He looked as though he had a lot on his mind. His face looked oddly drawn and grim. Outside, the sun was shining, glinting off the snow-capped roofs of the buildings, but surely not the buildings she normally saw through her window.

‘Drew…’ she began uncertainly, and then, as if someone were ripping a shroud from a coffin, everything came flooding back. Her skin burned, her eyes dilating with knowledge. Drew reached out to touch her, but she shrank back—not from him, but from herself.

‘Holly,’ Drew said quietly, ‘we have to talk. Last night…’

‘Oh, Drew, no! I don’t want to… I know how you feel,’ she told him in a low voice, avoiding his glance. ‘And I know I should never have allowed what happened last night to happen.’

‘I see.’ She sensed the distance in him immediately, and was confused by it. She thought he would have been reassured to hear she was behaving so sensibly: She had been about to tell him that she had no regrets, that she knew that he loved Rosamund, but she felt his weight leave the bed, and knew that he was walking away from her.

‘I expect you’ll want me to leave,’ she added huskily. ‘I’ll pack my things this morning.’

‘Leave?’ He strode back to the bed, frowning down at her as she turned to look at him. Two hectic spots of colour burned his cheeks. ‘Oh, no, Holly, you’re not going to do that,’ he told her flatly, adding emotionlessly, ‘We made a bargain, remember?’

She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, and wished she hadn’t as she saw Drew looking at her, and her stomach muscles contracted on a wave of remembered pleasure that made her go weak and dizzy.

She wanted him! She wanted him, right now, this minute. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her and caress her as he had done last night. She wanted to feel the hot pulse of his flesh within her own, easing that tight, aching sensation that was even now possessing her.

Frantically, she looked away from him. ‘I didn’t think you’d want me to stay.’

‘In case I’m tempted to make love to you again?’ he demanded harshly.

Make love to her again… Her body grew hot and she had to force herself not to look at him and let him see the need in her eyes. She could feel the anger emanating from him, and acknowledged that he had every right to it. She was the one who had insisted, she was the one who had begged him not to stop. Of course, he knew that wasn’t why she wanted to leave.

‘If I give you my word that I won’t touch you again, will you stay, Holly? At least until after the countess’s birthday party.’

She clung gratefully to the opportunity to stay with him, even while part of her mind despised her for it.

‘If that’s what you want…’

‘What I want?’ he exclaimed savagely. ‘What I want, Holly, is…’ He saw her go white and broke off, muttering something under his breath. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed. I’ll be out for most of the day. We could have more snow, and I’ll have to organise feed for the sheep.’

Drew had a very small flock of prize wool-giving sheep that grazed on the less fertile acreage of the farm. ‘I shan’t be back until late, Holly. I’m relying on you to keep your word,’ he told her quietly, and then added wryly, ‘Think how it’s going to look for me if I manage to lose two girlfriends in such a short space of time…’

‘I won’t leave,’ she promised him solemnly, and for a moment, as he hesitated, she had the impression that he wanted to come over and kiss her. If he did, he managed to resist the impulse, heading instead for the door.

After he had gone she got up. She and Drew were lovers! Her skin shivered in remembered pleasure, the faint bruises she saw forming on her pale flesh reminding her of the intensity of Drew’s passion. And that passion had been for her, not for Rosamund. He had wanted her…caressed her…kissed her…made love to her… and she would have the joy of that knowledge with her for always, even though she would not have Drew.

It was hard to behave as though nothing had changed, but she knew that she must. She must not burden Drew with her love. She must be as sophisticated as Rosamund would be in the same situation. She must just accept what had been and acknowledge that it could never be again. It would be hard, harder than it had been before. Sighing, she went downstairs and made herself some breakfast. Then, when she had cleared her things away, she set to work on her stencil. The work needed concentration and care, and helped her to get her life back into its normal perspective.

Her tummy told her when it was lunch time, and she stopped what she was doing to heat some of the soup she had made the previous day. In London she would simply have bought a can, but here in the country that seemed a crime. Her mother was a very domesticated woman, and she had taught Holly all her skills. Was it only yesterday lunch time that Drew had praised her, claiming that the soup was even better than his mother’s?

Would she ever feel totally at ease with him again? Would she ever be able to look at him without remembering the feel and scent of his skin, the power of his body, the vulnerability of his need? Her body contracted on a fresh wave of desire, and she stared blindly out of the window, watching fresh flakes of snow drift earthwards.

She was just ladling the soup into a bowl when she saw Drew drive into the yard. Her heart leapt and thudded against her chest wall, nervous excitement making her go weak with pleasure.

He came in, brushing snowflakes off his jacket.

‘I thought you weren’t coming in for lunch.’

‘I changed my mind,’ he told her grimly.

Despite the healthy glow of his skin, he looked tired and drawn still. Had he come back to check that she had kept her promise?

‘I wont leave, Drew,’ she told him gently. ‘Not until you ask me to.’

An odd look crossed his face. He came up to her, his hand on her throat, his eyes gravely serious as he warned her, ‘Be careful what promises you make to me, Holly. It could be that I will never ask that!’

Just for a moment she let herself believe that this was real and not just a misplaced piece of gallantry on Drew’s part. She closed her eyes and only opened them again when she had the strength of will to say firmly, ‘Drew, there’s Rosamund and—’

‘And Howard,’ he interrupted before she could go on. ‘Well, at least he won’t be able to accuse you of being inexperienced now,’ he told her with grim cruelty, watching the colour come and go in her face. ‘Is that why you made love with me last night, Holly? Because you thought it would make Howard…’

‘No… no… you know it wasn’t,’ she contradicted him sharply, her pain showing in her eyes. ‘Drew, how could you believe that?’

She heard him groan and then she was in his arms, his heart thudding wildly against her. ‘I’m sorry, Holly. God, I’m sorry,’ she heard him mutter as he shaped her skull and then tilted her head so that his mouth could whisper the apologies against her own, and finally he kissed her deeply, hungrily, like a man starving for the sensation of her mouth against his own.

When he released her, his face was white.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘Perhaps you should.’ His thumb touched the bruised fullness of her lips. ‘But not yet, Holly. Not until after the countess’s party. We’ll talk about it then. All right?’

She nodded, too shaken to speak. Why had he kissed her like that? she wondered when he had gone. Because he had sensed her need, because he had wanted to comfort her, to apologise? But it had been a kiss of passion, not apology, and she had felt the unmistakable leap of his flesh, the urgent arousal of his body against her own, and had known that he shared the desire shimmering through her.

Perhaps the Bible was right, and the apple of desire was a fruit that, once tasted, could not easily be put aside, even when that desire was not allied to love.

Why was he insisting that she stay until after the countess’s party? To give him time to prepare a story for his mother? So that they could have one last attempt at breaking Rosamund and Howard’s engagement? But Howard wouldn’t be there.

Rosamund would, though, and perhaps he was hoping that, being alone, seeing him with someone else would fuel her jealousy to such a pitch that she decided it was Drew she preferred. Certainly she was showing a good deal more interest in her old love than Howard was in his, but she didn’t care. The last thing she wanted right now was Howard. The only thing she wanted was Drew… the one thing she could not have.

For the rest of the week Drew seemed to be avoiding her, working long hours outside, coming in exhausted, to retire to his office after they had eaten, claiming that he had paperwork to catch up on.

Holly didn’t press for his company; she could see the lines of tension scored alongside his mouth, see the tightening of flesh over bones that suddenly seemed almost too prominent.

She, too, turned to her work for escape, diligently concentrating on applying the delicate stencil to the painted cupboard doors. As she filled in the outline of the pretty, fresh green leaves, she tried not to imagine Rosamund working in this kitchen, using these cupboards that Drew had built so well.

Only that morning she had spoken on the phone to Jan, telling her that so far Nantwich looked the most likely venue for the new shop. Jan had been so enthusiastic that she hadn’t felt able to tell her of her own reluctance to proceed with their plans. Was it really wise of her to allow herself to remain so close to Drew? Wouldn’t it be more sensible to return just as soon as she could to London?

But careerwise there would never be another opportunity like this one, and she was going to need her career, she admitted grimly; because she knew now that she would never marry, never have a child without Drew.

In today’s post had come a sheaf of details from local estate agents of various shop properties in the three areas they had investigated. One in particular in Nantwich had caught her eye: a rather neglected, double-fronted shop property with a spacious flat above it, and, even better, a generous garden behind it.

The price was within the limits she and Jan had discussed, and Jan had urged her to make further investigations. Her car was outside, she could drive to Nantwich quite easily if she wished, and arrange to view the property, but once she did that she would have taken the first step in committing herself to staying within Drew’s orbit. To condemning herself to a life of living in proximity to a man she loved and could never have. So instead she concentrated on her stencil, trying to hold back time and the decision she had to make.

She would do it after the countess’s party, she told herself, after she and Drew had discussed what they were going to do, how they were going to end their supposed relationship, because she was quite sure that was what Drew had on his mind. One last-ditch attempt to convince Rosamund that he was the one she loved, and, whatever the outcome, their plan was finished with.

Holly had a dim memory of her parents attending the countess’s famous parties, and recollected that a gift of some sort had been de rigueur. She mentioned it to Drew when he came in. She saw that he was looking at the pile of estate agents’ papers on the table and said uncertainly, ‘They came this morning. There’s one in Nantwich that sounds ideal. Jan wants me to go and view it…’

‘When are you going?’ he asked her, frowning, as though his thoughts were really elsewhere.

Probably on Rosamund and how difficult it could be if she decided to remain in the area once he and Rosamund were back together. Holly was sure he must be bitterly regretting making love to her, but she couldn’t find the words to tell him that any fears he had of her revealing what had happened to Rosamund were groundless. No matter what the provocation, she could never sully her very precious memories by using them in a vindictive kind of way. It simply wasn’t in her nature, and it hurt that he shouldn’t know this without having to be told.

‘After…after the countess’s party,’ she told him quietly, and watched as he gave her a quick look.

His frown lightened as he questioned, ‘So you’re still considering going ahead with the partnership… with staying in the area?’

Why should he look and sound so pleased? It ran completely contrary to her own anguished thoughts, and for a moment she could only stare at him.

‘Er—yes,’ she managed to answer at last. ‘Yes, I am. It’s far too good a career opportunity to give up,’ she added in a husky voice, so that he didn’t think it was because of him, because she was cherishing any foolish and impossible dreams.

‘What about Howard? If he drops Rosamund, it’s unlikely that her father will keep him on.’

For a moment her face was blank, as though she was having great difficulty in remembering who Howard was, and then it cleared.

She almost told him that she couldn’t care less what Howard did, and that, moreover, she doubted that he would ever consider giving up a wealthy bride like Rosamund for someone like her. Then she reminded herself that, although the scales had fallen from her eyes, they still blinded Drew, and he would not want to hear that she believed that Rosamund and Howard were perfect for one another, both being equally self-obsessed and selfish.

‘I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it,’ she contented herself with saying lightly, before returning to her original question about what she could get the countess as a birthday gift.

‘She had a collection of antique button hooks,’ Drew told her. ‘I know a place in Chester that sells them. We could have lunch at the Grosvenor on Saturday and buy her a present at the same time.’

It made her dizzy to think that he actually wanted to spend time with her. All week he seemed to have been avoiding her, and now here he was casually suggesting that they spend almost all day together.

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind. I know you’ve been busy—’ she began breathlessly.

As he turned away from her she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, ‘Yes, busy trying to stop myself from thinking about how you felt in my arms.’

But the words were husky and low-toned, and she suspected she must have imagined them, conjuring them up out of her own reckless love.

By Saturday the snow had gone, but the morning dawned clear and sharp with frost and a bright November day.

Holly were her red dress again and her black coat, knowing that the colours suited her. Drew was wearing the blouson she had chosen, and as she crossed the farmyard with him she ached to be free to tell him how masculine and desirable he looked.

New clothes hadn’t changed the man he was—they couldn’t—but they had underlined the special maleness of him, and her heart thumped precariously as she watched him move, lean and long-limbed and very, very much a man.

Chester was busy, packed with pre-Christmas shoppers, but Holly liked the busy atmosphere, the sense of community, the familiarity of the Cheshire accent mingling with the drawled vowels of Chester’s wealthy county set. She felt at home here, comfortable and at ease.

She laughed as she watched a group of children standing in front of a tumbling clown. Musicians played on the corners of the streets, cheerful, smiling students with placards proclaiming their musical status. It was an innovative way for students to earn extra money, and the crowds seemed to like it, being generous with the silver they dropped into the upturned hat.

Christmas. A feeling of melancholy suddenly struck her. Where would she be then? Back in London in her lonely flat? Last year she had spent Christmas with Jan. They would invite her to join them again this year, but she still did not feel entirely at ease with their sophisticated crowd. If she had the money and the time, she could fly out to her brother and parents. They would welcome her.

Given free choice, though, there was only one place she wanted to be, one person she wanted to spend such an evocative and emotional season with.

Drew.

She looked up at him, and caught him watching her with a sombre expression.

‘Don’t,’ he said rawly, and her throat closed with tears. Had he read the love in her eyes and warned her not to betray it? For both their sakes? But she realised she was wrong when he added, ‘He isn’t worth it, Holly. He isn’t worth a single one of your tears, damn him,’ he added gruffly, and to her astonishment he took hold of her in the middle of the crowded street and held her in his arms, hugging her briefly, his mouth tender against the closed corners of her eyes.

She could have stayed there for ever, and would have done if a crowd of laughing teenagers hadn’t forced them apart.

‘We ought to go and find the countess’s present,’ she told Drew.

‘Yes. Come on, this way.’

The small antique shop was packed with treasures, and on a different occasion Holly could have quite happily spent the rest of the day browsing there.

The owner had a good selection of hooks to show them, and in the end they bought two that formed a pair. Watching them being packed away in a worn case, Holly couldn’t help wondering where she would be the next time the countess had a birthday. Not with Drew. Never again with Drew…

The Grosvenor was packed, but Holly was glad; its busyness stopped her from brooding and made it impossible for them to have any kind of personal conversation.

They left after they had had lunch, Holly shaking her head when Drew asked her if she would like to call on his mother and stepfather. The day had been enough of a strain without adding that. What would Drew tell his mother? The truth? That they had played a game out of innocence and love, not meaning to hurt or wound, not meaning to deceive? Holly hoped his mother would understand. She rather suspected that she might.

When they got back, Drew left to check on the stock. Holly made a pot of tea, wrapped the countess’s present in the pretty paper they had bought, and wrote out the card that Drew had insisted was to come from both of them. She looked at their names and had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from bursting into tears.

Drew had already warned her that the countess was inclined to be parsimonious, and that the antiquated central-heating system of Elsworth Park was not inclined to be efficient, and so she wore a new wool dress in steel-grey, its plainness relieved by the sparkle of rhinestones across the shoulders and down the sleeves.

The dress was short and cut to skim her curves flatteringly. With it she wore fine, dark grey silk tights and her one and only pair of good high-heeled evening shoes.

The black velvet coat she had worn that afternoon was the only one she had that was suitable to wear over the dress, and she acknowledged a little despondently as she studied her reflection that her dress, with its neat, high collar and long sleeves, was hardly likely to excite male desire.

However, when she went downstairs Drew looked at her for a long time in silence in a way that made her heart flutter until she told herself that she was being stupid.

Drew himself looked vigorously attractive in his evening clothes, and she could only marvel that she had ever compared him unfavourably to Howard. There was something subtle and enticing about the hard play of muscles beneath the matt fabric. She wanted to go up to him and touch him.

Quickly quelling the impulse, she gave him an over-bright smile and picked up the countess’s present.

‘Ready?’ he asked her.

Silently, she nodded.

Elsworth Park had been built in the late eighteenth century by an eccentric millionaire ancestor of the countess’s, who, it was rumoured, had inherited his wealth from a slave-trading uncle in the West Indies. Whether or not this was true, it was a story that was often repeated with relish and embellishment locally, even by the countess herself, who rather enjoyed her family’s aristocratic eccentricity.

She was receiving her guests in some state in what had once been the drawing-room. Holly found the combination of so much faded magenta silk and gilt rather overpowering, but there was no denying the beauty of the Savonnaire rug that covered the floor.

The countess received her graciously, recollecting her parents with apparent ease, but her real warmth was reserved for Drew, whom she greeted in very much the manner of an eighteenth-century beauty with a favoured courtier.

Watching Drew with her, Holly could only applaud both his tact and his kindness. She herself moved discreetly to one side, tensing when she heard Rosamund’s familiar voice at her elbow.

The other girl was wearing a vivid blue puffball dress that exposed her tanned arms and shoulders and revealed the upper swell of her breasts. Privately Holly thought the colour too strong for her, but there was no denying the expensive exclusivity of the pure silk dress. Rosamund was wearing satin shoes dyed to match, and she studied Holly’s own plain grey outfit with barely concealed contempt.

‘Didn’t Drew warn you that this was a formal “do”?’ she taunted her cattily.

Holly didn’t allow herself to respond. What was the point?

‘God, why on earth doesn’t he tell the old bat to get lost?’ she commented viciously, watching the countess flirt outrageously with Drew.

‘Perhaps because he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings,’ Holly responded with dignity.

‘He won’t marry you, you know,’ Rosamund added conversationally. ‘Take my advice… go back to London before it’s too late and you make a complete fool of yourself. Who knows,’ she added carelessly, ‘you might even be able to persuade Howard to take you back.’

‘Howard? But he’s engaged to you,’ Holly protested.

‘Not any more,’ Rosamund told her, and, seeing the predatory way her glance settled on Drew’s broad shoulders, Holly’s heart sank. Without saying the words, Rosamund was letting her know that she considered Drew to be her very private property and that she fully intended to reclaim him.

She permitted herself one tiny dig, keeping her head held high as she said quietly, ‘You surprise me. I should have thought the two of you were ideally suited.’

Rosamund stared at her, her pale blue eyes like chips of ice.

‘Drew is mine,’ she told her flatly, and Holly actually took a step backwards, so vicious was the look she gave her. ‘Mine,’ Rosamund reiterated, ‘and no one, least of all a simpering little fool like you, is going to take him away from me.’

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked up to Drew, linking her arm through his, almost dragging him away from the countess. Holly stood and watched them, unable to do or say anything.

Their plan had worked… but with what bitter consequences for her! She suspected that she was going to have to resign herself to being a wallflower for the rest of the evening, but to her astonishment Drew returned within five minutes.

‘Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling well?’ he exclaimed.

‘What?’

‘Rosamund just told me that you weren’t feeling well and that you’d said you wanted to leave.’

‘I…’

Rosamund had told him that?

She was still wondering why when Rosamund herself came toward them, tucking a proprietorial arm through Drew’s as she said to Holly with insincerity, ‘Oh, you’re still here, then. Look, why don’t I get Dad’s chauffeur to run you back to the farm? You look terrible. So pale…’

No doubt she did in contrast to Rosamund’s glowing tan, Holly acknowledged grimly.

‘There’s no need for that,’ Drew said quietly, disengaging himself. ‘I’ll take Holly home.’

‘Oh, Drew, no! There’s no need for you to leave. I’m sure Holly doesn’t want to spoil your evening. In fact, I suspect she’s looking forward to making a sneaky phone call to Howard,’ she added archly. ‘Our engagement’s off. And if Holly’s anything like as crazy about Howard as he said, then she must be desperately anxious to speak to him. They do say the best way to catch a man is on the rebound, don’t they?’ she added with a tiny laugh that jarred on Holly’s nerves. And suddenly, she did feel very sick indeed.

She swayed where she stood, hating Rosamund with an intensity she had never experienced in her life, not even when she had thought she had stolen Howard from her.

She heard Drew saying quietly, ‘I think you’ve said enough, Rosamund,’ and then, above her shrill protests, adding, ‘I’m taking Holly home.’

‘The countess,’ Holly whispered, as he put his arm around her and guided her towards the door.

‘She’ll understand. I’ll telephone and explain tomorrow.’

Outside, in the cold night air, Holly breathed deeply, trying to stop the shudders wrenching her apart inside.

Drew didn’t say a word during the drive back, but she could sense the tension in him and knew that he must be bitterly disappointed at hating to leave Rosamund. Not that he had anything to worry about. The other woman had made it more than plain how she felt about him.

These thoughts much to the forefront of her mind as Drew unlocked the kitchen door, she said tiredly, ‘Well, at least our plan worked. Rosamund wants you back, Drew. She told me as much earlier. You must want to get back to her. It was good of you to bring me home, but there’s no need to stay…’

‘No need? Is it true, Holly?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Do you want to get me out of the way so that you can plead with Neston to take you back?’

‘No.’

Real revulsion thickened her voice, and before she could stop herself she felt the tears press hotly against her eyes and slide relentlessly down her face.

‘Oh, God, Holly! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

He came toward her and Holly knew that he was going to take hold of her. Desperately she backed away, and begged, ‘No, Drew, please don’t touch me.’

He went stock still and stared at her, his face suddenly as pale as her own, and then abruptly it burned with dark colour.

‘I see,’ he said stiffly. ‘Of course, I should have realised how you’d feel. I suppose you think you can’t go back to Neston because of what happened with me… because we made love. God dammit, Holly, doesn’t the fact that we did, and you and he never did, tell you anything?’ he demanded explosively.

‘Yes,’ she said woodenly. ‘It tells me that you’re a very sensual man, desperately missing the woman you love, and that I’m…’ And then her voice became totally suspended as her throat locked.

‘And that you’re what, Holly?’ Drew demanded thickly, ignoring her earlier plea and taking her into his arms. ‘Sorry that you can’t love me the way I love you? Sorry that you made love with me? Sorry that…’

Within his arms, Holly tensed and then demanded tearfully, ‘Say that again.’

‘Say what again?’

‘That you love me!’

He hesitated and then said quietly, ‘Didn’t you already know it? Everyone else does.’

‘No… I thought you loved Rosamund.’

‘After the way I made love to you?’ he demanded drily. ‘Holly, I’ve never loved Rosamund. She’s an avaricious, scheming, stupid woman, and besides, how could I possibly love her when I’ve always loved you?’

‘Always?’ she whispered, her eyes enormous.

‘Since you were sixteen,’ he whispered back, bending to capture the tremor of her mouth as though he couldn’t resist its temptation.

Holly made an incoherent sound, and then subsided into his arms. It was a long time before he released her.

‘You really thought I loved Rosamund?’ he demanded wonderingly.

‘You let me think so. You told me she’d broken your heart,’ Holly reminded him accusingly.

‘No. You assumed she had, and I… well, it was the most attention you’d paid me in over five years, and I wasn’t going to spoil it by telling you I wasn’t sharing your misery. And then fate seemed to hand me a golden opportunity. When you suggested that we pretend to have fallen in love, I could hardly believe my good luck. I told myself if I couldn’t make you forget Neston, then I didn’t deserve you. Have I made you forget him?’ he asked her softly.

‘Almost from the very start,’ Holly admitted shyly. ‘When I bumped into him in Knutsford, I couldn’t imagine what I’d ever seen in him. He seemed such a pale shadow of a man in comparison to you. But Rosamund told me she wanted you back,’ she added quietly. ‘She…’

‘Rosamund is an opportunist. She’s wanted me for years, Holly,’ he told her frankly, ‘in much the same way she’s wanted a new car or a fur coat. I’ve never wanted her, but she’s an expert at refusing to see what she doesn’t want to see. I suspect she broke with Howard hoping that you would go back to him and that would leave her in a position to comfort me. In fact, I suspect she had much the same thoughts in her mind as I had when you wept broken-heartedly over me for that idiot, Neston. When you were sixteen I looked at you and knew I loved you, but you were still a child and I was a very poor young man with no future to offer any woman. The years went by; I only saw you occasionally when you came home. We’d chat and you were pleasant and friendly, but I knew you just didn’t see me as a man. I told myself I’d get over you, and then, as though fate had decided to intercede on my behalf, you came home.’

‘And the night we made love?’ Holly whispered.

‘I couldn’t help myself,’ he said simply. ‘I’d wanted you too much for too long. It was like falling off a cliff, once I’d taken that first fatal step, there was no going back.’

‘I can’t quite believe it all,’ Holly told him shakily. ‘It’s almost as though I’ve walked into a magical dream.’

‘Shock tends to have that effect,’ Drew agreed. ‘I feel much the same way myself. Of course, we could soon prove whether we’re dreaming or not, I suppose, by sticking pins in one another—or we could simply forget about the pins, and go on dreaming together.’

Holly looked up at him and said quietly, ‘Yes… Yes, I’d like that, Drew. Just so long as when I wake up in the morning, you’re there beside me.’

She saw the look of love and need transform his face, and her breath caught in her throat. It was true, he did love her; the only wonder was that she had not realised it before.

‘For the rest of our lives,’ Drew told her solemnly. And then he lifted her left hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger.

‘Write to your parents, Holly. Ask them to come home as soon as they can. I’ve waited patiently since you were sixteen, and suddenly I’m finding I can’t be patient any more. My mother’s right,’ he added huskily, ‘you’d be a beautiful winter bride.’

And she was, and as a wedding present, her new husband gave her the keys for the shop in Nantwich. ‘Two new partners in one week,’ she teased breathlessly as they left on their honeymoon. ‘You and Jan.’ And, although he scowled at her, she knew that Drew would always encourage and support her in whatever she chose to do. The shop was the icing on the cake, but Drew was the cake itself, and the meat and drink of her life, and he always would be.