The Bride, the Baby & the Best Man

Author:Liz Fielding [Fielding, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Classic Romance
Published: 2014-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

EXCITEMENT. As she cradled Ben she could still feel the edge of it, the dangerous draw of the passion Harry had trailed as a lure. It shivered deep within her stirring up long-suppressed desires, the ache of longing for all she’d lost. It had been so long since she had been held, kissed, loved. She had been wearing her career, wearing Julian like a shield, but they were no defence against a man like Harry March. He made her skin tingle, raised her pulse rate, made her feel — alive.

A tear fell on Ben’s cheek making him jump and wave his tiny hands anxiously. She wiped it gently away with the tip of her finger, kissed his forehead, murmuring softly to him. She hadn’t thought it possible to cry any more tears over Michael. But the tear wasn’t for him, it was for herself. For all the wasted years while she had kept her distance, refusing the invitations that came her way, using any excuse not to become involved again, hurt again, while her friends fell in love, married, had babies. And divorced, she reminded herself. Some of them. Too many of them.

It could have happened to her if she had married Michael. How easy it was to understand, from the vastly superior hindsight of twenty-five, that they had been far too young for marriage.

She hadn’t always been so objective, so level-headed. At eighteen she had been giddy with the excitement of being in love, could not imagine anything but happy-ever-after. Then she’d opened Michael’s letter and it was as if she’d hit a brick wall as she was thrown off the merry-go-round of her own fantasy.

Her marriage to Julian wouldn’t be based on such insubstantial emotions, but on respect, compatibility, shared ideals. It might not have the giddy highs of passion and romance, but it wouldn’t have the painful lows either.

And if her family and friends weren’t quite convinced, it was because they hadn’t thought about it as carefully as she had.

Harry might mock her, but she wouldn’t willingly put herself through that again.

She dropped a kiss on Ben’s dark, downy curls. He grinned up at her, squeezing her heart so that for a dangerous moment her breath caught in her throat. She had always wanted babies. She and Michael had planned to have at least four.

She had planned to have a least four. It was scarcely any wonder that Michael had run. Babies were for women, their consolation as dreams were crushed by reality and love turned to routine.

Her relationship with Julian was based on reality and if no babies was the price she had to pay for peace of heart, well so be it.

She lifted the warm infant to her shoulder. ‘And as for Harry March,’ she murmured softly to him, ‘what would an irritable old beast of a bachelor know about such things?’

‘Do you often chat to babies?’

‘Ben’s a great listener and he doesn’t answer back,’ Faith replied, wondering if Harry saw her jump, or whether she just imagined that she had left the chair.

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