She said gently, ‘Do you want to tell me about your grandfather?’
Adam lay back on the pillow, frowning a little. ‘He was a very rich, very selfish man. He believed that women existed to serve, and treated my grandmother accordingly. And he was paranoid about people trying to cheat him, so they never entertained at home, or went out very much. But within the limits he imposed she made friends, and a life for herself.
‘And when her daughter was born, she was determined that she should have independence. It was one of the few things she stood up to the old monster about.
‘One day he announced he’d sold their house, and they were coming to live at Dean’s Mooring. My grandmother was terribly distressed. It meant losing her friends, and the garden which she’d created and adored. And she was afraid, and rightly so, that it would mean Ambrose becoming more reclusive than ever.’
‘What did your mother think?’
‘She’d managed to distance herself. She’d gone away to school, and then won a place at university. She had her career planned, and she’d also met my father, who was doing post-graduate work.’
He paused. ‘And then my grandmother died—very suddenly of a heart attack. When Caroline came home for the funeral my grandfather told her she was to leave university and live with him—to cook and keep house as her mother had done. And when she protested he got angry, and told her that she wouldn’t be able to continue with her course anyway, because he was withdrawing all financial support.’
‘What did she do?’
‘They quarrelled—seriously. He said if she didn’t do as he demanded he would never see her again. But she went back to university anyway. My father was doing paid research for one of his professors, and he had a full grant, so they got married and managed somehow.
‘She wrote to Ambrose about her marriage, and told him when I was born too, but he never answered. And a long time later, when I was quite small, she took me down to Dean’s Mooring. I can remember standing outside as she knocked on the door, begging him to open it And his voice telling her to go away. That he never wanted to see her again, and as far as he was concerned she was dead.
‘As we walked away I can remember her crying, and I promised myself then that I’d come back one day and tear the house down, brick by brick. Destroy it completely.’
He paused. ‘The day you saw my mother was the first day she’d ever been back. She’s been a widow for nearly five years now, and I knew she was going to find it—difficult. So I needed to be there for her.’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was soft. ‘Oh, yes, of course, my love.’ She was silent for a moment ‘We’ll fight, you know.’
He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘Your cat, my dog. But the making-up will be more than worth it, I promise.’ He looked at her, his eyes questioning, suddenly vulnerable. ‘So, will you marry me, Tara, my one and only love?’
‘I’m yours,’ she said. ‘Now and for always.’ And drew him gently down to her.
EPILOGUE
AS SHE leaned on the window-sill of her bedroom at Dean’s Mooring, Tara could see that the leaves were falling from the silver birches across the river, and feel a tang of autumn in the late-afternoon breeze. The long summer was coming to an end at last.
. It had been a busy sixteen months, with the wedding first, and then the renovation of the house to supervise. In fact, she and Adam had done a lot of the work themselves, until circumstances had forced her to take life rather more easily.
The sound of voices and soft laughter drifted up to her, and Tara looked down smiling as her mother and father came into view, with Caroline beside them pushing the baby buggy.
Strange how nervous she’d been of meeting Adam’s mother, she thought. She’d watched with real trepidation as the tall, elegant figure with its immaculately coiffed blonde hair had walked into her flat with Adam for the first time. After all, this was one powerful lady.
But as Caroline had come close to her she’d seen that the impression of brittle chic was an illusion. That the still-beautiful face was warm and lived-in, and wise. And had found herself looking into eyes that smiled at her like Adam’s.
‘So you’re going to be the daughter I always wanted,’ Caroline had said softly, and hugged her.
And, after little Carrie was born, Tara had treasured with tears in her eyes the piece that Caroline had written in
Woman’s Voice
on the joy of becoming a grandmother and the beauty of her granddaughter.
She heard footsteps on the stair and Adam came in, carrying his daughter in the crook of his arm.
‘She’s starting to grizzle,’ he announced.
‘She knows it’s suppertime.’ Tara unbuttoned her dress and the baby’s puckered rosebud mouth closed hungrily on her nipple.
Adam lounged on the bed, his face serious and tender as he watched them together. ‘That,’ he said softly, ‘is something I shall never tire of seeing.’
Tara looked at him, her eyes luminous with love. ‘You look pretty good yourself. Fatherhood suits you.’
‘Marriage suits me,’ he said. ‘And you suit me most of all. Why have you closed your eyes?’
‘Because I want to remember this moment always. The three of us here, and how safe we are, how loved and strong.’ A smile quivered on her lips. ‘Am I tempting fate?’
Adam shook his head. ‘We make our own destinies. But whatever they throw at us in the future I’m going to be there for you, Tara.’
‘And I for you,’ she said gently. ‘My dearest love.’
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5182-3
THE SEDUCTION GAME
First North American Publication 1999.
Copyright © 1999 by Sara Craven.
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