Second Time Loving. PENNY JORDAN

into the warm, food-scented room, placing her carefully into a comfortable Windsor chair next to the Aga.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘HOW’S the soup?’

      ‘Wonderful,’ Angelica responded truthfully.

      She had virtually emptied her bowl, and her stomach felt pleasantly full, although she suspected it would be a few days before she was once more able to digest solid meals.

      Loath though she was to admit it, the bout of food poisoning she had suffered had been far more debilitating than she had realised. After less than an hour downstairs, cosseted by the warmth of the Aga, without having to move an inch from her comfortable chair, she was still conscious of a variety of small aches and pains, of a lassitude and exhaustion that warned her that it was not going to be easy to go straight from the luxury of being pampered and cared for by Daniel to the austerity of being alone and looking after herself.

      The very fact that she should feel this reluctance, this desire to stay here with him, made it even more imperative that she did leave, and the sooner, the better.

      Because of that, once she had finished her soup she forced herself to stand up, and before Daniel could stop her she collected both their bowls and carried them over to the sink intending to wash them up.

      Daniel’s sharp, ‘Leave those…’ stopped her.

      ‘You’ve spent the last seventy-two hours in bed,’ he told her curtly when she looked at him. ‘It’s going to be days yet before you get your strength fully back. I don’t want you having a relapse.’

      ‘I’m not going to have one,’Angelica retaliated sharply. ‘Believe me, I’m grateful for all you’ve done, but all I want to do now is to get back on my own two feet and leave you in peace.’

      Something seemed to harden in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Independent, aren’t you?’

      Her chin tilted. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I am.’

      ‘A career woman with no time for sentiment or weakness.’

      He sounded so bitterly angry that she couldn’t make any response.

      ‘The kind of woman who thinks nothing matters other than fulfilling her own ambitions.’

      His accusation delivered in a harsh, biting voice goaded her into responding.

      ‘And if I am? I suppose you’re the kind of man who likes his woman helpless and vulnerable.’

      She’d gone too far, said too much. The face he turned towards her might have been carved from stone.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised stiltedly. ‘You’ve been very kind to me.’

      ‘Because you were helpless and vulnerable, you mean. Well, for your information—’ He broke off, compressing his mouth. ‘Convalescence is always harder to cope with than actually being ill. It’s hard having to accept the limitations of your own body, especially when you’ve always been used to full health.’

      ‘Yes,’Angelica agreed starkly. She wanted to apologise for being so quarrelsome, to explain that the reason she was so desperate to get back on her feet was because she was afraid, afraid of becoming too dependent on him. It was as much for his sake as for her own…but she was too proud, too self-conscious to be so open with him. He already knew all the secrets of her body, she could not, dared not, reveal those of her mind to him as well.

      Instead she asked uncertainly, ‘You’ve been ill yourself? The doctor told me.’

      ‘Yes.’

      He didn’t say anything else, busying himself making their coffee, and Angelica knew that, whatever it was that had happened to him, it wasn’t something he intended to discuss with her. It was silly for her to feel hurt, shut out, rejected almost, but nevertheless she did, so much so that she had to fight to stop herself saying that she no longer wanted any coffee and that she wanted to go back upstairs. Like a child crying for attention, she acknowledged cynically, but she was long past being allowed the indulgences of childhood and it would be dangerous to allow herself to give in to her foolish need to simply lean on this man and let him become a part of her life.

      He had helped her as one neighbour to another, out of necessity and nothing else. This feeling of intimacy, of closeness with him which she was fighting so hard against, must not be something she allowed to grow…Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Giles?

      Nearly twelve months after Giles’s exit from her life she was still suffering the after-effects of his cruelty. That was, after all, why she was here—to give her mind and body time to recover from the strains she had been imposing on them. At the time she had discovered Giles’s deceit she had been able to do nothing other than absorb the shock and go on, too involved in negotiating an important contract for the firm to risk allowing her emotions to take control of her life, and so she had suppressed what she had been feeling, had forced herself to go on, so that now, although she was over the acuteness of realising that Giles had not loved her, although she was fiercely glad that she had discovered the truth about him in time, although she no longer felt the slightest degree of desire for him, she was still having to come to terms with the physical and mental effect of the strain she had imposed on her mind and body.

      ‘Stress’, her doctor had called it. She knew it was the delayed effect of discovering the truth about Giles. Of having to confront the fact that for her, at least, the term ‘having it all’ was no more than a cruel joke. Thank God only she knew how willingly she would have given up running the company single-handedly, how willingly she would have shared her responsibilities with Giles. How willingly she would have played a smaller role in the company in order to give herself up to the enjoyment of being a wife and mother. She had been so stupid, she acknowledged cynically. Men did not fall in love with women like her. Men found successful career women intimidating, frightening almost, or at least that was what she was beginning to believe.

      The coffee Daniel brought her smelled tempting and fragrant. She wrapped her hands around the mug, savouring the rich scent.

      ‘Take it easy,’Daniel warned her, watching her drink it eagerly. ‘It isn’t decaffeinated, I’m afraid, and your stomach will still be pretty weak.’

      ‘Not when it comes to this,’Angelica assured him with a grin. Piping hot, strong coffee was one of her vices; Tom constantly teased her about the fact that, although she was quite happy to refuse alcohol, despite several attempts she had never quite been able to give up her addiction to her coffee.

      ‘Ah, a fellow addict,’ Daniel said now, returning her smile.

      When he smiled his whole face changed, she thought breathlessly, as her heart hammered against her ribs in helpless reaction to the shock of her awareness of his sudden and totally unexpected warmth.