Christmas at His Command (17 page)

‘Mr Moreau's secretary is not in today but I'll see if I can contact him,' the receptionist said pleasantly. ‘I'm really not sure if he is in the building.'

Oh, yes, right, Marigold thought disbelievingly. If Flynn thought she was a poor liar he ought to listen to this woman!

‘Who shall I say wants him?'

‘Miss Flower.' She was not going to give her first name to this vision of sophistication!

‘If you would like to take a seat, Miss Flower, I'll see what I can do.' The receptionist waved a pale beringed hand with long, perfectly painted red talons in the
direction of several pale cream sofas some distance away, and Marigold had no choice but to smile politely and comply.

She could see the woman talking on a telephone from where she was seated but was too far away to hear what she was saying, although once or twice the heavily made-up, almond-shaped eyes looked her way. As the receptionist replaced one telephone another rang at the side of her, and she was once again engrossed in conversation.

The Middle Eastern gentlemen had been standing talking in low voices, and as they now departed in a swish of long robes and exclusive perfume Marigold glanced about her, trying not to appear overawed. Money might not be able to buy good health but it certainly made being sick more enjoyable! She knew Flynn worked in the public sector at the local hospital as well as this private one, and the two places must be like two different worlds. Suddenly panic was making her throat dry. She should never have come. This was a big mistake. Celine was far more suited to his world than she was and now the other woman was ill Flynn might well be hoping they would get back together again.

‘Hello, Marigold.'

For the first time in her life she knew what it was to have her heart stop dead as the quiet, deep voice sounded just behind her left shoulder. She swung round so quickly she nearly fell off the sofa, and then jumped to her feet in a totally uncool way. ‘Flynn! I…I didn't hear you.'

He raked back an errant lock of hair from his forehead, a slow gesture which suggested his air of calmness was deliberate. ‘Sophia said you were here asking for me.'

He looked terrible. As handsome as ever and so sexy he should be certified as dangerous, but there was a grey tinge to the tanned skin that spoke of extreme exhaustion and his mouth wasn't just stern but drawn and tight. A sudden thought crossed her mind and she said quickly, ‘Celine? She
is
all right. Bertha said she was getting better.'

‘Celine is fine.'

He was wearing a pale blue shirt and his hands were thrust in the pockets of his suit trousers, his tie hanging askew as it so often did. She felt such a flood of love rise up in her that she wanted to cry. Instead she said shakily, ‘I'm sorry to bother you here but I had to talk to you. The…receptionist said she didn't know if you were here or not.'

He shrugged powerful shoulders. ‘It's been a hectic few days. There was a bad pile-up on the motorway and I've been to-ing and fro-ing between hospitals.'

She nodded. So that was why he looked dead beat. For a moment, a crazy moment she had just wondered if it was because he had been thinking about her.

His eyes narrowed slightly as they focused on the silky veil of her hair for a moment before taking in her smart trousers and the figure-hugging cashmere sweater. ‘You're obviously on your way out to lunch somewhere,' he said dismissively. ‘How can I help you?'

For a second she almost turned tail and ran in the face of his cool indifference, but something in the way he was standing, the faintest indication that his hands were balled fists in his pockets, caused her to stand her ground. ‘I'm not going out to lunch,' she said evenly, her voice not shaking any more. ‘I came to see you.'

‘Why?'

It was now or never. ‘To tell you I love you,' she said very clearly.

‘Go home, Marigold.'

But she had seen his eyes flicker and the grimace of pain—fleeting but definitely there—that had twisted his mouth as she had spoken.

‘Not until I am sure you understand how I feel,' she said thickly. ‘If you walk away now I shall follow you. I'm not afraid to cause a scene.'

She saw his eyes widen just for a moment and then he took her arm, his voice grim as he said, ‘This is ridiculous but if you insist you had better come to my office. This is a hospital, in case you'd forgotten.'

His office was sumptuous with a view over bowling-green-smooth lawns and mature trees, but Marigold didn't notice the decor. Once Flynn had shut the door he walked over to his desk, perching on the edge of it as he waved her to one of the visitor's chairs in front of it. ‘I'm due in a meeting shortly so I can only spare you five minutes.' It was the cool, calm voice of a stranger, unemotional, cold.

She ignored the seat and walked across to stand right in front of him, so close she could see the five o'clock shadow on his chin although it was only midday. She touched his face lightly and though he didn't move a muscle she knew he had tensed. ‘You need a new blade in your razor,' she said softly.

Her words were followed by a silence which slowly began to vibrate, an electricity in the air that was almost tangible. He remained perfectly still as he said, ‘I've been up since two in the morning; complications with one of the road-accident victims. I've got an electric razor in my desk; I'll use that later.'

She put her arms round his neck. ‘Flynn,' she said
quietly, ‘please forgive me. I love you with all my heart. Please marry me.'

She could feel him begin to tremble but his voice was perfectly under control when he said, ‘You don't have to do this, Marigold. I'm a big boy, I can survive rejection.' He reached up to remove her arms from round his neck but she hung on tight, nearly throttling him.

‘Listen to me,' she said fiercely, her heart suddenly blazing with hope because she knew, she
knew
he still loved her. ‘I love you, I do. I loved you almost from the beginning but I didn't dare admit it to myself. It was too soon after Dean for one thing but that wasn't really it. I knew you had the potential to hurt me in a way Dean never could have done, that was the thing.'

‘The thing again.' He was trying to be mocking but it didn't come off and they both knew it.

‘And then I heard those women talking about this girl that you still loved, this beauty who was always there in the background. It was my worst fear come true. And she turned out to be not just some ordinary woman but Celine Jenet, one of the most beautiful women in the world. I could understand how no one could compare with her. I thought you were waiting until she wanted you again.'

‘Wanted me again?' His hands weren't trying to untangle hers now but holding them against his neck. ‘Marigold, it was me who broke off the engagement, not Celine. I realised I loved her like a sister, a best friend, and after a time she came to realise that that wouldn't have been enough. If we'd married we would have made each other very unhappy.'

Why hadn't she considered it might have been Flynn who finished it?
Because she loved him too much.

‘I was jealous,' she whispered, her eyes shining with
tears. ‘And I didn't trust you. I don't deserve another chance…'

He slid off the desk, pulling her into him and kissing her until she was drowning in bliss. ‘I love you, Marigold Flower,' he murmured huskily. ‘I'll always love you. I loved you when I thought you didn't love or want me, and it was slowly crucifying me. I've never felt this way before. I have lived for thirty-eight years without knowing what real love was, until I met you. Do you believe that?'

‘Yes, yes, I do.' Her eyes were shining and his mouth sought hers again, his hands moving over her body, touching her with sensual, intimate caresses.

‘You're everything I've ever wanted, although I couldn't have said what I was looking for until I saw you. Then it all came together in a moment of time, and I knew. Does that make sense, sweetheart?'

‘I don't know.' Marigold didn't know anything when she was close to him like this, except that she never wanted to be anywhere else in the whole of her life.

‘And you fought me every inch of the way.' He took her mouth again in a long, hungry kiss. ‘I was the enemy, and whatever I did, however I tried to show you that we belonged together, you wouldn't give in.'

He made her sound almost brave, Marigold thought ruefully, when really she had been muddled and confused and frightened to death half the time, frightened of her feelings and the desire she'd felt every time he touched her.

‘Ask me again.'

‘What?'

He had pulled away slightly to look into her radiant face, and now his voice was soft and husky when he said, ‘Ask me to marry you again. And before you do I
want you to know that it will be forever. Once I say yes, there's no going back, Marigold Flower. Whatever happens you're mine.'

‘Flynn Moreau, will you marry me?' she asked gently, cradling his face in her hands as she let him see all the love in her heart. ‘Will you be my husband and the father of my babies? Will you grow old with me and watch our grandchildren play through mellow summer days, and will you still be my love?'

‘Yes,' he said, his voice gruff.

And she kissed him.