From Waif To His Wife

‘No, I think he’s still at the apartment, Maisie. Is something wrong?’

‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘No! Just something I forgot to mention to him, Jack. I tried his mobile but it’s on answer. I-It’s not that important.’ She hoped she sounded convincing.

‘Try the apartment landline,’ Jack advised.

‘Thanks, I will!’ She rang off and did just that. The line was engaged.

She ground her teeth in frustration then realised it meant he must still be there. She jumped into her car and set out for the city without much thought for speed limits.

She tried the number again while she was stopped at a traffic light but it was still engaged. Then she concentrated on her driving and pulled into the building forecourt with a screech of tyres.

The manager came out and she begged him to park her car for her. As she jumped out in a flurry of legs and red curls bobbing, he told her she’d just missed Rafe.

‘On his way to the airport,’ he added, ‘and in a hurry by the look of it. You might catch him, Mrs Sanderson, but,’ he raised an eyebrow, ‘you know that Ferrari.’

Maisie felt herself collapse internally like a pricked balloon. ‘Oh. Oh,’ she whispered and closed her eyes. She knew that under normal circumstances she wouldn’t catch him; she knew that even if, on the slenderest chance, she did, it would not be the time or place to explain herself.

‘Well,’ she opened her eyes to see the manager looking at her a little strangely, ‘I will go up for a while.’ She couldn’t think what else to do.

‘Fine. I’ll put your car down in the garage. You OK?’

With an enormous effort, Maisie turned on a full-voltage smile. ‘I am. I really am.’

Once upstairs in the penthouse, she sat down on the coral settee and looked around dazedly.

Then she took her mobile phone from her bag, stared at it then put it on the coffee-table as it suddenly occurred to her, from nowhere, that it was the same bag she’d taken when she’d left Raby Bay the night before Susie was born. And the letter she’d written to Rafe was still tucked into the zipped pocket, forgotten until now.

She pulled it out and read it, and for some reason it brought on a bout of painful weeping.

When the tears finally subsided, she pushed it back into her bag and she went to wash her face. She passed Rafe’s study on the way and something prompted her to linger in the doorway then wander in.

The desk was tidy but his personality was printed everywhere, the high-flying businessman who controlled two empires, upon whom many jobs depended.

The man who didn’t take those responsibilities lightly.

The man who had taken responsibility not only for her but also his cousin’s baby.

The man for her?

She picked up a business magazine from a side-table because his face was on the cover-and shook her head.

She stared at the picture. It was all there, everything that did so much to her, despite the formality of his suit and the background of the Sanderson Minerals boardroom. From his thick hair, his grey eyes and an unsmiling, eyes-slightly-narrowed expression.

It was like having an arrow plunged into her heart, and she felt tears threatening again as she held the magazine to her breast for a moment. Then she started to put it back on the table, but the file that had been underneath it caught her eye because it bore her name.

‘MAISIE’S HOUSE’, she read.

She put the magazine aside and opened the file to find all the details of the renovations that had been done. There was also a marina berthing bill for the Amelie and three keys she recognized-the RQ gate key, the boat’s engine key and its door key. They looked like the originals, so Jack must have had copies made, she guessed.

She stared at them mesmerised then took a deep, yearning breath. She would like nothing more than to be on board the boat, not going anywhere, of course, but sitting there, thinking…

She picked up the keys and slipped them into her pocket. She tidied the file and put the magazine back on top.

There was little activity on finger H at the marina. It was a windy weekday afternoon and there were even whitecaps in the harbour.

But the seagulls were active and the air was salt-laden as Maisie sat on the stern of the Amelie, shivering and with her hair blowing in the wind but not noticing as she thought long and hard.

Did she need to explain anything to Rafe? What would it achieve other than placing a burden on him?

Sonia’s excuse, she thought and flinched, but this was different…

This was a solution-her return to her former life-he’d proposed himself, anyway, and all she needed to do was accept it, although she’d work her way towards it as soon as she could.

It spelt out, so there could be no misunderstanding, Rafe’s intentions for her.

She shivered-she’d left Raby Bay in slim navy trousers and a light ivory jumper and hadn’t even thought to take a jacket.

The Amelie was in great condition-she’d checked it all out, and she had no doubt the house would be the same, yet it depressed her terribly. Rafe Sanderson never did anything in half-measures, not even the way he made you fall in love with him, not even the way he parted from you.

She stood up abruptly and locked the boat. She climbed down onto the jetty and started to walk away but turned to look back. The berth beside the Amelie was empty, so there was a clear stretch of water between her and it, and as she leant against a concrete pier pole she was partially obscured.

She sighed. There was nothing for it but to spend at least the next month at Raby Bay until Rafe came home- and that made her think of Susie, so she reached into her bag for her phone to give Grace a call. It wasn’t there. She froze then clearly remembered leaving it on the coffee-table in the apartment.

‘Damn,’ she whispered and whirled round to run up the finger towards the gate, only to bump into a man coming in the opposite direction-Rafe, looking impossibly tall and immeasurably dangerous in the moments she had before the impact caused her to topple off the finger into the water.

He did everything he could to save her but it was no use, then he dived in after her.

‘I-can-s-swim,’ she tried to say as she came up spluttering and he surfaced next to her.

He took her in a lifesaver’s grip. ‘Have you ever tried climbing out of a marina berth? It’s an invitation to get scratched to pieces on barnacles. So just shut up and do as I tell you!’

A few minutes later they were standing on the back of the Amelie, having used its ladder to pull themselves out of the water, and history was repeating itself as Maisie tried to catch her breath and push her streaming hair out of her eyes.

‘You idiot!’ he stormed at her, ignoring his soaked condition entirely. ‘You also promised you wouldn’t do this!’

‘D-do what?’ she stammered. ‘It was an accident, maybe I wasn’t looking where I was going but-’

To her amazement, he took her dripping figure in his arms and held her so close, she could feel his heart beating heavily.

‘Not that! I mean taking flight so no one knows where you are but they do know you’re upset about something.’ He held her away as water streamed down his face, and continued savagely, ‘Remember the last time it happened and the consequences?’

Her throat worked. ‘That was entirely different. I was-I was running away, I’m not-’

‘I know you were,’ he overrode her. ‘I know you got a terrible shock because you can never forget Tim Dixon, and the way he died probably brought back the best of him for you. I know I should never have left you.’

She stared up at him. His hair was plastered to his head, there were droplets on his eyelashes, but nothing hid the grimness in his eyes.

‘You-you believe that?’ she asked with her eyes wide and shocked.

‘Of course. What else is there to believe? But while I know I have to let you go, it’s going to be on my terms, Maisie, so no more frights.’

Her voice sounded strange to her as she said, ‘You got a fright?’