Velvet hastily looked away from the sensuality of him, her dreams still vivid in her mind. Her attention returned to Vicki with effort. ‘Has she been like this before?’
‘Not since my wife died,’ he replied distractedly.
She sighed. ‘It was the mention of the hospital.’
He frowned. ‘Hospital?’
‘Greg took Miss Rogers to the hospital. It seemed to upset Vicki, which was why I took her for an ice-cream before coming back here.’ She brushed past him into the bedroom. ‘Vicki?’ she prompted huskily.
Pained blue eyes were turned on her, then the cotton nightgown-clad figure flew across the room to launch itself into her arms. ‘Velvet!’ Vicki sobbed. ‘Oh, Velvet, I thought you wouldn’t come! I thought you’d gone away like Faye did, like—like Mummy did,’ she trembled.
‘Faye hasn’t gone away,’ she smoothed Vicki’s hair back from her heated forehead. ‘She’s just getting better. And Mummy had to go away, poppet. Mummies sometimes have to do that.’ She sat down in the bedroom chair, Vicki cradled in her lap.
‘But why?’
Velvet looked up at Jerard, sure that this whole situation must be very painful for him. She looked down at Vicki; the little girl’s sobs were quietening now. ‘Mummy was ill, and she—she hurt, very badly.’ She bit her lip, never having to cope with something like this before. ‘You didn’t really want Mummy to hurt any more, did you?’
‘No …’
‘And she isn’t, not now.’
‘But she went away!’
‘Yes, but—but she left you your daddy, and your daddy loves you very much.’
Vicki nodded, her eyes starting to droop tiredly. ‘I love Daddy, too.’ Her thin arms crept up about Velvet’s neck. ‘And I love you. You won’t go away, will you, Velvet?’
‘No, poppet,’ her voice was husky, ‘I’ll stay here until you go to sleep.’
Vicki instantly stiffened. ‘No, I mean you won’t go away, ever.’
Velvet looked to Jerard for help, relieved when he came down on his haunches in front of his daughter:
He held her hand in his, smoothing his thumb across the back of it. ‘Vicki,’ he began softly, ‘Velvet has her own little boy to go home to.’
Blue eyes so like her father’s opened wide. ‘She does?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘And he’s only a little baby, so he needs her more than you do.’
‘Oh.’
‘You do understand, Vicki?’ he smiled gently.
‘I—I think so,’ she nodded sleepily.
Velvet stood up, Vicki still in her arms, and placed the thin little body back into the single bed, sitting down beside her as she clutched at her hand. ‘I’ll stay right here until you’re asleep,’ she assured her. ‘Why don’t you go into the other room?’ she spoke softly to Jerard. ‘There’s no point in both of us sitting here.’ And he looked in need of a drink.
‘No,’ he agreed huskily, coming over to kiss his daughter affectionately on the forehead. ’ ‘Night, darling.’
‘ ‘Night, Daddy.’ Her arms clung around his throat. ‘I’m sorry if I was a—a nuisance.’
‘You’re never a nuisance,’ he told her firmly.
‘But I made you get Velvet—and everything.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he kissed her again, infinitely gentle with the person who meant the most to him. ‘Go to sleep now,’ he encouraged.
She relaxed back on the pillows, asleep even before her arms slipped from around his throat. He tucked the blankets more firmly about her, gazing down at her with a haggard expression.
‘Will she be all right now?’ Velvet asked him once they were in the lounge.
He gave a deep sigh. ‘I hope so.’ He poured himself out some whisky. ‘Would you like one?’ He swallowed all the fiery liquid in one gulp.
‘No, thank you,’ she shook her head.
Jerard slumped down in an armchair. ‘She hasn’t been as bad as that since her mother died. God, that Rogers woman has a lot to answer for!’ His expression was savage.
‘She couldn’t help falling,’ Velvet pointed out reasonably.
He drew a ragged breath. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘I—Well, I’d better be going now,’ and she turned, graceful even in denims and red cotton sun-top.
‘No!’ his protest stopped her, and she turned slowly. ‘Stay for a while,’ he pleaded.
He looked ill, grey beneath the tan, deep lines of weariness beside his eyes. Velvet’s heart softened towards him. ‘Just for a few minutes,’ she agreed softly, and sat down, sensing his need not to be alone.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink?’ he asked after several minutes of companionable silence.
‘Very sure,’ she nodded. ‘Although I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. Still,’ she shrugged, ‘it doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does matter.’ Jerard stood up, pulling her to her feet and taking her into a kitchen. ‘Help yourself,’ he opened the cupboard containing the makings of a cup of coffee.
‘I didn’t realise,’ she put the coffee on to percolate. ‘I thought I’d have to send down for some,’ she explained with a blush.
His mouth twisted, as he replenished his whisky glass. ‘Something you didn’t intend doing, not when it would mean letting my staff know you’re up here with me at four o’clock in the morning.’
She looked down at her hands. ‘No.’
‘The kitchen is new, Velvet,’ he taunted. ‘You probably remember it as a bedroom.’
Her head went back in shock. ’I remember it as a bedroom?’
His mouth set in a thin line. ‘Something else you’ve forgotten?’ he rasped, swallowing the remainder of his whisky.
She bit her lip, her bottom lip trembling vulnerably. ‘I’ve been here before?’ she asked in distress; she had never felt so lost before, not even when Anthony had died.
Jerard turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Velvet followed him slowly, the coffee forgotten, looking about the apartment with new eyes. She looked at Jerard, seeing the contempt in his face.
‘You’d better go, Velvet,’ he snapped, ‘before I finally lose my temper with you.’
Finally? What had he been doing
