Conditional Surrender Read online

  `Oh, darling!' She flung her arms about Greg's neck, completely missing his astonished reaction to such a fervent greeting. 'I've found it—the perfect house! And what do you think? That pompous little twit from the estate agents said it would have to be demolished!' Her breasts heaved with indignation at the thought of such sacrilege. Then she giggled as she remembered the dazed look on Mr Brownlea's face when he had finally managed to drag her away from the house. 'I do believe the poor man thinks I'm quite mad!'

  `And why's that?' Greg shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie.

  `Well, it does need a little restoration work . . .' Honesty won out. She took a deep breath and plunged in. 'Make that rather a lot of restoration work.'

  `Such as?' he cut in indulgently as soon as he could interrupt the flow. Kate looked at him lovingly. Such warm grey eyes—How could she ever have thought them cold? 'Kate ...?' he prompted gently, putting an arm across her shoulders to propel her into the lounge.

  `It needs rewiring.'

  `No problem. And . . .?'

  `Replastering and redecorating throughout.'

  No problem. And . . .?'

  Her lips twitched. 'A new roof '

  He sighed. 'And . . .?'

  `And a few walls knocked down here and there.'

  Greg's eyelids hooded his expression, but Kate took heart from the small smile playing around his mouth—and those brows were aimed upwards!

  `I think I need a drink,' he murmured drily.

  `Oh, I'll get it!' She jumped up quickly—too quickly. Her head swam and she would have fallen had Greg not reached her in time.

  `Dammit, Kate, I warned you about doing too much! Sit down—I'll see to the drinks!'

  `I think I'd better stick to fruit juice.' She essayed a reassuring smile, but Greg's expression remained grim. 'I haven't been doing too much, Greg, honestly. I—' she bit her lip nervously, praying that his good mood would return. He was going to need it! 'I just got up too quickly, that's all.' He handed her a pineapple juice which she sipped gratefully.

  `I don't think this house is a good idea, Kate. Hell, don't look at me like that!' He raked his fingers through his hair, his agitation plain. 'I don't mean forget finding a house altogether. Just this one . .

  `But this is the one, Greg. Just come and see it. Please!'

  He stared for long agonising seconds into her glowingly imploring green eyes before succumbing to their appeal.

  `All right,' he conceded grudgingly, though he grinned at her relieved sigh. 'But I have to tell you, I had hoped to move into a house, not a building site!'

  An hour later Kate was wishing she had prepared the groundwork a little better. She had been so filled with plans of how the house would look, she had forgotten just how broken-down it looked at first sight. She knew she was being a little fanciful, but she had felt a sense of welcome from the very beginning In spite—or even perhaps because—of its sad state of neglect, the house exuded a homely dignity, one Kate had already transformed in her mind's eye.

  As Mr Brownlea had promised, the setting was delightful, if a little overgrown. The orchard attached to the land had become a veritable jungle.

  And the house—The original colour was hard to distinguish and most of the—possibly—red tiles from the roof were dotted haphazardly around the grounds. There was not a window left intact—obviously the local children had had a field day throwing stones. It was also impossible to describe the house as regards its shape. It was very irregular, portions having been added here and there with little regard for aesthetics. Kate thought it

  charming.

  The interior was, if anything, worse. Greg said not one word as she showed him around, save one unsuitable for repetition when he caught sight of the magnificent clawed feet of the rusty bath. Kate dawdled miserably behind him as he stood scanning the overgrown landscape. She could sense the anger in him, and quite honestly could not blame him for it.

  `You can't possibly be serious, Kate! No one in their right mind would actually want to live in this dump!' He gestured forcibly. 'It's falling down!'

  `Greg . .

  `It's impossible!' Kate flinched at the curt tone. It had been so long since she had heard it, she had forgotten the power it had to hurt her. Greg sighed wearily, passing a hand over his taut face. `Why do you always make me feel a heel when I have to say no?'

  `Let me show you something, Greg.' She had to try one more time. The idea of building them a home had assumed too much importance for her to dismiss it without a fight. 'Please let me show you what I have in mind?' She held her breath until his curt nod gave her permission to run to the car to retrieve her sketchbook.

  They found a couple of crates in the garden and perched precariously while she made lightning sketches of how she envisaged all the rooms.

  `Now, we have three storeys here—' She chewed thoughtfully on her pencil, lost in the transformation her sketches had brought to life. 'The top floor, I thought we could use for the nursery suite—there's a couple of good-sized bedrooms, a bath could be installed there—' she pointed towards an archway between rooms. 'And in the middle here, we could have a giant playroom. There's plenty of space for some sort of games room later on—snooker, table tennis, whatever. The master bedroom suite would be directly underneath. The rooms are massive there, so there won't be any need to knock any walls through. As a matter of fact, we may have to build some sort of divider.' Greg muttered something under his breath, but Kate, well into her stride, continued regardless. 'We can make two guest bedrooms there—with a bathroom between them, perhaps. That room there could be

  used as a dressing-room—or another bathroom, if you like. It would lead straight into the master bedroom. There's a great gallery landing—once that window is enlarged, the light will be fantastic. Likewise, the stairs will have to be opened up. 'And the ground floor . .

  `Stop a minute!' Greg laid a hand over hers, staring down at the sketches. Kate remained motionless, not even looking at him for fear he would refuse her. She could sense a inner battle raging within him, he was so tense. After what seemed hours, but was in reality less than a minute, she heard him expel a breath on a long sigh.

  `Two conditions . . .' She looked up sharply. His face gave nothing away, though he continued to stare at the sketches as if mesmerised. 'If you're going to involve yourself in this, then Susan will take over your job full-time.'

  `I . . .' Kate started to object, more out of habit than anything. Was her job so important? Important enough to lose this home? She would be forced to leave in another few months in any case, to care for the baby. She had never been so career-orientated that she would insist on working no matter what. It wasn't as if they needed the money . . . Cautiously, she nodded agreement.

  `Very well. There are still a few things to be tied up and . . .' the desire not to capitulate totally made her rebel—just a little, 'I can still help you in the evenings, can't I?'

  `Depending on how you feel,' he compromised.

  `OK. And the other thing?'

  `The surveyor's report. If he says no, I don't want to hear another word.'

  How Kate stopped herself blurting out the words of love which sprang to her lips she would never know. The house was as good as theirs. If she could convince Greg, that most practical of men, then what had she to fear from a surveyor?

  Within a week they had the report. And it was all systems go! Kate dragged Greg to the estate agents at the first opportunity, eager to begin work on their new home. The only drawback was that they would have to continue living in the apartment until at least after the baby's birth, which was a pity, but could not be helped. Kate intended to ensure that the wait would be worthwhile. Besides, the apartment didn't seem so bad now. Though

  she still did not feel truly at home there.

  She had once had the fanciful notion that Greg's nature was influenced by his surroundings. If so, then their future together would lack for nothing, because she intended their home to be the very antithes
is of the apartment. Warmth and comfort would be the overriding factor all through the house.

  Even Mr Brownlea could not dampen her enthusiasm today. Kate derived a great deal of amusement from the man's obvious relief at having so level-headed a man as Greg to deal with, her smile broadening when Greg winked at her in recognition of the detailed caricature she had provided.

  `Now, sir—madam,' the professional smile faltered as it encountered Kate's bland stare, as if not sure what the madwoman would come up with next. It was very clear where his sympathies lay—especially after Greg had proved himself eminently practical regarding mortgage arrangements. He cleared his throat. 'If I may recommend a few firms to carry out the renovations?' At their smiles of agreement, he continued, `Let me see—you'll need landscapers, builders, plumbers, electricians, carpenters, interior designers . .

  Kate interrupted sharply.

  `No interior designers.' She intercepted a sardonic look from Greg, knowing too well he was thinking of Caroline Sterling. But her decision had nothing to do with his old girlfriend. Kate merely felt strongly enough about the house to need to be involved with the whole project rather than just handing it all over to a professional body. 'I'll be responsible for that.'

  `Well, the work will be rather extensive, Mrs Courtney. And if I might suggest, a little too much, considering your—ahem—condition.'

  Kate glared at the estate agent. 'I think that's for me to decide, Mr Brownlea.'

  `Nevertheless, Mr Brownlea does have a point, Kate,' Greg stated with a frown. 'I didn't realise you meant to oversee the whole operation.'

  `Not merely oversee, Greg.' Green eyes flashed with a spark of defiance reserved for subjects dear to her heart. 'There's no reason why I shouldn't do some of the decorating myself. I know Mom . .

  `Like hell you will!' Greg exploded so suddenly that Mr Brownlea actually jumped. Regardless of the older man's horrified expression, he rose to tower over Kate, his eyes as hard as agate. 'If you think I'll allow my wife . . . my pregnant wife . .

  They both turned at the sound of a discreet cough, Mr Brownlea's anxious expression giving them both pause. Greg breathed deeply. 'Do forgive us, Mr Brownlea. My wife tends to take me by surprise on occasion.'

  The men's shared grimace of masculine commiseration did nothing to soothe Kate's ruffled feathers, but she wisely bit back the hasty words she suddenly longed to throw at them. There was too much at stake to lose her temper when a little sweet reason should work in her favour.

  `Perhaps you could get in touch with me later on. There's plenty of time, after all.'

  `Good idea, Mr Brownlea. Thank you for your assistance. Good morning.'

  Greg had her out of the office and strapped into the Mercedes before she had time to draw breath.

  `What the hell do you mean, you'll be doing the decorating yourself?' he demanded angrily as he drew into the line of traffic.

  `There's nothing to get worked up about, Greg. I can plan the colour schemes without having to leave the apartment. Shops will send samples of curtain and carpet materials. As for the actual decorating ' she swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, 'I was planning to ask Mom and perhaps Terry to help. We did a good job on the bedroom, didn't we?'

  `That's not the point. You weren't pregnant then.'

  Kate stole a look at his profile, then wished she hadn't. There was a set, determined look on his face which boded ill for anyone crossing him. But she had to at least try.

  `It's mainly the nursery suite I wanted to do myself . .

  `Let's get one thing clear right now, Kate.' Greg, stopping at a red light, was able to turn and face her. 'There is no way I will permit you to climb ladders in your condition. In case you've forgotten, I do have a half-share in this baby.'

  `But, Greg . .

  `No, Kate.'

  She turned to stare out of the side window, reluctance to argue warring with resentment at his high-handedness.

  `There's nothing to stop you doing the high bits . . .' she muttered in a mutinous tone. The tense silence caused her to turn and surprise a harsh glint in his eyes as he stared at her incredulously.

  `Are you trying to domesticate me, Kate?' he rasped, a grimly suspicious set to his jawline.

  Her eyes opened wide in hurt confusion. What had she done? Surely it was not so inconceivable that he should wield a paintbrush? She knew her family would be happy enough to help out. And Terry. Why not Greg? They could have such fun renovating the house.

  `No, Greg, I wouldn't dream of it.' Her voice wobbled slightly, tears not far away. 'I'm just trying to make us a home. I'm sorry you find the idea so objectionable.'

  His only reply was a disbelieving grunt. The drive home was completed in silence.

  And Kate was made to realise their relationship was more fragile than she had thought.

  She turned hesitantly towards him as he pulled up outside their apartment block to drop her off before making his way to work.

  `I—er—will you be home at the usual time?'

  `Why?' He glared the question at her. She swallowed the ball of disillusionment threatening to choke her, her lower lip betraying how near tears were to falling. Her pregnancy had appeared to heighten any emotional state somewhat, so the depression falling upon her now was in direct proportion to the happiness she had become accustomed to over the past few weeks.

  `I've invited Sam and Marie for dinner,' she told him.

  Greg's impatient oath was the last straw. She thrust open the car door and scrambled out, stopping only to throw at him, 'I only asked them because it's your damned birthday tomorrow. Normal people like their friends' company at such a time!'

  She slammed the car door shut with scant regard for the paintwork and stormed up the three flights of stairs, disdaining

  use of the lift.

  She would have walked straight past Terry, who was squatting outside the apartment, had he not spoken.

  `Hey, love, what's up?' He looked alarmed at Kate's stormy features as she strove to regain her breath enough to greet him. `You look as if you've a pack of hounds at your heels!'

  `I probably have.' She pulled a face as she searched her handbag for a doorkey, cursing the amount of rubbish she had to plough through before finding it. 'Come on in. I think we've still got some beer left—I might even join you!'

  `No time, love, I'm sorry. But I'm on my way to Inverness.' He checked his watch. 'Matter of fact, I should have been on my way an hour ago. But I thought I'd better give you this.' He handed her a package. 'I'm not sure what time I'll be back tomorrow, so .

  Kate looked despondently at the package. She knew exactly what it contained—her birthday gift for Greg. The final proof of her love for him. She had pinned such hopes on it, ninety-nine per cent certain her gift would be welcomed. But now .. '.?

  `Don't tell me you've changed your mind?' Terry burst out in exasperation as she took the package with miserable reluctance. Her expression spoke volumes. 'Hell, princess! You've been dithering about this for weeks. You have to tell him—you know that. And if you don't, then I will!'

  `No!' Kate paled at the thought. 'Please, Terry! Promise me you won't?'

  Ever since she had confided in him on the day of Greg's accident, Terry had been urging her to tell Greg how she felt. Terry was so straightforward, so uncomplicated, Kate had not been able to make him fully understand the complexities of the situation.

  `I have to pick the right moment, Terry.'

  `All right!' The promise was dragged from him. 'But for heaven's sake get this damn thing settled once and for all, will you?' His voice softened then, Kate's tearful face causing him to gather her close for a bearlike hug. 'I love you, princess. I want you to be happy. And you won't be, either of you, until you face up to the truth.' He bent and kissed her forehead gently.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TERRY'S cheery certainty failed to have its normal bolstering effect on her flagging spirits as Kate let herself into the empty apartment. He had helped her a few times whenever
the immensity of the gamble she was taking proved a little too nerve-racking. Until this morning, she would have said that the odds were overwhelmingly in her favour. Now she was back to thinking of it as an outside chance at best.

  What had gone wrong? Everything had appeared to be exactly on schedule for the culmination of all her cherished hopes and dreams tonight .. .

  The thawing of Greg's attitude towards her, begun so dramatically the night of his accident, had continued unabated, so much so that Kate had dropped her guard completely. And though she had never said the words to Greg, neither had she troubled to hide how she felt. If she only had a reason—something to work on .. .

  Catching sight of herself in the long hall mirror gave her pause. It surely wasn't possible he was upset about the baby?

  Looking at herself critically made her think twice. Although she was just less than four months into her pregnancy, the bulge of her stomach had already forced her into maternity clothes. She clearly remembered her mother laughing about how big she had become with all of her pregnancies, and it would appear Kate was to follow in her footsteps. Was that what was upsetting Greg? That she was undesirable now that her body was becoming misshapen?

  No—Kate laid protective hands on her stomach. No—last night had surely proved he still desired her? No man could fake such unabated passion. Besides, it had been their baby which had brought about the greatest change in him.

  He had actually begun to treat her as a rare and precious gift since she had broken the news of her pregnancy. Mistily she

  recalled all those mornings he had brought her tea and arrowroot biscuits to allay the morning sickness—and now that had abated, he still constantly reminded her not to tire herself. She had never felt so—cherished, not even by her mother.