Everything to Gain and a Secret Affair by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page A

of her books, and lately I had begun to read her again. And so quickly I found my place, looking forward to becoming a captive of this author’s imagination once more.
    I had read only a couple of pages when I heard the sound of a car in the driveway. Putting the book down, I got up and hurried to the window, glancing at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece as I did, asking myself who it could be. Very few people came calling on me unannounced, especially at night.
    Although the bright summer sky had dimmed considerably, it was still light, and much to my surprise, I saw Andrew alighting from the back of the car, his briefcase in his hand. I dropped the lace curtain, flew out of the room, and tore down the staircase at breakneck speed.
    We met, he and I, in the long entrance gallery and stood staring at each other.
    He had his luggage with him, and I exclaimed, “Youcame straight from the airport!” My surprise at his sudden unexpected arrival was quite evident.
    â€œThat’s right, I did,” he answered, eyeing me carefully.
    I gazed back at him, searching his face, trying to determine his frame of mind; I wondered if he was still angry with me. I saw nothing but love and warmth reflected there, and I knew instantly that everything was all right between us.
    My eyes remained fixed on his face as I asked, “But what about Jamie and Lissa, and your mother and Jenny? How are they going to get out here?”
    â€œI’ve arranged for a car and driver to pick them up tomorrow morning, very early,” he explained, and moving toward me, he took hold of me, drew me into his arms, and embraced me tightly. “You see, I fancied an evening alone with my wife.”
    â€œOh, I’m so glad you did,” I exclaimed, clinging to him harder.
    We stood holding each other like this without speaking for a second or two. Eventually I said quietly, “I’m sorry for being petty about Jack Underwood, or rather, about his girlfriend. I don’t mind if they come for the Fourth, really I don’t, Andrew.”
    â€œI was petty too, Mal. Anyway, as it turns out, Jack can’t come after all. He has to fly to Paris on business, and Gina wouldn’t dream of coming alone. Listen, I’m sorry we quarreled. It was my fault entirely.”
    â€œNo, it was mine,” I protested, genuinely meaning this.
    â€œMine,” he insisted.
    We pulled apart, looked at each other knowingly, and burst out laughing.
    Bending toward me, Andrew kissed me lightly on the mouth, then taking hold of my arm, he said, “Let’s have a drink, shall we?” And so saying he propelled me in the direction of the kitchen.
    â€œWhat a good idea,” I agreed and looked up at him, smiling broadly, happy that all was as it should be between my husband and me and that he and I were about to spend an evening alone together for once.
    When we got to the kitchen, Andrew slipped off his jacket, undid his tie, and threw both on a chair. I took ice out of the refrigerator and made two tall glasses of vodka and tonic with wedges of lime, and handed one to him.
    â€œCheers, darling,” he said, clinking his drink against mine.
    â€œCheers,” I answered, and I couldn’t resist ogling him over the rim of my glass. Then I winked.
    He laughed, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and said, “Shall we sit on the terrace?”
    â€œIt’s a bit hot out there,” I answered, then seeing his face drop in disappointment, I added, “Oh, but why not, the garden’s so pretty at this time of day.”
    â€œMy grandmother used to call this hour the gloaming,” he remarked as we walked through the sunroom heading for the terrace beyond the French doors. “It’s an old north-country word, I think. Or perhaps it’s a Scottish term. You know my mother’s mother was originally from Glasgow, before she went to live in Yorkshire, after her marriage to Grandfather Howard.