‘That’d be lovely, darling.’
Paula had seated herself on the sofa whilst he had been dealing with the porter, and she kicked off her shoes, curled her legs under her and sat back, watching him.
It did not matter whether they had been apart for four days or a fortnight, she was always a little startled when she saw Shane after an absence and overwhelmed by the sheer physical presence of him. It had much to do with the force of his personality – that extraordinary charisma he possessed – as well as his height and build and natural dark good looks. Sixteen years ago, at his twenty-fourth birthday party, Emma Harte had said that Shane O’Neill had an intense glamour, and this had never been more true than it was today. He was the most dazzling of men.
Shane had celebrated his fortieth birthday this past June: he was in his prime and looked it. He had a powerful physique with a broad back and massive shoulders, and he had stayed lithe and trim; his sojourn in the sun with the children had given him a deep tan. There was a touch of grey at his temples now, but, curiously, this did not age him. Rather, in combination with his bronzed complexion, the grey seemed to underscore the youthfulness of his strong and virile face. And in contrast to his hair, there was not a strand of grey in his moustache which was as coal black as it had always been.
I’ve known him all of my life and it’s never changed, this extraordinary feeling I have for him, Paula thought, continuing to quietly observe him. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I will ever want … for the rest of my life … my husband, my lover, my closest friend.
‘Hey, Beanstalk,’ he said, using his childhood nickname for her as he walked across the room. ‘You’re a million miles away.’ He handed her the glass of champagne, sat down next to her on the sofa and gave her a quick quizzical glance.
‘Just daydreaming,’ she replied, clinking her glass to his when he held it out.
He leaned into her and fastened his eyes on her face. ‘Emma would’ve approved of this weekend of ours … she was a thorough-going romantic, just as I am.’
‘Yes, that’s very true.’
‘She was on my mind earlier today and for the obvious reasons,’ Shane went on, ‘and it suddenly struck me how quickly the time has passed since her death. It’s frightening, really, the way the years have sped by. It seems like only yesterday that she was ordering all of us around – ’
‘I was thinking exactly the same thing when I was at the cemetery this morning!’
Their eyes met. They exchanged slightly startled glances and then smiled knowingly at each other. This frequently happened, the shared thought when they were apart, or, when they were together, the sudden voicing by one of them of a sentiment that the other had been about to express.
As a small child, Paula had believed Shane had the ability to read her mind and that he knew her every thought, and she still believed this. But it no longer surprised her; they were too much a part of each other now and she took their closeness for granted and considered it perfectly natural that they were on the same wavelength.
Looking across at him, she said in a voice that rose slightly, as if she were suddenly surprised, ‘It doesn’t seem possible that we’ll have been married for ten years in November, does it?’
‘No …’ He lifted his hand and touched her cheek lightly. ‘But we have, and every single day I’ve been your husband has been meaningful to me, and I wouldn’t have missed one of them, not even the really bad days. Better to be with you, no matter what the circumstances, than without you.’
‘Yes, I feel the same way,’ she said and her eyes signalled her deep and abiding love to him.
Shane returned Paula’s unwavering gaze and the expression in his brilliant black eyes echoed the one in hers.
A silence fell between them.
It was a compatible and harmonious silence, one of those quiet interludes they often shared when they discovered words were not necessary to communicate their feelings.
Paula sat back and sipped her drink and unexpectedly thought of what it would be like to be without him, and she felt herself shrivelling inside, appalled at the idea. It was Shane who gave true meaning to her existence. He was the substance of her life, her rock; he was always there for her, just as she was for him. She was glad he had devised this weekend, that they had this bit of special time together before she went off on her business trip to the States and Australia. She smiled inwardly, thinking of the clever and masterful way he had planned the interlude for them, adoring him for it.
Shane, studying her, became aware that the tensions of the day were slowly ebbing out of her face, and this gladdened his heart. He frequently worried about her, knowing how hard she worked, but he never interfered. She was far too much like Emma to be any different, and protesting about her unremitting schedule would only be a waste of his breath and an irritant to her.
He eased his large frame into the corner of the blue velvet Louis XVI sofa, settled back to enjoy his drink; he, too, was finally able to relax, to let go for the first time since leaving the villa that morning. From the moment he had stepped off the O’Neill corporate jet, until Paula’s arrival in the suite, he had been busy with Jean-Claude Soissons, the head of O’Neill Hotels International in France. But he had no intention of letting business intrude any further, either tonight or tomorrow, which was why they were not staying at the hotel he owned in Paris. Whenever he wanted Paula to himself, to spend some quiet private time with her, he always took a deluxe suite at the Ritz where he knew no one would disturb him.
Now, as Paula had done a moment before, he turned his gaze inward, contemplating the next thirty-six hours and the joy they would derive from being together – and completely alone.
There was something very special between these two.
It had always been there, even as children, this spiritual oneness, this closeness, this bonding together, and what had begun in infancy had come to full flower with their sexual union as adults.
For a period of time, during Paula’s disastrous marriage to Jim Fairley, Shane had been at odds with her, but the bond between them had never really been broken. When they had patched up their friendship and had subsequently become lovers at long last, they had been profoundly shaken by the strength and force of their physical passion for each other. But they had recognized how right it was, knew they had always been meant to be together in this way, and they felt whole and complete for the first time in their lives.
Shane realized how utterly worthless his liaisons with countless other women had been, and at once understood that without Paula his life would be meaningless; Paula finally knew that Shane was the only man she had ever loved, saw how empty and loveless her marriage to Jim was, and acknowledged that to continue to live this lie would be like killing herself. And she accepted that she must end the marriage if she was to save her life – and keep her self-respect and sanity.
Expecting to meet opposition from Jim as she had, Paula, nevertheless, had been staggered by his vituperativeness and the spiteful way he had behaved once he knew she wanted a divorce. They had battled, locked horns, reached an impasse.
In the middle of one of their worst crises, Jim had done a bolt to Chamonix for a winter holiday with her parents at their rented chalet, and she had been furious with him for going skiing with the family at such a crucial time in their lives. And then he had been fatally struck down on Mont Blanc by the avalanche that had decimated the family, and she did not have to worry about getting a divorce any more because she was suddenly a widow at the age of twenty-six.
Jim’s death had come between Paula and Shane and she had sent him away out of her great and terrible guilt. But eventually she had come to her senses and had found her true self again, and had gone to him, had told him