Magnolia Square by Margaret Pemberton Page A

years ago, it had been because its owner wished to remove Matthew from
her care. He had succeeded in doing so, but only temporarily. And now he was back, standing pugnaciously beside his chauffeured car, exuding wealth and power and menace.
    ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ Leon asked, immediately sensing the change in her.
    ‘Nothing.’ She flashed him a brilliant smile, refusing to let Joss Harvey spoil the most magical day of her life. When he had done his damnedest to permanently remove Matthew from
her care, Leon had been a prisoner of war, and it had been a battle she had had to fight alone. She was alone no longer, and any future battles would be battles they would fight together.
    She laughed up at her handsome, caring husband. ‘There’s nothing wrong at all, my darling,’ she said, her voice thick with joy and love. ‘Shall we make a run for it now?
I think we’ve kept everyone waiting long enough, don’t you?’
    As they plunged into what, within seconds, was a maelstrom of confetti and flower petals, the silver-haired, bull-necked figure standing by the Bentley yanked open a rear door and barked an
order at his uniformed chauffeur.
    Seconds later, when a laughing, breathless Kate snatched a glance at where it had been parked, there was no sign of it. She knew, however, that it would return. And she knew that when it did
return, she and Leon would need all their strength in order to keep their family intact and inviolate.

Chapter Five

    ‘Tell me what happened between you and Mr Harvey,’ Leon said grimly. ‘Tell me everything that went on between the two of you during the years I was
away.’
    They were lying in the blissful comfort and privacy of their big, creaky double bed. It was an hour or so before dawn, and the curtains were pulled back, allowing moonlight to spill milkily into
the room. From the next bedroom Carl Voigt’s snores could be heard faintly and rhythmically. In the room across the landing, Luke and Matthew were cosily tucked into the same downy bed, a
nightlight offering comfort in case they should wake. In the room at the far end of the landing, Daisy was asleep, a battered teddy bear in her arms.
    Kate lay, her cheek resting against the naked warmth of Leon’s chest, as his arm circled round her. ‘Things came to a head between us the same week your ship was torpedoed and you
were reported missing;’ she said, her voice husky with remembered grief and pain. ‘Matthew was still with his grandfather . . . yes, I know he’s really Matthew’s
great
-grandfather, but he’s still only in his late sixties and he’s so aggressive and forceful, I find it impossible to refer to him as a great-grandfather. Great-grandfathers
should be feeble and as old as Father Time.’
    Despite his apprehension at whatever it was she was about to tell him, a smile tugged the corners of his mouth.
    ‘And?’ he prompted, his arm tightening lovingly around her. ‘What happened that week? Matthew was presumably still with Mr Harvey at his country home in Somerset?’
    Kate moved her head in a nod, her unbraided hair brushing silkily against his flesh. ‘Yes. Mr Harvey took him to Somerset, with a nursery nurse, during the first few weeks of the Blitz. I
didn’t want him to go . . . he was only a few months old . . . but I knew he would be safe there, and I had Mr Harvey’s promise that the minute London was out of danger he would return
Matthew to me.’
    Leon remained silent. It hadn’t only been servicemen like himself who had suffered during the war. It had been civilians, too, especially civilians living in bomb-blitzed towns such as
Plymouth and Coventry and London.
    ‘What happened, sweetheart?’ he asked at last, tenderly. Whatever it was, he would make it up to her. From now on, as long as he had breath in his body, he would never let anyone or
anything distress or harm her.
    She moved slightly against him, splaying a hand against the broad comfort of his chest.