Free Marriage: To Claim His Twins by Penny Jordan Page B

hardness that froze her out.
    â€˜An excellent choice,’ the jeweller was saying. ‘Each stone weighs two carets, and they are a particularly good quality. And of course ethically mined, just as you requested,’ he informed Sander.
    His comment took Ruby by surprise. From what she knew of Sander she wouldn’t have thought it would matter to him how the diamonds had been mined, but obviously it did. Meaning what? That she had misjudged him? Meaning nothing, Ruby told herself fiercely. She didn’t want to revisit her opinion of Sander, never mind re-evaluate it. Why not? Because she was afraid that if she did so, if she allowed herself to see him in a different light, then she might become even more vulnerable to him than she already was? Emotionally vulnerable as well as sexually vulnerable? No, that must not happen.
    Her panic increased her existing nausea, and it was a relief when the jeweller finally left. His departure was quickly followed by Sander’s, to his business meeting.
    Finally she could give in to her need to go and lie down—after she had checked on the twins, of course.

CHAPTER FIVE
    â€˜Y OUR hair is lovely and thick, but since it is so curly I think it would look better if we put a few different lengths into it.’ Those had been the words of the salon’s senior stylist when he had first come over to examine Ruby’s hair. She had simply nodded her head, not really caring how he cut her hair. She was still feeling unwell, her head still aching, and she knew from experience that these headaches could last for two and even three days once they took hold, before finally lifting.
    Now, though, as the stylist stepped back from the mirror and asked, ‘What do you think?’ Ruby was forced to admit that she was almost lost for words over the difference his skill had made to her hair, transforming it from an untidy tumble of curls into a stunningly chic style that feathered against her face and swung softly onto her shoulders—the kind of style she had seen worn by several of the women taking tea at the hotel the previous afternoon, a deceptively simple style that breathed expense and elegance.
    â€˜I…I love it,’ she admitted wanly.
    â€˜It’s easy to maintain and will fall back into shape after you’ve washed it. You’re lucky to have naturally blonde hair.’
    Thanking him, Ruby allowed herself to be led away. At least she had managed to eat some dry toast this morning, and keep down a couple of the painkillers which had eased her head a little, thankfully.
    Her next appointment was at the beauty spa, and when she caught other women giving her a second look as she made her way there she guessed that they must be querying the elegance of her new hairstyle set against the shabbiness of her clothes and her make-up-free face.
    She hated admitting it, but it was true that first impressions counted, and that people—especially women—judged members of their own sex by their appearance. The last thing she wanted was for the twins to be embarrassed by a mother other women looked down on. Even young children were very perceptive and quick to notice such things.
    The spa and beauty salon was ahead of her. Taking a deep breath, Ruby held her head high as she walked in.
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    Two hours later, when she walked out again with the personal shopper who had come to collect her and help her choose a new wardrobe, Ruby couldn’t help giving quick, disbelieving glances into the mirrors she passed, still unable to totally believe that the young woman looking back at her really was her. Her nails were manicured and painted a fashionable dark shade, her eyebrows were trimmed, and her make-up was applied in such a subtle and delicate way that it barely looked as though she was wearing any at all. Yet at the same time her eyes looked larger and darker, her mouth fuller and softer, and her complexion so delicately perfect that Ruby couldn’t