His Wedding-Night Heir

She thought, You were making a fool of me in private—or does that not count?

She lifted her chin. ‘It was something I had to do. I felt I had no choice.’ She hesitated. ‘What—what did you tell people?’

‘I couldn’t manage the truth,’ he said. ‘Because I didn’t know what it was. I had no farewell note—no “Dear John” blotched with penitent tears to point me in the right direction. So I simply let it be known that you’d had a change of heart, however late in the day, and that we’d agreed to separate.’

He paused. ‘You see, my sweet, at first I didn’t realise what had happened. You’d taken the car, so originally I assumed there’d been an accident. I wasted a hell of a lot of time making increasingly frantic hospital calls, until the police called to say they’d picked up some kids joy-riding. They’d stolen your car from a station car park twenty miles away and written it off. The guy in the ticket office there recognised you from our engagement photograph—now, there’s an irony—and said you’d bought a ticket to London. One way.’ His mouth twisted harshly. ‘That, of course, put an entirely new slant on the situation.’

Cally looked down at the tablecloth, tracing meaningless patterns on the white linen with her forefinger. ‘So you did—go looking for me?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not at first. Frankly, I was too bloody angry. So I thought, To hell with it. And her.’

‘You should have left it like that.’

‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘But I too underwent a change of heart.’

There was a loaded silence, then she said jerkily, ‘How—how did you know where to find me?’

‘Except for those first weeks, I’ve always known where to find you.’

A shiver chilled her spine, and she closed her eyes momentarily. ‘And I thought I’d managed to cover my tracks. That if I kept moving I’d drop out of sight.’

‘Oh, finding you was the easy part,’ he said sardonically. ‘Deciding what to do about it was trickier.’ He paused. ‘There was a time, you see, when I thought you might come back. That you might find living with me marginally preferable to slaving away in various greasy spoons.’ The grey eyes met hers. ‘But you never did.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I thought I was free. It never occurred to me that I was simply on the end of a long rope.’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘What made you come here?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s the same as any other place. And it seemed—anonymous.’

He said drily, ‘It’s about to undergo a revival. Someone’s decided the town has commuter possibilities. Hence Gunners Wharf.’

‘And hence your presence here, too.’ Her voice was taut.

‘It seemed too good an opportunity to miss,’ he said slowly, and she knew he was not referring to the development. Or not solely. And felt her heartbeat falter in panic.

She said hurriedly, ‘Eastern Crest—is that a new acquisition? I didn’t recognise the name…’

‘Well, darling,’ he drawled, ‘you haven’t been around much, keeping up. And without you to divert my attention I’ve had more time to devote to acquisitions and mergers.’ He paused. ‘And if you’d recognised the name, you’d have done—what?’

There was another silence, then she said wearily, ‘I don’t know. Running and trying to hide has clearly been futile. And I suppose we needed to meet eventually, to discuss what to do about the divorce. But why at this particular time?’

‘I was told you were seeing someone,’ Nick said expressionlessly. ‘So it seemed an opportune moment to intervene. Your colleague, Mr Matlock, appeared upset to hear you were married,’ he added pensively. ‘I do hope, darling, you haven’t been making promises you’re not entitled to keep.’

‘I’m “seeing” no one,’ Cally said through gritted teeth. ‘And Kit has no reason to feel aggrieved. So you could have easily saved yourself the inconvenience.’

‘Yet, as you say, we needed to meet—to talk about the future. So this became the time—and the place.’ His smile was brief and without warmth. ‘And apart from the implicit defiance in your voice and body language, you’ve hardly changed at all, my love.’

‘Perhaps the defiance was always there,’ she said. ‘But you didn’t notice.’

‘I noticed a hell of a lot,’ he said quietly. ‘And I was prepared to make allowances. Only you never gave me that chance. You preferred to bolt as if I was some kind of mad axe murderer.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Simply because I wasn’t going to live my life on your terms.’

His brows lifted. ‘Did I impose any conditions? I can’t recall them.’

‘You made me become your wife,’ she said, her throat tightening. ‘That involves—obligations.’

‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘In plain words, you didn’t want to sleep with me.’ He gave her a meditative look. ‘Admittedly, we didn’t have a conventional courtship, but you never gave the impression at the time that you found me particularly repulsive.’

Cally bit her lip. ‘Well, you know now.’

‘In fact,’ Nick went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘there were moments when the indications seemed distinctly favourable. Or did I imagine that?’

No, thought Cally, a tide of unwilling colour rising in her face. You didn’t imagine it—damn you.

She said stiffly, ‘You’d naturally prefer to think so, of course. You wouldn’t want a dent in that irresistible image of yours.’

‘If I’d ever been conceited enough to entertain such a notion,’ he returned icily, ‘you’d have shattered it for ever when you ran away.’

‘But I’m sure you’ve had consolation,’ she flung at him, and could have bitten out her tongue. She had not meant to say that.

‘Why, darling—’ Nick’s tone changed to mockery ‘—did you really expect me to soothe my wounded feelings by staying celibate?’

‘And do you really expect me to care—one way or the other?’

As long as I’m not there to see it…

The thought flashed, unbidden, and was instantly suppressed. Even to admit as much damaged the mental and emotional barriers she’d so carefully constructed against him, and she couldn’t afford that.

In fact, she couldn’t afford any of this…

She took a deep breath. ‘Nick—let’s stop here and now, or we shall only say things we’ll regret. Why don’t we just—draw a line, let our respective lawyers deal with the rest of it?’

‘Because you’re assuming,’ he said, ‘that I share your wish for a divorce.’

She said, slowly and unsteadily, ‘You can’t mean that. You can’t wish to stay married to someone who—who won’t—live with you.’

‘Of course not.’ He sounded almost brisk. ‘Naturally I want a wife who’ll share my home and my bed.’ He smiled at her, his eyes touching her—stripping her, she realised, as her heart began to flutter in panic.

‘In fact, I want you, my sweet,’ he added softly. ‘Come back to me, and in return for your charming—and willing—company, I’ll tell Matthew Hendrick to save your precious terrace and include it in the development. Turn me down, however, and the demolition crew move in next week. And that’s my final word.’

He paused. ‘So the future of Gunners Terrace rests entirely with you, darling.’

‘You can’t do this,’ Cally protested, her voice hoarse with incredulity. ‘You’re making me responsible for other people’s lives—other people’s happiness. It—it’s emotional blackmail.’

‘Now, my viewpoint is slightly different,’ he said. ‘Because you stood beside me in church and made certain vows. I remember it perfectly. You were wearing a white dress with a lot of little buttons down the front of it. Frankly, I was fantasising about undoing them all—with my teeth,’ he added, with a kind of sensuous reminiscence that made her shiver. ‘Now, at last, I want those vows fulfilled, and I really think, my sweet, that I’ve waited long enough. Even you must agree that our wedding night is long overdue.’

She said numbly, ‘You mean you’d—you’d actually force me to—to…’