His Wedding-Night Heir (Wedlocked!) Page 10

  Cally drank some tea. What could she tell him that he’d believe, without mentioning Vanessa?

  She said quietly, ‘She referred to Grandfather’s debts. The implication was that you’d brought me back in order to exact your own brand of repayment.’ She replaced her cup and saucer on the table. ‘I could hardly deny it.’ She lifted her chin. ‘She’s also worked out that I’m here to supply the next generation. I couldn’t argue about that either.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Nick said abruptly.

  ‘Why?’ She shrugged. ‘I should be used to her by now.’

  ‘I’m sorry because I should have made sure she was out of the Hall well before our wedding.’ His mouth twisted. ‘But she wasn’t easily dislodged. She even fought like a tigress to get me to appoint her as some kind of project manager. Boasted she’d have turned the place into a palace years ago if Ranald had given her the money. She’d even had plans drawn up for an indoor swimming pool at the rear, complete with a sauna and a Jacuzzi—and that was just for starters.

  ‘Eventually I made it clear to her that I knew exactly the kind of background I wanted, and her creative input wouldn’t be needed,’ he added reflectively. ‘Instead I turned her loose on the unfortunate Dower House.’

  Cally took another look round, her brows lifting. ‘You mean you did all this yourself?’

  ‘I had help.’ He hesitated. ‘A—friend of mine used to be an interior designer.’

  A friend of mine? A half-forgotten detail from Adele’s story clawed suddenly at Cally’s memory, telling her the friend’s identity—as if she couldn’t have guessed. My bedroom, she thought savagely. Oh, God, that beautiful room. Did she—did Vanessa Layton suggest the décor for that? If so, it was cynicism carried to the ultimate degree—to prepare a place for her lover to sleep with his wife.

  ‘The problem with Adele is that I can hardly evict her.’ She became aware that Nick was speaking, his brows drawn together in a frown. ‘As Ranald’s widow, she’s probably entitled to live at the Dower House for as long as she wants.’ His frown deepened. ‘I thought—I hoped—that once she stopped being lady of the manor she’d get bored out of her skull and move on. But no such luck.’

  Cally pulled herself together, looking down at the golden gleam of her wedding ring. ‘I gather she’s strapped for cash.’

  ‘She always was.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Maybe I should make her an offer she can’t refuse.’

  ‘Why not?’ Cally went on staring at her ring, aware of its alien presence. ‘It worked with me.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘With Adele, I lack quite the same leverage.’ He’d finished his tea and was leaning back, long legs crossed. Completely at ease, it seemed. While she was in this unbelievable pain.

  He said, ‘I wondered, you see, after you’d gone, whether she could be part of the cause. If she’d said or done something to upset you. After all, there was no love lost between you. And I knew you were vulnerable—’

  ‘Oh, spare me, please,’ Cally broke in, her colour heightened hectically. ‘Grandfather’s death was hardly unexpected. The doctors warned us that the smoke inhalation—the stress of the fire—would probably lead to another stroke—and that it would be fatal.’

  ‘Whether or not…’ He paused. ‘Cally, I know I shouldn’t have left you alone like that, so soon after the wedding, but it was an emergency. Mrs Bridges was supposed to tell you that—to explain that I had to go out. I had no choice in the matter.’

  Don’t lie to me, she begged silently. It’s too late for that. Because I know where you were. I went there. I heard you. Dear God, I saw you. With her.

  ‘Cally.’ Nick was leaning forward, his face serious. ‘You’re a million miles away. Please listen to me, because there’s something I have to tell you. I—owe you an explanation.’

  ‘No.’ The word exploded out of her, and she saw the shock in his face, ‘I mean—there’s absolutely no need to say anything,’ she went on, her tone hard and bright. ‘Then or now. As they say—never apologise, never explain. And it’s all fine—really. In fact, it was a blessing. As I said, it gave me a breathing space—a chance to reconsider what I’d done.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Rather like being reprieved from a life sentence. So you did me a favour.’

  His mouth hardened. ‘Only now the shackles are once again in place. Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Your words,’ she said. ‘Not mine.’

  ‘And you really don’t want to hear what I have to say?’

  ‘If I’d cared,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘I’d have been here when you got back.’

  ‘Oh God,’ he said with a kind of savage weariness. ‘Cally, can we stop this and start behaving sanely.’

  ‘This is hardly a rational situation.’

  ‘Then let’s make it one,’ he said with sudden urgency. ‘Let’s wipe out the past twelve months as if they never existed. We’re here—together—and we’re married. Can’t that be all that matters?’ He paused. ‘Besides, I have a wedding present for you.’

  ‘A wedding present?’ she echoed derisively. ‘At the risk of sounding ungracious, I think I’ll pass.’

  He was very still. ‘The bridegroom’s gift to the bride,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s a tradition.’

  She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘You’re big on those, suddenly. But it makes no difference. Your generosity tends to come with too high a price tag, Sir Nicholas.’

  He was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. He said quietly, ‘You don’t even want to know what it is—my gift? You’ve no wish to see it?’

  ‘None.’ She took a swift breath. ‘Can’t you see I want nothing from you? Don’t you understand that the only thing of value you could give me is my freedom—and the absolute certainty that I’ll never have to see you again? But I doubt that’s on offer.’

  ‘Not immediately.’ His voice was harsh. ‘However, I can probably arrange matters so that we only meet in bed. Perhaps that might make your sentence easier to bear. Although we will have to share occasional meals,’ he went on. ‘Starting with dinner tonight, which I’ve arranged for eight-thirty. And you, my sweet wife, will sit at my dining table and pretend to enjoy the special food that Margaret is preparing. And, to enter fully into the spirit of the occasion, you will wear your wedding dress, which you’ll find with the rest of your things upstairs in the dressing room.

  ‘And that’s not a request,’ he added swiftly, as her lips parted in protest. ‘It’s an order.’

  There was a corrosive note in his voice that frightened Cally.

  This was a dynamite situation, she realised, and she hadn’t handled it well.

  ‘And now I’ll respect your wishes and leave you in peace, to enjoy your own company.’ He got to his feet. ‘As usual, there’s some work I should do. After all, I need to work harder, don’t I, darling? Earn more money now that I have a wife to support and the prospect of a child.’

  ‘Nick,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘Nick—please.’

  At the door, he turned. ‘Having regrets, sweetheart?’ His tone was ice. ‘Save them for bedtime. You might just need them.’

  Alone, Cally sat for an endless moment, staring at the closed door. She could still feel his anger in the room—an almost tangible bitterness, making the walls close in on her. Making it suddenly difficult to breathe.

  She rose and ran across the room, half stumbling in her haste, to the French windows and out on to the terrace, where she paused, gasping.

  How dared he treat her like this—speak to her in that way? she demanded silently as she leaned against the stone balustrade, trying desperately to compose herself. She’d run from him on an impulse triggered by shock and grief, because her life had suddenly become unbearable, but he was the cause of that. It was his fault, not hers. She’d been forced to go. She’d had no other choice.

  And even if she’d stayed—forced a confrontation—it would have led to the same result in the end.

  Had he really believed he could keep his mi
stress a secret from her? she wondered. True, Southwood Cottage was in a sufficiently isolated spot to provide a discreet rendezvous. But even if Adele hadn’t told her about the affair there’d have been gossip—hints—eventually. In a small locality that was inevitable. And the longer their marriage had existed, the worse the sense of betrayal would have become.

  During lovemaking did he say the same things—do the same things as he did with her? Those were things she would have asked herself over and over again, torturing herself in the knowledge that she would never find an answer that gave either comfort or hope.

  And did he draw comparisons between them?

  Perhaps he’d thought she’d be so besotted with him by that time—so dazzled and indulged with sex and money—that she’d be unwilling or unable to give him up. That she’d be prepared somehow to share him.

  She might also—heaven help her—have been carrying his child, which would have reduced her options still further.

  But this was no longer a hypothetical situation, she thought, shivering. It was going to happen, and she would have to find some way to live with it. To endure…

  Her fingers tightened convulsively on the stone ledge. ‘Don’t go there,’ she whispered to herself.

  At least this time around limits had been imposed on her unhappiness. And, as long as she could keep its root cause hidden, she had a chance of emerging from the whole disaster with her pride battered but intact, if nothing else.

  There is something I have to tell you.

  Not while I have breath, Cally thought fiercely. Confession may be good for the soul, but not when my heart has to be torn apart as a consequence. I don’t need this belated honesty.

  The bride’s present to the groom—forgiveness and absolution. Was that really what Nick was hoping for?

  Or had he simply realised the impossibility of maintaining the secrecy of his liaison for much longer? And was he crazy—or just cruel—to think that bringing the issue into the open would somehow make it easier to deal with? If so, how wrong could anyone be?

  ‘Her name’s Vanessa Layton.’ The image of Adele’s slow smile came back to haunt her as her mind went into freefall. The confrontation had taken place in the hall, and for some strange reason Cally could remember a bowl of early roses standing on a side table, and the soft whisper as one of them shed its petals. There’d been a shaft of sunlight coming through the open front door, hitting her as if she was a small animal caught in the headlights of a car. Rendering her transfixed—immobile.

  ‘She was an interior decorator in London, and a good one, by all accounts. Nick hired her to redo his flat, and that’s when it began. It must have been a pretty torrid affair for her to abandon everything, and let him install her in a dead and alive hole like Southwood Cottage,’ she went on, her eyes carelessly surveying the pale, stupefied face of the girl in front of her. ‘Clearly they can’t bear to be apart. And she doesn’t pay rent like an ordinary tenant, besides which Nick picks up all her bills.’

  From some unsuspected well of courage Cally recovered the power of speech. ‘How do you know this?’

  Adele shrugged. ‘The paperwork’s all there in his desk, if you don’t believe me. I happened to see it months ago, when I was looking for something else.’

  ‘You were snooping.’

  ‘Was I? Anyway, it’s in the top right-hand drawer. Unless, now he’s married, he’s decided to move the evidence to somewhere less accessible. After all, he won’t want to upset the apple cart.’

  Cally said hoarsely, ‘If it’s all so wonderful, why hasn’t he married her?’

  ‘Because there’s already a husband, apparently, but no one knows quite where. Maybe divorce isn’t an option, for some reason.’ Adele shrugged again. ‘But for many reasons Nick needs a wife.’ Her smile widened. ‘And that, my pet, is where you come in, of course. Young, free, and clearly besotted. Central casting couldn’t do better.’

  There was a silence, then Cally said quietly, ‘You utter bitch.’

  Adele looked amused. ‘I’m trying to be your friend here. After all, she’ll only be the first of many, so you’d better be prepared. Nick’s father was just the same,’ she added insouciantly. ‘No woman was safe around him. He left a string of broken hearts and marriages wherever he went, including his own. Why do you think your mother-in-law resumed her career so suddenly? Because she was sick of the endless betrayals, and scandals, and everyone knew it.’

  Her smile widened. ‘Jungles with wild animals and poisonous snakes must have seemed a soft option compared with Nick Tempest senior.’

  Like father, like son. Her grandfather had said that. Had he known—heard gossip that Nick was involved with a married woman? Was that why he’d tried to warn her off?

  ‘Besides,’ Adele continued, ‘I feel so sorry for you, moping round the house, waiting for Nick to come back and relieve you of your virginity. Especially when he’s off consoling his bit on the side. Reassuring her that it’s just a marriage of convenience, and it’s business as usual as far as she’s concerned.’

  ‘And you’re also unforgivably vulgar,’ said Cally, and went past her, through that open door and out of the house. She was shaking so much she thought she might fall in pieces, but she made herself keep moving.

  Somehow she made her way to the flat in the courtyard which, until that day, had been her home. The rooms were already empty, as blank as if they’d never been occupied. The bed in her room had been stripped, and only a few clothes remained in the cupboards and drawers. But her bag was still there, with her wallet and her bank book. She’d been intending to come and collect it, but then she’d been intercepted by Adele. She glanced inside, checking the car keys were there, too. That she had what she needed. Except she had no real idea of where she was going, or what she would do when she arrived.

  She thought, Whatever happens, I have to know. Have to…

  She unbuttoned the ivory silk dress she was still wearing from the morning’s ceremony and stepped out of it, discarding the pretty lacy undies beneath as well. She found a cotton bra and briefs, that she’d considered far too workaday for her new life, and covered them with a denim skirt and a white T-shirt, sliding her feet into a pair of elderly sandals.

  The bride was gone, and only a girl with a white face and burning eyes was left.

  She’d only had the car for a week—a sleek, sporty Alfa Romeo that had been Nick’s gift to her. She knew where Southwood Cottage was, of course. She could remember once catching a fleeting glimpse of its occupant, too. A dark-haired woman, she recalled, with one of those serene Madonna-like faces, working in the garden. Proving that appearances could be deceptive.

  A saint in the kitchen, but a whore in the bedroom, she thought as she slid into the driving seat. Wasn’t that supposed to be every man’s idea of the perfect woman? She found she wanted to laugh hysterically, and sat for a moment regaining her self-control before starting the car.

  When she reached the lane where the cottage was situated, she parked at its top and walked the rest of the way.

  As she’d driven, she’d prayed that it wasn’t true. That Adele was playing some kind of obscene joke on her. But Nick’s car was there, under the shelter of some trees. There could be no mistake.

  Cally moved quietly along the verge. As she reached the corner of the white-painted fence she heard voices. Hating herself, trembling violently, she crouched, looking through the branches of a tall shrub, and saw her worst fears confirmed. Nick was there, in the garden, standing with Vanessa Layton in his arms. She was clinging to him and crying, and he was stroking her hair.

  ‘It’s going to be all right.’ He spoke quietly, but his voice carried easily to where Cally was hiding. ‘Darling, I’ll always be there for you.’

  Cally couldn’t hear her reply, but she watched Nick glance swiftly at his watch and nod. Together, they walked to the front door and went inside, closing it behind them.

  Cally got shakily to her feet, then froze as Nick appeared at wh
at was obviously an upstairs bedroom window.

  Don’t let him see me, she begged silently. She shrank into the shelter of a tall tree which was throwing a grotesque shadow on the road. Don’t let him find me spying on him. Haven’t I been humiliated enough without that?

  Then she saw his hand move, realised he was drawing the curtains. Closing them in together. And that her concern was wasted, because he was clearly oblivious to everything but the woman going back into his arms in the shadowy room.

  Suddenly she was aching inside, as if she’d been knocked down and kicked. Only bruises would heal eventually. Her wound was deep enough to be mortal, and she had to get away before she bled to death.

  Uncaring whether she was seen or not, she stumbled back to her car. Her throat was dry and her eyes were burning, but she couldn’t cry. That would come later, at a point she couldn’t even envisage yet.

  She only knew that her life was sick, cold and empty, and that there was nothing left for her here. That her betrayal was as cruel as it was complete.

  I can’t face him, she thought. I can’t let him see what he’s done to me. I can never do that. It would destroy me.

  Young, Adele had said, and besotted. She’d failed to mention abysmally, unforgivably stupid, although the implication had probably been there.

  And now, somehow, she had to save herself from further folly. And that meant distancing herself from Nick, as far and as fast as she could. Hiding out somewhere until enough time had passed for her to demand that the marriage be legally and immediately terminated.

  And I did it, Cally thought now, lifting her face to the sun. I ran away. First to London, to cover my tracks and empty my account of any money there was. Thereafter by dint of sticking a pin in a map.

  She’d been so sure he’d want to be rid of her as quickly and quietly as possible, without further damage to his male pride, and he’d agree to anything she asked when they finally caught up with each other.