His Wedding-Night Heir (Wedlocked!) Read online

  ‘Not quite. I’m spending a few weeks with my daughter. Convincing her that I’m going to be able to manage on my own.’ He shook his head wryly. ‘She does worry about me, bless her. And she has so much else to cope with. She’s spent her life recently running between two hospitals. Visiting me in the mornings, and spending the afternoons with her husband. She’s so brave and hopeful, but I suspect it’s useless.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cally digested this. ‘Is he seriously ill?’

  ‘He’s in a coma, after a bad road accident just over two years ago. At first it was thought he’d come out of it, then tests revealed serious brain damage. But she won’t give up. She talks to him, reads and plays music, but there’s no response.’ He sighed. ‘So far she’s refused to allow the life-support to be switched off, but I’m afraid that can only be a matter of time.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Cally said quietly. Oh God, she thought, if that was Nick lying unconscious and helpless, wouldn’t I do the same? Keep vigil beside him, praying for a miracle? Try to keep the flame alive, even when hope is gone?

  ‘Nearly there,’ he announced, as they came through another gate and down on to a lane. And suddenly, like the flash of lightning that had just split the sky above them, Cally realised exactly where she was heading. And why she couldn’t go a step further.

  Her footsteps faltered as she tried desperately to think of an excuse, and the patient Baz tossed his head in surprise.

  ‘And there’s my daughter, waiting at the gate now,’ Geoffrey Miller announced with a smile. He waved his stick jovially. ‘We’re safe and sound, Vanessa,’ he called. ‘And look, I’ve brought a visitor.’

  And, with a roar of thunder, the heavens opened.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE would have given anything to fling herself on Baz’s back and ride away, leaping hedges, ditches and five-barred gates to escape from this hideous situation.

  It was small consolation to observe that Vanessa Layton, the woman she’d last seen held close in Nick’s arms, seemed equally dismayed.

  Cally felt her colour rise. She said, ‘I think it would be better if I made for home. I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘In this rain? Utter nonsense,’ Geoffrey Miller told her severely. ‘You’ll catch pneumonia.’ He addressed his daughter. ‘There’ll be room for the horse in the lean-to at the side, won’t there, darling.’

  Vanessa Layton appeared to come out of her trance. ‘Yes—yes, of course.’ She had a quiet, musical voice, currently a little strained. Seen at closer quarters, her face held traces of a sadness which by no means detracted from her beauty. ‘If you’ll show Lady Tempest where everything is, I’ll get some water.’

  ‘Tempest?’ he queried. ‘Isn’t that the name of your landlord, Vanessa?’ He gave Cally a puzzled look. ‘I thought you said Maitland.’

  Cally’s flush deepened. ‘That’s my maiden name,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not very used to being married yet.’

  And thought she saw Vanessa Layton’s mouth tighten as she turned away.

  The lean-to was more commonly used as a log store, but it was dry, and Baz seemed content with it.

  ‘I’m going to find a dressing for your hand, and make some tea,’ Mr Miller said cheerfully. ‘Come to the house when you’re ready.’

  How could she ever be ready for a situation like this? Cally wondered, swallowing, as she loosened Baz’s girths. As she did so, she saw Vanessa Layton approaching, carrying a striped golf umbrella, with the promised pail of water in her other hand.

  Cally unconsciously straightened her shoulders. She said, ‘I’m sorry about this. Please believe it wasn’t intentional.’

  The other woman shrugged, placing the pail where Baz could reach it. ‘Dad has explained. But I suppose it was inevitable that we would meet eventually.’ Her voice was cold. ‘I’ve rung the Hall and told them you were caught by the storm,’ she added reluctantly. ‘They’re sending a car for you, and the groom is bringing over the horsebox.’

  ‘Thank you—that’s very kind.’ Also surreal, thought Cally.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Vanessa Layton said curtly. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to spend any more time here than you have to.’

  Cally lifted her chin. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t.’

  There was a brief nod, then the older woman said swiftly, almost jerkily, ‘But there is something I have to ask you—a favour. As you heard, Dad believes Nick and myself are just—landlord and tenant. He has no idea there’s another relationship, and he—he can’t know. He must never know. So—please—I beg you—don’t say anything about it to him.’

  ‘Why?’ Cally clenched her hands in the pockets of her jeans, anger rising within her. She didn’t want to find herself in any kind of collusion with Nick’s mistress. She owed her nothing, she thought. Nothing. ‘Would it damage your perfect daughter image in his eyes?’

  Vanessa Layton said quietly, ‘It would totally destroy him.’

  There was a taut silence.

  A voice inside Cally’s head was screaming And what about me? I’ve been destroyed too—or doesn’t that count?

  And then she remembered the kind, concerned, uncomprehending face, and sighed, swiftly and restlessly. Yes, she thought. Geoffrey Miller clearly believed in his daughter as the selfless, devoted wife to her dying husband. Why should his illusions be shattered, as hers had been, by discovering that when she wasn’t playing Florence Nightingale, she was involved in a sordid affair with a married man?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she tossed back at her antagonist, her tone edged with contempt. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ But possibly not with Adele, she added silently. However, that was not her problem. And she saw no reason to mention it. ‘Actually, I don’t find it important enough to mention,’ she added stonily.

  ‘Thank you.’ Vanessa Layton’s own tone was short. ‘The tea should be ready by now, if you’d like to come indoors. But be careful on the cobbles. They get slippery in the rain.’ She paused. ‘And you certainly don’t want to risk a fall, not at this particular time. In fact, you probably shouldn’t be riding.’

  Cally stopped dead, her whole body stiffening, her eyes blazing. Oh, God, she thought. Oh, dear God—no… He not only knows, but he’s told her—he’s told her.

  Cally’s voice shook. ‘You have no right—no right at all to intrude into my personal circumstances. Or comment. And if ever I should want your damned advice, I’ll ask for it. But don’t hold your breath.’

  Vanessa Layton threw back her head. ‘Don’t you even care that you’re having Nick’s child?’ she demanded.

  ‘Jealous, Mrs Layton?’ The horrible, unforgivable words were out before she could stop herself. ‘Wishing that it was your pregnancy instead?’

  The pain in the other woman’s eyes almost made her flinch. She said, too evenly, ‘That will never be possible, Lady Tempest, as I’m sure you already know. And now my—my father is waiting to attend to your hand.’

  While other wounds are left to bleed on both sides, Cally thought, hating herself.

  Inside the cottage, the rooms were on the small side, with low ceilings, but light paint on the walls and pale floor coverings and fabrics had created a sense of space that was elegant and peaceful.

  But what did I expect? Cally asked herself. The woman had trained in interior design. And Nick’s London apartment had the same cool, uncluttered look, she thought, biting her lip. She could remember thinking how lovely it was—until she’d recalled exactly who was responsible for it.

  There was a tray of tea and a plate of biscuits ready on a side table, and Geoffrey Miller was waiting with hot water, antiseptic cream, and a box of plasters.

  ‘Oh, please, it’s really nothing.’ Cally tried to withdraw her hand. She was aware there was no sound from upstairs, where Vanessa Layton had gone after quietly excusing herself.

  But he was firm. ‘Better to be safe than sorry about these things. And I don’t want Vanessa to be evicted for harbouring a dangerous dog.’r />
  ‘As you see, butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.’ In spite of herself, Cally found she was smiling as the sinner sat up in front of her, urgently waving his paws. ‘But I’m sure a biscuit would.’

  ‘You have a very forgiving nature, my dear.’ Geoffrey Miller said as he carefully adjusted the strip of plaster.

  All evidence to the contrary, Cally thought bleakly, as she broke off a piece of shortcake and threw it to Tinker, who leapt joyfully and caught it. By dint of keeping him supplied, she was able to pretend she was eating, and managed to swallow most of her cup of tea before she heard the arrival of the car outside.

  ‘That sounds like my lift.’ She rose hurriedly. ‘Thank you for taking care of me, Mr Miller.’

  ‘It’s been my pleasure.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get more of a chance to talk to Vanessa. I think she’s feeling the strain of her morning’s visit. But there’ll be other times, I’m sure. And I think the rain has stopped.’

  He opened the front door as he spoke. Cally had expected that Frank or Margaret would come for her. Instead, she was confronted by the sight of Nick approaching up the path—but he was not alone, she realised, anger and hurt twisting inside her.

  Because somehow Vanessa was no longer upstairs, but walking beside him, her voice soft and rapid, as he listened, head bent towards her.

  The sight of them together was suddenly a torment impossible to bear, and Cally gasped, her head swimming, nausea hot and acrid in her throat.

  ‘My dear child, you’re ill.’ Geoffrey Miller’s hand grasped her arm. He raised his voice. ‘Help me, would you? Lady Tempest is fainting.’

  Then Nick was there, his arm like a ring of steel round her swaying body, his voice harsh. ‘Let me take her. She needs to get home and rest, that’s all.’

  She heard herself say, ‘Please—I’m all right—I’m fine,’ as she tried to free herself and stand straight, but his grip simply tightened inexorably.

  ‘Whatever,’ he said curtly. ‘You’re coming with me, Cally, and you’re coming now.’

  She was put into the passenger seat of the car, and sat fumbling with the seatbelt while Nick strode round to the driver’s side, almost flinging himself behind the wheel. With an exclamation of impatience, he took the buckle from her unsteady fingers and slotted it home.

  ‘Thank you.’ Cally took a deep breath. ‘You must be wondering…’

  ‘Wondering?’ His voice cut across her stumbling words. He was, she realised, molten with rage. ‘I come home to be informed that my pregnant wife is wandering round the countryside in a thunderstorm on the back of an elderly horse with a heart problem, and that you were due back an hour before. It takes a phone call from a neighbour to tell me where you are.’

  A neighbour, she thought. A neighbour…

  Nick hit the steering wheel with his clenched fist. ‘Well, that stops now, Cally. From now on you take your exercise on your own two feet.’ He added grimly, ‘Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘I was perfectly safe,’ she protested. ‘Baz isn’t bothered by storms.’

  ‘But he’s still old,’ Nick said unanswerably. ‘If he got sick and went down you could be injured. I won’t let you take that risk.’ He started the car and drove up the lane. Cally did not look back to see if their departure was being observed.

  She took a deep breath. ‘As a matter of interest, why have you come home? You’re supposed to be at meetings in London all day.’

  ‘I postponed them,’ he said brusquely. ‘My mother’s arrived.’

  Cally sat up. ‘But she wasn’t due for another two weeks,’ she said, aware that her stomach was churning again.

  He shrugged a shoulder. ‘She simply decided to get an earlier plane. She telephoned from Heathrow this morning, so I rang to warn you that I was bringing her down, but you weren’t around.’

  She looked down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. ‘I’m sure Margaret was able to fill the breach.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t let you off the hook, sweetheart. What the hell did you think you were doing?’

  ‘I—I didn’t go to the cottage deliberately,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It was all a chapter of accidents. I rescued Mr Miller’s dog, and got bitten, and he insisted I go back with him to have my hand seen to and shelter from the rain.’ She paused. ‘But I wasn’t snooping.’

  ‘Did I suggest that you were?’ Nick pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped on the verge. He said, more gently, ‘Cally, we can’t go on like this. There are things that need to be said, particularly now.’ His mouth tightened. ‘And I need to tell you—explain about Vanessa. I should have done it long ago.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ It hurt to breathe, let alone speak. ‘Because I already know the whole story.’

  His brows snapped together in disbelief. ‘She told you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I knew—before.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Nick said, after a pause. ‘How could you? We’ve always been so careful…’ He stopped, apparently giving himself a mental shake. ‘So where did you hear it?’

  She said wearily, ‘From Adele, naturally. Who else? She implied it was common gossip,’ she added, after an uncertain pause. She’d opened up a can of worms here, she realised nervously. His next question was bound to be, Is that why you left me? And she wasn’t sure she could survive the kind of revelations that were bound to follow.

  ‘Adele,’ he said quietly. ‘My God—Adele. It beggars belief. But it will have to be dealt with. I’ve also left that too long.’ He paused. ‘So what did you talk about with Vanessa?’

  She managed a shrug. ‘Not a great deal. She gave me some unwanted advice, then asked me not to mention your relationship with her to her father.’

  He looked at her, his brows raised. ‘And you agreed?’

  ‘Why not?’ She braced herself. ‘It’s really of no concern or interest to me. After all, I’m unlikely to meet Mrs Layton again, or her father.’

  He said carefully, ‘I hoped you might be a little more understanding. She’s been having a really bad time of late.’

  ‘So her father said,’ Cally said coldly. ‘According to him, she’s practically a saint. The perfect wife.’

  ‘I think she was,’ Nick returned with equal froideur. ‘Until that motorway pile-up intervened. Now she’s in limbo.’

  No, Cally thought, with sudden violence. She has you. I’m the one in limbo!

  Aloud, she said, ‘Perhaps we should go. Your mother will be waiting.’

  ‘My mother is resting after a hellish flight,’ he returned. ‘And there are still matters we need to deal with, especially as we’re talking about Vanessa.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Cally said with bitter irony. ‘You and the tenant of Southwood Cottage are simply good friends?’

  ‘It would be better if you could refrain from mentioning her at all.’ He hesitated. ‘In fact, that’s essential.’

  ‘You mean your mother still has illusions?’ Cally shrugged again. ‘But, what the hell? Consider it done. Was there anything else?’

  ‘A few things come to mind,’ Nick said slowly. ‘Such as when were you going to share your precious secret with me—tell me you were having my baby? Or did you hope it would all go away and you’d wake up one morning to find it was all a bad dream?’

  Cally flushed. ‘Naturally before I said anything I wanted to be absolutely sure.’

  ‘Which symptoms would have convinced you?’ Nick asked grimly. ‘Actually going into labour?’

  Her colour deepened. ‘Kindly don’t laugh at me.’

  ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘I’ve never felt less like laughing in my entire life.’

  ‘Anyway, it wasn’t much of a secret, because you’ve known all along,’ she said tautly. ‘You even told your—your Mrs Layton. And I expect you broke the news to your mother, too, and that’s why she’s arrived early.’

  ‘It’s her first grandchild,’ he said. ‘Sh
e’s bound to be delighted. And she’ll expect us to be thrilled too, so your performance as devoted wife will need to be stepped up a notch.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Cally returned, ‘I’m becoming quite expert at fooling people.’

  Nick’s smile was swift and hard. ‘How very true.’

  ‘Perhaps you need a little practice, too,’ she said. ‘For someone who’s got exactly what he wanted, you’re hardly jumping for joy.’

  ‘I felt you might regard such displays as tactless.’

  ‘Why?’ She didn’t look at him. ‘After all, I’ll soon be getting what I want too.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said sardonically. ‘I almost forgot. So, shall we behave like prospective parents, Cally? Shall we hold each other and cry with happiness? Shall we argue about whether we’re having a girl or a boy, and make lists of names and bicker over them? Then get serious and discuss schools and universities, and future careers for the tiny thing growing inside you?’ He took her chin, making her face him, the silvery eyes glittering like ice. ‘Shall I make sure, my sweet wife, that not even a breeze blows on you too roughly over the next seven months?’

  If only, her heart cried out to him. Oh, God, if only…

  And she suddenly had an image of Vanessa Layton’s face, smiling faintly. An image that would haunt her, she knew, through all the remaining days she spent with Nick.

  Her stomach began to churn again, in rejection and jealousy, and there were tears, hot and heavy, in her chest. Her voice sounded thick as she jerked her head away, scared of what he might read in her eyes. ‘Or shall we just congratulate each other on a successful deal?’

  She undid her seatbelt and fumbled for the door handle. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be sick.’

  The doctor that Nick had insisted on calling was a woman, slim and blonde, in her early thirties, who was quick to be reassuring.

  ‘No, there’s no need for you to be wrapped in cotton wool, but your husband is right to err on the side of caution. Basically you seem very well, Lady Tempest, if a little tense, so enjoy some pampering, and I’ll see you next week for the necessary tests and paperwork.’ She paused. ‘I don’t know if Sir Nicholas is planning for you to have the baby in London, but I can assure you that the hospital at Clayminster has an excellent obstetric unit. In fact, I can personally recommend it.’