His Wedding-Night Heir (Wedlocked!) Read online

  When he’d gone, she got into bed, sitting back against the banked up pillows, arranging the sheet carefully, so that most of her was covered. Not that he seemed to care that she was wearing nothing but a transparent layer of voile, she thought. He’d hardly even looked at her. But probably that was just as well, considering the doctor’s advice.

  But earlier he’d wanted to sleep with her—nothing more. And she knew now, with total certainty, that she wanted it too—so badly. Longed to feel his arms around her, holding her close and safely.

  Vanessa Layton was a beautiful woman, but she, Cally, had her own weapons. She was Nick’s wife, for God’s sake, and carrying his child. And that had to matter,

  So why had she conceded victory so readily to her rival? She loved Nick desperately, so why wasn’t she prepared to fight for him? To try and make a marriage out of the shambles of their lives?

  And persuading Nick back into her bed seemed an obvious beginning, she thought, slipping off her nightgown and tossing it to the floor, where he’d be bound to see it when he returned. And if that wasn’t enough—well, surely she’d learned enough from their nights together to tempt him back to her.

  He returned quite soon, carrying a porcelain beaker which he handed to her. ‘Hot milk,’ he said, ‘with honey and a pinch of cinnamon and nutmeg. Just like Nanny used to make.’ Then he bent and picked up her nightdress, placing it on the bed.

  Concealing her chagrin, Cally accepted the beaker with a murmur of thanks. ‘You had a nanny?’

  ‘I had loads of them,’ he said. ‘On the whole, I preferred the older plainer ones. They tended to be around for longer,’ he added, his mouth twisting cynically.

  She sipped her milk, which was as delicious as it was comforting. ‘Your mother didn’t bring you up?’

  ‘Ma started pursuing her career again while I was still quite young,’ he said. ‘As I got older I realised why. Marriage to my father was tricky at best. Most of the time it must have been impossible.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. Bedtime stories are supposed to have a happy ending.’ He gave her a brief smile. ‘I hope the milk does the trick. Goodnight, Cally.’

  ‘Nick.’ She put the empty beaker down on the night table and clutched at the sleeve of his robe as he turned away. ‘Nick—don’t leave me, please.’ The sheet fell away, baring her breasts. Kiss me, she pleaded silently, touch me.

  The dark face was suddenly expressionless. ‘A few hours ago you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.’

  She tried to smile. ‘I—I was feeling a little wobbly. Put it down to the hormones.’

  ‘Or perhaps the same instinct that made you run away from me last year.’ The grey eyes watched her steadily. ‘Maybe you were right all along, Cally. Your grandfather would certainly have thought so.’

  ‘Grandfather?’ she echoed. ‘What do you mean?’

  He moved to the chair she’d vacated and sat down. ‘I went to him,’ he said quietly. ‘Told him I wanted to marry you and asked his permission to court you—pay my addresses—some suitably old-fashioned phrase. I thought he’d appreciate that. But I was wrong. He made it very clear in a few well-chosen words of his own that I wasn’t fit to come near you, and that he’d do his damnedest to ensure that I never did.’

  ‘He said that?’ The breath caught in her throat. ‘But why?’

  ‘Oh, he had a whole list of reasons.’ Nick examined a fleck on his nail. ‘He was quite embarrassingly frank. I was too old for you, and altogether too shop-soiled, he said. He condemned my past, discounted my future, and had some harsh words about my present lifestyle. He wanted, he said, a decent lad for his precious girl. And when I suggested, quite mildly, that two virgins together wasn’t always a recipe for happiness, he called me a foul-minded bastard and ordered me out of the house.’

  He paused. ‘It seems there’d also been a problem with my father. Years ago, he unwisely attempted to try it on with your mother. It got him nowhere, but it was an incident that clearly still rankled and it tarred me with the same brush.’

  He sent her a faint smile. ‘But believe that you were precious to him, Cally, even if he didn’t always show it. I think he was simply trying to protect you. And, on balance, he was probably right.’

  She said huskily, ‘When was this?’

  ‘Not very far into our acquaintance. Just before you decided to go and live in London, as it happens. I thought perhaps your grandfather had told you he’d warned me off, and you were taking yourself out of harm’s way.’

  ‘You just—faded out of my life,’ she said slowly. ‘There was a dance, and you never came near me all evening. I didn’t even see you out riding.’

  ‘You were out of bounds,’ Nick said. ‘And I wanted to prove to your grandfather, and myself, that I was still capable of behaving decently.’

  He shook his head. ‘Then your grandfather got sick, and all your other problems started piling up. I should have stuck to my guns and stayed away. Instead I decided I could—help. I’ve thought since it must have maddened your grandfather to discover he was in any way beholden to me, and I’m sorry for that. And as a result here we are today, in this unholy bloody mess.’

  He gave a swift, harsh laugh. ‘It’s all my own fault, of course. I should have accepted your belated change of heart and let you go. Given you a quick, quiet divorce. Not dragged you back here and inflicted this latest disaster on you.’

  He got to his feet. ‘I wonder if your grandfather would have approved of Kit Matlock—thought he was decent enough for you.’

  ‘Kit?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘But I never considered him like that. Not once, I swear it.’

  ‘Well, it’s not important now. We have to think about this baby I’ve forced on you.’ He stared down at the floor. ‘It may not be an appropriate time for this, but maybe your lack of sleep is caused by worry—about the future. And I want you to know that there’s no need. Not any more. All the things I said once about custody—well, let’s say I was angry. Because I would never take the baby away from you, Cally, not unless that was what you wished. If you decided to opt for a different kind of life, without the burden of an unwanted child.’

  She gasped. ‘I would never do that.’

  The situation was slipping away from her. No, she thought, not slipping—galloping down to some kind of destruction. She could feel it.

  She said pleadingly, ‘Nick—listen…’

  He held up a silencing hand. ‘Let me finish—please. You can live wherever you wish—have whatever money you require. It will all be taken care of. I hope that you’ll allow me regular visits, establish in our baby’s mind that he or she has a father. Perhaps we can even create some kind of working relationship between us.’

  He moved towards the door. ‘And now that your mind’s at rest, maybe you’ll be able to sleep.’

  Cally said his name again, but she spoke to an empty room.

  A microcosm of the empty life which was suddenly yawning in front of her, she thought with despair. And she was frightened.

  ‘Well, I think that’s a good morning’s work,’ Cecily Tempest said with satisfaction. ‘Lunch is now indicated. Why don’t you grab us a table at the Unicorn while I take all these parcels back to the car? You can order for me, Cally—some of their home-baked ham with salad. It’s too hot for anything else. Oh, and a spritzer,’ she threw over her shoulder as she moved off in the direction of the car park.

  Smiling, Cally lifted a hand in acknowledgement and turned in the opposite direction, making her way towards the High Street and its sixteenth-century inn.

  It was the first real shopping spree she’d indulged in since she’d bought her trousseau. She still hadn’t worn half the clothes she’d bought then and probably she never would, because nothing fitted her any more.

  There was a boutique near the cathedral called Great Expectations, and under her mother-in-law’s approving eye she’d picked out some well-cut trousers and tops, and a few pretty dresses to see her through the middle of her pregnancy. A
t the very end, when the weather was cold, she’d simply get some large sweaters, she thought, and use them as camouflage.

  If things had been different she might even have borrowed from Nick…

  She bit her lip. She was trespassing on forbidden ground here. She and Nick were polite strangers who sometimes shared a roof, and she had to accept that—come to terms with it—because there was no alternative.

  ‘A working relationship’, he’d said. She presumed that was what he’d been trying to establish over these past weeks, because while he treated her with friendliness and consideration there was certainly no intimacy between them. The risk zone was well behind them now, but Nick never came to her room, even though she’d started leaving the communicating door open as tacit encouragement. She’d been tempted, often and often, to go to him instead, but the very real fear of rejection prevented her.

  But if her emotional life seemed to have reached its nadir, her pregnancy was going well now. Her sickness had suddenly stopped, but she was still sleeping badly, alone in that huge bed, and Dr Hanson, concerned, had prescribed the mildest of sedatives on a strictly temporary basis in order to break the pattern of insomnia.

  But the drug that would cure the heartache and loneliness which were Cally’s real problem had yet to be invented.

  Not that Nick was at the Hall a great deal these days, she thought. He’d seemingly thrown himself completely back into his work, and was involved in a lot of business trips. Getting her used to life without him, she supposed.

  Cecily Tempest came and went as her lecture tour permitted. The fund-raising had gone well, and she would soon be returning to Guatemala, although she’d promised to return for the baby’s birth.

  And to say goodbye, if she did but know it, Cally thought drearily as she turned into the High Street. After an initial sticky period she had managed to create a rapport with Nick’s mother, whom she’d been told to call by her first name, and found herself genuinely enjoying her company. She would miss her, she told herself, even if it was only for a few months.

  Halfway along the street there was a Victorian shopping arcade with a high stained glass roof, and Cally was glad to escape into its shade for a few minutes to look in the window of a babywear shop that had recently opened.

  She had opted not to know the sex of the baby in advance, but as she looked at the heart-wrenching display of small garments in traditional blues and pinks, she found herself wondering if she’d made the right decision. She’d asked Nick’s opinion, but he’d politely deferred to her, which was no help at all.

  I could always change my mind, she thought, admiring an exquisite lace christening robe.

  With a sigh, she turned towards the heat and glare of the High Street, and halted, eyes narrowing in shock behind her glasses. On the far side of the street there was a short row of Georgian houses, now transformed into offices, and Nick had just emerged from one of them, his arm round the shoulders of Vanessa Layton, who was walking beside him.

  As she watched, Cally saw him bend his head slightly and drop a light kiss on his companion’s hair. She smiled back at him and put up a hand to touch his cheek. Then they parted, walking away in opposite directions.

  Everything about the little scene was deeply and irrevocably etched into Cally’s mind. The body language said it all, she thought. She was permitted no physical contact with her husband, but Vanessa could stand close to him, stroke his face, and smile into his eyes—all gestures that epitomised a close and familiar intimacy, that had nothing to do with mere lust.

  He loves her, she thought. He really loves her, and I’ve never had a prayer. For him, my only plus mark is that I’ve turned out to be fertile.

  She found suddenly that she was fighting for breath. Nick wasn’t even supposed to be in Clayminster today, she thought wildly. He was scheduled to visit Wellingford, checking on the progress of Gunners Wharf.

  In fact, she’d asked if she might go with him, but he’d responded briefly that it would be pointless as he only intended a flying visit.

  ‘Want to send anyone your love?’ he’d asked with faint mockery as he rose from the breakfast table.

  Cally had lifted her chin. ‘Yes,’ she’d responded coolly. ‘Tracy, if you happen to see her.’

  Had Vanessa gone with him? she wondered. Was that why she herself had been turned down? Or had the planned visit been subordinated to some alternative scheme of his lover’s making?

  She came slowly out of the arcade and leaned for a moment on the corner of the window, struggling to regain her equilibrium. After all, she derided herself, what had the last few moments told her that she didn’t already know?

  I could just do with not having my nose rubbed in it quite so publicly, she thought, swallowing.

  ‘Caroline? Cally, my dear, are you all right?’ Cecily Tempest appeared beside her, her face concerned.

  Cally was aware of an almost overwhelming urge to bury her head on her mother-in-law’s shoulder and sob out her hurt and heartbreak. But that, of course, was impossible. She’d given her word to keep silent on the situation, and she couldn’t break it, whatever emotional damage she might be suffering.

  She gave Cecily a wavering smile. ‘You were quite right about the heat. It’s sweltering.’

  ‘Then let’s forget about lunch here and go home,’ the older woman said decisively. ‘Margaret will be able to rustle up a salad for us.’

  Cally was glad to find herself in the car, being quietly driven back to Wylstone through the lanes. She leaned back, closing her eyes, trying to erase today’s least welcome image from her memory.

  ‘So,’ Cecily Tempest said at last, ‘would this be a good time to tell me what’s really the matter? Because something undoubtedly is.’

  Startled, Cally sat up and prepared for defence. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Cecily sighed. ‘Cally, please don’t take me for a fool. You’re young, you’re in love, and having your first baby. Life should be perfect. Instead, you’re so determinedly bright that you almost dazzle me into thinking you’re happy. And Nick, on the few occasions that he lowers his guard these days, looks as if he’s living through some personal nightmare.’

  ‘Perhaps—perhaps he’s having business worries.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ his mother said tartly. ‘His companies are making an obscene amount of money. If he never worked another day he’d still be a wealthy man. So why is he pushing himself, as he undoubtedly is, when he could be relaxing for a while and enjoying this unique time with you?’

  Cally shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it…’

  ‘Or much else, from what I can see.’ There was another silence, then Dr Tempest said, more gently, ‘Cally, I’m aware that you spent your first year of marriage apart. I realise I’m not supposed to know, but Nick’s godfather, a very dear friend, got to hear of it, and wrote me a concerned letter. My son’s own correspondence made no reference to the fact that he was living alone, so when I discovered that you were now together again I decided not to pursue the point. To let sleeping dogs lie.

  ‘And I would still,’ she went on candidly, ‘except that the dogs appear to have woken up, and are circling each other, gearing up for a fight. I don’t want to be forced to send for a bucket of cold water.’

  ‘Nick would never fight with me.’ Cally permitted herself a reluctant smile. ‘He’s far too civilised.’

  ‘Don’t count on it,’ Dr Tempest advised. ‘One day he might surprise you. Or you might surprise him,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘If the façade ever snaps.’

  She became brisk again. ‘But I won’t press you any further, dear girl. I just can’t believe Nick isn’t taking steps to remedy the situation. He was appalled when he realised what was happening in my marriage to his father, and swore to me that he would never marry unless he could make his wife so happy that she’d never know an anxious moment.’

  She added drily, ‘He seems to have fallen well short of that ideal, but I’m dam
ned if I can see why.’

  Cally turned away to look out of the window. Oh, God, she thought, if you knew—if you only knew… But at least you still have your illusions about him, whereas I—I have none.

  When they arrived back at the Hall, Cally said mendaciously that she wasn’t hungry and went up to the bedroom, supposedly to rest. But she was unable to settle. Her thoughts were far too busy—and too wretched.

  Instead, she decided to take a shower, then change into the coolest of the new dresses she’d acquired that morning. It was made from a thin cotton material, in an attractive pale turquoise colour, and the style was button-through, with a discreetly high waist.

  Designed to conceal a multitude of sins, Cally thought, viewing herself in the mirror.

  She’d go downstairs, she thought next, and try to convince her mother-in-law that the marriage was just experiencing a few teething troubles which would soon be resolved. It was what she wanted to hear, and she just might believe it.

  But the house seemed deserted, although the remains of lunch were still laid out in the dining room. Cally helped herself to a plate of cold chicken and potato salad, and took it out on to the terrace, seating herself at a table with a sun umbrella. The baby, she told herself, would not appreciate her skipping meals, whatever the reason.

  She was just finishing a dish of strawberries when she realised with a sinking heart that she wasn’t alone any more, and that Adele was sauntering across the lawn towards her. She was wearing a smart figure-hugging dress in café au lait linen, and carried a broad-brimmed straw hat, which she was using to fan herself.

  ‘Hi, there.’ Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp as they flicked over the younger woman. ‘All alone? No happy little family gathering today?’

  ‘As you see,’ Cally said shortly.

  ‘I see that you’re putting on weight, certainly. Heavens, Cally, you’re going to be the size of a house if you don’t watch it.’