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She was too exhausted to argue. It was far simpler to give in, to allow her aunt to guide her upstairs and help her into bed. To let sleep claim her and open up an escape route from reality. Saul had taken charge and for once in her life she did not have the strength to object to someone else making her decisions for her.
At the back of her mind lurked the suspicion that this was after all what she wanted. She had wanted to marry Saul all along and, despite discovering that he didn’t love her, that desire was still there, and that was partially why she was giving in so easily. Of course she dismissed the thought. The reason she was marrying Saul was because she was being pressured into it, as much by her own fear for the safety of her baby as by her relatives and Saul himself.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY were married very quietly a week later in the small village church. Her aunt and uncle, and Fanny, Tom and the children were their only witnesses.
The only two people who seemed unaware of the undercurrents surrounding the ceremony were Oliver and Tara. The only blot on Tara’s blissful delight was the fact that Lucy was not getting married in a traditional white dress and would not therefore require a bridesmaid.
In fact Lucy wore a soft pink silk suit that her aunt bought in London for her; she was too exhausted and emotionally shattered herself to care what she wore.
‘At least Neville has had the grace to stay away,’ Saul commented curtly as they left the church. ‘Or was he motivated more by cowardice than compassion?’
Lucy pressed her lips together, not deigning to answer him. If it pleased him to taunt her about Neville, then let him. It was better by far that he should believe she loved her cousin than that he should guess the truth.
The excuse Saul gave for his parents’ non-attendance at the wedding was that his stepfather was still unwell. Lucy hadn’t even asked him if his mother knew of their marriage.
In the days leading up to the wedding she had decided that the only way she could cope with their marriage was for her to distance herself from Saul as much as she could, and that meant not asking him any questions that were in the least personal.
After the ceremony she had to endure the ordeal of the small reception her aunt and uncle had arranged at a local hotel. Her aunt had been shocked by Lucy’s suggestion that it was unnecessary, and it was true that although Fanny had glanced rather speculatively at her once or twice, everyone else did seem to be enjoying themselves.
They were due to fly to Florida in the morning. His business responsibilities meant that they would have to live in the States, Saul had told Fanny in response to her surprise.
Lucy shivered faintly, anticipating the loneliness of her new life so far away from everyone she knew. It was true that Saul’s mother was her aunt, but that did not alter the fact that they were complete strangers to one another. Would Saul’s mother welcome her as a wife for her son? And how would she feel when she discovered that she was carrying Saul’s child? Lucy’s chin tilted firmly. That was something over which she was determined to allow no deceit. If Saul did not choose to tell his mother that she was pregnant, then she would.
* * *
‘If those tears are for Summers, you’re wasting them.’
The cold incisive voice against her ear made Lucy sit up straighter in her seat, her head turned defiantly towards the small window of the jumbo jet.
They had been airborne for about twenty minutes now, and she felt so battered and numbed by the speed of recent events that even now she could barely comprehend that she was on her way to a new life in a new country.
Fanny, Tom, the two children, and her aunt and uncle had all come to the airport to see them off, and strangely she had managed to remain dry-eyed during that ordeal, pinning a bright smile to a mouth that seemed permanently stretched in false gaiety. She had hugged and kissed Tara, promised Oliver that she would write to him, suffered Fanny’s tearful embrace with perfect calm and equanimity; but now, when she was virtually alone with Saul, with no means of hiding her panic and despair from him, her self-control had chosen to desert her, causing tears of shock and misery to slide slowly from her eyes.
‘Here.’
The handkerchief he passed her was soft and white, his gesture so much at odds with his harshly derisive tone that she frowned at the square of white cotton he was handing her for several seconds before reaching out to take it from him.
Their fingers touched, the oddest sensation flowing through her body from that point of contact. Hot and breathless, she told herself she was simply suffering the effects of the pressurised cabin. As she dried her damp face she became aware that the handkerchief smelled faintly of Saul’s cologne. Her hand started to shake, her breath trapped in her lungs as he suddenly leaned across her.
