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Besides, in spite of her bravado, she didn't really want to make Nick angry, she admitted. The coming hours would be quite difficult enough without that. And sex as punishment was a terrifying possibility, which could destroy her, she thought, with a sudden convulsive shiver.
She got out of the car and stretched, then, leaving the door open, went for a restless stroll, up one side of the street and back down the other.
It didn't take long. It was mostly terraced housing, with a few shops, none of which tempted her to linger. A self-styled antiques gallery, offering mostly junk, was probably the star turn, she thought wryly, with a place called Needlewoman selling knitting wool and sewing requisites a close second.
Reaching the car, she leaned back against the doorframe with a sigh. The memories she'd allowed herself had been unsettling, reminding her of things best forgotten or treated as a temporary aberration.
I was just eighteen then, she thought blankly. A child trying not to fall in love with a man. And failing miserably.
In spite of the warmth of the day, she found she was wrapping protective arms round her body. Swallowing back the tears in her throat. Nick had said he would not be long, and she couldn't afford to let him find her crying.
It was another ten minutes before he turned the corner and walked up the street towards her, and by that time she'd managed to get a grip on her control and was sitting in the car again, waiting for him with a semblance of calm.
'I'm sorry,' he said as he joined her. 'It took longer than I’
She didn't look at him. 'It's not important.'
'Ah,' Nick said quietly. 'But I think it is.' He took a jeweller's box from his pocket and opened it. She glanced at the contents and her eyes widened. She'd expected a ring, but the box contained a pair of them, in classic plain gold.
She said, 'Why two? In case I throw the first one away again?'
'No,' he said. "The other one's for me.'
'For you?' She drew an uneven breath. 'That is—rank hypocrisy.'
Nick shook his head. 'It's a statement. Intended to make clear to any interested parties that our marriage is on again— and it's real.' He paused. 'Give me your hand.'
'I can put it on myself—if you insist that I must.'
'No,' he said. 'We'll do it my way.' He reached for her left hand, grasping it firmly. He said softly, 'I, Nicholas James Tempest, take you, Caroline Maria Maitland, for my wife.'
Half of her hoped that he'd got the sizing wrong, but the gold circlet slid easily over her knuckle.
He said, 'Now it's your turn.'
'This is ridiculous...'
'Cally.' His tone was gentle, but there was iron underneath. 'Say the words.'
Biting her lip, she obeyed, her low voice stumbling a little as she pushed the ring on to his finger in turn.
'Satisfied?' she challenged. 'I presume you don't want to add anything about for as long as we both shall live?'
His smile did not reach his eyes. He said quietly, 'Let's just say for as long as it's necessary, shall we?' He fitted the key into the ignition and started the engine. 'And now, my sweet wife, I'll take you home.'
CHAPTER FIVE
The nearer they got to the village, the more Cally's inner tension increased. She found she was playing with die wedding ring, endlessly twisting it on her finger.
She'd done that before, she thought, a year ago as she'd paced the empty house, hearing the echo of her own footsteps, a ridiculous figure, the bride left alone on her wedding day.
And suddenly and terribly discovering why it should be so. Why Nick had chosen to leave her in solitude like that.
At the same time telling herself desperately that it couldn't be true. That Adele's words, still burning in her brain, had been sheer malice and spite. Nothing more.
That she couldn't—wouldn't take them seriously.
Yet knowing all the time that it was impossible to leave it there. Finding herself faced with the brutal necessity of discovering if her marriage was a deception—if the vows she'd exchanged with Nick only a few hours ago were utterly meaningless.
She made a small stifled noise in her throat, and was aware of Nick's swift glance.
'Are you all right?'
'Fine,' she lied. 'I was just thinking—wondering...' She paused, taking a deep breath. 'Whether we could make a quick detour to the cottage. Just for a few minutes.'
He was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, 'If that's really what you want.' And signalled for the turn on to the bottom road past the village.
He parked the car on the verge opposite the gate and Cally got out, trying not to look at the field beside them, which had once been Baz's paddock.
The shock of her grandfather's stroke, which had brought her rushing back from her London job-hunt had been stressful enough. Baz's departure had been a very different kind of agony.
