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'Two days,' she whispered, touching her fingertips to the sensitised fullness of her lower lip. 'Only two days...'
Oh, God, Cally thought now, with sudden violence. How many more times must I remember? Nick—my almost lover.
And how cruel that those few hours were her most vivid memory, every detail as sharp-cut in her mind as if it had happened minutes rather than months before.
But perhaps in this instance she needed total recall, she thought. Needed to remind herself how quickly she'd fallen under his spell, and how easily he could have seduced her.
Something Nick might well have thought of, too. And this time he'd make sure they weren't interrupted.
Shivering, Cally moved away from the balustrade and descended the steps to the lawn.
She'd asked herself a thousand times why he'd even bothered. He'd already been involved with a beautiful, experienced woman, so her innocence could hardly have constituted a turn-on for him.
But perhaps he'd planned the whole incident to test her capacity for arousal, she thought. To discover how much pleasure he could expect from his enforced nights with his brand-new wife.
That afternoon by the river, she would have given herself to him with total completeness, holding nothing back. And he knew that, she told herself, biting her lip.
I should have taken you while I had the chance. His own cynical words. And he would soon find out how right he'd been.
Because now she had to make some plans of her own. To make him understand in the bleakest terms that she wasn't the same person any more, and he was no longer her hero, riding to her rescue.
She had to reject the kisses and caresses that belonged to someone else and fight him, tooth and nail, to maintain her integrity.
All he would possess was the shell of the girl she'd once been. Nothing more.
And somehow, somewhere, she would hide all traces of the long, lonely hunger for him that still burned within her.
However he used her that was something that Nick Tempest could never be allowed to know. And she shivered at the prospect of all the long nights ahead of her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In SPITE of her inner turmoil, Cally was unable to ignore the beauty of her surroundings for long. She had to admit that the grounds were looking at their best, poised on the verge of summer, and the scent of the grass and newly turned earth brought a kind of peace.
But only for a while. As she wandered restlessly across the lawns, the sun warm on her back, she found herself imagining that the past months had rolled away as if they'd never existed, and Nick was walking beside her, his fingers laced with hers, talking softly, his mouth and eyes smiling as sometimes he paused to kiss her. The way she'd once dreamed it might be.
Crazy, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. I'm going completely crazy. Living in never-never land.
As she reached the formal garden she saw that an elderly man was working with a hoe on one of the borders, and he straightened, beaming, as she approached. 'Good to see you, Miss Caroline. Beg pardon—Lady Tempest, I should say,' he added hastily.
Cally smiled back. 'Miss Caroline is just fine, Mr Robins. I can't get used to anything else. But I didn't know you were working at Wylstone.'
He looked faintly embarrassed. 'Six months or more now, your ladyship, and I've two lads to train as well. Things move on, you know, and a lot of the people I used to work for, like your grandpa, aren't here any more, so I'm glad of the security.' He nodded. 'He's a good man to work for, Sir Nicholas.' He paused. 'On your way to the stables. I dare say?'
'Oh—er—-yes,' said Cally, her mind on other things. A good man to work for... Was that a way of surviving the months to come? she wondered wryly. To regard herself somehow as just another employee of a generous boss?
Maybe it was—if she could only keep her wayward and futile dreams safely under control, she thought, suppressing an unhappy sigh.
She said goodbye, and found herself turning towards the stables. She'd not planned a visit there, but it was either that or return to the house. And she wasn't ready for that. Or not yet.
There was no one about in the yard, and she followed the worn track down to the paddock, shading her eyes against the sun, which was sinking towards the treetops now.
There were three horses turned out in the field. Two were grazing quietly together, and the third stood alone in the far corner, head down, tail swishing wearily against marauding flies.
Cally, resting her arms on the fence rail, stared across at the solitary horse. There was something about him, she thought with bewilderment—his stance, maybe, or his colour—that was strangely familiar.
As if aware of her scrutiny, he lifted his head and began to move towards her across the paddock, his speed increasing as he approached, whickering softly. And, she'd swear, joyfully.
