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She'd opened her jewellery case, in search of the exquisite diamond necklace which had been his first gift to her, but he'd stopped her abruptly. Instead, he'd fastened round her neck an antique topaz pendant, set in tiny pearls. She'd stared at it the breath catching in her throat, aware that it seemed somehow a much more personal gift than diamonds, however lovely.
She'd put up a hand to touch it in delight, wondering if it could be a slender sign of hope. Then, stammering, 'It's—so beautiful,' she'd swung round impulsively to kiss him, only to have him turn his head swiftly, so that her lips touched his cheek instead of his mouth. Her face flaming in humiliation, she'd managed to add a stilted, 'Thank you,' then turned away, and begun hurriedly, with shaking hands, to fill her evening purse.
Since then she hadn't risked anything that could be construed as an advance, even if she was aching for him, as she so often did.
Although she could not claim she was neglected, she thought, her mouth twisting wryly. The nights when he did not make love to her were rare indeed.
But was it really making love? she asked herself. Was that really how to describe that web of silken carnality that he'd spun around her so skilfully, to keep her trapped and enthralled? Because, apart from that first unforgotten time, when he'd taken her with such apparent tenderness and understanding, it all seemed curiously soulless.
A demonstration of high-art sexual technique, she thought, rather than uncontrollable passion. A master-class in which he treated her body as some finely toned instrument solely designed for pleasure, and in which her ability to respond seemed to be taken to fresh limits each time, as he built sensation on sensation.
And there was nothing she could do about it except submit to the promised rapture and, she supposed, be thankful.
Once—just once—ashamed of her unthinking, abandoned response, wanting to make him see her as a woman and not merely a sex-object, she'd tried to resist. Only to have Nick take her to the brink of climax over and over again, holding her there relentlessly, until she implored him for her release, the hoarse, uneven words torn from her throat.
Since then, when he reached for her she went silently and willingly into his arms, her body coming to swift, burning life under the caress of his hands and mouth.
After all, she thought with sadness, it was all she had of him. Because afterwards there was nothing. Even though she longed for him to hold her until she fell asleep, he invariably turned away without a word.
But she could hardly blame him for that, she acknowledged, sighing. Wasn't that exactly what she'd done to him that first morning? Oh, God, what a fool she'd been.
She should have forgotten her pride and gone into his arms, she told herself. Taken the risk. Let him see then that she wanted more than just physical gratification. But now it was all too late.
Because she was pregnant. She was sure of it. Her normally reliable monthly cycle had gone into total abeyance. She had just missed a second period, she'd been sick more than once
in the past fortnight, so all she needed was the doctor s confirmation.
And Nick must be well aware of it. She'd seen a grim expression on his face more than once in recent days. Perhaps he was now regretting the bargain he'd inflicted on her. Wondering, maybe, how he was going to break the news to his mistress that his wife was pregnant, she thought with pain.
Yet he'd said nothing—waiting, she supposed, for her to speak first. To admit she'd fulfilled the cold-blooded remit she'd been given and was indeed carrying his child.
So what on earth was making her hesitate? Why didn't she say what needed to be said?
Because, according to the terms we agreed, I know it's the beginning of the end, she thought. Once I actually admit that I'm having a baby, I've taken the first step towards dissolving the marriage.
And I don't know what will happen afterwards.
Yes, that was the stumbling block. Somehow, she knew, she had to talk to Nick—discover what his long-term intentions were. 'Joint custody—at first,' he'd told her. And, 'Any lasting decision can be made later.'
Since she'd realised her condition, those words had been preying on her mind. Scaring her. Because there was no legal agreement between them about the baby's future. Nothing in writing.
And supposing Nick decided he wanted sole custody, and treated her as if she was a single mother giving her baby up for adoption? What would she do then?
Surely he couldn't, she thought, her stomach churning uneasily. He wouldn't...
After all, she reminded herself painfully, they were hardly more than two strangers who met in bed. There was no real marriage between them. No sign of affection or friendship to prompt her to hope that he would treat her well. She'd done as she'd been asked, he might tell her, and was now free to go-Leaving her baby to be brought up by other strangers. Or even Vanessa Layton, Nick s childless mistress. Once his unwanted wife had been dismissed and divorced, he'd be free to move her in. Cally shuddered away from the thought.
