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But the sentence was never completed. Because she was suddenly aware that a hush had fallen. That someone was making his way across the room towards them between groups of people that obediently fell back at his approach.
A tall man, she saw, with a thin tanned face under fashionably disheveled hair, dark as a raven's wing. A face marked by high cheekbones, a nose and chin almost arrogant in their strength, a mouth tough and unsmiling. And really unforgettable.
The muscularity of his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped body was emphasised by the elegance of his designer suit as he strode towards them with powerful, determine d grace, purpose in his every line.
He was someone, she realised, the breath catching in her throat, that she knew. Whose reappearance in her life she "d been dreading for over a year. And who was here now, almost within touching distance, when there was no time to run or place to go.
All she could do was stand her ground and pray to whatever unseen deity protected fugitives.
But as his eyes, grey and deep as a winter ocean, met hers, Cally felt the measure of his glance in the marrow of he r bones, and knew dial her escape had only been an illusion all along.
'Good evening.' The cool, crisp voice was like ice on her skin. 'Is there some problem?'
A game, Cally thought numbly. He was playing a game, with rules that he'd invented. But no one knew it but hers elf.
'A few troublemakers have got in, Sir Nicholas,' Neville Hartley said swiftly. 'But we're dealing with them. So if you'd like to go back to your guests...'
'Presently,' the newcomer said quietly. He looked at Kit. 'May I know who you are?'
Kit cleared his throat. 'I'm Christopher Matlock, and I run the Children's Centre, and the Residents' Association d own at Gunners Wharf. We face eviction because of your development, but I'm still hoping some compromise can be reached, and that you might spare me some time to discuss the matter.'
'Ah, yes.' The other man nodded. 'This has been mentioned to me.' He turned to Tracy, whose face had been bleached with nerves ever since their arrival. 'And this is?' His smile held a swift charm that softened the hardness of his f
'Tracy—
Tracy Andrews,' Kit said quickly, seeing that she was beyond speech. 'One of the residents.' He turned to Cally. 'And this is my administrative assistant.'
'Oh, but we need no introduction,' the new arrival said with cold mockery. 'Do we, Caroline, my love?'
Before she could move he took one long step towards her, capturing her chin in his long fingers. He bent his head, and for a brief, hideous second Cally felt the sear of his mouth on hers.
He straightened, his lips twisting. 'They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I wonder if that’s true. Because you don't seem very pleased to see me."
'Cally?' Kit was staring at her, lips parted in shock. 'You know this man?’
'Yes.' She forced her lips to move to make the necessary sounds. 'His name is Nicholas Tempest."
'I'm the chairman of Eastern Crest’ His smile did not reach his eyes. The gaze that held hers was a challenge, and warning. 'Now, tell him the rest, darling." And from some far terrible distance, she heard herself say with a kind of empty helplessness, 'He's my husband.'
CHAPTER TWO
There was a moment when she thought she might faint. When she would have welcomed the temporary surcease to this intolerable moment that unconsciousness would provide.
But she wasn't that lucky.
Instead she heard Nick drawl, 'Will someone fetch a chair for my wife? She's had a shock.'
It was exactly the challenge she needed. I am not—not — going to fall apart, she told herself, her body stiffening. At least not now.
She made her tone crisp. 'Thank you, but I'm perfectly all right.'
She turned to Kit, who was looking poleaxed, while Tracy was standing with her mouth open and her eyes out on s talks.
'But please get Tracy a drink,' she added. 'She really needs one.' She look a deep breath. 'I think it's best if I leave’
'Not yet, darling.' Nick's voice was silky, but the fingers that closed on her wrist felt like iron. 'After all, you went to the trouble of seeking me out tonight. So why don't you say what you came to say?'
Cally bit her lip. It was her left hand that he'd imprisoned. The hand that had once, for a few hours, worn his ring but was now bare—a fact, she could tell, that wasn't lost on him.
She wanted to pull free, but feared an undignified struggle which she might lose. She said brusquely, 'Kit's our spokesman. Perhaps he could make an appointment to see you tomorrow.'
'Unfortunately I shall be leaving after breakfast.' He paused. 'But I could spare you all some time later, when tonight's presentation is over.'
