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She said huskily, 'When was this?'
'Not very far into our acquaintance. Just before you decided to go and live in London, as it happens. I thought perhaps your grandfather had told you he'd warned me off, and you were taking yourself out of harm's way.'
'You just—faded out of my life,' she said slowly. 'There was a dance, and you never came near me all evening. I didn't even see you out riding.'
'You were out of bounds,' Nick said. 'And I wanted to prove to your grandfather, and myself, that I was still capable of behaving decently.'
He shook his head. 'Then your grandfather got sick, and all your other problems started piling up. I should have stuck to my guns and stayed away. Instead I decided I could—help. I've thought since it must have maddened your grandfather to discover he was in any way beholden to me, and I'm sorry for that. And as a result here we are today, in this unholy bloody mess.'
He gave a swift, harsh laugh. 'It's all my own fault, of course. I should have accepted your belated change of heart and let you go. Given you a quick, quiet divorce. Not dragged you back here and inflicted this latest disaster on you.'
He got to his feet. 'I wonder if your grandfather would have approved of Kit Matlock—thought he was decent enough for you.'
'Kit?' she repeated incredulously. 'But I never considered him like that. Not once, I swear it.'
'Well, it's not important now. We have to think about this baby I've forced on you.' He stared down at the floor. 'It may not be an appropriate time for this, but maybe your lack of sleep is caused by worry—about the future. And I want you to know that there's no need. Not any more. All the things I said once about custody—well, let's say I was angry. Because I would never take the baby away from you. Cally not unless that was what you wished. If you decided to opt for a different kind of life, without the burden of an unwanted child.'
She gasped. 'I would never do that.'
The situation was slipping away from her. No, she thought, not slipping—galloping down to some kind of destruction. She could feel it.
She said pleadingly, 'Nick—listen...'
He held up a silencing hand. 'Let me finish—please. You can live wherever you wish—have whatever money you require. It will all be taken care of. I hope that you'll allow me regular visits, establish in our baby's mind that he or she has a father. Perhaps we can even create some kind of working relationship between us.'
He moved towards the door. 'And now that your mind's at rest, maybe you'll be able to sleep.'
Cally said his name again, but she spoke to an empty room.
A microcosm of the empty life which was suddenly yawning in front of her, she thought with despair. And she was frightened.
'Well, I think that's a good morning's work,' Cecily Tempest said with satisfaction. 'Lunch is now indicated. Why don't you grab us a table at the Unicorn while I take all these parcels back to the car? You can order for me, Cally-—some of their home-baked ham with salad. It's too hot for anything else. Oh, and a spritzer,' she threw over her shoulder as she moved off in the direction of the car park.
Smiling, Cally lifted a hand in acknowledgement and turned in the opposite direction, making her way towards the High Street and its sixteenth-century inn.
It was the first real shopping spree she'd indulged in since she'd bought her trousseau. She still hadn't worn half the clothes she'd bought then and probably she never would, because nothing fitted her any more.
There was a boutique near the cathedral called Great Expectations, and under her mother-in-law's approving eye she'd picked out some well-cut trousers and tops, and a few pretty dresses to see her through the middle of her pregnancy. At the very end, when the weather was cold, she'd simply get some large sweaters, she thought, and use them as camouflage.
If things had been different she might even have borrowed from Nick...
She bit her lip. She was trespassing on forbidden ground here. She and Nick were polite strangers who sometimes shared a roof, and she had to accept that—come to terms with it— because there was no alternative.
'A working relationship', he'd said. She presumed that was what he'd been trying to establish over these past weeks, because while he treated her with friendliness and consideration there was certainly no intimacy between them. The risk zone was well behind them now, but Nick never came to her room, even though she'd started leaving the communicating door open as tacit encouragement. She'd been tempted, often and often, to go to him instead, but the very real fear of rejection prevented her.
But if her emotional life seemed to have reached its nadir, her pregnancy was going well now. Her sickness had suddenly stopped, but she was still sleeping badly, alone in that huge bed, and Dr Hanson, concerned, had prescribed the mildest of sedatives on a strictly temporary basis in order to break the pattern of insomnia.
