to come out of her memories because Ronan had said something she hadn’t heard, let alone understood, and she could only blink at him in blank incomprehension.
‘I think we’d better talk indoors.’
Talk? Lily eyed him with wary suspicion.
‘Talk’ sounded hopeful. It made it seem as if there was some room for discussion, not just the unequivocal ultimatum he had handed out at the start.
But ‘indoors’ meant going into the house, and that meant getting down from her position on the car. That might be decidedly incongruous, possibly even close to looking ridiculous, but if it stopped him driving off, as he had obviously intended, then it was her only small advantage, and right now she intended to hang on to it.
‘Is there anything to talk about?’ she questioned edgily. ‘I mean, you present me with a fait accompli and then you say we can negotiate…’
She broke off sharply as she saw his dark head move in fierce negation, the coppery strands catching the sun with a disturbingly attractive effect.
‘No negotiation,’ he declared adamantly. ‘I just want you to listen…’
‘Then I’m not moving! You can talk to me right here.’
She tried to sit up straighter, needing to outface him. But the unwary movement on the polished metal proved her undoing. The silky robe gave her no grip, so that she had to put her hands down flat in order to stop herself from sliding ignominiously off on to the ground.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’
Ronan’s fury was expressed in a darkly eloquent stream of violent curses as he strode forward sharply.
Lily had no time to guess at his plan, or to prepare herself in any way. An awkward, fearful squawk of protest escaped her as one arm closed around her shoulders, the other slid under her thighs, and she was lifted bodily from the car.
‘Ronan! Put me down!’
Her wild objection went unheeded. He simply tightened his grip, clamping his arms around her with the bruising effect of steel bands until she was incapable of movement, as he marched towards the house.
‘I never did carry you over the threshold,’ he muttered, the sardonic humour scraping her nerves raw as she, too, recognised in his actions the black parody of the old-fashioned tradition of the groom carrying his bride into their first marital home. Ronan kicked open the nearest door, striding into the elegant green and gold living room and dumping her unceremoniously into an armchair.
‘Now—oh, no you don’t!’
He reacted swiftly when she would have got to her feet in an attempt at escape. One strong hand fastened punishingly on her shoulder again, pushing her back into the chair and holding her there.
‘What sort of joke is this, Ronan? It’s not funny, believe me. I—’
‘No joke,’ he insisted harshly. ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’
If the truth be told, Ronan reflected inwardly, humour had never been further from his mind. He just wanted this whole thing over and done with.
He had never expected her to fight so hard, or for so long. He had thought that by now he would be well away from Edgerton, his mission accomplished, leaving the shattered pieces of his so-called marriage well behind for Davey Cornwell to pick up, if he ever resurfaced.
Instead, he was still here, unable to get away. Lily seemed to have entwined herself around his life like a clinging vine, and, what was worse, he actually found himself starting to feel sorry for her. He had to get a grip on himself. Pity was an emotion he couldn’t afford to let himself experience.
‘Answer me one thing.’ The conflict he was enduring inside made his voice even harsher than he had intended. ‘Were you telling the truth when you said you liked this house?’
The abrupt change of tack totally nonplussed Lily. Even though she could see no reason for the question she could only answer it straight.
‘Of course. I love it; it’s quite beautiful. But…’
Ronan dismissed her confused question with an imperious wave of his free hand.
‘Then it’s yours.’
Hearing that, Lily felt that if she hadn’t been sitting down already she might actually have fallen. The ground seemed to have crumbled away beneath her feet, leaving her with nothing firm enough on which to stand.
‘But it must be worth a fortune!’
‘Something like that,’ Ronan agreed with supreme indifference. ‘But I knew that if I actually went ahead and married you there would be legal repercussions. I accept that I shall have to support—’
‘I don’t want your money! You know that’s not why I married you!’
‘Well, it’s all that’s on offer. There’s nothing else.’
‘But why?’
If his behaviour had been incomprehensible before, now it was totally beyond belief, making her shake her head in bewilderment.
‘Why did you marry me if…?’
She couldn’t continue, transfixed by a sudden wild, savage look in those translucent eyes. But the dangerous light that froze her tongue was belied by the indolent way he lifted his broad shoulders in a dismissive shrug.
‘Don’t ask, Lily,’ he warned. ‘You wouldn’t like the answer.’
Whatever bitter satisfaction he might derive from telling her the whole story, he had promised himself that that would be Cornwell’s job. Let Davey explain things, if he dared. Let him face up to just what it meant to have his sister’s life ruined, her future lying in tatters, because of his own wicked behaviour.
‘It’s not the answer that worries me!’ Lily retorted. ‘It’s the question and the fact that you’ve forced me to ask it.’
Dear God, please let him not see how much that last comment had affected her! Her stomach churned sickeningly, her head spinning dreadfully.
It was the casual lack of emotion that hurt more than anything. The way that he had kept the level of his voice relaxed, conversational, while hers came and went like a badly tuned radio.
Was this really the man she had promised to love and honour for the rest of her life? The man who had vowed the same to her only the day before.
Behind her a clock struck ten-thirty, and a cold, sharp knife stabbed at her with the memory of the way that at just this time twenty-four hours ago she had been coming back from the hair-dresser’s with Hannah, laughing and excited, her heart light with anticipation of the happiness ahead of her.
But she had felt nervous too, the full importance of what she was about to do always at the forefront of her mind. She hadn’t gone into her marriage lightly, while Ronan…
“‘Don’t ask” just isn’t good enough!’
Anger
