as well as to Cameron. ‘Every last penny!’ Secretly, though, she despaired. She owed him a fortune, and from where she was sitting she couldn’t see a day when she would ever be out of his debt. ‘And as for looking after my baby, I can assure you I’m more than capable.’ Quickly she was changing the subject in an attempt to convey responsibility to him. ‘I’ve got a home. A job—’
‘For how long?’ He cast a disparaging glance at her as they came around the corner. ‘Look at you,’ he rasped, keenly aware of the pale, pinched look a more than usually bad day of nausea had given to her fine features. ‘You look all-in before you start. So what are you planning to do for the next six months? Go haring off to every corner of the city at a moment’s notice? Carry on as if you only had yourself to think about? Hardly a very responsible outlook for a woman in your condition. And what happens afterwards? After it’s born?’
His words stirred anxieties she was trying for the moment not to think about and, sticking her chin out defiantly, she murmured, ‘I’ll cope.’
‘Yes,’ he accepted on a harshly released breath. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ There was hard disparagement in the deep voice, in the tough rigidity of his jaw. ‘In an expensive flat? With no transport? And what will you do when you’re out temping? Employ a nanny? You’ll be lucky even to be able to pay her bus-fare on a secretary’s pay! Or was that taken into consideration out of the money you squeezed out of me to father your child?’
Recoiling from his understandable accusation, she searched for some satisfactory answer. But only honesty could redeem her, she realised hopelessly, remaining silent as relentlessly he went on.
‘You’re going to wind up in a crummy little bed-sit-living off the state, Nadine. And I’ll be darned if I’ll allow any offspring of mine to endure an existence like I had. Shunted around from aunt to aunt while its mother’s off somewhere trying to earn a living. Living hand to mouth, trying to make ends meet. Wearing the stigma not only of illegitimacy but of deprivation…’ He laughed coarsely at the shock that had manifested itself on Nadine’s face. ‘Oh, yes. Didn’t you know?’
No, she hadn’t, she thought, stunned, unable wholly to believe it. The inimitable Cameron Hunter? Illegitimate? Poor?
‘So you didn’t.’
Her face must have told him that, she realised, while her brain was still deducing what mental strength and character must have brought him from such humble beginnings to occupy the respected position he held today. The knowledge only served to make her feel even more intimidated by him.
‘No, Lisa didn’t tell me,’ she said quietly.
‘I wonder why?’
Had she imagined that sudden drag of breath through his lungs, that sharpened edge to his voice? Or was she mistaking deep, masculine pain…?
‘Has she…? I mean, have you heard anything—?’ She broke off, hesitating, flinching as he came back with a swift, cutting retort.
‘Do you really care?’ Tension made the line of his cheek more prominent, whether from anger or some other personal emotion Nadine wasn’t sure. ‘Well, you’re going to be made to care—for the future of our child if nothing else,’ he promised with inexorable softness. ‘And just in case you’ve got any ideas of flitting off somewhere where you think I can’t reach you, you’re going to pack in both that job and that flat of yours and live under my roof—in my cottage—as originally arranged, until the child’s born!’
A surge of hot anger burned through Nadine’s veins from his supreme arrogance. ‘That’s what you think!’ she riposted determinedly. There was no way she was agreeing to that! He was right, though. She wanted to get as far away from him as she possibly could, to minimise the risk of his trying to take the baby away from her. ‘You can hardly force me to, can you?’ she challenged him on a small note of defiance.
And perhaps he realised it too, she thought, relieved when his mouth firmed in what she could only deduce was frustrated acknowledgment and he went on to ask in an almost bored tone, ‘How’s your mother keeping these days?’
Glancing out at the eternal queues at the bus-stops, the endless traffic, Nadine felt her body stiffen. ‘All right.’ It was difficult to lie—to pretend.
‘What did she say when you told her you were pregnant?’
She looked at him quickly. Why did he want to know that?
Unconsciously her fingers tightened around the handbag on her lap. ‘I haven’t,’ she answered, as nonchalantly as she was able.
‘Oh?’ Cursorily he glanced across at her, his gaze travelling down over the shallow rising of her breasts to her fingers curling tensely into the soft fabric of her bag. ‘But you’re going to? Or are you planning not to chance a visit home until after you’ve given birth?’
He sounded mildly amused and she said, ‘Of course I’ll tell her.’
‘But you won’t be telling her the absolute truth?’
She made a distinct effort to relax as she saw his glance stray casually to her hands again. ‘No,’ she responded cautiously, wondering why he had sounded so sure.
‘What are you going to tell her?’
‘I don’t know,’ she murmured, and was glad when he leaned across to close the central air-vents, because the exhaust fumes from a dusty van in front were making her feel sick.
He started talking casually about pollution then, and the growing congestion in the city—things she felt strongly enough about herself to be able to engage in sympathetic discussion with him until he turned into the street of smart, semi-detached houses, pulling up outside her flat.
‘There you are,’ he said almost congenially, a smile touching his lips as he clicked the handbrake into place, and then, surprisingly, pulled the keys out of the ignition. ‘Now, do as you’re told and go up and pack as many things as you’ll need to see you through a long stay in the country, because you’re moving into that cottage tonight!’
Startled flecks showed in Nadine’s green eyes as she stared at him. ‘By whose authority?’ she snapped, flabbergasted.
‘By your own glimmer of a conscience, Nadine.’ Leather squeaked softly as he turned to face her, one finely clad arm resting disturbingly across the back of her seat. ‘Unless, of course, you would prefer me to pen a very detailed and informative account of your behaviour to your mother—?’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
He didn’t even need to answer that. Seeing the inexorable determination on that uncompromising mouth, Nadine realised now what he had been doing when he had asked those seemingly casual questions about her mother. He’d been testing the water, as the saying went-or her reaction anyway—understanding her body language with all the skill and shrewdness of his profession.
He’d obviously heard her telling Lisa all those weeks before not to mention their arrangement to Dawn Kendall if she, Nadine, did become pregnant; had heard her begging Lisa, making her promise. He’d clearly realised how desperate she’d been to keep it from her mother, even if he hadn’t known—still didn’t know—the reason why. And now she’d played right into his hands! she thought hopelessly, without seeing the manipulation behind those cleverly posed questions. Otherwise she could
