His Wedding-Night Heir. Sara Craven

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Thank you for that—for everything you did for my grandfather—and for me.’

      His glance was cynical. ‘I want more than words, Cally.’

      Her voice trembled. ‘But I have nothing else to give. I could try and repay you in other ways eventually, but I won’t—do what you want. You must see that. I—I can’t…’

      He studied her for a moment, brows raised, then reached into his jacket for a mobile phone.

      ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Calling Matt at the hotel, to tell him tomorrow’s site visit is cancelled.’ His voice was clipped. ‘You can tell the residents why any deal’s off. You have the rest of the night to plan your explanation. I suggest you make it a good one, because according to your boyfriend a lot of lives are going to be devastated. I’d hate for them to blame you, but I suspect they might.’

      ‘No.’ It hurt to breathe suddenly. ‘Wait.’

      ‘Well?’ The response was uncompromising, the phone still in his hand.

      She looked down at her fingers, laced tightly together in her lap.

      ‘Gunners Terrace is precious to me,’ she said tautly. ‘Perhaps more than I’d even realised. And so is my eventual freedom.’ She paused. ‘I presume you’re also prepared to guarantee that—in writing?’

      ‘If that’s what it takes.’ Nick put the phone back in his pocket.

      She lifted her head. Met his gaze directly. Unflinchingly. ‘Then I’ll—do what you want. But you have to give me some time—some space—to adjust.’

      ‘And why should I do that?’ He sounded almost casually interested.

      She said, quietly and clearly, ‘Because I don’t want my only child to be—made in hatred. And I don’t believe you’d want that either.’

      ‘You really think you hate me?’ Faint, galling amusement in his voice.

      She nodded. ‘I know it.’

      ‘So what are you suggesting instead?’ he drawled. ‘Surely not—love?’

      She winced. ‘I thought—some kind of compromise. After all, you were prepared once to make allowances—you said so earlier.’

      ‘How unwise of me.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Very well. I’ve had a year to practise restraint, so I suppose I can go on being patient for a while.’

      He signalled for the bill, then turned back to her, the grey eyes merciless. ‘But be warned, darling. Don’t push your luck. Because I have no intention of waiting for ever. Do I make myself clear?’

      From somewhere a long way off she heard herself say, ‘As crystal.’

      And somehow she found herself getting up from the table and going with him out into the night.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE car he drove was new to her—low and sleek, with deep leather seats into which she sank almost helplessly. Music played softly, and she recognised that it was Bach—one of the Brandenburg concertos. It was all persuasively, beguilingly comfortable. And she was nearly, but not quite, lulled into acceptance…

      She struggled to sit up straight. ‘Where are we going?’ she demanded huskily.

      ‘To the hotel,’ he said. ‘Where else?’

      ‘I’d prefer to go back to my own flat.’

      ‘Which I’m sure has only a single bed,’ Nick returned. ‘We’ll be marginally more comfortable at the Majestic, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.’

      Cally drew a quick, angry breath. ‘But you said—you promised… Oh, God, I should have known I couldn’t trust you.’

      ‘And I feel the same about you, darling. Did you really think I’d let you out of my sight?’ He shook his head. ‘No, Cally. You’re spending the night with me. And, it’s not lust, merely a safety precaution,’ he added drily.

      ‘But I have to go to the flat,’ she protested. ‘There are things I need—clothes and stuff.’

      ‘If the clothing bears any resemblance to what you’re wearing now, I suggest you leave it there,’ he told her coolly. ‘Besides, I’ve brought you everything you need. You once had a trousseau—remember?’

      Cally smoothed the cheap material of her skirt over her knees in a defensive gesture. ‘Yes—I remember.’

      ‘You also had a wedding ring,’ he went on. ‘Is it still around?’

      She stared through the windscreen into the night. ‘I—threw it away.’

      ‘How dramatic,’ he said mockingly. ‘Wiser to have sold it, perhaps. You must have needed the cash.’

      But I wasn’t feeling very wise. Just betrayed, confused and angry. The words trembled in her mind, but she did not utter them.

      He said, ‘I shall have to buy you another.’

      She lifted her chin. ‘Is that strictly necessary—for such a short time?’

      ‘It’s considered usual.’

      ‘But I thought you weren’t interested in conventions,’ she said. ‘Besides, I shall only throw it away again, when my duty’s done and I claim my freedom.’

      ‘However, while you’re living as my wife you’ll wear my ring.’ His voice was soft, but there was a note in it that spelled danger. ‘Just as you’ll get used to sleeping in my bed. Who knows? You might even come to enjoy both of them.’

      ‘Do not,’ Cally said through gritted teeth, ‘count on it.’ She hesitated. ‘How do you intend to explain my sudden return?’

      ‘I don’t,’ Nick responded coolly. ‘It concerns no one but ourselves.’

      That, she thought, her nails curling into the palms of her hands, was not strictly true on a number of counts—not all of which she could bring herself to deal with. However, there was one she needed to mention.

      She said tautly, ‘I presume you’ve informed Adele—if she’s still living at the Hall?’

      ‘She isn’t,’ he said curtly. ‘I arranged for her move to the Dower House months ago, when I still thought you might return of your own accord.’

      She raised her brows. ‘That can’t have pleased her.’

      ‘Nor did the prospect of finding herself replaced as the mistress of the house. Once I married, her departure became inevitable. She knew that.’ He slanted a glance at her. ‘Or did you wish to go on sharing a roof with her indefinitely?’

      Her mouth tightened. ‘No.’

      ‘That’s what I thought.’ He sounded faintly amused. He

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