The Bridegroom's Dilemma. Lindsay Armstrong

you might be right. Please don’t feel embarrassed,’ she said to everyone at large. ‘It is over between Nick and me, but I’m sure we can be civilized about it. Possibly even friends?’ She turned back to him with the question in her eyes.

      ‘I don’t see why not, Skye,’ he said after a moment, and turned to Bryce. ‘Tell me about yourself, mate. As a friend I’d still like to know she’s in good hands.’

      She should have known, Skye thought, trembling inwardly, that taking on Nick was asking for trouble, but once again Bryce came to the rescue.

      ‘I fell in love with Skye when I first saw her on television,’ he said simply. He smiled placidly at Nick. ‘Do you want to know what my prospects and background are? I’d be happy to tell you.’

      Sally rose. ‘Well, while you do that, Bryce, I’m going to show the girls their rooms. Dinner is at seven—goodness me, it’s five o’clock already! You might like to have a little rest…’

      The room Skye was shown to was comfortable in an old-fashioned way and had its own bathroom. And Sally Attwood, who was a good hostess as well as kind-hearted, decided to take the bull by the horns as she showed Skye round it.

      ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ she said anxiously. ‘We’ve always told Bryce, and Nick for that matter, that if they’d like to bring someone—don’t even ask, just do it! Now—’ She broke off and shrugged. ‘You’ve found yourself in this awful situation. Unless you and Bryce are…?’ She looked a question at Skye.

      Skye sank down in a comfortable armchair, feeling suddenly exhausted. ‘No.’ And she explained exactly how it had happened. ’I shouldn’t have done it, though,’ she went on. ‘It’s not fair to him and now I’ve fallen into the trap of using him in a sort of…well, horrible tit-for-tat game with Nick.’

      Sally sat down on the end of the bed to say thoughtfully, ‘There’s more to Bryce than appears on the surface, Skye. I think he can probably take care of himself. But would I be right in thinking you haven’t entirely got over Nick Hunter?’

      Realization that she was confiding in a complete stranger came belatedly to Skye. But there was something so warm and concerned in the other woman’s eyes, she smiled wearily. ‘You’d be right. I just hope to heaven I wasn’t as transparent to everyone else!’

      ‘You were wonderful, just like the girl on television,’ Sally said enthusiastically.

      Ah, Skye thought. Did anyone have an inkling that she might be developing a split personality?

      Sally went on before she could say anything. ‘I just, well, it must all be so new—that’s what made me wonder.’

      Skye sat up. ‘I think it might be easier for everyone if I go home, Sally. I…well, it’s got to be uncomfortable for others to be caught in this kind of crossfire and I’d hate myself for turning your big weekend into a disaster. Is there…how would I go about it?’

      Sally Attwood looked into those amazing though shadowed blue eyes. Then she took a deep breath, and said, ‘Don’t go, Skye. I don’t know what went wrong but once you run away from Nick you’ll find yourself doing it all the time. And don’t worry about us! There’s going to be enough on over the next two days for us to find plenty of cover.’ She grinned then sobered. ‘Please?’

      ‘Well…’

      ‘Good girl.’ Sally rose. ‘By the way, we dress for dinner but nothing too formal. We’ll have a pre-dinner drink in the lounge at about half past six. See you there!’ And she was gone, leaving Skye staring bemusedly at the door.

      A long soak in the tub did much for Skye’s morale. Not only did the lovely warm water combined with her fragrant bath oil help, but so did the growing conviction that Sally was right. She couldn’t spend her life running away from Nick. Because she was liable to run into him again, and the sooner she incised the hurt of their parting the better. This might just be the way to do it—with a show of strength now.

      She chose a knee-length, shoe-string strap, pale grey dress in a fine silk knit that clung to her figure, to wear to dinner. It was a dress she loved because it packed wonderfully, was very versatile—and it was the only dressy dress she’d brought. She teamed it with a chunky, gorgeous silver and turquoise bangle, silver sandals and a turquoise slide in her hair.

      And she left her room with her skin smooth and glowing, her hair shining and curly, and feeling chic and ready to take on the world. But despite the fact that it was already a quarter to seven only Nick was in the lounge with a drink in his hands.

      ‘Oh.’ She hovered in the doorway.

      He turned. ‘As you say, Skye,’ he murmured, and a glint of mockery flew her way from his dark eyes. He wore beige corduroy trousers, a long-sleeved cream shirt and a dark red tie.

      She gritted her teeth and walked into the room. ‘Where is everyone?’

      ‘I have no idea, apart from Wynn, who is wrestling with what to wear tonight. Unlike you—’ his gaze skimmed the dress he knew well ‘—she doesn’t travel light.’ His dark eyes came back to rest on her face enigmatically.

      Skye flinched and looked away. It had been a joke they’d shared that she was one of the few women he knew who did. In fact she’d almost made it an art form because she did spend a lot of time on the road with the show.

      The other thing that had caused her to flinch, however, was the way he could still undress her with his eyes. How dared he? she wondered hotly. Did he think she couldn’t read what was behind that enigmatic glance? Why would he anyway…?

      ‘Talking of that,’ she said after a long moment during which she fought for cool composure, ‘they’re thinking of including a segment on how to travel light in the next series. Perhaps—‘ a little glint of humour lit her eyes ‘—I could give Wynn a few tips?’

      He smiled faintly. ‘I wish you would. I don’t imagine it would endear you to her, however. What would you like to drink? The same?’

      She stopped herself from wincing visibly this time. ‘Yes, thank you.’

      He poured her a gin and tonic and brought it over to her. ‘Do sit down, Skye,’ he invited, this time with a sardonic little glint.

      She accepted the glass and sank down on a settee. Jack and Sally’s lounge was, like the rest of the house, done on a grand scale. The chintz-covered chairs and settees were plump and vast. So much so that she immediately felt as if she was stranded on an island.