His Wedding-Night Heir. Sara Craven

indifference.

      But how that was to be achieved she hadn’t the faintest idea.

      The others left, and she saw Kit looking frowningly back at her. She was almost tempted to call out to him, ask him to stay, but she knew that wouldn’t be fair. She’d enjoyed working with Kit, but she would never have wanted more even if she’d been free, and she would have told him goodbye without regrets.

      Besides, if Eastern Crest were interested enough in what he had to say to hold a site meeting, she couldn’t jeopardise that by allowing him to annoy the chairman.

      And Nick had made his wishes coolly and brutally clear.

      They were going to talk.

      As he resumed his seat, she said in a small, brittle voice, ‘I feel as if someone should read me my rights.’

      ‘I already know mine,’ he said shortly. ‘I’ve had plenty of time to consider them.’ He signalled to the waiter to bring more coffee.

      ‘I don’t want anything else,’ she told him quickly.

      ‘Then you can sit and chat to me while I have some. Doesn’t that paint a nice domestic picture?’

      ‘Nick,’ she said, deciding to jump straight in, ‘do we really have to do this? Can’t we just accept that our marriage was a seriously bad idea and call it quits? I—I’d honestly like to go home.’

      ‘An excellent idea,’ he said affably. ‘Why don’t we do just that? Unfortunately, at the moment home for me happens to be the Majestic Hotel—a flagrant misnomer, if ever there was one.’ He gave her a small, cold smile. ‘I wonder if I could get them under the Trades Description Act? However,’ he went on, ‘with uncanny prescience, they’ve given me the bridal suite, so perhaps I should forgive their delusions of grandeur.’ He drank down his espresso. ‘Shall we go?’

      She could suddenly feel the hectic drumming of her pulses. Hear the silent scream of No in her dry throat. She thought, He doesn’t mean that. He can’t…

      Aloud, she said shakily, ‘I’m going nowhere with you. You seem to have overlooked the fact that I’ve left you.’

      ‘Oh, no, darling,’ he said with corrosive lightness. ‘I remember that incredibly well. Our wedding day, right? In fact, the ink was barely dry on the register when you scarpered.’

      She said stiffly, ‘I suppose you deserve some kind of explanation.’

      ‘Yes,’ he said, and his voice seemed to remove a layer of her skin. ‘I bloody well do. And maybe an apology for making a fool of me quite so publicly. That would be a beginning.’

      She bit her lip. ‘Yes, of course. I—I’m sorry about that.’

      ‘But nothing else?’ Nick divined grimly.

      She thought, You were making a fool of me in private—or does that not count?

      She lifted her chin. ‘It was something I had to do. I felt I had no choice.’ She hesitated. ‘What—what did you tell people?’

      ‘I couldn’t manage the truth,’ he said. ‘Because I didn’t know what it was. I had no farewell note—no “Dear John” blotched with penitent tears to point me in the right direction. So I simply let it be known that you’d had a change of heart, however late in the day, and that we’d agreed to separate.’

      He paused. ‘You see, my sweet, at first I didn’t realise what had happened. You’d taken the car, so originally I assumed there’d been an accident. I wasted a hell of a lot of time making increasingly frantic hospital calls, until the police called to say they’d picked up some kids joy-riding. They’d stolen your car from a station car park twenty miles away and written it off. The guy in the ticket office there recognised you from our engagement photograph—now, there’s an irony—and said you’d bought a ticket to London. One way.’ His mouth twisted harshly. ‘That, of course, put an entirely new slant on the situation.’

      Cally looked down at the tablecloth, tracing meaningless patterns on the white linen with her forefinger. ‘So you did—go looking for me?’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not at first. Frankly, I was too bloody angry. So I thought, To hell with it. And her.’

      ‘You should have left it like that.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘But I too underwent a change of heart.’

      There was a loaded silence, then she said jerkily, ‘How—how did you know where to find me?’

      ‘Except for those first weeks, I’ve always known where to find you.’

      A shiver chilled her spine, and she closed her eyes momentarily. ‘And I thought I’d managed to cover my tracks. That if I kept moving I’d drop out of sight.’

      ‘Oh, finding you was the easy part,’ he said sardonically. ‘Deciding what to do about it was trickier.’ He paused. ‘There was a time, you see, when I thought you might come back. That you might find living with me marginally preferable to slaving away in various greasy spoons.’ The grey eyes met hers. ‘But you never did.’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I thought I was free. It never occurred to me that I was simply on the end of a long rope.’

      There was a silence, then he said, ‘What made you come here?’

      She shrugged. ‘It’s the same as any other place. And it seemed—anonymous.’

      He said drily, ‘It’s about to undergo a revival. Someone’s decided the town has commuter possibilities. Hence Gunners Wharf.’

      ‘And hence your presence here, too.’ Her voice was taut.

      ‘It seemed too good an opportunity to miss,’ he said slowly, and she knew he was not referring to the development. Or not solely. And felt her heartbeat falter in panic.

      She said hurriedly, ‘Eastern Crest—is that a new acquisition? I didn’t recognise the name…’

      ‘Well, darling,’ he drawled, ‘you haven’t been around much, keeping up. And without you to divert my attention I’ve had more time to devote to acquisitions and mergers.’ He paused. ‘And if you’d recognised the name, you’d have done—what?’

      There was another silence, then she said wearily, ‘I don’t know. Running and trying to hide has clearly been futile. And I suppose we needed to meet eventually, to discuss what to do about the divorce. But why at this particular time?’

      ‘I was told you were seeing someone,’ Nick said expressionlessly. ‘So it seemed an opportune moment to intervene. Your colleague, Mr Matlock, appeared upset to hear you were married,’ he added pensively. ‘I do hope, darling, you haven’t been making promises you’re not entitled to keep.’

      ‘I’m “seeing” no one,’ Cally said through gritted teeth. ‘And Kit has no reason to feel aggrieved. So you could have easily saved yourself the inconvenience.’

      ‘Yet, as you say, we needed to meet—to talk about the future. So this became the time—and the place.’ His smile was brief and without warmth. ‘And apart from the implicit defiance in your voice and body language, you’ve hardly changed at all, my love.’

      ‘Perhaps the defiance was always there,’ she said. ‘But you didn’t notice.’

      ‘I noticed a hell of a lot,’ he said quietly. ‘And I was prepared to make allowances. Only you never gave me that chance. You preferred to bolt as if I was some kind of mad axe murderer.’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Simply because I wasn’t going to live my life on your terms.’

      His brows lifted. ‘Did I impose any conditions? I can’t recall them.’

      ‘You made me become your wife,’ she said, her throat tightening. ‘That involves—obligations.’