She looked past him at the sea, iron-dark now, like the sky above it. Saw a cloud advancing across the water, whipping up the surface like cream.
She said, ‘We should get back to the car. There’s a squall coming.’ She added carefully, ‘And, however it’s turned out, it was good of you to give me this day. I’ll remember it always. But I don’t think there should be any more of them. When we get back to London, we should say goodbye.’
He said harshly, ‘You think that’s possible?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Essential.’
And gasped as the sheet of rain she’d seen approaching arrived in an icy torrent which drenched them relentlessly within seconds.
Rome swore, and grabbed her hand. ‘Run,’ he ordered.
The rain swirled at them, driven viciously by the wind, as they stumbled back across the treacherous shingle, struggling to keep their footing. They were breathless and half blinded when they reached the car.
Rome thrust Cory into the passenger seat, then dived in beside her. They sat for a moment, listening to the roar of the wind and the fierce drumming of the rain on the car roof.
Rome reached into the glove compartment and produced a packet of tissues.
He said wryly, ‘For the moment, this is the best I can offer.’
Cory used a handful of them to blot the worst of the moisture from her face and hands. But she could do little about her hair, which was sticking to her scalp, and even less about her soaked clothing, now adhering clammily to her skin.
Even her eyelashes were dripping, she thought ruefully.
And Rome was in no better state.
She said doubtfully, ‘It might be quicker to go back by the motorway…’
‘Perhaps,’ he said, starting the car. ‘But I have a better idea.’
They drove back the way they had come. After a mile or so, Rome turned down a narrow lane.
‘Where are we going?’ Cory was shivering.
‘I saw a hotel signposted on the way here. I’d planned to take you there for tea. We’ll use their facilities to get dry instead.’
‘But we can’t do that. They won’t allow it.’
‘We have no choice,’ Rome told her coolly. ‘And nor do they. If we drive back to London in this state, we’re risking pneumonia.’
He drove in between two tall brick pillars and up a winding, tree-shaded drive.
Through the rivulets of water still running down the windscreen, Cory got an impression of a large creeper-clad building with lights blazing cheerfully from its mullioned windows.
Rome brought the car to a halt in front of the main entrance.
He said, ‘Wait here, while I see what can be done.’
Her lips were still framing another protest when he disappeared, leaving her with the beat of the rain for company.
Peering out through the streaked and misty windows, she could see a number of other cars parked nearby, and this heartened her.
If the hotel was busy, it wouldn’t want extra waifs and strays dropping in because they’d been caught in a storm, she thought, easing her wet skirt away from her legs with distaste.
But even if the hotel rolled out the red carpet for them, she still couldn’t go in there. Not with Rome.
The journey back to London was going to be difficult enough, and she didn’t want to prolong the remainder of her time in his company.
And spending even a few hours with him in a remote country hotel was bound to force on them the kind of intimacy she could never risk again.
Pneumonia, she thought, would almost be preferable.
She was so deep in her own unhappy thoughts that she was unaware of Rome’s return until her door was opened abruptly.
‘They can take us.’ He handed her a big coloured umbrella. ‘The porter will show you where to go, while I park the car. And I’ll even be the soul of chivalry and let you have the first hot bath.’
Cory stared at him. She said huskily, ‘You mean you’ve reserved a room?’
‘Naturally. We’ll need some privacy while our clothes are being dried.’
She said fiercely, ‘Our day out is over, Rome. I thought I’d made that clear. And I’m not signing off by joining you in some seedy hotel room that you rent by the hour.’
‘By the night, actually. Although it’s our own business how long we stay. And I’ve brought you here because we’re both very cold and very wet. This is dire necessity, Cory, not some elaborate seduction ploy.’
Her face warmed. ‘We can’t stay here. I won’t. It—it’s out of the question.’
‘Then you’re asking the wrong questions. Cory—don’t be difficult. It’s still pouring with rain, and I’m getting soaked again.’
She said stubbornly, ‘I want to go back to London.’
‘You shall.’ His tone was gritty. ‘But first I intend to have a bath, some food, and my clothes dried and pressed by the hotel valet service. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.’ He paused. ‘However, if you prefer to stay here, alone and dripping, and making yourself ill in the process, that is entirely your own decision. But in that case be good enough not to give me your cold.’
He paused again. ‘Don’t argue any more, carissima. I would carry you in, but the staff might get the wrong impression and give us the bridal suite.’
Cory gave him a fulminating look, and left the car with as much dignity as she could assemble at short notice.
The porter, small, balding and jolly, awaited her. ‘Good afternoon, madam, and welcome to Hailesand Hotel. What a shame about the weather.’ He relieved her of the wet umbrella. ‘We’ve put you in the Garden Suite, and it’s just down here.’
Cory found herself squelching down a thickly carpeted corridor. The porter threw open the door at the end with a flourish.
‘This is the sitting room, madam.’ He bustled around lighting lamps. ‘The main bedroom’s through that door on the right, and the bathroom’s opposite, with the other bedroom next to it. Not that you’ll need it, of course, but it’s nice for families.’
‘Yes,’ was all Cory could manage.
‘I’ll put a match to the fire, shall I? Make things cosier for you,’ he added with satisfaction as flames began immediately to curl round the kindling in the dog grate. ‘And if you leave your wet clothes in the bedroom the housekeeper will collect them for you. You’ll find complimentary robes in the wardrobe, and plenty of nice toiletries in the bathroom, so just relax and make yourself at home.
‘Your husband said you’d be wanting tea,’ he threw back over his shoulder on the way to the door. ‘Just ring down to the desk when you’re ready and I’ll bring it—and some more logs for the fire.’
‘Thank you,’ Cory said, feeling as if she’d been bowled over by a giant teddy bear.
‘You’re welcome, madam.’ He twinkled at her, and went out, leaving Cory to the confusion of her own thoughts.
Her initial reaction was thankfulness that they were in a suite, and not a double room. So at least she’d be able to maintain some kind of distance from him during their brief stay, she told herself painfully.
Her second thought was that if they had to stay somewhere while their clothes dried, this would seem the perfect