His Wedding-Night Heir. Sara Craven

found her eyes were so tightly closed that coloured spots danced behind her lids. ‘No,’ she mumbled.

      ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Let’s keep it that way, shall we?’ He paused again. ‘And bed isn’t simply about sex, Cally. It’s also a quiet and private place to talk sometimes.’

      ‘You’re implying we have something to discuss? So far you’ve simply issued instructions.’

      ‘I thought you might wish to go into a little more detail about why you ran away from me.’

      Cally’s eyes flew open. She hunched a shoulder. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time. As it happens, it still does.’

      ‘And that’s your final word on the subject?’ He sounded more curious than angry.

      ‘At the moment,’ she said, ‘my most pressing concern is the future—not the past.’

      ‘Really?’ he said. ‘And I thought it was the here and now that had you clinging to the edge of the bed like an abseiler whose rope has been cut.’

      ‘If so, you can hardly blame me for that.’

      ‘You were the one who asked for a breathing space,’ Nick reminded her softly.

      At this particular time it seemed difficult to breathe at all, Cally realised, her throat tightening.

      She said huskily, ‘You can hardly expect to—walk back into my life and expect things to be as they were a year ago.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘And exactly how were things then, Cally? Refresh my memory.’

      Oh, God, she’d walked bang into that one, she thought, biting her lip.

      She steadied her voice. ‘Perhaps I believed—once—briefly—that a marriage between us could be made to work.’

      ‘And yet you walked out?’ he said slowly. ‘Without even a shot being fired in anger. Why? And I want a reason. Not some flippant throwaway excuse that tells me nothing.’

      It was the direct question she’d dreaded, and it demanded the direct answer she could not give.

      Because I discovered I’d been blind enough and crazy enough to give you the power to smash me into little pieces. To break my heart so cruelly and completely that I would never recover.

      Because it was only when I saw you with another woman in your arms on our wedding day that I realised how deeply I’d fallen in love with you, and that it would kill me to live only half a life with you—knowing that I would have to share you. That it was her that you really wanted—not me—and ours was just a marriage of convenience.

      Knowing, too, that any happiness I found would be a sham and a betrayal.

      And that the only way I could retain my sanity—and my self-respect—would be to distance myself from you totally, utterly and for ever.

      But to say the words aloud would be another fatal betrayal. She would be admitting that his pretence at wooing her had succeeded only too well, and that as she’d stood beside him and repeated her vows she’d been loving and longing for him with shy but passionate ardour.

      And to let him know that she’d been such a pathetic, gullible fool was more than flesh and blood could stand. She could not bear such a stark humiliation.

      Better, she thought, to endure Nick’s anger than his pity.

      She had no idea, of course, if Vanessa Layton was still part of his life. If she was even now installed at Southwood Cottage, or whether she’d been supplanted by someone else.