might see it as a confession of weakness
on her part. A sign that she cared more then she'd eve r been
prepared to admit.
And she couldn't risk that. Not at this juncture.
Cally brought her clenched fist up to her mouth, sinking her
teeth into the knuckles.
Her disappearance had undoubtedly embarrassed him, and it
would certainly anger him if she reneged on their bargain a
second time. But Nick wouldn't suffer—not as she'd done a
year ago, she thought with anguish. Or as the Gunners Wharf
residents would when he pulled the plug on their housing
scheme. As he assuredly would.
And she would be left to endure the guilt of that— knowing
that she could have prevented it if she'd submitted to his
demands.
But the reality of what he was asking had settled on her like a
stone, and she felt crushed by its weight.
A baby, she thought. A tiny human being to be created and
carried in her womb. To be brought into the world for her to
love and nurture. Or, as seemed more likely, a prize to be
fought over by two waning strangers.
Cally shivered. That wasn't what she wanted. How could it
be? Yet he'd already set off an emotional alarm bell. 'Joint
custody,' he'd said. 'At first anyway.'
Those were the words that had set off reverberations in her
mind. That lingered.
Indicating—
what, exactly? That there might come a time when she'd be
expected to surrender her rights to her own child? Virtually
give up her baby for adoption by a man rich enough to pay for
his slightest wish to be fulfilled, and sufficiently powerful to
fight anyone who stood in his way?
Was Nick really capable of being that uncaring—that
ruthless? Or would he simply say that the end—somehow—
justified the means, and believe it?
Oh, dear God, she thought achingly. Please—please don't let it
be so.
Yet he'd told her frankly that marriage wasn't for him. That
once she'd fulfilled his terms she'd be free to leave. But he
hadn't mentioned the baby.
If, of course, there was a baby...
She'd always assumed that one day she'd be a mother. After
all, it was the next natural progression from being a wife. But,
like so much in their relationship, she and Nick had never
actually discussed the possibility.
And it had certainly never occurred lo her that he regarded her
as some kind of brood mare.
Her pregnancy, she thought wretchedly, should have been one
of the crowning moments of their love. Except that the love
had never existed, and now one of the supreme joys of a
woman's life was being reduced to the status of duty.
Transformed into an obligation.
For the past year she had been alone. But in the next months
she seemed fated to learn the true nature of loneliness itself.
And how could she bear it?
Cally slept at last, exhausted by the weary treadmill of her
thoughts.
When she awoke, she lay for a moment, feeling disorientated,
wondering where she was. Then memory prompted her, and
she turned her head slowly, looking with trepidation at the bed
beside her. But it was empty, only the rumpled pillows and
the covers tossed back revealing that the space had ever been
occupied.
And, as if on some silent cue, Nick emerged from the bath-
room, immaculately shaved, dark hair still damp, fastening
links into the cuffs of his shirt.
'Good morning.' His tone was brisk. 'The bathroom's all
your’s, and I've ordered breakfast in fifteen minutes, so I
suggest you get a move on. We have things to do, and I want
lo be back at Wylstone by early afternoon."
'You're planning lo return there today—taking me with you?'
Cally was astounded.
'Naturally.' His brows lifted. 'Just as soon as the Gunners
Terrace business is completed.'
'But you have lo give me some leeway here,' she protested
huskily. 'You can't expect me simply to— abandon everything
and leave.'
He said icily, 'I didn't expect it last time, sweetheart, but you
managed it all the same. And you've had a year of ducking
and weaving since then to
on her part. A sign that she cared more then she'd eve r been
prepared to admit.
And she couldn't risk that. Not at this juncture.
Cally brought her clenched fist up to her mouth, sinking her
teeth into the knuckles.
Her disappearance had undoubtedly embarrassed him, and it
would certainly anger him if she reneged on their bargain a
second time. But Nick wouldn't suffer—not as she'd done a
year ago, she thought with anguish. Or as the Gunners Wharf
residents would when he pulled the plug on their housing
scheme. As he assuredly would.
And she would be left to endure the guilt of that— knowing
that she could have prevented it if she'd submitted to his
demands.
But the reality of what he was asking had settled on her like a
stone, and she felt crushed by its weight.
A baby, she thought. A tiny human being to be created and
carried in her womb. To be brought into the world for her to
love and nurture. Or, as seemed more likely, a prize to be
fought over by two waning strangers.
Cally shivered. That wasn't what she wanted. How could it
be? Yet he'd already set off an emotional alarm bell. 'Joint
custody,' he'd said. 'At first anyway.'
Those were the words that had set off reverberations in her
mind. That lingered.
Indicating—
what, exactly? That there might come a time when she'd be
expected to surrender her rights to her own child? Virtually
give up her baby for adoption by a man rich enough to pay for
his slightest wish to be fulfilled, and sufficiently powerful to
fight anyone who stood in his way?
Was Nick really capable of being that uncaring—that
ruthless? Or would he simply say that the end—somehow—
justified the means, and believe it?
Oh, dear God, she thought achingly. Please—please don't let it
be so.
Yet he'd told her frankly that marriage wasn't for him. That
once she'd fulfilled his terms she'd be free to leave. But he
hadn't mentioned the baby.
If, of course, there was a baby...
She'd always assumed that one day she'd be a mother. After
all, it was the next natural progression from being a wife. But,
like so much in their relationship, she and Nick had never
actually discussed the possibility.
And it had certainly never occurred lo her that he regarded her
as some kind of brood mare.
Her pregnancy, she thought wretchedly, should have been one
of the crowning moments of their love. Except that the love
had never existed, and now one of the supreme joys of a
woman's life was being reduced to the status of duty.
Transformed into an obligation.
For the past year she had been alone. But in the next months
she seemed fated to learn the true nature of loneliness itself.
And how could she bear it?
Cally slept at last, exhausted by the weary treadmill of her
thoughts.
When she awoke, she lay for a moment, feeling disorientated,
wondering where she was. Then memory prompted her, and
she turned her head slowly, looking with trepidation at the bed
beside her. But it was empty, only the rumpled pillows and
the covers tossed back revealing that the space had ever been
occupied.
And, as if on some silent cue, Nick emerged from the bath-
room, immaculately shaved, dark hair still damp, fastening
links into the cuffs of his shirt.
'Good morning.' His tone was brisk. 'The bathroom's all
your’s, and I've ordered breakfast in fifteen minutes, so I
suggest you get a move on. We have things to do, and I want
lo be back at Wylstone by early afternoon."
'You're planning lo return there today—taking me with you?'
Cally was astounded.
'Naturally.' His brows lifted. 'Just as soon as the Gunners
Terrace business is completed.'
'But you have lo give me some leeway here,' she protested
huskily. 'You can't expect me simply to— abandon everything
and leave.'
He said icily, 'I didn't expect it last time, sweetheart, but you
managed it all the same. And you've had a year of ducking
and weaving since then to
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