His Delicious Revenge: The Price of Retribution / Count Valieri's Prisoner / The Highest Stakes of All. Sara Craven
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hoped you’d like it,’ he said. ‘It’s been in the family for a long time, and my grandmother gave it to me for this very occasion. It might have to be made smaller, of course. You have very slim hands.’
‘No,’ she said, dry-mouthed as he slid the ring on to her finger. ‘It—it’s quite perfect.’
‘You’re absolutely sure? It occurred to me you might prefer to keep this as a dress ring and have something modern for our engagement—a special design, maybe.’
She covered it protectively with her other hand. ‘You couldn’t give me anything lovelier.’ Her response was instinctive—genuine. Because this could—should have been the happiest moment of her life, she thought with bewilderment. Yet, instead, she felt as if she was dying inside.
Judas, she said silently, reborn as a woman.
She took a deep breath. ‘But I can’t wear it, Caz. Not yet. Not in public.’
His brows snapped together in a frown. ‘What are you talking about? Why the hell not?’
‘Because I have a job to do,’ she said steadily. ‘Working for you in a section of one of your companies. That means a lot to me, and I don’t want it to change, and it will, once word gets out about us.’
She forced a smile. ‘Besides, when the news does break, it’s bound to be a nine-day wonder, and I’m not sure I’m totally prepared for that. The fuss—the attention—stories in the papers. That’s a lot to take on board—for me. So, can’t we keep it as our secret—just for a while?’
‘Now there we differ,’ he said gently. ‘Because I want to shout it from the rooftops. Tell the whole world what a lucky bastard I am.’
Tarn said with constraint, ‘Are you certain that’s what the whole world wants to hear?’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I suppose we’re back to Ginny again.’ He took her hand again. ‘My darling, the past doesn’t matter.’ His voice was warm and urgent. ‘We can’t let it—not when we have the future.’
And Evie? If she’s part of your immaterial past too, why are you still harassing her? Why can’t you leave her alone?
Now, if ever, was the time to ask these things. To come at him like a bolt from the blue and shock him, perhaps, into honesty. Even into contrition.
Before she walked away…
So why was she hesitating?
After all, she wanted to humiliate him. To let him know at first hand what it was like to be made a fool of and dumped. But a half-full restaurant on a Monday evening was not the public arena for the major victory she’d envisaged.
Better to bide her time, she thought, her throat tightening. Wait for the right moment and the maximum impact.
He said, ‘You’re doing it again, my love. Disappearing into some world where I can’t follow.’
‘Not really,’ she said lightly, and paused. ‘It’s just that there’s suddenly a lot to think about.’
‘Then maybe we should start sharing some thoughts now,’ he said. ‘Do you want a big wedding?’
‘Oh, no.’ The negation was involuntary, and she’d have said exactly the same if this had been the beginning of their future, and the ceremony was to be a reality.
‘You’re very sure,’ he commented, with faint amusement. ‘I thought all women dreamed of floating down the aisle, wearing the obligatory meringue, in a country church crammed with well-wishers.’
Tarn wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s part of the problem. I’d have difficulty filling a pew.’
Caz pulled a face. ‘And I know far too many people who would expect to be there, whether we wanted them or not,’ he said. ‘And someone I do want who, sadly, can’t be there. So, why don’t we do it quietly at a friendly neighbourhood register office? Will your cousin be well enough to act as one of the witnesses?’
Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Well—no. At least she’s not around,’ she added hurriedly. ‘She’s gone away to convalesce. She needs absolute quiet, so she’ll be gone for some time.’
Which at least was the truth.
‘Your flatmate?’
She shook her head. ‘She’s away a lot. I’m not sure of her plans.’
‘I see.’ Caz was silent for a moment. ‘Well, we could ask Brendan and Grace instead. I think you liked them when you met.’
‘Yes,’ said Tarn, despising herself for her faint feeling of desolation. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘And when the news of the wedding does get out, we shall have left on our honeymoon,’ he went on. ‘So we shall miss all the razzmatazz. And by the time we come back, everyone will be used to the idea. So it’s a win-win situation for us.’
No, she thought. It will be a very different kind of victory. And you will be the loser. But she had no sense of triumph. Instead she felt as if everything within her had become a cold, aching hollow.
The food and wine were delicious, but, for Tarn, they might have been bread and water. Her energy and attention were fixed, as they had to be, on this new role she had to play—the happy and loving fiancée.
And, of course, on never letting herself forget that it was just a role. That it could never be anything else no matter what she might want or feel in her inmost being.
Because all that had to be suppressed. Pushed out of sight, and eventually—please, God—out of mind. No more walking round the flat with her arms wrapped round her body, damming back the pain. No more tears, even if she could manage to weep silently.
He said, ‘You’re very quiet,’ and she looked at him, startled.
‘I think I’m just stunned.’ She made herself smile. ‘It’s been a hell of a forty-eight hours, and it takes some getting used to.’
‘For me too, believe it or not.’ He paused. ‘What we need is some time alone and in private. Let’s get out of here and have our coffee elsewhere.’
‘But Della’s at the flat…’
‘Darling, I meant my place, not yours.’ He smiled at her. ‘Besides, it will give you the chance to have a good look round and tell me what you’d like to change.’
‘Change?’
And I have seen it—all of it—the other night. And imagined you there with Evie…
‘Of course. You’re bound to have some ideas about your future home.’ His grin was teasing. ‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.’
‘Your flat,’ Tarn said slowly. ‘You’d want us to live there. I—I didn’t realise.’ One of many things she hadn’t taken into account, she thought. The way he already had their lives mapped out in this straight and shining path. But she couldn’t turn back now. She had to go on. Had to…
‘I thought—to begin with at least,’ he said. ‘While we decide where and what our permanent home should be.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘You’re not keen?’
‘I hardly know.’ She searched for an excuse. ‘It’s just that everything’s moving so fast…’
‘Not for me,’ Caz said softly. ‘Given the chance, I’d get a special licence and carry you off this week.’
She forced a smile. ‘I think you’ll have to be patient with me.’
‘I can do patient.’ His tone was rueful. ‘Although I may struggle a bit.’ He took her hand again. ‘You’ll have to make allowances too, my sweet. Promise?’
‘Yes,’ Tarn said and hated herself.