His Wedding-Night Heir. Sara Craven
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this instead,’ Cally pressed on, with a touch of desperation. ‘There’s no certainty about these things. Pregnancy and the rest of it. For all we know I might not—one of us might not—be able to have children.’
Nick shrugged. ‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take.’ His eyes met hers. ‘Are you on the Pill?’
Mutely, she shook her head. A celibate life, she thought, didn’t need that kind of protection.
‘Then I’d need you to guarantee to stay off it,’ he said curtly. ‘But the final decision, as I’ve made clear, rests entirely with you. You either co-operate—come back to me as my wife—or you don’t. A simple choice.’
Simple? Cally thought, a bubble of hysteria forming in her chest. Simple? Was that what he really believed?
‘It’s revenge—isn’t it?’ Her voice was torn—ragged. ‘You want to punish me—humiliate me. It’s payback time.’
‘If so, you’re heavily in arrears, sweetheart,’ he told her unsmilingly. ‘Tell me something, Cally, why accept my marriage proposal in the first place—if it was so degrading to you?’
She hesitated warily. ‘I—I suppose I was grateful. It was all a hell of a mess and you rescued us. Although you had no reason to do so. And if I never said it before, I’ll say it now. Thank you for that—for everything you did for my grandfather—and for me.’
His glance was cynical. ‘I want more than words, Cally.’
Her voice trembled. ‘But I have nothing else to give. I could try and repay you in other ways eventually, but I won’t—do what you want. You must see that. I—I can’t…’
He studied her for a moment, brows raised, then reached into his jacket for a mobile phone.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Calling Matt at the hotel, to tell him tomorrow’s site visit is cancelled.’ His voice was clipped. ‘You can tell the residents why any deal’s off. You have the rest of the night to plan your explanation. I suggest you make it a good one, because according to your boyfriend a lot of lives are going to be devastated. I’d hate for them to blame you, but I suspect they might.’
‘No.’ It hurt to breathe suddenly. ‘Wait.’
‘Well?’ The response was uncompromising, the phone still in his hand.
She looked down at her fingers, laced tightly together in her lap.
‘Gunners Terrace is precious to me,’ she said tautly. ‘Perhaps more than I’d even realised. And so is my eventual freedom.’ She paused. ‘I presume you’re also prepared to guarantee that—in writing?’
‘If that’s what it takes.’ Nick put the phone back in his pocket.
She lifted her head. Met his gaze directly. Unflinchingly. ‘Then I’ll—do what you want. But you have to give me some time—some space—to adjust.’
‘And why should I do that?’ He sounded almost casually interested.
She said, quietly and clearly, ‘Because I don’t want my only child to be—made in hatred. And I don’t believe you’d want that either.’
‘You really think you hate me?’ Faint, galling amusement in his voice.
She nodded. ‘I know it.’
‘So what are you suggesting instead?’ he drawled. ‘Surely not—love?’
She winced. ‘I thought—some kind of compromise. After all, you were prepared once to make allowances—you said so earlier.’
‘How unwise of me.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Very well. I’ve had a year to practise restraint, so I suppose I can go on being patient for a while.’
He signalled for the bill, then turned back to her, the grey eyes merciless. ‘But be warned, darling. Don’t push your luck. Because I have no intention of waiting for ever. Do I make myself clear?’
From somewhere a long way off she heard herself say, ‘As crystal.’
And somehow she found herself getting up from the table and going with him out into the night.
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