Money really seemed to be the answer to everything, she thought bitterly.
One by one, her tenuous ties to this place had been cut. Now nothing remained but her future with Nick, and that was only temporary.
Her whole life had suddenly become a leap into the dark.
She said quietly, 'Goodbye, Kit. I hope the whole project goes from strength to strength.'
"Thank you.' He did not look at her.
For a moment she wanted to scream at him. Do you know— do you have any idea what I've done? The sacrifice I've had to make?
But that would imply his attitude was justified, that she owed him some kind of explanation. Whereas she knew she didn't, and it was best to let the matter drop—walk away. With her husband's arm holding her like a ring of steel. Staking his claim.
As they reached the main door, she said tautly, 'Why don't you just give me a label to wear—"Nick's Woman"?'
'I thought I had.' His tone was clipped. 'In St John's church, twelve months ago.'
Cally winced, but could think of nothing to say in reply.
#p#分页标题#e#
Everyone was waiting outside the Centre to see them leave, and the euphoria was almost tangible.
Tracy came rushing up and enveloped her in a hug. 'You don't look as if you slept much last night, you lucky girl,' she whispered with a giggle. 'Be happy. And don't forget us.'
There was a terrible irony in that, thought Cally, forcing a smile and nodding.
'Come along, darling.' Nick drew her close to his side again, his fingers laced with hers in a parody of intimacy as they walked to the car. He turned to give a last smile—-a wave. Like visiting royalty, she thought, swallowing back the bubble of hysteria that was threatening to overwhelm her.
It was almost a relief to find herself inside the car and driving away from it all.
I should have done that a long time ago, she thought broodingly. Instead of hanging around, waiting tamely to be found. And now it's all too late...
'Will you miss Wellingford?' Nick's tone was casual.
'No,' she said. 'I never planned to stay. Especially after Mrs Hartley died. She was a terrific lady.'
'But not particularly blessed in her sons.' he commented ironically.
She shrugged. 'Perhaps they take after their father,' she said, adding pointedly, 'It can happen.'
And heard him laugh softly.
They were soon on the motorway, the big car comfortably eating up the miles, transporting Cally swiftly and silently to her new life and all that it implied.
Although it seemed she would at least be miserable in luxury, she told herself wryly. The car was air-conditioned, its windows tinted to diffuse the brightness of the sunlight.
And Nick was a good driver, she was forced to admit, stealing a sideways glance at him from beneath her lashes. She'd never before accompanied him on a long journey, and had expected their progress to be aggressively conducted, with him cutting a triumphal swathe through the traffic. But she was wrong. He handled his beautiful vehicle with sure skill, driving fast but safely, with surprising tolerance for the vagaries of his fellow motorists.
He'd discarded his jacket and loosened his tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled back to reveal tanned forearms.
He looked totally relaxed—even as if he was enjoying himself, she thought, biting at her lower lip.
He asked if she wanted music and she agreed, simply because it was preferable to conversation—especially if he had questions she'd no wish to answer. But he seemed to prefer to concentrate on the road, rather than be diverted by contentious issues.
She was aware of die music, a smooth blues combo, but she wasn't listening to it. She couldn't. Not when every mile was taking her nearer to Wylstone, and the associations of misery and humiliation that haunted it. Memories that she would be forced to endure, along with so much else, she thought, swallowing convulsively.
She'd tried to use the last twelve months to wrench them out of her brain and dismiss them for ever. She'd thought she'd succeeded. That she'd cured herself of the virus that was Nick Tempest. Yet she'd only had to see him again and they were all back, clamouring obscenely for her attention.
Telling her that all she'd really done was use a sticking plaster to cover a mortal wound.
How could this have happened to me? she asked herself numbly. Was there nothing—nothing that I could have done?
But she already knew the answer to that. The path of her life seemed to have led her straight to him.
Even the impulse mat had caused her to absent herself to London safely out of Nick's orbit, had been cancelled out by the breakdown in her grandfather's health that had summoned her back so arbitrarily.#p#分页标题#e#
I was all my grandfather had, she thought wearily. So what choice did I have—then or ever?
And then, with frightening suddenness, her life had begun to fall apart. Inevitably, Nick had been there with his safety net, offering her grandfather and herself a home and a kind of security. It had been the perfect opportunity for him, she thought. Everything had conspired to bring them together, and he had placed her under the kind of obligation that could only have one ending.