His Wedding-Night Heir(27)

And I said. 'Yes, if that's what you want,' because I knew that anger was bad for him, and he needed to stay quiet and rest.

Aloud, she said flippantly, 'My guardian angel, I suppose. Who now seems to have deserted me.'

It had all seemed totally surreal, she thought, standing outside in the darkness as the fire service had fought the flames. As if she was looking at a medieval painting of an inferno. She

still couldn't believe how quickly the fire had taken its hold. The heat had been intense, and the stench...

There'd been a sickening roar as the roof collapsed, and Nick had turned her in his arms, pressing her face against his shoulder so that she couldn't see how swift and overwhelming the destruction was.

"The ambulance is just leaving with your grandfather,' he'd whispered. "There's nothing we can do here, so let me drive you to the hospital.'

And she'd nodded numbly, and allowed him to lead her away.

At the time she'd been too thankful to question what he'd been doing in the locality at that time of night. How he'd happened to be driving by. It was only much later that she'd realised Vanessa Layton's cottage also lay on the bottom road.

'A smoke detector might be more reliable than an angel another time.' Nick's dry tone forced Cally back into the painful present.

'I'm sure you're right.' She shook her head. 'I suppose I always knew the wiring was old and needed attention, but I didn't realise we were sitting on a time bomb.' She paused. 'Or that we had no insurance. It was quite a shock to find that we were homeless and penniless too.'

'Your grandfather was getting old.' Nick shrugged. 'It's easy to overlook these things.'

Not, she thought, when the company had sent constant reminders, and the cottage was desperately over mortgaged. But what was one more demand among so many? In spite of her distress about Baz, she'd seen why her grandfather had needed to sell him—and the land—to provide an urgent injection of cash, to stall their creditors. If Oak Tree Cottage hadn't burned down, they'd have only lost it in another way.#p#分页标题#e#

The horror of the fire had forced on her the discovery that they were broke. Not that her grandfather had ever been willing to discuss the situation, but she'd known she should have realised that all the signs were there, becoming more serious with every day that passed.

She said abruptly, 'I've seen enough, thanks. It—it was a mistake to come here.'

'Not altogether.' Nick opened the gate, allowing her to precede him. 'At some point you'll need to make a decision about the place.'

'At some point, yes.' She didn't look at him. 'Just now I have other things to worry about.'

It felt strange to drive through the village again. It seemed to her that she'd been away for a thousand years, yet nothing had changed. There weren't many people about, but she knew that the car had been spotted, and her presence noted. It wouldn't take long for word to get about that she'd returned.

Another nine-day wonder for the gossips to pick over, she thought wearily. And when she and Nick finally parted there'd be a feast for the wagging tongues.

Wylstone Hall stood in its own extensive grounds, and Cally could see instantly that a lot of work had been done there. Sir Ranald, in his latter years, had let the maintenance of the gardens slide, and Adele had taken no interest in it either.

But then she'd probably had other plans for what remained of her elderly husband's money, Cally thought with distaste.

Yet now the lawns had been cut and the trees pruned, while the formal flowerbeds had been replanted and were coming into bloom. Even the old fountain that stood in the middle of the broad gravelled sweep in front of the Hall's main entrance had been coaxed to work once more, and its showering droplets gleamed in the sunlight.

Wylstone Hall was a big, rambling place, more imposing than beautiful, combining a number of architectural styles from medieval to Victorian.

Cally had never found it particularly warm or welcoming, but was ready to concede this had probably been down to Adele and her hatchet-faced housekeeper.

The woman who now emerged to greet them as they got out of the car was a very different proposition, in her middle thirties, slim, and pleasant-faced.

'We're home, Margaret.' Nick drew Cally forward. 'Darling, this is Mrs Thurston, who'll help you all she can.'

'It will be a pleasure, sir, and welcome back. How do you do, your ladyship?' Her smile was anxious. 'There's something I should mention...'

'Later,' Nick said. 'And tell Frank to leave the bags for a while, too.' He looked down at Cally, said softly, 'I have an omission to repair. I broke with tradition the first time round, and failed to carry my bride over the threshold. Clearly a mistake.'

Before Cally could protest, or take any evasive action, he'd lifted her into his arms and started towards the entrance.