What would she do if Nick insisted on those kind of intimacies? she wondered, her throat dry. What could she do?
When she emerged, she paused, then walked the few yards to the other bedroom and peeped round the door. With its double bed, in a fitted olive-green coverlet, and matching oak tallboys, it was a much plainer room, its ambience uncompromisingly masculine.
This was where Nick had been steeping—when he slept at home. And maybe he would still choose to spend some of his nights here.
Her senses seemed to pick up the faint fragrance of the cologne he used, making his presence suddenly and formidably real, and she retreated hastily back to the master bedroom, feeling like Bluebeard's wife.
While she'd been in the bathroom their overnight bags had been brought up, and as she rummaged in her case for her brush and comb she saw the nightdress she'd worn the previous night was lying on top of the other things. She lifted it out, shaking the creases out of its folds, wondering whether or not she would be permitted to wear it tonight. Asking herself too, her stomach cramping nervously, exactly what Nick would expect from her.
In physical terms she knew what to anticipate, of course, although it was all theory without practice. And while she might resent the idea of his body invading hers, it wasn't particularly scaring. No, it was that extra emotional dimension that haunted her, made her curse her inexperience.
Not passion, she thought sombrely. That was too much for him to ask and he must know that. But certainly he would want...acquiescence, at the very least, and there was no certainty she could achieve that.
She sat down at the dressing table, drawing the brush through the silky tendrils of her hair before applying moisturiser to her skin and a touch of subtle colour to her mouth.
Warpaint, she thought with self-derision, wishing she had some chain mail to go with it.
She hesitated on the gallery leading to the stairs. All this part of the Hall was new to her. The room she'd occupied after the fire, while her grandfather had been kept in hospital, initially for observation, was at the other end of the house. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find it again in the twists and turns of the passages. Or that she even wanted to...
But she couldn't halt the relentless pressure of her memories.
On the night of the fire Adele's welcome, she recalled with a grimace, had been sugared, but her eyes had been unsmiling. And there had been no warmth either from the housekeeper who'd showed her upstairs.
It's not my fault, Cally had wanted to tell them both. She'd actually reached the hospital exit before she was stopped dead in her tracks by the realisation that her home didn't exist any more—or any of her belongings. That she had literally nowhere to go.
Nick's hand had closed on her arm. 'You're coming with me,' he'd stated, in a tone that brooked no argument, and almost meekly she'd allowed him to lead her to the car.
He must have telephoned ahead from Casualty, because the room had already been made up for her, and hot soup had been waiting on a table drawn up by the gas fire.#p#分页标题#e#
And Cally, to her own surprise, had found she was ravenous.
She'd just put down her spoon when Adele had appeared.
'I've brought you a comb and a toothbrush,' she announced, handing over two cellophane-wrapped packets. 'And I suppose you'll need a nightgown.' She tossed something black and totally diaphanous on to the bed.
'Thank you,' Cally acknowledged woodenly, hiding her dismay. 'I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble.'
Adele shrugged. 'It's Nick's house now. He gives the orders. And being homeless must be ghastly.' She paused. 'If you leave your clothes outside the door, they'll be laundered ready for the morning. You can't wear them again like that. They absolutely reek of smoke.' She perched elegantly on the arm of the small fireside chair opposite. 'I suppose tomorrow you'll start looking for somewhere to rent, while all the financial stuff gets sorted?'
'Yes, I suppose I will,' said Cally, who couldn't look beyond the next five minutes. There'd be insurance, she thought. But could they afford to rebuild? Shouldn't they be trying to downsize instead? And could she ever persuade Grandfather to agree?
But she didn't want to think about that now. Her eyes were stinging, her throat was dry, and her head felt as if it had been split with an axe. Unconsciously, she lifted a tired hand to rub her forehead.
'Headache my pet?' Adele's tone sparked with malice. 'Well that's a tried and tested excuse. But I doubt it will cut much ice with your gallant rescuer.'
Cally looked at her wearily. 'I'm sorry, but I don't think I understand.'
'No?' Adele gave a light laugh. 'Well, I'm sure it will all be made clear to you pretty soon. In the meantime, I recommend a couple of aspirin. You'll find some in the bathroom cupboard.'