It was ironic that the child that was now growing inside her was the reason for her present ejection from the paradise she’d found in Jed’s love.
‘Why don’t you finalise the details with your agent, darling?’ He’d come to stand beside her. He put a hand on her shoulder. His touch branded her. She wanted to swipe his hand away, tell him not to call her darling because he didn’t mean it, tell him to stop torturing her!
She turned her head sharply, her breath catching explosively in her throat, her hair flying around her shoulders. His slight warning frown told her Not in front of Catherine, but he sounded totally laid back when he added, ‘We’ve only a couple more days here, so Ma and I will get out from under your feet. We’ll go and explore the village, potter around, give you time to pack and make arrangements for closing the house up.’
He was giving her a breathing space. That, at least, was something to be grateful for. Somehow she managed to make all the right noises, to smile, even, telling them about another village, further down the valley, where there were the ruins of a castle and a thirteenth-century church, expressing rather vague and insincere regrets that she was unable to accompany them, escaping at last to the privacy of her study, feeling the blessed silence of her home settle around her.
She sat at her desk and sank her head into her hands. She had a few precious hours alone, no need to play-act for Catherine’s benefit. Thoughtfully, Jed had given her that time. But probably not for her benefit, she decided with a shuddery sigh. He must have realised the strain she was under and hadn’t wanted her to explode in front of his mother and ruin the poor woman’s illusions.
And he could escape, too, just for a few hours. Get away from the woman he’d once loved and now regarded with contempt and distrust.
She lifted her head, pushed her hair away from her face with one hand, reached for the phone with the other and began to dial her agent’s London number.
Netherhaye was as lovely as Elena remembered it. A sprawling edifice of golden stone, drowsing in the late afternoon sun, the lovely house managed to insert a sharp finger of sadness into her heart. Had her marriage still been strong, beautiful and true, she would have looked forward to their sharing their time between here and Las Rocas.
But she mustn’t think like that, she told herself. And made herself concentrate on the housekeeper’s effusive greetings. Edith Simms was a fixture, Catherine had told her. Efficient, willing, very likeable—almost part of the family.
She pushed the unwelcome feeling of sadness out of the way. She’d coped well these last few days, but only because she’d known she had to, and the hundred and one things she’d had to do—and a few dozen more that had been pure invention—before she could leave Las Rocas had helped more than anyone would ever know.
But she wouldn’t be away from Spain for too long, she assured herself. The only way into the future was to smother all her emotions and go forward, get on with her life. But that would have to wait until after the ceremony.
‘I’ve made the master suite ready for you and Mrs Nolan,’ Edith said to Jed, smiling comfortably, convinced she’d done the right thing. Elena wondered what she’d think if she knew the truth, that Jed couldn’t bear the sight of his new bride, that the thought of sharing a bedroom with her made him shudder.
‘Thank you, Edith.’ Jed’s features were impassive. ‘I’ll take the cases up—no need to get your husband in from the gardens. Is he still managing?’
‘Oh, yes, very well. It’s the winter when his arthritis plays up and makes things difficult. Come the warm weather and he’s right as ninepence.’
‘Good.’ Jed smiled down into the housekeeper’s homely face. ‘I’ll have a word with him about getting a lad in to do the heavier work—and don’t worry about him starting to feel old and redundant. I’ll make sure he knows he’s the gaffer and that we need his valuable experience and know-how.’
‘Thank you, Mr Nolan, sir!’ Edith breathed, her faded brown eyes like an adoring spaniel’s as Jed strode away to fetch the cases from the car. Elena told herself not to go soft and start admiring his understanding and compassion. He’d shown not a scrap where she was concerned.
‘And Susan Keele asked you to phone just as soon as you had a moment.’ The housekeeper had turned to Catherine, and Catherine’s eyes went round and wide, like an excited child’s.
‘She must have some definite news about the cottage! How wonderful! I’ll phone right away. You’ll want to speak to her, too, Elena. Let’s go through to the little sitting room.’