His Wedding-Night Heir. Sara Craven

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      She took a deep breath. ‘Nick—let’s stop here and now, or we shall only say things we’ll regret. Why don’t we just—draw a line, let our respective lawyers deal with the rest of it?’

      ‘Because you’re assuming,’ he said, ‘that I share your wish for a divorce.’

      She said, slowly and unsteadily, ‘You can’t mean that. You can’t wish to stay married to someone who—who won’t—live with you.’

      ‘Of course not.’ He sounded almost brisk. ‘Naturally I want a wife who’ll share my home and my bed.’ He smiled at her, his eyes touching her—stripping her, she realised, as her heart began to flutter in panic.

      ‘In fact, I want you, my sweet,’ he added softly. ‘Come back to me, and in return for your charming—and willing—company, I’ll tell Matthew Hendrick to save your precious terrace and include it in the development. Turn me down, however, and the demolition crew move in next week. And that’s my final word.’

      He paused. ‘So the future of Gunners Terrace rests entirely with you, darling.’

      ‘You can’t do this,’ Cally protested, her voice hoarse with incredulity. ‘You’re making me responsible for other people’s lives—other people’s happiness. It—it’s emotional blackmail.’

      ‘Now, my viewpoint is slightly different,’ he said. ‘Because you stood beside me in church and made certain vows. I remember it perfectly. You were wearing a white dress with a lot of little buttons down the front of it. Frankly, I was fantasising about undoing them all—with my teeth,’ he added, with a kind of sensuous reminiscence that made her shiver. ‘Now, at last, I want those vows fulfilled, and I really think, my sweet, that I’ve waited long enough. Even you must agree that our wedding night is long overdue.’

      She said numbly, ‘You mean you’d—you’d actually force me to—to…’

      ‘I’ve no intention of using force,’ he told her coolly. ‘It’s high time that delightful body of yours discovered what it was made for. And, if memory serves, the last time you were in my arms you thought so too.’

      Her head went back sharply, as if he had struck her. ‘What you’re suggesting is obscene. Unthinkable. You can’t think for one moment that I’d agree.’

      Nick shrugged. ‘You came here tonight, Cally, of your own free will, wanting a favour. Quite a sizeable one at that. I’m now telling you the price ticket it carries. Whether you pay it, of course, is your choice alone. It depends on how strongly you feel about the survival of Gunners Terrace—these people you claim to care about so deeply.’

      ‘You think I’ll save them at the expense of my own life?’

      ‘Not the whole of it,’ he said. ‘Just the year you stole from me when you ran away. You see, I still have use for you, and that should be enough time for you to repay some of the debt you owe me—and give me what I want.’

      She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I don’t understand. You’re saying now that you want me to come back to you, but only for a limited period?’

      He said quietly, ‘Just as long as it takes for you to give me a child. So make your mind up quickly, because the staff here are waiting to close.’

      She stared at him, stunned and incredulous, her brain churning wildly. She was dazedly aware that what he’d said was correct. The other tables had emptied while they were talking and she hadn’t even noticed. The waiters were gathered now in a small group at the end of the room, chatting amongst themselves.

      While she sat in this pool of lamplight, like a fly trapped in amber… Listening to him, but not believing what she was hearing. She heard herself laugh, the sound strained and alien.

      She said, mastering her voice somehow, ‘You want me—to have your baby? You can’t honestly be serious. It’s ludicrous. Totally impossible.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘but I am perfectly serious. This is a question of inheritance, Cally. I want an heir—someone to come after me. Son or daughter. I don’t mind,’ he added with a curt shrug.

      ‘And that’s good and sufficient reason…?’ She choked over the words.

      ‘I inherited Wylstone Hall because I was Ranald Tempest’s only relative,’ he said. ‘But we were almost complete strangers to each other. ‘Whatever I leave will damned well go to my own flesh and blood. Not some distant relation—someone I’ve barely met.’

      He paused. ‘Achieve this one thing for me, Cally, and then I’ll release you from the marriage. I won’t fight the divorce. In fact, I’ll make it easy for you.’ He paused. ‘And you’ll find me generous.’

      Money, she thought. He means money. I’d probably never have to work again unless I wished it.

      ‘And afterwards?’ she asked, her voice shaking. ‘If I should—have a child, what happens then?’

      ‘That’s open to negotiation,’ he told her curtly. ‘But I suggest that in principle we share joint custody. At first, anyway.’

      She stared back at him. She said faintly, ‘You must be—insane.’

      ‘Why? Because I want my wife to have my baby? It seems a fairly normal course of events to me.’

      ‘But we don’t have a normal marriage.’

      ‘Not at this moment, perhaps,’ he said softly. ‘But all that could change very soon.’

      She said in a low voice, ‘Is that—why you married me? Because you thought I was young and strong, and you could breed from me?’

      Nick shrugged. ‘We all have our own priorities,’ he said. ‘But rest assured that I also found you—highly desirable.’

      Her arms went round her body in an involuntary gesture of self-protection, and she saw his mouth twist.

      She said hurriedly, ‘But surely there are other women…’ She paused, swallowing. Trying to blot certain forbidden images from her mind. ‘I mean—you could divorce me quickly and find someone else. Someone who’d make you happy. Want to give you a family.’

      ‘Let me be blunt,’ he said. ‘I’ve had time to think during our—separation, and I’ve discovered I’ve no real taste for being a husband. One unlucky foray into matrimony is quite enough, and I have no plans to replace you.’ His faint smile was cynical. ‘Don’t they say, “Better the devil you know”?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said numbly. ‘Sometimes—they do.’ But it doesn’t have to be true.

      ‘Besides, you clearly can’t wait to get away from me,’ he added. ‘So there’s no threat of you wanting to hang around on a permanent basis.’

      She said tautly, ‘Cramping your style?’

      ‘Precisely, darling,’ he drawled. ‘How well you’re getting to know me.’

      ‘Then think about this instead,’ Cally pressed on, with a touch of desperation. ‘There’s no certainty about these things. Pregnancy and the СКАЧАТЬ