His Wedding-Night Heir by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page B

reminders of her from his life. And yet it was all still
    there, wrapped in tissue and wailing for her.
    He really had intended that she should go back to him, she
    thought shivering.
    Her time was nearly up, so, with another apprehensive glance
    towards the sitting room, she reluctantly climbed in to the
    wide bed, hugging its extreme edge as she reached up and
    turned off the pink-shaded befrilled lamp. Lying rigidly on her
    side, she closed her eyes tightly and kept them closed, trying
    to breathe deeply and evenly as if she was asleep.
    It seemed an eternity before the door between them opened
    quietly and she knew she was no longer alone. She was aware
    of Nick moving about softly, then the click of the bathroom
    door, and beyond it the noise from the shower.
    Cally tried to relax—to sink down into the mattress— giving
    the impression that she was dead to the world. But it wasn't
    easy— not with tension building inside her all the while.
    For the first time in her life she was about to spend a night in
    bed with a man, and in spite of the assurances she was
    petrified.
    Eventually she heard him come back into the room and walk
    quietly across to the bed. There was a soft rustle like silk, as if
    he was removing a dressing gown, then she felt the m at tress
    dip slightly as he joined her. The other equally awful pink
    lamp was extinguished, and the room was dark.
    He was nowhere near Cally, maintaining his distance as
    promised, but she was intensely conscious of his presence just
    the same. His skin smelt cool and fresh with the fragrance of
    soap, and some unguessed female instinct told her, without a
    shadow of a doubt, that he was naked.
    She froze. Her heart was thudding like a trapped animal
    beating against the bars of its cage as she waited tensely.
    'For God's sake, relax.' His voice in the heavy darkness was
    weary with exasperation. 'I don't go in for force.'
    At least not tonight, Cally thought, but did not dare say it.
    'Can't you understand how difficult this is for me?' she
    demanded tautly.
    'I don't find the situation easy either,' Nick retorted sharply.
    'But we have to start our marriage somewhere, and tradition
    suggests that bed is the place.'
    'For lovers, perhaps.' Her riposte was more acerbic than she'd
    intended. There was a silence.
    Then he asked gently, 'Is that intended as some kind of
    challenge?"
    Cally found her eyes were so lightly closed that coloured
    spots danced behind her lids. 'No,' she mumbled.
    'Good,' he said. 'Let's keep it that way, shall we?' He paused
    again. 'And bed isn't simply about sex, Cally. It's al so a quiet
    and private place to talk sometimes.'
    'You're implying we have something to discuss? So far you've
    simply issued instructions.'
    'I thought you might wish to go into a little more detail about
    why you ran away from me.'
    Cally's eyes flew open. She hunched a shoulder. 'It seemed
    like a good idea at the time. As it happens, it still does.
    'And that's your final word on the subject?' He sounded more
    curious than angry.
    'At the moment,' she said, 'my most pressing concern is the
    future—not the past.'
    'Really?' he said. 'And I thought it was the here and now that
    had you clinging to the edge of the bed like an abseiler whose
    rope has been cut.'
    'If so, you can hardly blame me for that.'
    'You were the one who asked for a breathing space,' Nick
    reminded her softly.
    At this particular time it seemed difficult to breathe at all,
    Cally realised, her throat tightening.
    She said huskily, 'You can hardly expect to— walk back into
    my life and expect things to be as they were a year ago.'
    'Ah,' he said. 'And exactly how were things then, Cally?
    Refresh my memory.'
    Oh, God, she'd walked bang into that one, she thought, biting
    her lip.
    She steadied her voice. 'Perhaps I believed—once— briefly—
    that a marriage between us could be made to work.'
    'And yet you walked out?' he said slowly. 'Without even a
    shot being fired in anger. Why? And I