* * *
Glancing up, Nola saw Ram striding down the stairs towards her. Her heart gave a lurch. He didn’t look as if news of his engagement had been joyfully received.
Standing up, she walked towards him—but before she had a chance to speak Ram was by her side, grabbing her hand, towing her after him, his grip on her hand mirroring the vice of confusion and fear squeezing her heart.
‘What did they say?’ she managed as he wrenched open the door, standing to one side to let her pass through it.
‘Nothing,’ he said curtly. ‘I didn’t tell them.’
She gazed at him in confusion.
‘So what are we doing?’
‘There’s been a change of plan. We’re leaving now!’
Five minutes later they were heading down the drive towards the main road. Cars were still arriving at the house, but even though Ram must have noticed them, he said nothing.
Several times she was on the verge of asking him to stop the car and tell her what had happened. But, glancing at his set, still profile, she knew that he was either incapable of telling her or unwilling. All she could do was watch and wait.
She was so busy watching him that she didn’t even notice when they drove past Stanmore. In fact it wasn’t until he stopped the car in front of a large Art Deco–style house that she finally became aware of anything other than the terrible rigidity of his body.
He had switched off the engine and was out of the car and striding round to her door, yanking it open before she even had a chance to take off her seatbelt.
‘This way!’
Taking her hand, he led her to the front door, unlocking and opening it in one swift movement. Inside the house, Nola watched confusedly as he marched from room to room, flicking on lights.
‘What is this place?’ she said finally.
‘It’s a property I bought a couple of years ago as an investment. I lived here when Stanmore was being renovated.’
‘Oh, right...’ It was all she could manage.
Maybe this was some kind of bolthole? She flinched as he yanked the curtains across the windows. If so, he must have a good reason for coming here now. But as she stared over at him anxiously she had no idea what that reason might be. All she knew was that she wanted to put her arms around him and hold him tight. Only, he looked so brittle, so taut, she feared he might shatter into a thousand pieces if she so much as touched him.
But she couldn’t just stand here and pretend that everything was all right when it so clearly wasn’t.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Yes. I’m fine.’
He smiled—the kind of smile she would use when sharing a lift with a stranger.
‘I’m sure you’re tired. Why don’t I show you to your bedroom?’
‘But don’t you want to talk?’
Watching his expression shift, she shivered. It was like watching water turn to ice.
‘No, not really.’
‘But what happened? Why did we leave the party?’ She bit her lip. ‘Why didn’t you tell them about the engagement?’
He stared at her impatiently, then fixed his eyes on a point somewhere past her head.
‘I’m not having this conversation now. It’s late. You’re pregnant—’
‘And you’re upset!’ She stared at him in exasperation. ‘Not only that, you’re shutting me out.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Shutting you out? You sound like you’re in a soap opera.’
She blinked, shocked not so much by his words but by the sneer in his voice.
‘Maybe that’s because you’ve behaving like a character in a soap opera. Dragging me from the party. Refusing to talk to me.’
‘And what exactly do you think talking about it will achieve?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her breath felt tight inside her chest. ‘But I don’t think ignoring whatever it is can be the solution.’
He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘You’ve changed your tune. Not so long ago you managed to ignore me for three months without much problem.’
Nola felt her whole body tighten with shock and pain. Then, almost in the same moment, she knew he was lashing out at her because he was upset, and even though his words hurt her she cared more about his pain than her own.
‘And I was wrong.’
‘So maybe in three months I’ll think I was wrong about this. But somehow I don’t think so.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘So that’s it? You just want me to shut up and go to bed?’
His face hardened. ‘No, what I want is for you to stop nagging me, like the wife you’ve clearly never wanted to be.’
‘I do want to be your wife.’ The injustice of his words felt like a slap. ‘And I’m not nagging. I’m trying to have a conversation.’
He shook his head. ‘This isn’t a conversation. It’s an interrogation.’
‘Then talk to me.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Fine. I was going to wait until the morning, but if you can’t or won’t wait, we’ll do it now.’
‘Do what?’
‘Break up. Call it off.’ His voice was colder and harder than his gaze. ‘Whatever one does to end an engagement.’
Watching the colour drain from her face, he felt sick. But knowing that he could hurt her so easily only made him more determined to finish it there and then—for what was the alternative? That she spent the next thirty years trapped with him in a loveless marriage?
A marriage that would force their child to endure the same dark legacy as him.
No, that wasn’t going to happen. His child deserved more than to be a witness to his parents’ unhappy marriage. And Nola deserved more than him.
Across the room Nola took a breath, tried to focus, to make sense of what Ram had just said.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said finally.
But then, staring at him, she did—for the man who had held her in his arms and made love to her so tenderly had been replaced by a stranger with blank, hostile eyes.
‘You want to end our engagement? But you were going to announce it tonight...’
He shrugged. ‘And now I’m not.’
But I love you, she thought, her heart banging against her ribcage as though it was trying to speak for itself. Only it was clear that Ram had no use for her love, for any kind of love.
‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I’ve changed my mind. All this—us, marriage, becoming a father—it’s not what I want.’
‘But you said that children need to know where they come from. That they need to belong.’ His words tasted like ash in her mouth.
His gaze locked onto hers. ‘Don’t look so surprised, Nola. You said yourself I’m not cut out to be a hands-on daddy. And you’re right. I’m not. What was it you said? No father is better than a bad father. Well, you were right. You’ll do a far better job on your own than with me messing up your life and our child’s life. But you don’t need to worry. I fully intend to take care of you and the baby financially.’
Nola stared at him in silence.
He was talking in the same voice he used for board meetings. In fact he might just as easily have been discussing an upcoming software project instead of his child.
Her heart was beating too fast. Misery and anger were tangling inside her chest.
‘Is that what you think matters?’ she asked, reining in her temper.
He sighed. ‘Try not to let sentiment get in the way of reason. Everything that baby needs is going to cost money so, yes, I think it does matter.’
‘Not everything,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Children need love, consistency, patience and guidance, and all those are free.’
His mouth curled. ‘Tell that to a divorce lawyer.’
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his car keys.
‘There’s no point in discussing this now. You can stay here, and I’ll call my lawyers in the morning. I’ll get them to draw up the paperwork and they can transfer thi
s house into your name tomorrow.’
‘What?’ She stared at him, struggling to breathe.
‘I’ll work out a draft financial settlement at the same time. As soon as that’s finalised we can put all this behind us and get back to our lives.’
Her skin felt cold, but she was burning up inside.
So was that it? Everything she had been through, that they had been through, had been for this? For him to pay her off. Just like her father had done with his ostentatious but impersonal presents.
Anger pounded through her. And, just like those presents, giving her this house and an allowance were for his benefit, not hers. He was offering them as a means to assuage his conscience and rectify the mistake he clearly believed he’d made by getting her pregnant.
‘I don’t want your house or your money,’ she said stiffly.
He frowned. ‘Please don’t waste my time, or yours, making meaningless remarks like that. You’re going to need—’
She shook her head. ‘No, you don’t get to offer me money. Aside from my salary, I’ve never asked for or expected any money from you, and nothing’s changed.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Give it time.’
She felt sick—a sickness that was worse than anything she’d felt in those early months of pregnancy. For that nausea had been caused by the child growing inside her, a child she loved without question, even when she felt scared and alone.
Now, though, she felt sick at her own stupidity.
Ignoring all her instincts, she had let herself have hope, let herself trust him. Not just trust him—but love him too.
And here was the proof that she’d been wrong all along.
Ram was just like her father, for when it came to sacrificing himself for his family he couldn’t do it.
He was weak and selfish and he was not fit to be a father to her child.
Wide-eyed, suddenly breathless with anger, Nola stepped forward, her fingers curling into fists.
‘Get out! You can keep your stupid financial settlements and your paperwork. As of this moment I never want to see or speak to you again, Ramsay Walker. Now, get out!’
He stared at her in silence, then, tossing the house keys onto one of the tables, he turned and walked swiftly across the room.
The door slammed and moments later she heard his car start, the engine roaring in the silence of the night and then swiftly fading away until the only sound was her ragged breathing.
It was then that she realised she was still wearing his ring. Unclenching her fingers, she gazed down at the sapphire, thinking how beautiful it was, and yet how sad.
And then her legs seemed to give way beneath her and, sliding down against the wall, she began to sob.
CHAPTER TEN
FINALLY IT WAS time to stop crying.
Forcing herself to stand up, Nola walked into the kitchen and splashed her face with cold water. Her mascara had run, and she wiped it carefully away with her fingertips. But as she tried to steady her breathing she knew it would be a long time—and take a lot more than water—to wash away Ram’s words or that look on his face.
Her chest tightened, and suddenly the floor seemed to be moving. She gripped the edge of the sink.
Ram giving up like that had been so shocking—brutal, and cruel.
Like a bomb exploding.
And she still didn’t really understand what had happened to make him change his mind—not just about the engagement but about everything. For her, cocooned in her newly realised love, it had begun to feel as though finally there was a future for them.
She felt anger scrape over her skin.
But what use was love to a man like Ram?
A man who measured his feelings in monthly maintenance payments?
Steadying herself, she lifted her shoulders. She wasn’t going to fall apart. For what had she really lost?
Even before she’d thrown him out she had felt as though the Ram she loved had already left. He’d been so remote, so cold, so ruthless. Changing his mind, her life, her future and their child’s future without batting an eyelid, then offering her money as some kind of consolation prize.
Her throat tightened, and suddenly she was on the verge of tears again.
And now he was gone.
And she knew that she would never see him again.
Somewhere in the house a clock struck two, and she felt suddenly so tired and drained that standing was no longer an option. There were several sofas in the living room, but she knew that if she sat down she would never get up again, and lying on a sofa in a party dress seemed like the worst kind of defeat. If she was going to sleep, she was going to do it in a bed.
Slipping off her shoes, she walked wearily upstairs. There was no shortage of bedrooms—she counted at least seven—but as she opened one door after another she began to feel like Goldilocks. Each room was beautiful, but the beds were all too huge, too empty for just her on her own.
Except that she wasn’t on her own, she thought defiantly, stroking the curve of her stomach with her hand. Nor was she going to lie there worrying about the future. Her mother had more or less brought her up on her own and, unlike her mother, she was financially independent. So, with or without Ram, she was going to survive this and flourish.
Getting undressed seemed like too much of an effort, though, and, stifling a yawn, she crawled onto the next bed and slid beneath the duvet.
* * *
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she opened her eyes she felt sure that she must have dozed off only for a couple of minutes. But one glance at the clock on the bedside table told her that she had been asleep for two hours.
Her skin felt tight from all the crying, and her head was pounding—probably from all the crying too. Feeling a sudden terrible thirst, she sat up and wriggled out from under the duvet.
The house was silent and still, but she had left some of the lights on during her search for a bedroom. Squinting against the brightness, she made her way towards the stairs. It was dark in the living room, but her head was still so muddied with sleep that it was only as she began to grope for a light switch that she remembered she had also left the lights on downstairs.
So why were they off now?
In the time it took for her heart to start beating again she had already imagined several nightmare crazed intruder scenarios—and then something, or someone, moved in the darkness and her whole body seemed to turn to lead.
‘It’s okay...it’s just me.’
A lamp flared in the corner of the room, but she didn’t need it to know that it was Ram sitting in one of the armchairs. She would recognise that voice anywhere—even in darkness. And even had he lost his voice she would still have known him, for she had traced the pure, straight line of his jaw with her fingers. Touched those firm, curving lips with her mouth.
She felt a sudden sharp stab of desire, remembering the way his body had moved against hers. Remembering too how much she’d loved him. How much she still loved him. But with loving came feelings, and she wasn’t going to let herself feel anything for this man anymore, or give him yet another chance to hurt her.
‘How did you get in?’ she asked stiffly.
‘I have a spare key.’
Her heart began to race with anger, for his words had reminded her of the promise he’d made only a few hours ago. Not to love her and his child, but to take care of them financially, provide a fitting house and lifestyle.
Glancing round, she spotted the keys he’d left behind earlier, and with hands that shook slightly she picked them up.
‘Here, you can have these too.’ She tossed them to him. ‘Since I’m not planning on staying here I won’t be needing them. In fact...’ She paused, tugging at the ring on her finger. ‘I won’t be needing this either.’
‘Nola, please—don’t do that.’ He struggled to his feet, his mouth twisting.
‘Don’t do what, Ramsay?’ She stared at him, a cloud of disbelief and anger swirling inside her. ‘Why are you even h
ere? I told you I never wanted to see you again.’
‘I know. But you also said that ignoring this wasn’t the solution.’
His voice was hoarse, not at all like his usual smooth drawl, but she was too strung out to notice the difference.
‘Well, I was wrong. Like I was wrong to give you a chance. And wrong to think that you’d changed, that you could change.’ Meeting his gaze, she said quickly, ‘I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’m not about to repeat them by wasting any more of my time on you, so I’d like you to leave now.’
He sucked in a breath, but didn’t move. ‘I can’t do that. I know you’re angry, but I’m not leaving until you’ve listened to me.’
Her eyes widened, the pulse jerking in her throat. She didn’t want to listen to anything he had to say, but she could tell by the set of his shoulders that he had meant what he said. He was just going to stand there and wait—stand there and wait for her to grow tired of fighting him and give in. Just as she always did, she thought angrily.
Blood was beating in her ears.
Taking a step backwards, she folded her arms protectively around her waist and looked at him coldly. ‘Then say whatever it is and then I want you to leave.’
Ram stared at her in silence.
Her face was pale and shadowed. She was still wearing her dress from last night, and he knew that she must have slept in it, for it was impossibly crumpled now. But he didn’t think she had ever looked more beautiful, or desirable, or determined.
Or that he had ever loved her more.
He stood frozen, his body still with shock. But inside the truth tugged him down and held him fast, like an anchor digging into the seabed.
He loved her.
He hadn’t planned to. Or wanted to. But he knew unquestioningly that it was true.
And, crazy though it sounded, he knew it was the reason he’d broken up with her.
He’d told himself—told her—that he had never wanted to marry or have children. That he wasn’t a good bet. That he would only ruin everything. And all of that had been true.
But it wasn’t the whole truth.
He loved her, and in loving her he couldn’t force her into a marriage of convenience. For, even though she had agreed to be his wife, he knew that she didn’t love him. And he’d seen with his own eyes the damage and misery that kind of relationship could cause. He only had to look at his mother or look in the mirror for proof.
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