She shook her head.
‘Go on, go!’ he urged.
‘I’m not leaving you.’
Pushing himself up groggily, he struggled to move the beam, but the lower end was jammed against one of the broken joists, and even though she added her strength it refused to budge.
When he fell back exhausted, she lifted his fair head into her lap and wiped the blood and sweat from his face with her skirt.
‘For God’s sake don’t be a fool, Caris,’ he groaned. ‘Get out while you can.’
‘Not without you.’
He was silent for a moment or two then, his voice barely audible, he whispered, ‘I love you.’
Her tears falling on his face, she answered, ‘I love you too.’
His eyes were closed and she thought he had drifted back into unconsciousness when he begged hoarsely, ‘Please go. You can’t do any good by staying. It would take a miracle.’
‘Then I’ll pray for one.’
At the same moment there was a violent impact and a section of the steeply sloping floor, including the joist that held the beam, broke away and fell into the rushing water.
Deprived of its support, the heavy beam slid after it; as though once again her prayers had been answered, Zander was free. A split second later a further section fell and a pile of debris followed, threatening to carry him with it.
Bracing herself, Caris clung to him with all her strength until the upheaval had subsided. Then, sobbing with relief, she urged him to sit up and start to crawl to safety.
Their progress seemed agonizingly slow, but eventually they made it through the door and onto firm ground.
Once outside, though he seemed only semi-conscious, he managed to stagger across the bridge before his legs buckled under him.
It had started to pour with rain once more and, crouching in the wet beside him, she covered him as best she could with her mac.
His eyes were closed and she saw that his face was ashen. It could be shock setting in, she realized anxiously, or concussion.
Whichever, he needed to be out of this rain and under cover as soon as possible.
She shook him a little. ‘If you tell me where your car keys are …’
He didn’t answer, and she was about to shake him again when his eyes opened once more. His voice halting, barely audible, he said, ‘My car’s close by, at the end of a woodland trail … The keys are in the ignition …’
Giving thanks, she ran, calling over her shoulder, ‘Don’t go to sleep.’
It was only a minute or two’s work to fetch the car and turn it round. Then came the task of getting him into it.
Eventually, though extremely groggy, he managed with her help to struggle to his feet and climb into the passenger seat.
As soon as he was safely buckled in, she rejoined the trail and drove back to the house as swiftly as possible.
When she had parked as close to the main door as she could get, he fumbled in his pocket and produced the keys.
Having unlocked the door, she helped him into the house and through to the kitchen. The stove, though burning low, was still throwing out a fair amount of heat and once he was seated in front of it she tossed on more logs. Bewailing the lack of a hot shower, she found a towel.
Slowly, fumbling a little, he struggled to strip off and start to dry himself.
Shocked by the extensive bruising that had started to appear on his legs and body, she said, ‘You ought to have a doctor. But because of the flooding I don’t think one could get through.’
‘I don’t need a doctor. I’m very lucky there’s nothing broken,’ he said, his voice slurred.
Forced to agree with that, she helped him into his robe and onto the bed before going in search of the pads he had used to clean her grazes.
Having discovered a well-equipped first-aid box in the same drawer, she returned with a sterile dressing, a roll of adhesive tape, some cotton-wool pads, a small pair of scissors and a bottle of tincture of arnica for his bruises.
He seemed barely conscious and his face was still ashen, but whatever had hit him must have struck just a glancing blow, because to her very great relief the wound above his left temple, though still bleeding, appeared to be fairly superficial.
By the time she had cleaned it and taped a dressing into place, his eyes were starting to close. But in case the concussion proved to be bad and she had to call the air ambulance she shook him and said quickly, ‘Before you go to sleep, I need to know where your mobile is.’
‘My jacket pocket.’
She found it, along with his wallet and some keys.
Once she had checked that the battery still had power, she took off her wet things and changed into her robe before sitting down on the edge of the bed to treat his bruises.
That done to her satisfaction, she drew a chair closer to the bed and sat down to watch him.
After a while some of her anxiety eased when his colour began to improve and he fell into a more natural sleep. She felt for his heartbeat, and was further reassured to find that it seemed to be strong and steady.
When Zander showed signs of waking after sleeping for several hours, and hoping that he would be able to eat, she tipped a couple of tins of beef casserole into a pan and set it on the stove to heat.
She was just putting bowls to warm when, waking suddenly, he sat up, calling, ‘Caris … Caris …’
‘Yes, yes, I’m here … What is it?’
He drew an unsteady hand over his eyes. ‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘No, I haven’t gone.’
‘Are you all right?’ he asked urgently. ‘You’re not hurt in any way?’
‘No, I’m quite all right.’
Apparently reassured by her calm reply, he gave a sigh of relief.
‘How do you feel?’ she asked.
‘Apart from some stiffness, I feel fine.’
Once again she gave silent thanks before asking, ‘Are you hungry? I know I am.’
‘Yes, I could certainly eat.’
Spooning the casserole into two bowls, she turned to ask, ‘Do you want to stay in bed to eat it?’
But he was already on his feet and making his way to a chair.
She passed him his meal and, taking her own, sat down opposite.
They ate in silence, though the air was charged with emotion and full of things waiting to be said.
Zander scarcely took his eyes off her face, but not until she had cleared away and poured some coffee did he ask, ‘Why did you run away again? I thought you wanted our love-making as much as I did.’
‘I did,’ she said, scarcely above a whisper.
‘Then why did you go?’
Her heart was like lead. When she said nothing, he urged, ‘Why, Caris? Was it because you really do intend to marry another man?’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
Relief in his voice, he asked, ‘Am I to take it this Nathan Thomas doesn’t exist?’
‘Oh yes, he exists, though I’ve no intention of marrying him.’
‘But he asked you?’
She shook her head. ‘It never got that far. I knew from the start that he wasn’t the man for me, and since the firm he worked for relocated him to Wales we haven’t even been in touch.’
‘I see. You just made up that story to help keep me at bay?’
Her silence was answer enough.
‘Tell me, Caris, in the three years since you left me has there been anyone else?’
‘No. After one disastrous relationship …’ The words tailed off.
He sighed deeply. ‘I’m only too aware that I failed you miserably, and I’ve spent the last three years bitterly regretting it. But I never stopped loving you, and I never so much as looked at another woman after I met you.’
Her chest restricted, she said nothing.
‘Even if you believed that I’d grown tired of you and found someone else, after everything that had been between us, all we’d meant to each other, surely you could have stayed to talk to
Sadly he added, ‘I’ve always believed that love and trust should go hand in hand.’
Cut to the quick, she jumped to her feet and cried fiercely, ‘You’re a fine one to talk! Even if you loved me, as you say, it was quite obvious that you didn’t trust me.’
Rising to face her, he demanded, ‘How can you even think that?’
‘Quite easily. I’ll never forget your face that morning when I told you I might be pregnant. You were horrified, and you can’t deny it. Oh yes, I know that afterwards you said you were pleased, but your face told a different story.’
‘I admit that just at that minute your news came as a shock. I presumed you were still taking the pill, and with so much falling apart around me, so much on my plate, the timing seemed all wrong. I thought—’
‘I know quite well what you thought,’ she broke in raggedly. ‘You thought that I’d noticed you were cooling off and I was using the classic ploy to try to trap you into marriage.’
He seized her upper arms. ‘That’s not true! You got upset and jumped to that conclusion. I told you you were quite mistaken.’
She lifted her chin. ‘How could I believe you? When I asked what made you think I would do such a thing, you said other women have tried it.’
‘So they have. But I never for one instant thought that you were that kind of woman.’ Releasing his grip on her arms, he asked helplessly, ‘If you thought you might be pregnant, why did you just go like you did?’
‘As far as I was concerned, being pregnant was all the more reason to go, all the more reason not to stay with a man I was convinced didn’t want either me or an unplanned baby.’
‘But I did want you, and I would have wanted you even more—if that were possible—if you had been carrying my child.’
‘Was that the reason you looked for me, because you thought I might be pregnant?’
‘It was one of the reasons,’ he admitted. ‘If you had been, I wanted to look after you both. But it wasn’t the only reason by a long chalk. I wanted you back, wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.’
Studying her pale face, he went on with a sigh, ‘After our quarrel, when I thought things over, I realized that I’d never actually told you in so many words how much I loved you.
‘I went home early that night with the firm intention of telling you how I felt and asking you to be my wife—whether you were pregnant or not.’
Feeling as though a giant fist had tightened around her heart, she sank back into her chair.
He sat down too, before going on, ‘And that wasn’t a sudden decision. I’d been on the point of asking you to marry me when my father had his second stroke and everything erupted into chaos.
‘I’d always hoped to have a traditional wedding with a honeymoon and all the trimmings, and I thought you might feel the same way. So I decided to wait until the crisis was over and we had time to be together, to talk and make plans. I didn’t really know how you felt about having a family—somehow we’d never got round to discussing it—but then we’d seemed to have all the time in the world …’
Almost too full for words, but feeling compelled to ask, she managed, ‘How do you feel about children?’
He answered unhesitatingly, ‘I like children. If we had got round to discussing the matter, I would have suggested that we had a year or two on our own and then started a family.
‘I’d have liked at least two—if possible, a son to carry on the family name and a daughter just like you. So when you said you might be pregnant, after the first shock I was delighted …’
His words had such a devastating effect on her that she found difficulty in breathing.
‘But I know that you have no child, so I take it you were mistaken.’
This was what she had been dreading, and involuntarily she stiffened. However, ‘I take it you were mistaken’ had been framed as a statement rather than a question, so perhaps she could get away without having to answer.
But even as the thought went through her mind something about her rigidity gave Zander pause and made him insist, ‘You were mistaken, weren’t you?’
A rush of emotion choked her into silence and she had to struggle to hold back stinging tears.
His face lost colour. ‘You weren’t mistaken?’
‘No,’ she whispered.
A white line appearing round his mouth, he asked tightly, ‘What happened to our baby? You didn’t …?’
Horrified, she cried, ‘No, no, of course I didn’t!’ Endeavouring to keep her voice steady, she went on, ‘I was just about three months’ pregnant and crossing London by tube when someone bumped into me on a busy escalator. I lost my footing, and the subsequent fall brought on a miscarriage.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘I couldn’t bear to talk about it. I knew you’d blame me.’
‘My love, of course I don’t blame you.’
‘But I am to blame,’ she said jerkily. ‘It was my fault. If I’d stayed with you, it would never have happened. I feel so guilty …’
She stopped, her hands clenched into fists, the oval nails biting deep into her soft palms.
He sighed deeply and, taking each fist in turn, straightened the fingers one at a time, kissing each one as he did so. Then, lifting her hands to his lips, he kissed each palm where her nails had left angry purple marks.
‘You’ve absolutely no need to feel guilty.’
His tenderness was her undoing, and the tears overflowed. ‘But I have. You see—’
He would have stopped her with a finger to her lips. But she shook her head, needing to tell him everything, needing to unburden herself.
‘You see, when I discovered I might be pregnant I was still taking the pill and not thinking about children, so I didn’t handle it well. In fact, it came as a great shock, and at first I was anything but pleased. It seemed too soon in our relationship. Unsure how you would react, I was worried about telling you …
‘Added to that, I dreaded having to break the news to my father. He was so obsessed with me being a success that I knew he would be furious. He’d always been very bitter that an unplanned pregnancy had not only put an end my mother’s career but had undermined her health so that she had died before she could give him a son.
‘So much seemed against my being pregnant, that it took me a little while to come to terms with it, to grow to love and want the baby and start to feel protective towards it. Then the accident happened. I fell and had a miscarriage …’ The tears began to fall in earnest, releasing a flood of pent-up tension and emotion.
Gathering her into his arms, Zander held her close. On a groan, he said, ‘Oh, my heart’s darling, and you went through all this alone …’
Sitting down, he pulled her onto his lap and cradled her close, moving his hand up and down her spine in a gesture that was curiously soothing.
When she was all cried out, he tucked a strand of dark, silky hair behind her ear and wiped her wet cheeks on a corner of his towelling robe before asking, ‘Feeling better now?’
Sniffing, she nodded and, afraid of hurting his bruises, tried to get off his lap. But one arm tightened around her, keeping her where she was, and his free hand tilted her chin so he could look into her eyes.
With his voice gentle but determined, he insisted, ‘Losing our baby wasn’t your fault. You’re not to blame in any way; it was a just a tragic accident. Are you listening?’
She nodded.
‘And at least it was loved and wanted.’
She gave a tremulous smile. Though she would never forget her loss, she felt a weight lifting from her shoulders now she had told Zander what had happened.
‘Now I suggest we both try to put the past behind us and concentrate on the future. It goes without saying that if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have a future. But before I thank you for saving my life I want to know why you didn’t run while the going was good instead of risking your own life.’
‘I couldn’t leave you. I don’t think I could have borne it if anything had happened to you.’
‘Did you really say you loved me, or did I just dream it?’
‘No, you didn’t dream it.’
‘Then tell me again.’
‘I love you,’ she said simply.
The look on his face wrung her heart and brought fresh tears to her eyes before he said, ‘I’d despaired of ever hearing you say those words.’
He began to kiss her, tender, passionate kisses sweeter than wine. Between kisses, he murmured, ‘You mean the world to me. I love you more than I believed it was possible to love anyone.’
Unbearably moved, she took a deep breath, and to stop herself crying teased plaintively, ‘Well, if you love me as much as you say, I do think you might seriously consider buying Gracedieu.’
‘I can see why you’re a successful estate agent,’ he told her drily.
‘If by any chance you did decide to buy it,’ she persisted, ‘What would you do with it?’
He pretended to give her question some thought before answering, ‘If I decided to buy it I imagine that the manor itself could be transformed into a top-class hotel, with a helicopter pad and every facility—something like Conroy Castle.’
‘What about the cottages?’
‘No doubt the cottages could be used as a kind of annex to make additional period accommodation; a lot of people prefer that kind of separate living. While I think that ideally the manor should be a family home, turning the whole thing into a business would at least serve to keep the estate together.
‘But we digress. To get back to what I was saying before you distracted me—knowing how much I love you, will you be my wife?’
When she didn’t immediately answer—she was too chocked to speak—he went on, ‘I won’t insult your intelligence by pleading that I can’t live without you. But I would much rather live with you. You make me happy, and if in the not too distant future we can start a family, then I couldn’t ask for more.
‘However,’ he went on carefully. ‘If we’re not destined to be that fortunate, then we’ll face it together and make other plans.’
Eager to put his mind at rest, she said quickly, ‘The doctor who checked me over after my fall assured me there was no permanent damage done. He added that I was young and healthy, and if I wanted I could go on to have a dozen children.’
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