But she couldn’t yet allow her husband’s name to enter her mind, nor her children’s. She couldn’t bring their vicarious presence into this room, or this bed, where she had experienced all the sweet seduction a man could give a woman. And where she had responded to all the love she had craved for all these months since first setting eyes on him.
Her mouth was dry, her eyes frightened, knowing at last the all-consuming power of love. And knowing too, that it couldn’t be for ever, no matter how strong their desire for one another.
‘The dream can continue a little longer, my love,’ Nick said softly. ‘It’s still early, and we have a couple of hours yet before we have to put on our proper faces again.’
Our proper faces… and what were they? The lawyer, and the part-owner of a pottery and clayworks. The so-respectable couple, whom no one, not even a husband, would suspect of having a clandestine affair…
Deliberately, knowing exactly what she was doing, Skye shut them all out. There was only here and now, and these last few hours of belonging that had to last a lifetime.
‘I love you,’ she said with a catch in her voice, for she had only said those words to one man before him. ‘You know that, don’t you? I will never be able to say it again after today, so I want you to be sure of it, and to always know it.’
‘I do know it. Just as you’ve always known of my love for you. Haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
He folded her into him and she felt him hardening against her, and the blood flowed faster in her veins with an urgent need to be a part of him just once more. It was easy then, to simply stop thinking of anything beyond the pleasure his seeking hands and his mouth and his body were giving her.
* * *
It was as strange and nerve-racking a journey back to Cornwall as it had been in the opposite direction, but for very different reasons. With every mile the train covered, Skye knew that something precious and wonderful was ending. And thankfully for her peace of mind, Nick knew it too. She had been fearful for a while that this would turn into some hole-and-corner affair, and she didn’t want that. Couldn’t bear that. And, it seemed, neither could he. There was no question of their continuing what had so magically begun. It was not a rejection, simply an acceptance of what had to be.
He only spoke of it once, when their carriage was empty but for themselves, and they were nearing their destination.
‘I won’t try to contact you unless our business affairs demand it, Skye. But if you ever need me, you only have to call and I’ll be there.’
‘Yes. It’s best,’ she murmured, and even if her heart was breaking, she was deeply aware of the heritage of the Tremayne women. They loved passionately, but they never let their family down. They were strong when they had to be, and if ever Skye needed that inner strength, she needed it now.
Before the train drew into the station, Nick raised her hand to his lips as he had done so many times before. But now he turned her hand over to kiss the inside of her palm and symbolically closed the kiss inside. It was a sweetly intimate gesture, and her eyes filled with tears, her throat thick.
‘So this is goodbye, my love,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll be obliged to see one another from time to time, but this is our real goodbye.’
‘I know.’ She wanted to say so much more, but the train was already scorching and grinding to a halt, and it was time to take down their luggage from the rack and return to their ordinary, everyday lives. It was suddenly an appalling prospect.
But even as she thought it, she glimpsed two small, excited faces through the train window, and her heart jolted.
Philip had brought Celia and Wenna to meet her, and her world was being turned the right way up once more. The girls looked so vital and alive, so excited to see her again… and Philip looked so stooped, so professorial, so old, compared with her virile young lover…
Swallowing hard, she turned to say something inane to Nick, but he was already holding out his hand to help her down, his eyes steady and understanding. Letting her go…
Within seconds, her children were rushing into her arms, and she was holding them and hugging them, and exclaiming how big they had grown, even in three days… and knowing that she had to forget that those three precious days had been as meaningful as an entire lifetime.
‘It’s good to have you back, my dear,’ Philip said formally, never one to show emotion or to embrace on public railway stations. ‘Did your mission go well?’
For a second she couldn’t think what he meant, and then his words shocked her into remembering. How could she have forgotten, even for an instant, the reason for going to Bristol! If anything was calculated to fill her with guilt, that fact hit her very hard at that moment.
‘Yes, it did,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll fill in all the details when we get home, Philip, but I can tell you I was pleased with all that I saw at The Laurels. It had everything Uncle Albie will need for his comfort.’
‘Good. Then we can leave the formalities to you and Dr Rainley now, I presume, Pengelly?’ he said, bringing Nick into the conversation as an afterthought, and ready to dismiss the so-called mission from his mind once he was assured that he need not be involved in it.
‘Of course. Though if you and Mrs Norwood wish to escort Mr Tremayne there when the time comes, I’m sure that could be arranged with the hospital,’ Nick replied coolly.
‘Oh, I think not,’ Skye cut in at once. ‘I’ve done the preliminary investigations, and I think it’s up to someone else in the family to do anything more.’
If Philip thought she was showing some indignation for her family’s unconcern at last, she was sure he wouldn’t argue with that. But how could she bear to go to Bristol for a second time, especially with Philip, retracing her steps and letting her imagination take her into that hedonistic world of pleasure that belonged to her and Nick, and no one else…
As the imagery of herself and her lover together swept into her mind, she avoided both men’s eyes, thinking herself a shameless woman to be having such thoughts. But Nick would understand her reasons for not wanting to go back to Bristol.
‘Well, it’s a damn good thing you’re back,’ Philip said, after they had parted company from the lawyer. ‘There’s been such a furore at the clayworks, and your hot-headed cousin’s upset every apple cart as usual. He doesn’t have your tact.’
Skye wasn’t aware that her forthright manner had ever involved much tact, but compared with Theo, she supposed anyone’s would.
‘What’s happened now?’ she asked sharply. ‘I dare say it’s to do with the young German workers?’
Philip glanced back at his daughters, who were silent and clinging onto every word now. His voice was short.
‘You’ve a knack of sensing things, my dear, that I don’t, nor ever professed to have. It’s all down to your Cornish blood, I suppose. Or so they say.’
‘Please tell me what’s happened, Philip,’ she said again, annoyed at his patronising tone. But for once, she thanked God that he didn’t have any kind of intuition, or he would surely sense her misery and loss at parting from Nick.
‘Not yet. When we get home will be soon enough,’ he said, with insufferable patience. ‘We don’t want little ears picking up gossip and passing it all around the county.’
‘Considering the children rarely leave the house and grounds except in our company, they would hardly do that. But first, tell me how Oliver is. Is he quite well?’ she uttered in exasperation, knowing she would get no more out of him yet. She hated his habit of dangling a hint in front of her, and then refusing to tell her more until he was ready. She was also alarmed and distressed that they were already bickering, when they hadn’t even reached home yet. Where had all the tenderness between them gone? she wondered again.
‘Oliver’s perfectly well. My dear girl, you’ve only been away for three days, not an eternity.’
Skye stared stonily ahead, her mind in a turmoil, and refused to let her thoughts dwell on the irony
of his words. It would be fatal to let everything he said twist a knife in her heart. She was glad when it became impossible for the little girls to keep quiet any longer, and they began clamouring to know all about Bristol. She forced herself to be informative.
‘Well, it has a wonderful river flowing into the heart of it from the sea, and a high bridge spanning it. Lots of ships bring their goods for sale from faraway countries. There are splendid houses and hotels, and – and little markets where people can buy all kinds of things,’ she went on hurriedly as she felt her throat tighten.
‘Did you buy us anything, Mommy? Did you?’ Wenna squealed, and she laughed.
‘Of course I did, honey, and you’ll see what as soon as we get home and I unpack my things.’
Giving them their gifts and assuring herself that Oliver truly wasn’t sickening for anything was her first priority. Then she joined Philip in the drawing-room and demanded to know what had been happening that had caused Theo to upset the clayworkers again.
‘You were right,’ Philip said curtly. ‘It’s all to do with the German workers. Your cousin was a damn fool if he thought it was all going to go smoothly. But we all know he’s got no more sense than a baboon, don’t we?’
‘Will you please tell me?’ Skye said, ignoring his sneer.
‘It’s the usual story. It seems one of the German boys took a shine to the daughter of one of your clayworkers and has been seeing her on the quiet. Couldn’t keep his hands off her, by all accounts.’
‘You mean he was courting her, I suppose?’
She tried to dignify his words, while her stomach churned uneasily at the implications. She knew the clayworkers. They wouldn’t tolerate one of their own being violated, especially by those they still considered the enemy. It would be like setting a match to a tinderbox. But how long could this go on? she wondered despairingly.
Philip gave a coarse laugh. ‘I’d hardly call it courting. Most likely the wench threw herself at him. Common country girls always set their caps at any chap who’s a bit different from the ordinary. And no lusty young fellow is going to refuse what’s offered to him so willingly.’
Skye was furious at his assumptions. His pompous, college lecturer’s assumptions that took no account of two people falling in love, no matter how different their backgrounds or how impossible the match.
Like Morwen Tremayne and Ben Killigrew – the clayworker’s daughter and the heir to Killigrew Clay… Like her own mother, Primmy, and her adored cousin Cresswell… like herself, a married woman, and her family lawyer…
‘Sometimes, Philip, you can be so short-sighted,’ she snapped, her nerves as taut as violin strings.
He looked at her, clearly affronted. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you this evening to be acting so vinegary. I fancy the trip to the big city has addled your brains if you can’t see that we have a serious situation on our hands.’
‘Oh, we do, do we? And since when was it any of your business what goes on at Killigrew Clay?’
The moment she had said the words, she clapped her hands to her mouth in horror. No matter what went on outside, she had always thought of New World as a haven of calmness and peace. But she hadn’t been back in the house an hour yet, and already they were spitting angry words at one another, and she was doing the very thing she had always vowed never to do: remind him that this was her house, and that Killigrew Clay was her business.
‘You bitch!’
He was ugly and purple-faced now, the veins standing out like ropes on his forehead. ‘So we have the truth at last, do we? You’ve always resented every word I’ve ever said about your bloody clayworks, however much you tried to hide it, but now it’s out. And from now on, you can stew in your own juice as far as I’m concerned. Your cousin’s coming here tonight, and you can deal with him on your own.’
‘Where are you going? Philip, please don’t do anything reckless,’ she almost screamed at him as he stormed towards the door.
‘Why should you care?’ He shouted back. ‘You obviously don’t want me here, so I shall go somewhere more congenial. And you can rest assured that I won’t be disturbing you in your bed tonight, or any other night.’
Skye shuddered at his words. After Nick, the last thing she wanted was to share a bed with her husband, but she knew her wifely duty, and she would have done anything to preserve the harmony of their marriage. Or rather, to regain it, since it was more often disharmony than anything else. But she hadn’t wanted any of this to happen, and moments later she was aghast as she heard his car engine roar into life as he drove crazily away from New World. He missed Theo Tremayne’s car by inches, and never even noticed.
‘Your madman of a husband nearly ran me down,’ Theo yelled, the moment he entered the room, slamming the door behind him. ‘What the hell have you been saying to him?’
‘Nothing. He’s in one of his black moods as usual, and it’s none of your business anyway,’ she shouted back, wondering if the whole world had gone berserk. The raised voices must have been heard all over the house, and she prayed that the servants had gone to their quarters for supper by now.
‘It would have been somebody’s goddamned business if he’d killed me,’ Theo roared. ‘But since he didn’t, let’s get on with what I came for. You’ve heard the news, I suppose?’
‘Philip said something about a German boy and a clayer’s daughter,’ she said delicately, annoying him even more.
‘Oh ah, and I dare say he dressed it up wi’ fancy college talk,’ Theo sneered. ‘To put it bluntly, cuz, that bloody young fool Gunter couldn’t keep his breeding tackle inside his trousers where it belonged!’
Skye gasped, and not just at Theo’s coarseness. ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken. He wouldn’t be so stupid, and none of the moors girls would go that far.’
‘Oh no? They were seen, my sweet innocent, cavorting on the moors late at night, the wench half dressed, and he with his weapon stuck up her, forging away like a piston engine—’
‘Theo! For God’s sake, keep your voice down,’ she said, outraged by his graphic description.
‘’Tis too late for covering up, cuz. The whole area knows of it. The boy’s had one beating already, but the uppity wench is saying she ain’t going to part from him, so the clayers are baying for more blood if he don’t leave her alone.’
‘Then we must send the group home at once.’
‘What? And lose some of the best workers we’ve seen for months, and all on account of some little tart who’s willing to drop her knickers for a few coppers?’
Skye slapped him hard across the face, and ignored his hollering and his earthy language in reply. He pulled her towards him, shaking her hard, but she wrenched away from him, her teeth chattering with rage and shock.
‘You disgust me! You’re not worthy of our family name. You’d risk having a strike, or even worse, just for the sake of a bit more clay?’
And so would his father, Walter. So would Ben Killigrew, and Morwen’s brothers, and all the rest of them with clay in their souls, instead of flesh and blood…
‘For the sake of your precious pots as well, my fine noble cuz! Just remember that your flourishing White Rivers may not be doing so well wi’out these packers. We’re almost there with the Christmas orders, and I ain’t jeopardising things at this late stage to pander to no snivelling clayworker’s daughter. Are you willing for that – cuz?’
Skye stood quite still, breathing heavily, hands clenched by her sides, her breasts heaving and her eyes sparkling with explosive fury. This – this – oaf knew exactly how dear the pottery was to her heart.
No matter what the joint names on the deeds said, the pottery was hers, she thought passionately, and in that instant, she knew exactly how the Tremaynes had always felt about the clay. It was a primeval, possessive feeling that was inexplicable to any outsider.
She heard Theo give a savage oath, and the next second she felt his arms go around her. His hand was behind her head and she couldn’t move away as he pr
essed a violent kiss on her mouth. It was hard and insulting, his tongue pushing through her unsuspecting lips and digging against her inner softness in a simulated act of sex. She almost vomited as she thrust him away from her, scraping furiously at her mouth until she removed the tender skin and tasted blood.
‘What do you think you’re doing, you bastard?’ she screamed, wondering if she was about to be raped by her own cousin in her own house. He was bullishly strong. There was no one to protect her and she was suddenly very afraid.
Then she heard him give a harsh laugh; he turned away from her and insolently poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the side table. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, and she sat down quickly on the edge of a chair, rather than have the indignity of collapsing in front of him.
‘You needn’t worry, my plum, I’ve no intention of ravishing you, however delightful a prospect that might be to some. I just wanted to show ’ee how easy it is for a young woman to be aroused and ready for a coupling. And your own sweet buds prove that even an uninvited kiss can do the trick.’
Skye didn’t need to glance down to be aware of how her nipples had hardened during his assault. But it was through shock and anger, not lust. She would never lust after her cousin.
‘So, cuz. We must think seriously how best to deal with this situation,’ Theo went on, as calmly as if he was able to simply put aside the fact that he had just crudely insulted her, or that her lips were swollen and bruised from his attack and her need to be rid of his touch and taste.
But then, lust was second nature to him, if his dalliances were to be believed. It meant nothing beyond the moment, and she realised for the first time that if Betsy knew or suspected his weakness, his wife had nothing to fear from his mistresses. He always went home to her and his sons.
Skye tried to think sensibly, and answered in the same icy manner. ‘So what do you suggest we do about it that’s any better than sending the whole group back to where they came from?’ It was really the last thing Skye wanted to do, as Anglo-German relations could be so well cemented by this visit and had proved amicable enough until this present situation. But human nature between a boy and a girl was something no one could deny or avoid.
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