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She shook her head. 'It's my problem. I'll deal with it. I'll think of something.'

There was another silence, then he said carefully, 'By "something", I hope

you don't mean an abortion.'

Her mind winced away in shock from the ugliness of the word. No,

something screamed in her mind.
Not that—never that...

She didn't meet his gaze. 'I suppose—it's a possibility.'

She wanted him to go—to leave her to think. Her mind refused to work

properly while he was standing over her, like judge and accuser in one.

'You seem to have everything all worked out,' Eliot observed at last. 'If that's

what you're considering, I can see why you weren't too concerned about the

morning sickness.'

Natalie was feeling sick again, but the cause wasn't physical. He

thought—he really thought she was capable of contemplating such a thing.

'I can explain the sickness away as food poisoning or a virus,' she said

quietly. 'And you don't have to be concerned either. That—incident is still

closed, finished and forgotten. Nothing changes that.'

'All neat and tidy,' Eliot remarked shortly. He got to his feet. 'But I hope at

least you'll let me help with any necessary arrangements. It's the least I can

do in the circumstances.'

'There's really no need.' Natalie turned on to her side, away from him, as if

settling herself for sleep. 'I'm just sorry you had to find out.'

When she heard the bedroom door close behind him, the breath was expelled

from her taut body in an enormous sigh of relief.

He'd looked very odd, strained and pale, she thought, punching at her pillow

to make it more comfortable. Was this actually the first time one of his

sexual encounters had ended in an unwanted pregnancy? Surely not.

She closed her eyes wearily. Certainly he'd spoken about the possibility of

her—getting rid of the baby very calmly.

She laid a hand gently, protectively over her abdomen. Because it was a

baby—a small human being, and not merely proof, if proof were needed, of

how ruinous a night's casual sex could be.

Ever since she'd missed her first, regular period, she'd tried to tell herself it

couldn't be true. That her sensible, well-ordered life couldn't have plunged

into chaos because of one bitterly regretted night. But nature wasn't

interested in the whys and wherefores of lovemaking, she thought, or in

subsequent regrets, however sincere—only in the continuation of the

species.

She sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. It was no good lying here,

imagining she was going to get some sleep. She was far too on edge to rest.

She might as well get dressed, she thought, and go down to the office. Apart

from anything else, she needed to make an appointment with the doctor, to

check on her general health.

She glanced down at the coverlet, and stiffened. The letter—her

letter—about the pregnancy test wasn't there. Yet she'd seen Eliot put it

down on the bed. She moved the covers, hunting for it, and looked on the

floor, but there was no sign of it.

Perhaps he'd taken it with him inadvertently, she thought, and bit her lip.

Eliot rarely did things inadvertently.She threw back the covers and got out

of bed, dressing hastily in jeans and a high-necked sweater. She had

difficulty- with the zip on her jeans and looked down at herself with disquiet.

Already, it seemed, her body was changing, adapting to its new occupant.

She ran downstairs into the hall, just as the drawing- room door opened and

Beattie emerged, laughing. She saw Natalie and her smile widened. 'You're

up,' she said with pleasure. She called back into the room, 'Grantham, she's

here!' She put her arm round Natalie's unresisting waist and drew her into the

room. 'Darling, we're so happy for you. So delighted for you both.'

Natalie gave her a confused look. 'I don't understand,' she began, and

stopped dead as she saw Eliot, lounging on the windowseat.

Her father got up from his chair. 'So, what's this I'm hearing about you, my

lass? Going to make me a grandfather at last, are you?' He put his arms

round her and hugged her. He said fondly, 'I suppose I should be angry with

you both—come the heavy father. But you're not the first couple to enjoy

your honeymoon before the wedding, and you won't be the last, I dare say.

Now, sit down, girl, sit down.'

She was thankful to feel the edge of the sofa beneath her before she

collapsed.

She said, 'Will someone tell me what's been going on?'

Beattie said gaily, 'I suppose it was awful of us to start talking wedding plans

without you, darling, but we're all so excited, we couldn't help ourselves.'

'Excited?' Natalie's voice sounded hollow. She looked up, met Eliot's

enigmatic look across the room. She said, on a little sigh, 'You—told them?'

'Well, of course he told us,' Grantham broke in impatiently. 'It was the

honourable thing to do, after all.

And I agree with him that you should get married ?.- soon as possible—a

special licence job, if you have to. There are still people round here who

count on their fingers between the wedding and the christening.'

Beattie said eagerly, 'I can easily manage the reception here. Eliot said you

both wanted a very quiet affair, with just family.'

'Did he?' Perhaps she'd fallen asleep after all, and was having a nightmare,

she thought numbly. She couldn't really be sitting here, listening to her

marriage to Eliot Lang being discussed as if it was a
fait accompli.

He'd been too quiet, too calm during their conversation in the bedroom, she

realised now. He must have come straight downstairs and told them about

the baby. He knew—everyone knew—how Grantham felt, how he wanted a

grandson to carry on his heritage at the stables. And Eliot had traded on that

ruthlessly. Because now that Grantham knew about the baby any hope of

vanishing for the next year, and having the baby adopted at the end of it, was

out of the question.

She was in a trap, she thought feverishly, and the walls were closing in on

her.

Beattie said sharply, 'Natalie, are you sure you should have got up so soon?

You've gone very white again.'

Eliot rose to his feet. He said, 'She's been under a lot of stress. I'll take her

back to her room.'

As he came towards her, Natalie put up a hand to ward him off, tried to

speak, but no sound came. Eliot lifted her bodily off the sofa into his arms

and carried her to the door.

Grantham said, 'Mind how you go, lad. She's doubly precious to me now.'

'And to me,' said Eliot.

As he carried her upstairs, she said thickly, 'You— bastard. You devious,

conniving bastard!'

'Actually, 1 was born in wedlock,' he said flatly. 'And I intend my child shall

be too. That's what this is all about.' He shouldered his way into her bedroom

and dropped her on to the bed almost negligently, his face grim as he looked

at her.

He said, 'Now, you're going to listen to me, you self-centered little bitch.

That's my child you have inside you, not some insignificant piece of garbage

you can have— scraped out of you, and forget about. You're not thinking

clearly, Natalie. You're panicking, running for cover, and you don't care who

you hurt in the process. Well, there are other people involved in any decision

about this baby—and even if you reject the notion that I might have some

say in the matter as the baby's father, you can't be cruel enough to ignore

Grantham's feelings, Grantham's hopes. Or could you?'

She wanted to scream at him, to deny totally and finally the idea that she

could ever have had the pregnancy terminated. Instead, she said in a stifled

voice, 'But it doesn't have to be—marriage. I could go away

somewhere—even keep the baby afterwards...'

'With me supplying maintenance and allowed the occasional visit, I

suppose.' Eliot was very white under his tan. He paused. 'Is it marriage in

general you're opposed to—or marriage to me in particular?'

She bit her lip. 'Marriage—in general.'

He said, 'Is Drummond's memory still so potent with you, then? I hadn't

thought..." He was silent for a few moments. Then he said, rather more

curtly, 'As it happens, this isn't the way I'd have chosen to embark on

married life either, but the choice is out of our hands. The baby exists, and I

don't think, moral grounds aside, that you're emotionally or rationally

equipped to cope with an abortion. It isn't an ideal world, Natalie. People are

having to compromise all the time, and we probably are no worse off than

thousands of other couples. In fact, we have an advantage, because I really

want to care for you, , and the child. Can't you settle for that?'

She said wearily, 'As you say, the choice is out of our hands now. Make what

arrangements seem best.'

Her chest and throat felt tight, and tears were stinging unexpectedly behind

her eyes. She was afraid of breaking down in front of him, afraid of the

comfort he might feel obliged to offer.

Huskily, she said, 'Will you go now, please. After all, you've got what you

wanted.'

'Have I?' he said. 'How interesting that you should think so.'

Eyes closed, Natalie sensed his movement away from her, heard the

bedroom door close, and pressed her clenched fist convulsively against her

trembling lips to force back the wrenching sob rising inside her.

Compromise, she thought. Her entire life seemed to have been based on it so

far, and this time would be the bitterest of all.

They were married just under a fortnight later. Natalie had expected a brief

ceremony in front of the registrar, but Eliot had insisted on the local church.

His parents would expect it, he told her flatly. .

Natalie had looked back at him, almost dazedly. She'd been too taken up

with her own problems, her own heart- searchings, to consider that she was

being drawn into a new and extended family. His smile was twisted. 'It's all

right, they won't eat you! My mother's dream has been to have me out of

racing and settled with a family.'

'Do they know about the baby?'

'Yes. They asked, and I saw no point in lying. And they realised years ago

that I was never gojng to live my life in the orderly, respectable sequence

they wanted, so they weren't that shocked.' He smiled faintly. 'Like

Grantham, they feel that a grandchild in prospect outweighs all other

considerations.' He paused. 'However, I did give them the impression that

we'd fallen-madly in love, and been totally carried away by our feelings.' He

saw her wince, and nodded grimly. 'So, if you could manage to dump your

usual expression of having a shotgun held against your head, I'd be grateful.'

Natalie looked down at her folded hands. 'I'll do my best.'

And she did. She kept a radiant smile so firmly anchored to her face that her

muscles ached with the effort. And no one could fault her appearance either,

she told herself. The cream silk suit she'd found in a Harrogate boutique

looked exactly right, even if Beattie had lifted a disapproving eyebrow at the

jade silk blouse worn beneath it, and the matching trim on Natalie's wide-

brimmed cream hat.

'Green's supposed to be unlucky at weddings.'

Natalie shrugged. 'I'm not superstitious.'

As the racing season was in full swung, and the stables committed up to the

hilt, she had presumed that after the wedding life would go on as usual. But

she discovered that Eliot had booked them in for a couple of days at an

old-fashioned country hotel, sheltering beneath a fell in the Lake District.

It wasn't a honeymoon, she told herself firmly. More— a breathing space

before she had to move back into the flat. Because that was where they'd be

living, as Eliot had made clear.

'There are no ghosts.' The hazel eyes had met hers, directly, almost

challengingly.

'No,' she admitted quietly. Only, she thought, the ghost of an unhappy girl

watching her dreams fall into fragments around her. Only the haunting

memory of her failure as a woman and a wife.

And those she carried within her.

The send-off from the reception was a muted affair compared to the last

occasion, Natalie thought. When she'd left with Tony, there'd been old shoes

and tin cans clanking from the back of the car hired to take them to the

airport, and the driver had grumbled that they'd be late as he struggled to

remove them. It had been a breakneck drive, too, with Tony still pallid from

his stag night. At the time, she had felt an odd hurt that he'd seemed to need

to get so very drunk in order to face marrying her. He'd been ill on the flight

to Malaga too, and on their arrival at the hotel in Marbella he had insisted, in

spite of Natalie's fatigue and hunger, that they go straight to bed.