Her last sight of him he was nimbly springing backwards as she slammed the door shut with enough force to have broken his nose but for his quick reflexes.
How dared he? How dared he say those things to her? She called him every name under the sun under her breath. And to think she had been going to sleep with him tonight; she must have been stark staring mad. She would never forgive him for this, never. If it wasn’t the middle of the night she’d be straight out of here to find the nearest railway station.
She stood, breathing hard, glaring at the door, halfexpecting he might knock or at least try to speak to her but there was no sound at all. He wasn’t going to apologise. As the realisation swept in she became even madder.
She swung round to survey the bedroom. Her overnight case was on a chair by the bed so he had obviously intended that she would sleep alone even when they had arrived at the house. Her cheeks began to burn but the anger was mixed with humiliation now. He must be having a good laugh at her expense.
She marched across to the en suite bathroom, opening the door and surveying the expanse of cream and gold which echoed the colour scheme in the bedroom. She was glad to see there was a nice big bath because if ever she needed a long soak rather than a shower it was now.
Thirty minutes and a refill of hot water later, Cory’s rage was beginning to be replaced by self-pity. Half an hour after that she began to ask herself if there was a grain—just a grain—of truth in Nick’s accusations. At three o’clock in the morning, after two hours in the bath and with her skin resembling the texture of a shrivelled pinky-white peach, she finally admitted to herself that he did have a point.
But she hated him. She rubbed herself vigorously with a towel before wrapping herself in an enormous bath sheet and padding through to the bedroom, her hair dripping wet. He needn’t have been so offensive, and as for saying he felt sorry for William!
He hadn’t actually said he felt sorry for William, a little voice in her head reminded her fairly.
As good as, she answered it militantly. Oh, yes, as good as. Well, that was fine, just fine. At least she knew where she stood now. He obviously thought she was off the wall and as weird as a cuckoo; if only he’d made that clear before he invited her down here it would have saved them both a lot of trouble. And she didn’t give a damn what he thought anyway.
The tears came about four o’clock, but after a good howl she fell fast asleep and slept through until a knock on the bedroom door woke her. She opened her eyes to a room filled with sunlight and lay for a second of absolute confusion as to where she was. Then she remembered. As another knock sounded she scrambled up in bed, glancing around frantically as though a hole would open up in front of her.
Calm, girl, calm. As her thudding heart threatened to jump into her throat, she forced herself to take a deep breath. He was a rat and she loathed him. That being the case, she would treat him with utter contempt this morning and be on her way out of his life as soon as she was up and dressed. She refused to reflect on what she must look like with no make-up, eyes swollen from the tears of the night before and her hair—which had dried itself—one giant tangle.
‘Come in,’ she called tightly, adjusting the duvet under her armpits with her arms lying across her lap and her hands clasped.
‘Good morning.’
He had the nerve to smile at her, she noticed, as he came into the room carrying a tray holding a cup of tea and a small plate of biscuits. She also noticed that he was wearing a black cotton robe and matching pyjama bottoms, and his hair was damp from the shower. He hadn’t shaved either. He was devastating. ‘Good morning,’ she answered grimly.
‘Sleep well?’
Swine. ‘Perfectly well, thank you.’
‘Breakfast will be another half an hour or so, but I thought you might like a cup of tea. I assume it is tea you drink in the mornings rather than coffee?’
She stared at him. She always had at least two cups of tea before she could