The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,228

Bobby was so dreamy over me, but we’ve known each other forever and I sometimes think he still sees me as that irritating little child who followed him around.’

‘Katherine, you have one of the happiest marriages I’ve ever known.’

‘I’m not sure he’ll be after me for my body once I’ve given birth. Honestly, Cecily, I feel like I’ve almost doubled in weight already! I’ll be the same size as one of his precious heifers by the time I’m due!’

After a very jolly lunch, they played some card games before Katherine said it was time to go home.

‘I’m utterly shattered, but it’s been the most wonderful day. Thank you so much. We’ll return the favour next year, promise,’ she said as she and Bobby hugged their hosts goodbye.

Bill had to hold his wife firmly by the shoulders as the pick-up disappeared off along the drive.

‘Wait for a few minutes, Cecily. You never know, Katherine might have forgotten something and come back for it.’

The moment ten minutes was up, Cecily was outside, calling Nygasi’s name.

‘Do you really have to fetch Stella straight back?’ Bill called after her. ‘I’d have liked to have you to myself for a while.’

But Cecily was already out of earshot.

Later that night, when Stella was tucked up in the nursery, seemingly no worse for wear after her day with Uncle Nygasi, Bill lit a fire not just because the evening had grown cool, but because it ‘felt more Christmassy’.

‘Tell me about your boyhood Christmases,’ Cecily said, curling up in the chair opposite him.

‘Oh, they were frightfully English. Stockings first thing in the morning, then walking through the snow to church . . . I’m sure there wasn’t snow every year, but that’s how I remember it. So different from here . . .’ He sighed and looked at her. ‘Cecily, I . . . I feel that perhaps we got off on the wrong foot from the start.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I believe that you presumed I was asking you to marry me merely to save your reputation and to provide me with a wife who would run the home I’ve never really had. In other words, it was a “deal” that suited us both.’

‘Yes, that is what you said, Bill. Did I get it wrong?’

‘Not entirely, no. I . . . well, I was certainly drawn to you the minute I met you. You fascinated me because you weren’t like the other women round here – you were real and didn’t worry about what clothes you wore or being seen at the right parties. You were obviously bright, and easy on the eye too,’ he smiled. ‘And then we married and the more I got to know you, I saw your quiet tenacity and the fact you never demanded anything from me, but simply accepted who I was. I became, well, more than fond of you. Obviously, I felt it was very inappropriate for us to embark on a . . . physical relationship while you were pregnant, but I want you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t want to.’ A faint blush rose up his neck. ‘And then, of course, the worst happened and I was not there for you when you needed me. Cecily, it was unforgivable of me to leave you alone here so close to the birth, especially without leaving word of where I was. And when I finally arrived at the hospital and found you sedated, your life hanging in the balance, I realised not only what a completely selfish arse I’d been, but also that I . . . that I loved you. Cecily, I sat by your bedside that day and I cried. And I hadn’t done that since Jenny, the girl who broke my heart, told me our engagement was off.’

Bill paused, his face lined with anguish. ‘By then, of course, it was too late: you were so sick and devastated and you believed I didn’t care a fig for you. And why should you have believed otherwise? I’d married you and then continued with the life I’d lived before you arrived. Then the war came, and although I didn’t want to leave you alone here, I had no choice. Besides, I understood that you didn’t want me near you. Even though – albeit in my own clumsy way – I did my best to show you I cared, you didn’t see it, did you?’

‘No, Bill, I didn’t think you loved me one bit.’

‘We were certainly at an