Free Innocent on Her Wedding Night by Sara Craven Page A

stove and surfaces to their earlier pristine gleam.
    Making certain she’d leave no trace of her presence for him to complain about there either, she told herself with cold resolve.
    It was a long evening. Laine tried watching television, but she soon realised she’d grown completely out of touch with current programming, and found herself flicking restlessly from channel to channel, searching for something that might grip her interest.
    In the end she gave up in exasperation, and decided to read instead. There were some books on the alcove shelves that were new to her—most of them thrillers that she guessed had been acquired by Jamie, and each of them triumphantly claiming to be ‘the new number-one bestseller’.
    They can’t all be that, surely? she thought, pulling a face as she picked the least overtly lurid. But the story failed to engage her particularly, and the identity of the villain seemed all too obvious even by chapter three, so, sighing, she abandoned that as well.
    One of the things she’d managed to rescue from the boat was her address book, and she sat slowly turning over the pages, trying to summon up the courage to ring someone—anyone. Fiona from the gallery, perhaps? Or Celia Welton, her best friend from school, who’d been her bridesmaid at that ill-fated wedding.
    At the same time she knew full well that she wouldn’t be doing so—or not yet, anyway. Because she wasn’t ready to face the inevitable questions—especially when it emerged that she and Daniel were back sharing a roof.
    She’d been let off the hook when their marriage had ended with such startling suddenness, because people had recognised that she was in desperate pain, and suppressed their natural curiosity and concern, standing back to allow her to recover. Celia, in particular, bewildered but loyal and kind, had helped picked up the pieces.
    But this new development would require answers that simply weren’t possible immediately.
    Because she was still in shock. She needed time to think things through. To come up with some feasible explanation for everything that had happened to her. And make it clear that sharing a flat with Daniel was not the basis for some kind of reconciliation—and never would be.
    She swallowed. Which meant, in turn, that at some point she might be asked about what had happened two years earlier. Why her marriage hadn’t survived the honeymoon, or even the wedding night, given the bleak significance of that swift annulment. Because after this length of time, tact would not be a primary consideration any longer.
    And if they did ask, what the hell could she say? she wondered wearily.
    Certainly not the truth.
    And if she tried saying that she’d realised she didn’t love him no one would believe her for a moment. She’d worn her heart on her sleeve too openly and for too long for that.
    She didn’t even know when it had begun. When Daniel had stopped being just Simon’s friend, and the surrogate brother he’d alluded to so acidly, and occupied a very different role in her hopes and dreams.
    But she could remember very clearly her first half-term at Randalls, when everyone else had gone home for the weekend, being told kindly by the matron that a visitor was coming to take her out to tea.
    Simon, she’d thought joyfully. It had to be Simon. But she’d been wrong, because it had been Daniel who had waited in the front hall as she came down the stairs, her heart thundering in nervous excitement.
    ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘I went down to Abbotsbrook to see you, and you weren’t there.’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t convenient this time. Mummy had other people coming to stay.’
    He nodded. ‘So I gathered. Therefore, I decided to pay you a visit here instead.’
    ‘But you shouldn’t have,’ she whispered, looking anxiously around. ‘It’s against the rules. We’re only allowed out with immediate family. Mrs Hallam is terribly strict about that. Is Simon with