Free Sweet Sanctuary by Charlotte Lamb Page B

her. She felt as though there was a physical link between them, as though his blood pumped along her veins too, his breath filled her lungs.
    "You're at it again," he said, making her jump violently.
    "What?" She blinked at him.
    "Dreaming and grimacing… You must have the most horrific daydreams since King Kong!"
    She laughed, with an effort.
    He braked at the gates of Sanctuary, making her sit up in surprise. The lane was empty. There was no other vehicle in sight. The twilight had given a magic significance to every branch, every blade of grass. A pale, fading light irradiated the sky, in the east, and a thin moon swam in a web of transparent cloud. The birds were sleepily calling from their invisible nests. A cloud of midges hovered under one of the trees, rising and falling in a dark cluster.
    "Would you like to see the house I've bought for Aunt Elaine?" Nicholas sounded hopeful.
    "Well, perhaps it is a bit late…" she said doubtfully. She did not think she could bear much more of his company. She was terrified of betraying herself to him.
    "It wouldn't take long," he pleaded.
    She hesitated. Nicholas was out of the car in a second and opening her door. She still sat there, uncertain what to do. He bent and extricated her from her seat with a strong, deft arm. Before she could think of anything to say or do, she was walking across the road and in at the small gate of a little cottage.
    The garden was overgrown, but she could see, even by the dim dying light, that there were hosts of spring flowers hidden among the weeds and brown brambles. Daffodils, tulips and hyacinths raised strangled heads in the gloom. A lilac tree leaned against the small white fence. Rose bushes reared up here and there, their thorny fingers scraping against the cottage walls as the wind blew.
    Nicholas unlocked the front door and ushered her inside. He switched on the light in the hall. It was tiny, the wallpaper a gay splodge of many flowers, giving it the appearance of a mad garden.
    The stairs led up on the right. On the left were two doors. Nicholas opened the nearest and waved her onward.
    "The parlour—very cosy when it's furnished, as I remember. It was two small rooms. The last owners knocked it into one room, and I prefer it now. What do you think?"
    Kate looked around her. The room was an odd shape, something like the letter T. But it had a certain attraction, especially as the windows had been enlarged to admit as much light as possible.
    "It is a pretty room," she admitted.
    "The kitchen is very modern," said Nick. He showed her into a small, narrow room, fitted with many modern cupboards and some excellent equipment.
    "Well?" he demanded.
    Kate shrugged. "She'll hate it," she said.
    He groaned. "Do you think I don't know that?" He glared around the tiny room. "After the kitchen at Sanctuary! How could she be happy in this box, for all its wonderful gadgets? She hates food anyway. She rarely cooks. The kitchen for her is somewhere to live, not somewhere to cook."
    "Then why did you buy it?"
    "What else could I do? I've got to do something. This situation can't go on. Sylvia and Aunt Elaine are tearing me in two. I shall go out of my mind if something doesn't resolve the situation."
    Kate took the poison point of a spear of pain and drove it into her heart. In a quiet, drained voice she said, "Why not just go ahead and marry Sylvia and let things sort themselves out afterwards?"
    He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing in astonishment. "What?"
    She repeated her suggestion. "Once you're married, once it's a
fait accompli
, your aunt will have to come to terms with it. While you hesitate, she can hope that you'll change your mind. Once that hope has vanished she'll face facts."
    He was oddly silent. Then he said slowly, "You're right, of course. That's what I must do."
    She was surprised that he showed no pleasure in this way out.
    He stood, staring down at her, his face thoughtful. "You're a perceptive little thing, Kate. Quiet,