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didn’t ring me at the hotel in York—you didn’t wait to ask me what was going on? You just walked out on our marriage. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘What marriage?’ she fiercely counter-attacked, leaning forward over the kitchen table, trying to disguise the shaking of her body.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how hurt and jealous she was, for one thing, and for another her back was aching badly, a deep, persistent, nagging pain which was getting worse by the minute and making it hard to think. Backache had been a frequent part of being pregnant this last few months, but it had never been as bad as this before.

Bitterly, she asked Ross, ‘When was the last time you kissed me? Made love to me? Even held me? Is that what you call marriage?’

He exploded. ‘For God’s sake! You’re heavily pregnant, Dylan! I was trying to be thoughtful...’

‘Thoughtful?’ she threw back at him, laughing hoarsely. ‘You’re kidding! Is that what you call it? You think it’s thoughtful to treat me like a leper just because I’m pregnant?’

He was as angry now as she was, his voice harsh. ‘Ella warned me not to try to make love to you in thelast few months. She said you wouldn’t feel like it and it might harm the baby!’

Dylan sat very still, staring at him, mouth open incredulously. ‘Ella said what?’

At that second they both heard footsteps outside, boots crunching on the crystal surface of the snow. Looking round, they saw Ruth staring at them through the glass door, great white flakes of snow blowing behind her.

Dumbly Dylan thought, ‘It’s snowing again. That’s all I need.

Opening the door, Ruth asked sharply, ‘Who’s this, Dylan? What’s he doing here?’

Realising Ruth suspected Ross of being an intruder, Dylan stammered, ‘This is my—my husband, Ross. Ross, this is Ruth Nicholls.’

Ross offered Ruth his hand. ‘Hello, Ruth. Thank you for taking such good care of my wife—we’re very grateful for everything you’ve done for her.’

Ruth inspected him curiously, eyes still cool and speculative. ‘Hello. How did you find out she was here? Is the phone working again, Dylan?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Dylan found it hard to concentrate on anything. Her back hurt too much. And she kept thinking about what Ross had told her just before Ruth arrived. His sister had told him not to make love to her? Ella had had no business saying any such thing.

‘I started looking for her at first light,’ Ross said. ‘And after a few hours I met a postman who, amazingly, had noticed her car up there on the lane. It was an astonishing stroke of luck.’

Ruth laughed. ‘Country districts are like that—everyone notices everything. I’m afraid I couldn’t get the garage to come and look at her car. They’re run off their feet today. Dylan wasn’t the only one to have a crash,and the garage are dealing with their own customers first, but they promised to try to come tomorrow, if the roads are clear around here. At the moment, the back roads like this one are all no-go areas, I’m afraid.’

‘And I see it is snowing again. Is it heavy?’

‘I’m afraid so. It looks to me as if it is going to go on all day.’

‘Well, I think we should go at once, then,’ Ross said flatly. ‘Dylan’s sister lives about eight miles from here. Not far in normal weather, but in heavy snow it could take an hour or so.’

Dylan stood up shakily. ‘I’d better go and dress, then.’ Ruth had brought her case in from the flower wagon just after breakfast, so she now had fresh clothes to put on.

‘I’ll come with you to talk,’ Ross said ominously, and she shook her head hurriedly. She needed time to think before she was alone with him.

‘No, stay and talk to Ruth. I’m going to take a shower.’

She caught Ruth’s startled glance but didn’t let their eyes meet. Ruth knew she had already had a bath that morning.

Ross didn’t try to insist, to her relief. Shrugging, he said, ‘Okay, don’t be long. I want to get away before this snow makes the roads treacherous.’

As she began making her way upstairs she heard him say to Ruth, ‘I’ve got a four-wheel drive, it can cope with any weather or terrain, and her sister is waiting anxiously to see her. Thank you again for...’

Dylan slipped into the spare bedroom and closed the door with a sigh of mingled relief, pain and confusion.

Was Ross telling the truth? Had his sister really told him not to sleep with her? It explained so much that had been hurting her, puzzling her, all these weeks past. Whyon earth hadn’t Ross told her what Ella had said, though? If she had known, everything would have been so different.

She took a step towards the wardrobe where she had hung her clothes and doubled up with a grunt of agony as the pain in her back moved round to the front with a stabbing intensity unlike any pain she had ever felt in her life.

Groaning, she sank down on the bed, head down, trying to breathe the way she had been taught, fighting to regain control of her body in a struggle with the pain attempting to dominate it.

It subsided and she slackened in relief. Oooh, that was better. At least she could think again now.

How long had she had this back pain? Hours. Why on earth hadn’t she recognised it? She had read all about giving birth, she had been to antenatal clinic every month, she had talked to her midwife and doctor about what to expect . . . but she had totally missed one of the classic symptoms!

She had been so preoccupied with Ross, with her jealousy, her uncertainty, her hurt feelings, that she had not realised she was in labour.

She must have been in labour for a long time; the question was how much longer would it take? She was booked into a maternity hospital in the borders—much too far away. She

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