“Maybe,” Jenna said, thanking her stars that she’d never felt it necessary to tell Katie she’d been in love with Dean, “I didn’t know it myself. I was so accustomed to thinking of Marcus as a surrogate big brother.”
Katie nodded wisely. “I guess that’s why. And he was waiting for you to grow up.”
“That’s what he said,” Jenna admitted dryly. “Several times.” Sometimes she wondered if even now he regarded her as truly grown-up.
It was true that Marcus seldom showed his feelings openly. She was pretty sure that if she asked him point-blank who the woman was, he would deny there had ever been any such person. It was all in the past anyway, and although she was his wife, it didn’t seem she had any right to probe into his previous love life.
She couldn’t help noticing that he seemed to be preoccupied these days. Sometimes she found him staring at her frowningly, seeming deep in thought, but if she queried him he’d say, “Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”
Maybe, Jenna deduced, he was as worried about Dean as she and Katie, although he seldom mentioned the subject. One Sunday she came upon him standing idly at the sitting room window, hands in his pockets and his shoulders uncharacteristically hunched.
“Marcus?” She crossed the room and hooked her hand into his arm. “Are you thinking about Dean?”
In profile his face looked hard and shuttered. It was a moment before he turned to her, pulling free. His eyes seemed oddly unseeing. “You could say so. Although you and Katie do enough of that for all of us.”
“You’re in a bad mood,” she said. “Do you have business worries?” He never talked much about his business, but lately he’d spent a lot more time at the office than previously.
“Business is booming,” he answered. Catching her hand in his, he looked down at it, then bent his head and dropped a kiss on the back. “I’m just a moody critter.” He gave her a slightly twisted smile. But his eyes didn’t match it.
“No, you’re not,” Jenna argued, then hesitated. “You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
He didn’t answer at once. “That would depend on what it was. If there was nothing you could do about it, then very likely not.”
“But we’re married!” Didn’t that mean they should share their troubles? Support each other in adversity?
“Yes,” he agreed in a strange tone. “We’re married. We’ve burned our boats, haven’t we?”
“For better or worse,” she agreed. His phrasing had seemed a little odd, though. She studied him seriously. “I really did mean that, Marcus.” And she knew he had. Marcus would never go back on his solemn vows. “You’re not sorry, are you?” she asked anxiously. He had seemed so sure, overriding her misgivings.
“How could I be sorry? Are you?”
Jenna vehemently shook her head. “Of course not. You’re a wonderful husband.” She reached up to give him a light kiss, but as her lips touched his he hauled her closer into his arms and kissed her properly, leaving her breathless.
When their mouths parted, he said, “Let’s go to bed.”
After the barest hesitation Jenna said, “I can’t. I’m sorry, I promised Katie. We’re going over to Dean’s this afternoon. I came to ask if I could have the car. You did say you had paperwork to do.”
“So I did.” He swung both her hands in his. “I could do it tonight.” His brows rose interrogatively.
Regretfully Jenna shook her head. “If I don’t go, Katie will have to get a bus, and you know how they are on Sundays.”
“Damn my family!” he said quite forcefully. “I think you spend more time with them than you do with me.”
Not true, and it wasn’t like him to exaggerate. “I owe them a lot.”
“You don’t owe any of us anything!” Marcus told her. “Except possibly my mother.”
“Well…anyway, I promised,” Jenna reiterated.
He looked at her rather keenly. “You never go back on a promise, do you, Jenna?”
“Not if I can help it. Neither do you.”
He still held her hands. She felt his grip tighten slightly. “You didn’t marry me because you felt you owed the family, did you?”
Astonished, Jenna said, “No!” Clumsily, because his probing eyes made her feel self-conscious, she added, “I married you because you asked me and…and I wanted to. And you were right—I…I do love you, Marcus.”
He dropped her hands and cupped her face with his. “Thank you.” His lips brushed against hers and lingered for a moment. “I’m counting on that.”
When she came home later, he was deep in papers and using his laptop computer. He looked up rather remotely when she stopped to say hello, then his eyes focused on her and he said, “You look tired. What have you been doing?”
“Cleaning,” she said. “It’s amazing how quickly a place can get quite filthy. Katie told Dean he’s living in a pigsty. It was only a slight exaggeration.”
Marcus frowned. “Why doesn’t he do his own cleaning?”
“I think he’s too depressed to see the point of it. He did help once we got going.”
“You two spoil him.”
“He’s going through a bad time.”
“We all go through bad times. He’ll work it out if he’s left alone.”
“That might be your way of coping,” she pointed out, “but it isn’t Dean’s.”
“Maybe,” Marcus conceded. “You think I’m a heartless sod, don’t you?”
“I know you’re not. But you’re stronger than Dean. I don’t think you understand him the way…”
“The way you do?” Marcus supplied. Then he gave a short, harsh laugh. “You don’t seem to have understood him as well as you thought, in the past.”
Jenna flushed painfully, disconcerted at the oblique reference. It wasn’t like Marcus to be callous. “I was going to say,” she continued with dignity, “the way Katie does.”
“Really?” He was regarding her with something akin to disbelief. “And does Katie think he needs you as well as her to hold his hand?”
“Well, you seem to have been too busy to do it!” Jenna flashed, not that she could imagine Marcus holding his brother’s hand exactly, but in the last few weeks he’d certainly been unavailable to his family on a number of occasions, pleading pressure of work. “You could at least show you care!”
To her surprise he looked uncomfortable for a moment, before he came back with, “Dean knows I care. Surely he doesn’t need my shoulder to cry on too.”
“What have you been so busy with lately, anyway? I’ve hardly seen you myself.”
Marcus asked, “Do you miss me? Most of the time you’re either with Dean or discussing his troubles with Katie.”
Jenna gulped. Maybe it seemed that way to him. “That isn’t true,” she defended herself. “If you were home more you’d know.”
He gazed at her. “Point taken,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling neglected.”
“I didn’t say that! I know you have a business to run.”
“I also have a marriage to protect.” He seemed to be looking at her rather carefully. “Burying my head in the sand—or work—isn’t going to do any good, is it?”
Not sure what he meant, Jenna said, “Our marriage isn’t in any danger, Marcus. Just because I’ve been spending time with Dean…” Surely he wasn’t jealous? “I mean, that’s not an issue.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” For a moment he seemed to be contemplating her, his eyes dark and strangely cool, almost analytical. Then he said abruptly, “You’d better go to bed. It’ll be a while before I’m finished up here.”
She went to bed and lay awake for a while, but soon tiredness overcame her. When Marcus came to join her she didn’t wake, and when she woke in the morning the only evidence that he had shared their bed that night was the flung-back blankets and the indentation of his head on the pillow beside her.
He did spend more time at home after that night, yet paradoxically it
seemed to Jenna that she and Marcus were growing further and further apart.
There was nothing she could put her finger on, no moment when things began to go wrong, no specific happening she could have cited. Sex was as sizzling as ever but it happened less often, and at other times Marcus appeared increasingly distant and almost abstracted.
Jenna told herself it was just that the honeymoon period of their marriage was over, but she sometimes thought wistfully that it had been awfully short.
She tried not to hope too much about the chances of having a baby, and when the calendar showed she was overdue she said nothing to Marcus. Better to wait until she could be sure.
Katie guessed first. She and Jenna were at her parents’ house, putting the finishing touches to a family dinner celebrating Mrs. Crossan’s birthday, when Jenna laid down the forcing bag she was using to pipe cream around a trifle and excused herself to rush to the bathroom.
When she came back Katie looked up from slicing strawberries to add to the trifle, and said, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
Jenna explained, “It’s too early yet to be definite, and I haven’t even said anything to Marcus. Don’t tell anyone, will you?”
“I won’t say a word,” Katie promised. “You don’t think Marcus suspects? It must be difficult keeping it a secret from him.”
“I’m trying to for now.” If she really was pregnant she wanted to surprise him, hoping the news would bring them closer again. She felt a faint shadow cross her face and banished it with an effort.
“He’s bound to find out sooner or later.”
“I’ll tell him, of course, at the right time.”
Thinking she heard a step in the hallway outside the kitchen, she turned her head, but there was no one there.
When it was time to drive home, Marcus handed Jenna the keys. “I’ve had a few glasses of wine,” he said.
She had noticed him drinking more tonight than usual and had supposed that, as he was with his family and knew she wouldn’t be overindulging, he’d thought it was safe to do so.
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, and she wondered if he’d gone to sleep, but when she turned into their garage he was awake and alert, climbing out to open her door for her.
She brushed against him as she got out, the car key in her hand, and went toward the elevator.
When Marcus unlocked the door to their apartment the passageway inside was dark, and she groped for the light switch, encountering his hand doing the same.
His fingers curled around hers, and the light remained off. In the darkness he said her name and pulled her toward him. The car key dropped to the floor.
Startled, she put a hand to his chest, her palm against the body-warmed cotton of his shirt. She could smell his male scent, fresh and with an earthy hint of musk, and automatically she raised her face. Dimly she could just see his, a blacker outline against the blackness of the night.
Marcus found her mouth in a kiss that surprised her by its instant, primitive passion. With no preliminary at all he was kissing her deeply, thoroughly, almost aggressively.
She’d thought the unusual amount of wine had made him lethargic, but there was nothing lethargic about this. For several seconds she remained passive, trying to readjust to his mood after she had fully expected he would fall into bed and go straight to sleep.
His arms went about her waist, so tightly she could hardly breathe, her body a taut curving bow. She had to clutch his shoulders to keep her balance, then wound her arms about his neck.
She was tired, but her body was waking to the needs of his, her heart beginning a slow pounding while an answering passion stirred, sending a hot tremor through her.
He crowded her against the wall, and his hands shaped her breasts in an almost rough caress that brought them tinglingly to life. His hands tugged at the front of her dress and she was afraid he would tear it, but his mouth stifled her protest. Then he found the zip at the back and opened it with one decisive movement, hauled it off her shoulders and undid her bra.
Grabbing both garments, he finally released her mouth as he pulled them away from her.
“Marcus!” she gasped. “Be careful—”
He hoisted her into his arms and carried her the few steps to the bedroom, kicking the door shut before he lowered her to the bed.
She heard him strip off his clothes, and was still getting her breath when he lay beside her and quickly took off the rest of hers. “Marcus?” she said, nervous in the face of this silent, ruthless seduction.
“Shut up,” he said, shocking her.
Suddenly she was afraid. Ridiculous, she assured herself. Drink had blunted his usual finesse, but Marcus would never hurt her, he would never force her. She trusted him utterly.
Nevertheless she was rigid when he took her in his arms. And he must have noticed. Although more than ready, he checked himself, held her while he took several deep breaths, and his touch gentled.
He didn’t speak again, but his mouth brushed her temple, her cheek, the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, in soft, butterfly kisses. His hands shaped the contours of her body, lightly and knowingly, skimming over rib cage and hip and thigh, and his fingers teased the most sensitive erogenous spots.
Disturbingly, frustratingly, he kissed her everywhere except her mouth, until she felt as if a lambent fire was licking over her entire body, and she couldn’t help begging at last, almost sobbing the words, “Marcus—please kiss me!”
He obliged with a soul-shattering, mind-obliterating kiss that was perfect in its blend of tenderness and passion, and she responded with her heart and soul. They were still kissing when he turned on his back and guided her onto his throbbing hardness.
She closed about him with a sigh of relief, moving ecstatically with him, until all too soon the marvelous release of tension took her over, and she was still whimpering with pleasure when Marcus turned again, thrusting deeply into her, bringing her to another pinnacle of passion, that became more intense when she knew he was there too. And just when she thought it was over she had to clutch at his shoulders again, heard his triumphant little laugh, and he watched her bite her lip as he helped her yet again over the brink.
She loved him. In every way, she loved him. The revelation blinded her.
Minutes later she opened her eyes to find him leaning on one elbow, still watching her. A high moon let white light into the room, but all she could see of his face was the sheen of his eyes.
“Marcus…”
He put his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t talk. Not tonight.”
Jenna didn’t argue. She felt pleasantly exhausted—sated. She’d almost been going to mention the possible baby, but if she was wrong, she didn’t want to disappoint him as well as herself.
In the morning she woke to find him watching her again, his expression brooding.
“You haven’t been there like that all night, have you?” she asked him.
“No. Are you all right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry if I was a bit…insensitive last night.”
“You weren’t.” She looked at him curiously. “You don’t usually drink that much.”
His eyes were suddenly bleak. “No I don’t. And I won’t again.”
“I’m not complaining, Marcus,” she said carefully. If anything, the episode had reassured her that no matter how importunate his own feelings, he would always take time and trouble to ensure that she enjoyed lovemaking too. He was never selfish.
“No,” he said, and she was puzzled at the harshness of his voice. “You never complain, do you? A perfect wife.”
Her brow knitted. “I’m not perfect…What have I done to annoy you?”
“What makes you think that?” he countered. “I just paid you a compliment.”
Had he? It had sounded strangely like an accusation. But before she could challenge him on it, Marcus was out of the bed and shutting himself in the bathroom.
She must have imagined
the rasping note in his voice, or perhaps the residue of sleep had produced it. Over the next few days he was, if anything, more loving—if that was the word for his slightly detached consideration and concern, and the watchfulness that sometimes unsettled her. She wondered if he had a suspicion she was pregnant.
Studying her while she cautiously nibbled on a piece of toast one morning, he said abruptly, “Are you losing weight?”
“No!” She had no idea if she was, but the suggestion startled her. Today she’d woken feeling queasy, but most of the time she was fine. She hadn’t had to dash to a bathroom after that one time at the Crossans’. Since then she’d kept away from rich foods and averted her eyes when she passed a bakery.
Hastily she took a bite of her toast and swallowed it.
“You should have a decent breakfast,” Marcus said. “Toast and juice is hardly a meal.” He had two poached eggs on his plate. “Have one of my eggs.”
“No!” Jenna said. “I’m not used to a big breakfast. It would only make me feel…bloated.” Actually she was sure it would make her feel sick. She could feel herself going pale already.
He made a little huffing sound of derision and looked over what he could see of her figure across the breakfast table. She saw a frown appear between his dark brows, and suddenly his eyes met hers.
“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” she asked quickly.
“I meant to tell you, Ted and Angela invited us to join them on their yacht. They’re leaving on Friday night.”
“Oh…um…” Sailing on possibly choppy waters didn’t appeal right now. Her stomach churned just thinking about it. She had made a doctor’s appointment for Friday after work. “The whole weekend?” she queried.
“Is it a problem?”
Jenna swallowed down disappointment. Supposing the doctor confirmed the test she’d already secretly carried out, another couple of days before telling Marcus would make no difference. He loved sailing—he had plans to have a boat built of their own. “Why don’t you go anyway? Katie wants me to go to the women’s book fair over the weekend. I sort of promised.” Not quite true, but she had told Katie it looked interesting.
Marrying Marcus Page 12
