Marcus too had been there for her—he’d picked up the pieces of the heart she had broken over Dean, and made it whole.
Showing again that he could follow her thoughts, Marcus said, “And Dean?”
“That’s over,” she said. “You were right, I should have grown out of it much sooner than I did. I don’t know what on earth you thought when you walked in tonight, but it wasn’t…anything that need worry you.” Gaining confidence, she told him, “You’re my husband, the father of my child…” She paused then, but his expression didn’t alter. “The man I intend to spend my life with, to the end of my life. I love you.”
The acknowledgment set free something inside her, like a light bursting into life. She loved Marcus in every way—as a friend, a lover, the one person she wanted to be with forever. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man, and more.
“Very noble,” he said, the words like a slap in the face. “I’m touched.”
Jenna winced, her temples throbbing. “Marcus—please!”
He said harshly, “This whole sorry mess is my fault. I should never have asked you to marry me.”
That took her breath away, sent her heart plunging horribly.
She had just said she loved him, and he was rejecting her. Had she left her declaration too late? Or had he found that marriage to her wasn’t enough to make him happy?
He had never said he was in love with her—not in the way that he’d been with that mysterious woman who had broken his heart. Their marriage had been founded on mutual liking and understanding and their lifelong knowledge of each other, combined with the sexual spark that had ignited into unexpected, white-hot flame.
Hurt and stirring resentment turned to panic and broke through her bewilderment. “What the hell do you mean by that?” she demanded, her voice rising. “I’m having your baby!”
“And that’s my fault too,” he said. “I should never have let you—”
“If you’re having second thoughts, it’s too late. I won’t have an abortion, Marcus!”
His face paled again. “I wouldn’t suggest it!”
“Then what are you suggesting? I thought this was what we both wanted.”
He seemed to be considering that. “I was wrong,” he said finally. “I told myself it would work, that I could make it work for both of us. I respect your integrity, Jenna, your determination to do the right thing. You keep telling me I have no need for jealousy, you intend to stick to your vows. But…I’m greedy.”
“Greedy?”
His smile was twisted. “I hustled you into marrying me even though I’d promised myself—and you—that I wouldn’t. I should have known that leftover love is never enough.”
And that was all he could give her? “But then…” she said, thinking aloud, “that was all you expected of me, wasn’t it?”
It wasn’t his fault that she had fallen into deep, irrevocable love that he was unable to return.
She got up and blindly collected the plates and cutlery, rattling them together as he said remotely, “True. It was all I asked for.”
Humiliation made her cheeks burn. “Well, I’m sorry,” she said, turning to flounce out of the room before he saw the tears stinging her eyes. “I can’t help it if you got more than you bargained for.”
Her vision blurred as she entered the kitchen, and when she made to put the plates on the counter she missed. With a crash and a clatter everything landed on the floor, a plate breaking in half, knives and forks scattering.
She dashed a hand across her eyes and was on her knees picking up the pieces when Marcus appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”
“What do you think?” she countered viciously. “I dropped them.”
He bent and helped her, dumping the knives and forks and the undamaged plate into the sink. He even took the broken pieces of china from her and wrapped them in newspaper ready to be disposed of.
Not wanting to face him, Jenna turned to the sink and began washing up. There was a dishwasher but she tended to use it only when they were entertaining.
As she squirted detergent and began scrubbing at the remaining plate, she sensed Marcus standing just behind her. Her shoulders stiffened.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “Your news caught me off guard, after…”
“I thought you already knew. Suspected, anyway. Everyone else did.”
“Everyone?”
“Katie guessed, and I’m sure your mother knows although she didn’t say anything. Even Dean…” She put the plate on the drying rack and fished in the water for the cutlery.
“Oh, yes. Dean. Is that what the big renunciation scene was all about?”
Jenna dropped the forks she held back into the water. She swung to face him. “What big renunciation scene?”
“You and Dean,” Marcus said impatiently. “Deciding to live with your mistake.”
It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop. “Dean’s mistake! Not mine.”
“Has he finally realized what he missed, what he could have had if he hadn’t been so blind all those years?”
“Were you drinking before you came home?” It was the only logical reason she could think of for his wild accusations and illogical conclusions.
“I’m stone-cold sober.”
“Then what’s the matter with you?” How could he have thought…?
He put a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the counter. “Nothing that hasn’t been the matter ever since I married you—no, before that. Because I was stupid enough to fall in love with a girl who was so besotted with my brother she hardly even knew I existed. And even more stupidly, I deluded myself that marriage might bring about a miracle and make her love me back.”
Jenna found she couldn’t breathe, though her mouth had fallen open. “Me? You were in love with me?”
“From when I came back from overseas and found that the gawky kid I remembered had turned into a gorgeous young woman, and without losing any of the qualities I’d loved about her all my life.” Witheringly he said, “You had no idea, did you?”
No, she hadn’t. “B-but you never said…you never…you never did anything!”
Marcus scowled. “It was glaringly obvious that the only man you had eyes for was Dean. I did wonder sometimes if he felt the same way. It’s hard to tell with Dean because he hides his deeper emotions, when he has them, under that party-boy manner of his. And it’s not true that I never said anything.”
She looked blank. “I don’t remember anything that could have…”
“I dropped heavy hints, but you didn’t want to hear them. Since it was plainly useless and would only embarrass you, I gave up. At one stage I had thought, The hell with it, I wanted you so much I would risk everything—your scorn, hurting Dean, causing a disruption in the family. And when he went overseas…”
Feeling her way, Jenna said, “So then, why didn’t you—”
“That would have been dirty play, wouldn’t it? Wait until he’s out of the country and then make my move?”
Dimly she saw that he would have felt that. Anything sneaky or unfair would have been anathema to him.
“I was hamstrung,” Marcus said. “I told myself there were other women who weren’t fixated on their childhood sweethearts, women who wouldn’t stir up a hornets’ nest in the family, maybe split it apart. But I couldn’t get you out of my mind, out of my heart.”
“I had no idea!”
“I know that!” He looked at her somberly. “I’ve messed up your life, Jenna—yours and my brother’s. And I’m truly sorry.”
She clutched the front of his shirt. “Marcus—I love you!”
“Oh, sure. Much the same way you love my parents and Katie—with the added fillip of sex thrown in.”
“No, you don’t understand!” She tried to shake him, only succeeding in tearing a button off his shirt. It dropped and rolled on the floor. “Marcus—” The adolescent yearning she’d had for Dean was a trickling, shallow stream co
mpared with the wide, deep ocean of her love for Marcus. “It’s not the same, it’s—”
“I don’t need a sop, Jenna,” he said roughly.
And then the phone rang.
“Leave it,” she said, but her fingers released the fabric of his shirt as he turned away.
He lifted the receiver with a curt, “Yes?”
She saw him frown. “How much?” he asked. “Why?”
Listening intently, he looked over at her, his expression strange. There was a long pause, then he said, “Yes, I’m still here. Of course you can have it. I told you, anytime. I know I’ll get it back, not that it matters. Come to the office tomorrow and I’ll have it ready.”
He put the receiver down and stood looking at it. “That was Dean,” he said, raising his eyes. He looked stunned, puzzled. “Asking for a loan to fly to America.”
“He’s going to see Callie?”
“Apparently.”
“Oh, good!”
“Is it?” He seemed dazed.
“Of course!” Jenna said impatiently. “Now do you believe me?” she beseeched him. “It isn’t Dean I want, Marcus. It’s you.”
He passed a hand over his forehead. “Then what the hell were the two of you talking about when I came in?”
“Callie, of course!”
“Callie?”
“Dean didn’t want to force her to choose between him and her family. But she phoned him this week, and I guess that gave him some hope. He loves her a lot.”
“And you don’t mind?”
How was she going to get through to him? “I’m not in love with Dean! I know I thought so, but that was just what you said—a childish daydream. You made me see that! Why won’t you accept it?”
He said slowly, “What were you and Katie talking about at my mother’s birthday party?” When she looked blank, he said, “In the kitchen, before dinner.”
“Oh, then! She guessed I was pregnant. I made her promise not to tell because I wanted you to be the first to know. I had it confirmed on Friday but you’d arranged to go sailing and I didn’t want it rushed so I thought…tonight, and I made a special dinner and chilled some champagne, but…” She stopped there because her voice was trembling and she didn’t want to burst into tears.
Marcus said, “And after weeks of soul-searching, I had made up my mind that the only decent thing to do was tell you to go to Dean if he was the one you wanted, to set you free. Because it wasn’t fair for me to hold you when he was no longer committed. Then you threw me a curve ball about the baby. And made that brave little speech about spending your life with me.”
“It wasn’t brave!” she objected. “It was true.”
As if he hadn’t heard, he continued, “I wondered if you were trying to convince me or yourself. I’d just decided to set things right, and it was too late. A baby complicated matters even further. The implications were horrendous. And yet…I couldn’t help being glad that you were carrying my child. Couldn’t help wanting it, and wanting you. Even though you’d be trapped in a marriage you’d realized was a mistake.”
“Oh, Marcus! It wasn’t a mistake! It was the best thing I ever did. What do I have to do to convince you I love you! Not as a brother—as a lover and a wonderful, sexy, incredibly giving husband.”
Hot tears spilled over and she gulped back a sob. The stress of the last couple of hours was telling, and the room began to sway.
Marcus made a low exclamation, swooping forward to catch her up in his arms.
“I don’t want to be free!” She wound her arms about his neck as he carried her into the bedroom. “I want to be your wife and have your babies and love you forever!” she told him passionately.
“Shh,” he soothed, and deposited her on the wide bed, saying, “Don’t move.”
She let her arms fall and lay there, tears dripping silently onto the pillow, while he went into the bathroom and came back with a cool wet cloth that he laid on her brow. He wiped the tears away with a tissue and after a while they stopped. His hand turned the cloth over. “Better?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.” She saw his face was drawn, his eyes worried. “Sorry about that. Pregnancy does funny things to a woman.”
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am! Jealousy does funny things to a man,” he said wryly. “I’ve been fighting it for so long, in the end I couldn’t keep the beast in its cage.”
“Oh, please don’t! You have no need to feel that way,” she said. She took his hand and pressed it to her lips. “Marcus, darling Marcus—I love you in every way there is. And if you don’t believe me this time, I think I’ll die.”
His hand tightened on hers. “If that’s true,” he said hoarsely, “then I’m the happiest man on earth. And the luckiest.”
Jenna smiled up at him. “You’re the happiest man on earth,” she said. “And I’m the luckiest woman.”
“Jenna…”
She stretched her arms up to him, and he fell into her embrace. He said her name again and kissed her, hard and hungry and long.
“I love you,” she whispered, a little later, parting the rest of the buttons on his shirt and pressing kisses down his chest.
He unzipped her jeans and eased them off, splaying a hand over her belly. “I don’t see any sign of our baby.”
“It’s too early yet. My breasts are changing already, though.”
“Let me see?” His hand went to her bra, and she lifted her shoulders to let him take it off. “You’re blushing,” he teased, raising his eyes from his inspection. He touched her with great care and her heartbeat increased its rhythm, a delicious warmth invading her body. “They’re beautiful,” he said, stroking the newly tender skin. “You are beautiful.”
“You might not say that in a few months’ time.”
“I’ll always say that,” he told her firmly. “I can’t wait to see you all round and womanly with my child. I’m so sorry—”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Just make love to me, please.”
Her fingers were pressed to his heart, and he said, “I want to make love to you night and day for the next fifty years or more.”
“You haven’t been, lately.”
He looked up from feathering kisses across her shoulders. “I was so eaten up with rage over Dean splitting up with Callie and you spending all that time consoling him—and so sure you couldn’t help but regret marrying me when you might have had him after all. I didn’t dare bring all that anger and bitterness into our bed, souring our lovemaking.”
And she’d had no idea of his feelings, his suffering. How could she have been so blind? But Marcus had a great deal of practice at concealing his emotions. All these years he’d been hiding them from her…from everyone.
She touched his hair, wanting to comfort him for the hurts of the past and assure him of their future. “Katie and I…” she said, starting to explain.
“I know, Dean needed support, comfort.” He lifted his head briefly. “You and Katie rallied round as always.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth.
“That’s all it was, Marcus.” She willed him to accept the truth. “Supporting a friend. Oh…” she added breathlessly as his mouth moved lower. “That’s…do it again.”
“With pleasure,” he purred, and obliged. She clutched at his hair.
“I’m not hurting you?” he asked.
“No!” she gasped, and heard his brief, deep laugh.
“If only you’d told me how you felt,” she said, trying to breathe normally while his lips and hands sent thrills from her toes to her breasts. “Even when you proposed.”
She had left it almost disastrously late to confess her love, but equally, he had given her no inkling of his real feelings.
Marcus lifted her knee and caressed her thigh. “I thought it might frighten you off marrying me,” he said. “Knowing you, I had a hunch you’d feel you were cheating if you knew how much I loved you and that you would turn me down out of some misguided sense of fairness.”
His touch made her catch her breath with delight. He smiled and dropped another kiss on her mouth. “Besides,” he admitted, his voice slurring a little as his mouth explored other places, “knowing you couldn’t feel the way I did, I was damned if I was going to surrender the last shred of my male independence.”
“Ch-chauvinist,” she accused him. She was trying to keep her mind off the increasingly exciting things he was doing with his fingers.
“Witch,” Marcus said lovingly, and smiled into her eyes before he kissed her again.
Their lovemaking had always been sensational, but this time an extra element entered it. No holding back, no reservations, no secrets. They gave to each other and received in equal measure, together as they had never been before, in the most intimate way possible.
Afterward they lay in each other’s arms in perfect contentment, whispering words that had been uttered by lovers since time immemorial, but for them were new and wonderful, like the evening star that peeked at them through the window as they talked about the coming baby, the miracle of their new knowledge and the years that stretched ahead of them.
Chapter Twelve
The Crossans’ garden was filled with people enjoying champagne and snack food.
Bees hummed in the brilliant open blooms of the orange and red hibiscus and over the extravagant little pink blooms of the manuka. A white-and-orange-spotted black butterfly dipped and swirled as Jenna sat on the old wooden seat around the puriri, looking down at the baby she had just discreetly fed.
Her son stared back at her, his eyes wide and solemn. Already they were like his father’s, the same fathomless dark gray.
“How’s my godson?” Dean stood before her, a glass in his hand, his other arm about a radiant Callie.
“He’s fine,” Jenna answered. Her eyes went past them, looking for Marcus in the throng on the lawn.
As if he’d felt her gaze, he turned from speaking to two of the guests and strolled over to join them. His hand went to his brother’s shoulder even as he smiled at Jenna and the baby. “Isn’t that young man asleep yet?”
“He’s too interested in what’s going on,” Jenna said.
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