by Nora Roberts
of hell could ever trust a man again, much less love him.
Gratitude, devotion, with Michael as the common ground. That he could understand. And that, Gabe thought as he lay in the dark, was more than many people were ever given.
He’d wanted more for them, had been on the verge of believing they could have more. That had been before all those words had been spoken downstairs while the quiet spring breeze had ruffled the curtains.
Then she turned toward him, her body brushing his. He stiffened.
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No.” He started to shift so that they were no longer touching, but she moved again until her head rested on his shoulder.
The gesture, the easy, uncomplicated movement toward him, tore him in two. The one who needed, and the one who was afraid to ask.
“I can’t sleep, either. I feel as though I’ve run an obstacle course, and my body’s exhausted from it. But my mind keeps circling.”
“You should stop thinking about tomorrow.”
“I know.” Laura brushed her hair aside, then settled more comfortably. She felt the slight drawing away, the pulling back. With her eyes shut tight, she wondered if he thought less of her now that he knew everything.
“There’s no need for you to worry. It’s going to be all right.”
Was it? Taking a chance, she reached through the dark for his hand. “The trouble is, different scenes keep popping into my head. What I’ll say, what she’ll say. If I don’t …” Her words trailed off when the baby started crying. “Sounds like someone else is restless.”
“I’ll get him.”
Though she’d already tossed the covers aside, Laura nodded. “All right. I’ll nurse him in here if he’s hungry.”
She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest as Gabe tossed on a robe and strode to the nursery. A moment later the crying stopped, then started again. Under it, she could hear Gabe’s voice, murmuring and soothing.
It was so easy for him, so natural. Sensitivity, tenderness, were as much a part of him as temper and arrogance. Wasn’t that why she’d finally been able to admit that she loved him? There would be no cycle of despair, submission and terror with Gabe, as there had been with Tony. She could love him without giving up the pieces of herself that she’d so recently discovered.
No, he didn’t think less of her. She couldn’t be sure of all of his feelings, but she could be sure of that. It was just that he was as worried as she and felt obligated to pretend otherwise.
The light from the nursery slanted into the hallway. In it she could see Gabe’s shadow as he moved. The crying became muffled, then rose in a wail. Recognizing the tone of the crying, Laura leaned back and shut her eyes. It was going to be a long night.
“Teething,” she murmured when Gabe brought a sobbing Michael into the bedroom. Switching on the bedside lamp she smiled at him. All of them needed support tonight. “I’ll nurse him and see if that helps any.”
“There you go, old man. Best seat in the house.” Gabe settled him in Laura’s arms. The crying faded to a whimper, then disappeared completely as he suckled. “I’m going down for a brandy. Do you want anything?”
“No. Yes, some juice. Whatever’s in there.”
Alone, she held Michael with one arm and arranged her pillows behind her back with the other. It seemed so normal, so usual, just like any other night. Though there were nights when Michael was restless when her body craved sleep, there were others when she prized these hours in the middle of the night. These were the times she and Gabe would remember years down the road, when Michael took his first steps, when he started school, when he rode a two-wheeler for the first time. They’d look back and remember how they’d walked the floor, half dozing themselves. Nothing could change that.
They needed this, needed the normalcy of it. And, if only for a few hours, they would have it.
When Gabe came back in, he set her glass on the table beside her. Smiling, she lifted a hand to his arm. “Can I smell your brandy?”
Amused, he tilted the snifter for her and let her draw in the scent. “Enough?”
“Thanks. I always loved the taste of brandy late at night.” Lifting her juice glass, she clinked it against his snifter. “Cheers.” He didn’t join her in bed, as she’d hoped he would, but turned to stand by the window. “Gabe?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to make a deal with you. You tell me what’s on your mind, ask any question you need to ask, and I’ll tell you the absolute truth. Then, in return, I’ll ask you and you’ll do the same.”
“Haven’t you answered enough questions for one night?”
So that was it. Laura set her glass aside before she gently shifted Michael to her other breast. “You’re upset because of the things I told Mr. Quartermain.”
“Did you expect I would take them with a shrug?” When he whirled, the brandy sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the snifter. Laura said nothing as he tossed back half the contents and began to pace.
“I’m sorry it had to be brought up. I’d have preferred another way myself.”
“It’s not a matter of its being brought up.” The words lashed out. He drank more brandy, but it did nothing to soothe him. “My God, it’s killing me to think of it, to imagine it. I’m afraid to touch you, because it might bring it back.”
“Gabe, you’ve been telling me all along that it’s over, that things are different now. I know they are. You were right when you said I compared you with Tony, but maybe you don’t understand that by doing that I helped myself realize that things could change.”
He looked at her then, only for a moment, but long enough for her to see that her words weren’t enough, not yet. “Things are different now, but I wonder why you don’t hate any man who puts his hands on you.”
“There was a time when I wouldn’t have let any man within ten feet of me, but I was able to start putting things in perspective, through therapy, listening to other women who’d pulled themselves out of the spin.” She watched him as he stood in the shadow, his hands thrust in the pockets of his robe and clenched into fists. “When you touch me, when you hold me, it doesn’t bring any of that back. It makes me feel the way I’ve always wanted to feel about myself, about my husband.”
“If he were alive,” Gabe said evenly, “I’d want to kill him. I find myself resenting the fact that he’s already dead.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.” She reached out a hand to him, but he shook his head and walked back to the window. “He was ill. I didn’t know that then, not really. And I prolonged it all by not walking away.”
“You were afraid. You had nowhere to go.”
“That’s not enough. I could have gone to Geoffrey. I knew he would have helped me, but I didn’t go, because I was pinned there by my own shame and insecurities. When I finally did leave, it was because of the baby. That’s when I began to get well myself. Finding you was the best medicine of all, because you made me feel like a woman again.”
He remained silent while she searched for the right words. “Gabe, there’s nothing either of us can do to change things that have already happened. Don’t let it change what we have now.”
Calmer now, he swirled his brandy and continued to look out of the window. “When you talked of lawyers in the gallery today, I thought you wanted a divorce. It scared me to death.”
“But I wouldn’t have— Did it?”
“There you were, standing under the portrait, and I couldn’t imagine what I would do if you walked away. I may have changed your life, angel, but no more than you’ve changed mine.”
Pygmalion, she thought. If he loved the image, he might eventually love the woman. “I won’t walk away. I love you, Gabe. You and Michael are my whole life.”
He came to her then, to sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. “I won’t let anyone hurt either one of you.”
Her fingers tightened on his. “I need to know that whatever we have to do we’ll do it together.�
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“We’ve been in this together right from the start.”
Leaning forward, he kissed her, while the baby dozed between them. “I need you, Laura, maybe too much.”
“It can’t be too much.”
“Let me go put him down,” Gabe murmured. “Then maybe we can continue that.”
He took the baby, but the moment he eased off the bed Michael began to cry.
They took turns walking, rocking, rubbing tender gums. Each time Michael was laid back in his crib he woke with a wail. Dizzy with fatigue, Laura leaned over the rail, patting and rubbing his back. Each time she moved her hand away he cried again.
“I guess we’re spoiling him,” she murmured.
Gabe sat heavy-eyed in the rocking chair and watched her. “We’re entitled. Besides, he sleeps like a rock most of the time.”
“I know. This teething’s got him down. Why don’t you go to bed? There’s no sense in both of us being up.”
“It’s my shift.” He rose and discovered that at 5:00 a.m. the body could feel decades older than it was. “You go on to bed.”
“No—” Her own yawn cut her off. “We’re in this together, remember?”
“Or until one of us passes out.”
She would have laughed if she had had the energy. “Maybe I’ll just sit down.”
“You know, I’ve been known to watch the sun come up after a night of drinking, card playing or … other forms of entertainment.” He began to pat Michael’s back as Laura collapsed in the rocker. “And I can’t remember ever feeling as though someone had run over me with a truck.”
“This is one of the joys of parenting,” she told him as she curled her legs under her and shut her eyes. “We’re actually having the time of our lives.”
“I’m glad you let me know. I think he’s giving in.”
“That’s because you have such a wonderful touch,” she murmured as she drifted off. “Such a wonderful touch.”
Inch by cautious inch, Gabe drew his hand away. A man backing away from a tiger couldn’t have taken more care. When he was a full two feet from the crib, he nearly let out a breath of relief. Afraid to push his luck, he held it and turned to Laura.
She was sound asleep, in an impossibly uncomfortable position. Hoping his energy held out for five minutes longer, Gabe walked over to pick her up. She shifted and cuddled against him instinctively. As he carried her from the room, she roused enough to murmur. “Michael?”
“Down for the count.” He walked into their room, but rather than taking her to bed he moved to the window. “Look, the sun’s coming up.”
Laura stirred and opened her eyes. Through the window she could see the curve of the eastern sky. If she looked hard enough she could see the water of the bay, like a mist in the distance. The sun seemed to vibrate as it rose. And the echoes brought colors: pinks, mauves, golds. Softly at first, with the darker night sky still dominating above, the colors spread, then deepened. Pinks became reds, vibrant and glowing.
“Sometimes your paintings are like that,” she thought aloud. “Changing, shifting angles, with the colors intensifying from the core to the edges.” She nestled her head against his shoulder as they watched the new day dawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sunrise.”
His skin was warm beneath her cheek, his arms strong, firm with muscle, as they held her to him. She could feel the light, steady beating of his heart. She turned her face toward his as the first birds woke and began to sing. When love was so easily reached, only a fool questioned it.
“I want you, Gabe.” She laid her hand on his cheek, her lips on his lips. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. She felt it, understood it, then coaxed him past it. This wasn’t the time to think of yesterdays or tomorrows. Her lips softened and parted against his and her hand slipped back to brush through his hair.
“You were right,” she murmured.
“About what?”
“I don’t think of anyone but you when we make love.”
He hadn’t meant to ask her for anything. He found there was nothing he couldn’t ask.
She was so beautifully open. It made it possible, even easy, to put that part of her life that left him angry and bitter aside. That had nothing to do with where they could take each other. With his mouth still on hers, he moved to the bed. She wrapped her arms around him as he lay beside her. For a moment that was enough.
Morning embraces, sunrise kisses, after a long, sleepless night. Her face was pale with fatigue, but still she trembled for him. The sigh that passed from her lips to his was soft and drowsy. Her body arched, lazy, limber, at the stroke of his hands.
The dawn air was balmy as it fluttered through the window and over their skin. She parted his robe, pushed it back from his shoulders, so that she could warm his skin herself. Just as slowly, he drew off her nightgown. Naked, they lay on the rumpled sheets and made long, luxurious love.
Neither of them set the pace. It wasn’t necessary. Here they were in tune, without words or requests. Demands were for other moments, night moments, when passion was hot and urgent. As the light turned gray with morning, desire was deliciously cool.
Perhaps the love she felt for him was best displayed this way, with ease and affection that lasted so much longer than the flare of a flame. She moved with him and he with her, and they brought pleasure to each other that came in sighs and murmurs instead of gasps and shudders.
She felt the roughness of his cheek when she stroked her hand there. This was real. Marriage was more than the band she wore on her finger or the coming together full of need and excitement in the dark. Marriage was holding on at daybreak.
He would have scaled mountains for her. Until now, somehow, the full extent of his feelings for her had escaped him. He’d recognized the need first, the love later, but now he understood the devotion. She was his in a way no other woman could ever be. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be a hero.
When they came together, full light was pouring over the bed. Later, still entwined, they slept.
“I know I’m doing the right thing.” Still, Laura hesitated when they stepped off the elevator in Lorraine’s hotel. “And, no matter what happens, I’m not going to back down.” She caught Gabe’s hand in hers and held it tight. Lack of sleep had left her feeling light-headed and primed for action. “I’m awfully glad you’re here.”
“I told you before, I don’t like the idea of you having to see her again, to deal with her on any level. I can easily handle this on my own.”
“I know you could. But I told you, I need to. Gabe …”
“What?”
“Please don’t lose your temper.” She laughed a little at the way his brows rose. The tension rising inside her eased. “There’s no need to look like that. I’m only trying to say that shouting at Lorraine won’t accomplish anything.”
“I never shout. I do occasionally raise my voice to get a point across.”
“Since we’ve gotten that straightened out, I guess the only thing left to do is knock.” She felt the familiar flutter of panic and fought it back as she knocked on the door. Lorraine answered, looking regal and poised in a navy suit.
“Laura.” After the briefest of nods, she turned to Gabe. “Mr. Bradley. It’s nice to meet you. Laura didn’t mention that you were coming with her this afternoon.”
“Everything that concerns Laura and Michael concerns me, Mrs. Eagleton.” He entered, as Laura could never have done, without an invitation.
“I’m sure that’s very conscientious of you.” Lorraine closed the door with a quick click. “However, some of the things Laura and I may discuss are private family matters. I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” He met her level gaze with one of his own. “My wife and son are my family.”
The war of wills was silent and unpleasant. Lorraine ended it with another nod. “If you insist. Please, sit. I’ll order coffe
e. The service here is tolerable.”
“Don’t bother on our account.” Laura spoke with only the slightest trace of nerves as she chose a seat. “I don’t think this should take very long.”
“As you like.” Lorraine sat across from them. “My husband would have been here, but business prevented him from making the trip. I do, however, speak for both of us.” That said, she laid her hands on the arms of her chair. “I’ll simply repeat what has already been discussed. I intend to take Tony’s son back to Boston and raise him properly.”
“And I’ll repeat, you can’t have him.” She would try reason one last time, Laura thought, leaning forward. “He’s a baby, not an heirloom, Mrs. Eagleton. He has a good home and two parents who love him. He’s a healthy, beautiful child. You should be grateful for that. If you want to discuss reasonable visitation rights—”
“We’ll discuss visitation rights,” Lorraine said, interrupting her. “Yours. And if I have anything to say about it, they will be short and spare. Mr. Bradley,” she continued, turning away from Laura. “Surely you don’t want to raise another man’s child as your own. He hasn’t your blood, and he only has your name because, for whatever reason, you married his mother.”
Gabe drew out a cigarette and lit it slowly. Laura had asked him not to lose his temper. Though he wouldn’t be able to
