by Diana Palmer
“I’m not worried. Not after yesterday. And last night,” she added demurely, blushing.
“It was good, wasn’t it?” he asked huskily. “Don’t blush if Mrs. Dobbs asks you if you heard screams last night, or you’ll give the game away.” He kissed her gasping mouth slowly. “No, don’t be embarrassed,” he whispered, his arms tightening. “I cried out, too, at the last. I couldn’t get close enough to you, deep enough inside you, to touch you as I yearned to.” He actually shivered. “Claire, no two people ever were so intimate as we were then.”
“Yes.” She pressed close, her own body trembling with the memory of it. She had lost consciousness as they strained together in that shattering ecstasy. The memory of it was still a little frightening.
His cheek drew against her own, his breath hot and quick at her ear. “I never had intimacy with Diane,” he confessed as he lifted his head and searched her eyes. “I lied about that. I’m ashamed that I did.”
Her eyes brightened. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It was necessary,” he said simply, tracing her mouth with a long forefinger. “A man must have no secrets from a beloved wife.”
She smiled again, sighing her pleasure as he pressed one last kiss on her soft mouth and let her go.
She watched him out the door, convinced that he was about to be offered Diane on a platter, unless she missed her guess. She wondered how he was going to send her on her way, because she had no doubts at all about his fidelity now. She touched her thickening waist with a smile. She still had one last secret to share with him. And she would, as soon as their unwanted guest left.
SHE WAS RIGHT ABOUT his feelings. He wasn’t happy to see Diane. If anything, he was annoyed. Although she did look beautiful in a blue suit with frilly white lace and a jaunty hat, he had to admit. But she didn’t even make his heart flutter now. He thought of Claire and his blood sang through his veins.
“What can I do for you, Diane?” he asked politely.
She seemed taken aback. “Why, John. I thought you would have expected me. I mean, Eli will certainly go to jail now. I will testify against him, Dawes has been found and made another confession, and they have the money and Eli’s reluctant confession, as well. The bank’s funds will be restored, and everyone knows now that you were an innocent victim of Eli’s greed. Mr. Whitfield has even agreed to go ahead with the merger, in light of this development. Of course, that will be up to you, now, since you will almost certainly become president of the bank with Eli’s conviction. Everything is back the way it was. So I thought—that is…I thought you wanted me.”
He drew her out onto the porch and closed the door behind them.
“Shall we be completely honest with each other?” he asked quietly. “I loved you once. But you wanted more than I could give you, and you married another man. Perhaps I tendered hopes even then. But I can assure you now, with all my heart, that the woman I want most in the world is upstairs in our apartment waiting for me. I didn’t realize until recently just how long she’s been waiting. I’ve hurt her. I don’t intend to ever hurt her again.”
“You don’t love me?” Diane sounded plaintive.
“I’m quite fond of you,” he said, with a smile. “I always will be. But I love Claire, you see.”
She smiled sadly. “So she’s won. I was afraid that she would. I could see quite clearly that she loved you enough to give you up. I didn’t.”
His eyebrows met above the high bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand.”
“We had a conversation just before I agreed to help you catch Eli,” she confessed. “Claire said that if you loved me, she would never hinder you in any way. I knew then that her love for you was greater than mine. You see, I would never have let you go to another woman without a fight.”
He searched her eyes. No, she wouldn’t. Her vanity would have prevented her from letting go. Claire was made of softer stuff, but in its way, much stronger.
“I’m sorry, Diane,” he said.
She waved a hand. “Oh, pooh,” she said languidly. “I think I knew it was over when you married. I just didn’t want to accept it. Well, I’ll have the reward—and there are plenty of men who would be willing to marry a young, rich woman.” She smiled. “Even a ‘disgraced’ divorcée.”
“Be happy.”
She shrugged. “Happiness isn’t my lot. But I’ll be content. Goodbye, John.”
“Goodbye, Diane.”
She walked back to her waiting carriage, and John watched her. But his eyes weren’t filled with either longing or regret. He was impatient for her to be gone.
When she was out of sight, he went back into the house and took the steps two at a time in his eagerness to reach Claire. The night before was still in his mind, in his heart. In bed, she was more than he could ever have hoped for. Even out of bed, she filled his heart, his life. He adored her. He wanted no one else.
He opened the door and went in, to find Claire standing at the window, looking out at the backyard. It reminded him of the early days of their marriage, when she stood here alone and thought sad thoughts.
“She’s gone,” he said.
She turned and smiled. “Is she truly, John?”
He moved close to her and framed her face in his hands. “Truly. I sent her away, Claire,” he said softly. “And not out of self-sacrifice or duty or shame. I sent her away because whatever I felt for her is long gone. Dead. Finished.” He took her in his arms and hugged her close with a long sigh. “I adore you,” he whispered, dizzy with pleasure. “I want to hold you and kiss you all the time. I want to be with you always, in every way. God, Claire. I would have nothing without you. I love you,” he whispered, and kissed her.
“I know. I love you, too.” She chuckled under his mouth, kissing him back with all the joy within her, all the years of longing, all the hopes and delight. But then she remembered something that she’d forgotten in her joy, and she pulled her lips from under his.
“Oh, John. Stop.” She moaned. “There’s something I have to tell you. You may not want to stay with me.”
“Imagine that!” He laughed.
“I’m serious!” She put her small hands on his chest and held him away, her eyes troubled. “John, I am…that is, I think…I’m carrying your child.”
His face was a living portrait of shock. He didn’t even seem to breathe. “You are…what?”
“Yes. And you said—that is, you told Mrs. Cornwall that children unnerved you, so I was afraid to tell you… Oh, dear,” she added worriedly at the look on his face. “I’m so sorry!”
“Sorry?” He let out the breath that had all but choked him. His eyes glittered. His face became radiant. “Sorry?” He lifted her and whirled her around, laughing like a madman. “Sorry? Oh, you witch, you witch. Come here!”
He pulled her close and kissed her again, hungrily and then tenderly, so tenderly.
“Claire, I want our children more than you’ll ever know,” he whispered into her lips. “I want sons and daughters and then, eventually, grandchildren. Claire, what a sweet, sweet surprise.”
She was breathless, overwhelmed. She reached up to him; he kissed her again. Only then did he pull back and grimace. “And I said…” His breath jerked out. “Forgive me. I spoke rashly and without thinking, on the train. I do want children. It’s only that I never considered what it would be like to actually have a baby in the house.” His eyes became dreamy. “We must buy a house, Claire. A nice, big house that we can fill with children and the love we bear each other.”
She pushed close into his arms and held him. “Oh, my dear,” she whispered huskily. “My dear. I can’t bear the happiness!”
“Neither can I. But I think we’ll manage,” he added on a laugh. “What a Christmas it will be. Have you thought about it? Between us, we have the most wonderful present that any two people could ever anticipate. We have the promise of a child!”
She pressed closer to him, shivering with joy. “We’ll go home with your parents?�
��
“Yes, we will. And I can promise you the most joyous Christmas you’ve ever known.” He lifted his head and looked down into her beautiful gray eyes with exultation. “Claire,” he exclaimed, “it’s going to be glorious!”
And it was.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7572-4
MAGNOLIA
Copyright © 1997 by Diana Palmer
First Published by Ballantine Books
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.HQNBooks.com
