by Sarah Morgan
‘I just k-keep thinking about B-Bonnie.’ She hiccoughed and he frowned slightly as he stroked her shoulders gently.
‘Bonnie? But she’s fine, angel. Doing really well. Thanks to you.’
Miranda shook her head and tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘She’s not fine. She has a mother too young to look after her and no father. What is her life going to be like?’ She scrubbed the palm of her hand over her cheek and he frowned, helpless to know what to say.
‘Angie seemed like a really nice girl and her mother was—’
‘Angie is nothing more than a child, Jake!’ She interrupted him, her voice fierce and her eyes glistening with more tears. ‘A child! She should be playing with her friends, doing exams and dreaming about her future, instead of which she’s going to be living the life of an adult. Do you have any idea what it’s like, being a mother at the age of sixteen?’ Her voice shook. ‘Having a baby is daunting at any age but at sixteen it’s nothing short of terrifying. So much responsibility when you’re nothing more than a child yourself. And your whole life is suddenly violently rearranged. You can’t do any of the things you should be doing. Instead of studying, you’re changing nappies. Instead of going out with friends, you’re pushing a pram. So you become isolated and lonely and no one really understands because all the teenagers you know are studying or partying and all the mothers you know are in their thirties, married with other children. No one is like you.’ She broke off, her chest rising and falling, and he studied her face and wondered.
Even for an extremely tired, pregnant woman, her reaction was a little too emotional. ‘We’re not talking about Angie and Bonnie any more, are we?’ He reached across the table and grabbed the box of tissues that was stacked on top of a pile of unopened post.
She took the tissue he offered her, blew her nose and then looked away. ‘Ignore me—it’s been a long and stressful night. I should probably go back to bed.’ Her nose was blocked up, her dark lashes were damp from crying and he just wanted to cuddle her.
‘You’re never going to sleep in this state. You need to get it off your chest and then perhaps you’ll be able to relax. Talk to me, Miranda. Tell me what’s on your mind.’ He hesitated and then decided to take a risk. ‘I’m wondering why you care so much and I’m wondering why you know so much about it. Did it happen to you? Were you that mother you described so eloquently?’
‘The mother?’ She stared at the table and then at him. ‘I wasn’t the mother, Jake. I was the baby.’
His was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on her pale face. ‘You’re—’
‘My mother had me at sixteen. I was the baby.’
It made sense, of course. The reason she’d been so desperate to find Bonnie’s mother. The way she’d understood Angie’s situation. ‘You were abandoned?’
Miranda reached for a tissue and blew her nose hard. ‘I was luckier than Bonnie. My mother put me in a box covered in towels. Apparently I was in quite a good condition when I was found. She even wrote a note.’
Something twisted inside him but he fought the impulse to drag her into his arms. He knew that, right now, she needed to talk. ‘And they traced your mother?’
She nodded. ‘Oh, yes. It was all very embarrassing for my grandparents. Treasured only daughter suddenly going off the rails. They’d had such high hopes for her. She was top in her class and very pretty. The world was out there, just waiting for her to conquer it. Only she made a mistake and I came along.’ She was silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then she gave a bright smile that was entirely false. ‘But they did the right thing. They took me in and brought me up. I lived with them until my mum married Keith.’
‘Was he your father?’
‘No. Mum never said who my father was. Maybe she didn’t know. Have you any idea how that feels?’ She looked at him, her expression strangely blank. ‘Sometimes I look in the mirror and I search for him. I think to myself, Are those his eyes? Do I have his mouth? Having no idea where you came from is a strange feeling.’
‘But your mum did get married.’
‘Oh, yes, she did very well for herself. Keith was a barrister. Great job. Public figure. Very well respected. On the outside, we looked like the perfect family.’ The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable and Jake looked at her, a feeling of foreboding building inside him.
‘And on the inside? Tell me about your stepfather.’
‘I think he loved my mum. Or at least, his version of love.’ She yanked another tissue out of the box and blew her nose again. ‘Unfortunately he didn’t feel the same way about me. I suppose I was a constant reminder of my mum’s mistake. The one ugly blot on the otherwise perfect canvas of her life. Everything I did was wrong. He had a hideous temper.’
Jake felt his shoulders tense. ‘How terrible. Are you saying he shouted at you? Or did he…?’
‘Hit me? Was that what you wanted to ask?’ She finished his unspoken question and gave a wan smile. ‘Oh, yes. Often. But funnily enough that didn’t upset me as much as his contempt. He so obviously couldn’t stand the sight of me and that really, really hurt.’
‘Didn’t anyone know?’
‘I didn’t want to tell my friends, if that’s what you mean. And none of them would have believed me anyway. They all thought I was so lucky.’ She blew her nose again. ‘Big house. Fancy holidays. Keith was capable of putting on a very impressive act when he had to but he was always so unpredictable I didn’t dare take anyone home in case he lost his temper. So gradually I became isolated. They thought I was a snob who didn’t want to mix with them. I didn’t know how to make myself popular.’ She twisted the tissue. ‘And I suppose, if I’m honest, I didn’t think I was very likeable. Keith had a way of making you feel pretty rotten about yourself.’
Jake let out a long breath and ran a hand over his face. The thought of how she must have suffered made his blood heat to dangerous levels. ‘So that’s why you were so appalled when I hit your landlord.’
She gave a wan smile. ‘I suppose so. I’m not great with violence of any sort.’
Jake struggled to control his shock. She didn’t need him to be shocked, she needed him to be supportive. ‘Couldn’t your mother do anything?’
‘My mother didn’t want to do anything to wreck her newfound respectability. She was moving in circles that she’d considered totally out of her reach. I mean, imagine it…’ She suddenly sounded older than her years. ‘She left school at sixteen, pregnant, and here she was, married to a rich barrister. Quite an achievement, and my mother was very achievement-focused. All she really cared about was how it looked to other people. Marrying Keith was a way of wiping out the mistakes of her past.’
‘She condoned his behaviour?’
‘She said he was a very busy man with a stressful job and I ought to try not to annoy him.’
Jake gritted his teeth. ‘You didn’t tell anyone else? Your teachers? Your GP?’
‘My GP was his squash partner.’ Miranda shook her head. ‘No. I just tried not to annoy him. The trouble was, I annoyed him by just being me. So I learned to make myself as invisible as possible and I became very self-reliant.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘It’s history now. Please, don’t think I spend all day, every day thinking about it. It’s over. It was over a long time ago and I refuse to be a victim.’
‘But clearly you don’t see them any more.’
She shook her head. ‘I left home as soon as I could and they didn’t try and stop me. It’s affected me, of course it has. I suppose a psychologist would say that’s why I got involved with Peter. Searching for a father figure.’ She gave a smile of wry self-mockery. ‘Ironic, really. In his own way he was about as good a father figure as Keith. In my head I’ve invented this mythical dad.’
‘And what’s he like?’
At first she looked surprised by the question and then she gave a little shrug. ‘Ridiculously perfect. He adores his children so much that he’s prepared to put them first and he actually enjoys spending time with them. He
delights in their achievements and he wants to shield them from all harm.’ She sat back in her chair, her expression shifting from tense to dreamy. ‘And when I imagine him, he has this look in his eyes. Love, I suppose.’ She sounded so wistful that Jake felt an ache building deep inside him. Obviously she’d never known the deep, unconditional love of a parent.
‘So what would a psychologist say about your relationship with me?’
‘We don’t have a relationship.’
‘No?’ It gave him some satisfaction to see her drop the tissue. Her hand stilled.
‘Jake, I—’
‘I’m glad you told me because now I understand why you keep backing away. You don’t believe that I’ll be able to love your baby the way I love you. You don’t believe I can love unconditionally.’
‘You don’t love me. Please, stop saying that.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘You can’t possibly love me.’
‘Why not? Because your stepfather didn’t love you? Because your mother didn’t stand up for you? That doesn’t make you unlovable, sweetheart, it just makes you unlucky. But luck can change and it’s time yours did.’
Her hands dropped and she turned to look at him. ‘Jake…’
Unable to help himself, he brought his mouth down on hers. Her lips, impossibly soft and sweet, parted under the insistent pressure of his. He felt the hot burn of arousal scorch his body but held himself back, not wanting to rush her, aware that she was still deeply upset and extremely vulnerable. If he’d stopped to think then he probably would have admitted to himself that it wasn’t the best time to kiss her, but somehow thinking seemed impossible. He slid a hand into her silky hair and kept the kiss gentle and exploratory. He tasted hesitation and fear. Sensed her reluctance. And then she slid her arms round his neck and kissed him back, her tongue touching his.
The kiss was mindless, endless, and then she pulled back slightly, her dark eyes clouded.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’
He stroked a hand over the smoothness of her cheek. ‘If you can give me one good reason why we should stop, I’ll give it my full consideration.’
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘That’s not a reason. You’ll have to do better than that.’ His lips brushed against hers and he felt her shiver of response.
‘My New Year’s resolution was to stop believing in romance.’ Her voice was breathy and feminine and slid over his nerve endings, increasing his arousal several notches.
‘New Year was weeks ago.’ He nibbled at her lower lip. ‘It’s time you broke your resolution.’
‘Jake…’ She groaned his name against his mouth and he felt aching, tearing claws of lust drag through his loins. He couldn’t remember feeling this desperate since he’d been a teenager and suddenly he felt his control slipping.
‘Come upstairs with me, Miranda.’ He stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her again. ‘Now.’
‘Yes.’ She rose to her feet and he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her soft gasp of surprise and protest.
‘Put me down! You’ll slip a disc or something. I weigh a ton.’
‘You don’t weigh anything,’ Jake growled as he carried up the stairs to his bedroom. The curtains were open and moonlight shone through the windows, casting a gentle light over the room. ‘You should be heavier than this. You definitely need to eat more. I’m going to devote tomorrow to feeding you.’
Her arms tightened around his neck as he laid her in the centre of the bed. ‘What about tonight?’
‘That’s devoted to something else entirely.’ He came down next to her and brought his mouth down on hers, forcing himself to take it slowly. Part of him wanted to strip her naked and take her fast but he knew that she deserved so much more than that. She deserved to be well and truly loved. So he kept his mouth gentle and his hands slow.
He felt her body shift under his, felt the urgency of her own response and removed her top in a smooth movement. Her breasts were perfectly rounded and he lowered his head with a groan of masculine appreciation.
‘You’re so beautiful.’
‘I’m so fat.’
Even though he was aching and throbbing with need, her tiny plea for reassurance was so entirely feminine that it made him smile. ‘Sweetheart—do I need to tell you how much I want you?’
She lifted a hand to his face and there was uncertainty in her eyes. ‘Do you?’
‘Can’t you tell? I wanted you from the first moment I saw you sitting by that frozen lake. You looked at me and I was lost.’ He moved his body so that she could be left in no doubt as to his own state of arousal and dragged the tips of his fingers over her nipple.
She arched towards him, her mouth damp from his kisses, her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. She was all woman and her beauty drove all words from his head.
He didn’t know how to tell her how he felt.
He only knew how to show her, so he lowered his head and his mouth touched first one breast, then the other. Then his tongue flickered out and he licked and teased before sucking her into the warmth of his mouth. He heard her soft gasp, felt her hands slide into his hair and grip.
He felt her body shift restlessly, felt the stroke of her leg against his, urging him on, but he discovered that he was no longer in a hurry. Who, in their right mind, would want to rush something so impossibly perfect?
He ignored her soft whimper and her searching hands and took his time, removing the rest of her clothes and his and then sliding his mouth down her silken skin, lingering on the curve of her abdomen before moving lower still to discover the heart of her.
He heard her faint gasp of protest turn to a moan of ecstasy as extended his voyage of discovery and pushed the boundaries of intimacy.
‘Jake, please…’ His name was a sob on her lips. ‘Please…’
He knew what she wanted—knew what she was asking for—but he wanted more from her, wanted to push her to the very edge of sanity, and he used his fingers and mouth to do exactly that, his own arousal heightened by her cries and the fierce reaction of her body as he pushed her through clouds of sexual excitement to a powerful climax that rocked her whole body.
Only when the violent spasms finally ceased did he slide up the bed and roll onto his back. He was so aroused he thought he might explode, and he lay for a moment, trying to focus on something other than Miranda. Trying to regain some semblance of control.
And she was silent, too, eyes closed, her lashes dark against her pale cheeks.
‘Miranda?’Worried about the lengthy silence, he turned his head towards her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m not sure.’ And then her eyes opened and she gave a slow, satisfied smile. Her gaze fixed on his, she slid a leg over him and then sat up, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair falling forward. ‘Is it OK to do this?’
There was a purposeful, seductive gleam in her dark eyes that he found intensely arousing. Dimly aware that she’d asked him a serious question, Jake sucked in a breath and forced himself to think like an obstetrician. ‘It’s fine,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll be gentle, I promise. Sweetheart, have I told you that you’re incredible? And beautiful?’
Despite the intimacy of their position, her smile was shy. ‘Do you need glasses?’
‘No, I need you.’ He slid his hands over her hips, positioned her carefully and felt the silken heat of her womanhood tease the tip of his arousal. Afraid that he might explode within seconds of entering her, he slowed the pace, controlling her movements, refusing to allow her the satisfaction she so clearly craved.
‘Jake—I need to…’ Her breathing shallow, she pushed his hands away impatiently and sank onto him, taking him deep inside her, destroying his plans to take her gently and carefully.
Heat exploded through his sensitised body and he gave a harsh groan and opened his mouth to tell her to slow down, but she lowered her head and kissed him, her delicate tongue coaxing his into a dance every bit as intimate as the rest of their encounter.
&n
bsp; Struggling to find his customary control, Jake tried to hold her hips but she grabbed his wrists and anchored them above his head, moving with a slow erotic rhythm that reduced his world to nothing but sensation.
Dimly he knew that this wasn’t how he’d intended it to happen. He’d intended to orchestrate the whole thing but somehow she’d taken the initiative.
Reluctantly her mouth left his and she sat up, her hair sliding over her bare shoulders as she moved over him with the smooth grace of a dancer. The heat in his loins reached intolerable levels and he tried to warn her that she really, really needed to slow down, but the only sound that came from his mouth was a hoarse groan of encouragement. Aware of her own soft cry of release, he felt her body spasm around his and he exploded inside her with propulsive force, driven past the point at which he might have been able to regain his slippery hold on control.
* * *
She woke to find him watching her.
‘Good morning.’ His voice was husky and deep and he leaned forward to deliver a lingering kiss to her mouth. ‘You slept well. I’m pleased. How are you feeling?’
Unsettled by the look in his eyes, she rolled onto her back. ‘Fine.’ Shy? Embarrassed? She thought of all the things she’d told him, the things they’d done…
‘Fine? Miranda, do not, for one moment, think that you’re going to be allowed to pretend that last night didn’t happen.’
‘I know it happened.’ How could she not, when the memories were still so clear in her head?
‘And do you also know that I love you?’ He spoke softly and then raised himself up on one arm and looked down at her with a gentle smile. ‘You’re beautiful and good and I want you to be my wife. And, just in case you think I say those words to all the girls, you ought to know that I’ve never said that to anyone in my life before now.’
His wife?
Her stomach dropped and she looked into those sexy blue eyes and wished that her life wasn’t filled with mountains to conquer. No matter how much she loved him, and she did love him, she’d never be able to say yes. She owed it to the baby to refuse him.
