Morgan's Secret Son

by Sara Wood

  ‘Baby’s awake. Back later.’

  ‘Whosstime?’ she mumbled drowsily.

  ‘Three a.m. Go to sleep, sweetheart,’ he whispered.

  Sweetheart. She sighed with satisfaction and must have dozed, because when she stirred again the room was lighter. Rolling over, she saw Morgan lying beside her, his eyes liquid ink. She smiled and snuggled up.

  ‘Ohh! You’re as cold as ice!’ she gasped.

  ‘Took a long time to bring up Jack’s wind. Another five minutes and he’ll be ready for his next feed again!’

  Jodie craned her neck. It was five-twenty. ‘You must be exhausted,’ she sympathised. ‘You do need a nanny—’

  ‘No! I look after Jack!’ he said forcibly. ‘No one else!’

  ‘Then let me warm you. And for heaven’s sake, get some sleep now,’ she replied, touched by his devotion.

  It was wonderful watching him relax in her arms. Slowly the dark lashes fluttered down and his features softened. Her heart turned over when she contemplated the soft arch of his sensual mouth and she couldn’t resist touching it with a delicate forefinger.

  He murmured in his sleep and nuzzled his face in her neck. She stroked his hair and wondered about the future. Lying there, she pictured herself with Morgan and Jack, watching the baby grow into a toddler, a schoolchild, a young adult. Her head swam with the heady delight of being part of a loving family.

  Her father would be thrilled, she thought. He patently adored Morgan and nothing would give him greater pleasure than to know that she and Morgan had found happiness together.

  She stroked Morgan’s hair, imprinting every line, every angle of his face on her memory.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered, kissing his forehead softly.

  His eyes snapped open and she jerked back in confusion. Beneath her hand, his shoulder muscles had tensed into a hard knot.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked in a low rumble.

  She pressed her treacherous lips together, her eyes startled and anxious. Morgan fixed her with his penetrating gaze and heaved himself up on one elbow.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ he murmured.

  She put it out. ‘You were supposed to be asleep,’ she accused.

  ‘I was.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Something filtered through to my subconscious. Something I’ve been wanting to hear.’

  She sat bolt upright. ‘What?’

  A dazzling smile. A laugh of triumph. An amused shake of his head. ‘Oh, Jodie!’ he said fondly. ‘You don’t know how I feel at this moment!’ Laughingly he pinned her back on the pillows, kissing her till she could hardly breathe. ‘Tell me what you said,’ he demanded. And when she remained mute he kissed her again, harder, demanding to know again and again till she surrendered.

  ‘OK, OK!’ she complained. ‘You’re giving me stubble burn!’

  Her hand caressed the side of his face, scratching at the bristles. He looked like a sexy gypsy, wild and rough and dangerous—even if she knew he was kind and gentle and thoughtful. Though, she mused, a spark of desire fizzling through her, he could be sexy and wild…

  ‘You’re stalling,’ he warned, with a ferociously theatrical scowl.

  Jodie giggled. ‘Just diverted by something.’

  ‘Get back on track,’ he growled, pretending to be angry.

  ‘I said,’ she breathed, kissing his grumpy mouth till it curved up into a smile again, ‘that I love you.’

  His eyes closed. He remained as if frozen. She waited, tension stringing out her nerves, robbing her heart of its normal beat. Afraid, she swallowed. Had she spoken too soon?

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked eventually, his voice shaking with emotion.

  ‘I fell in love with you almost at once,’ she said simply. ‘I didn’t believe that could happen, but it did. And, yes, now I’m sure.’

  His mouth touched hers tentatively in a delicate kiss. Then his lips brushed her brow. ‘Jodie,’ he said, very serious, ‘I could be rushing you…but I am compelled to speak my feelings—’

  ‘Yes?’ She held her breath, waiting for him to declare his love too. She was so certain of it.

  ‘It’s only been a short time that we’ve known one another,’ he said huskily. ‘But we seem to be in total harmony. I am…so happy when you’re around. I can’t imagine what it would be like to live apart from you. I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Jodie. Make it soon. Let’s be together for the rest of our lives.’

  She gave a sob and reached up her arms to him. ‘Yes!’ she cried, her eyes awash with tears. ‘Yes, Morgan!’

  His kisses deepened. She felt the tip of his tongue tasting her tears, the warmth of his mouth moving over her face. Flames leapt through her and she groaned, sliding her body against his for the union which would seal their pact.

  And then he was moving away.

  ‘What…? Why…?’ she moaned.

  ‘Jack,’ he rasped.

  ‘I don’t hear him!’ she pouted.

  ‘You’re not tuned to him,’ he replied, dropping a hasty kiss on her nose and flicking off the baby alarm.

  Denied and empty, she lay crossly in bed, and then felt selfish and mean for resenting a needy baby even for a few seconds. She leapt up, slipping on her thin cotton robe, and hurried to the nursery, intending to see if she could help in any way.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she heard him mutter.

  She paused just outside the door, surprised by Morgan’s impassioned growl. Her senses might not be tuned to the baby, but they were acute where Morgan was concerned. And he seemed to be in a highly emotional state.

  ‘You’re safe!’ she heard him say jerkily. ‘You’re mine!’ He let out a loud and protracted sigh, as if every part of his body had been under tension for a long, long time. ‘Hold on, sweetpea,’ he husked, when Jack whimpered. ‘It’s coming.’ Jodie heard Morgan’s bare feet striding hard and fast up and down the room. ‘We’ll be together. No one will take you from me. Never, never, never!’

  Jodie clung to the doorjamb, stunned by what she’d heard. He was talking to Jack now, promising him a rosy future, walks in the snow, swimming lessons, riotous birthday parties…

  She gulped. None of these seemed to include her. Confused and muddled, she quietly returned to the bedroom. Six-thirty. Suddenly cold, she showered and scrambled into a pair of yellow jeans and a warm orange jumper.

  Her confidence had vanished. She didn’t feel so sure of Morgan. Why had he been so relieved after she’d agreed to marry him? His reaction had been more than male pride, or relief that he hadn’t been rejected.

  And where did Jack come into this? It didn’t make sense that Morgan felt his son was safe now. Who would have taken his baby away from him?

  Questions filled her head, making it ache. She went down to the kitchen and made some lemon tea, then put it down, too sick to her stomach to take even that. So she found a pill in the first aid box and took it for her headache.

  Fear had suddenly entered her life, spoiling her brief moment of pure joy. There was something dark and threatening lurking in the background, waiting to snatch happiness from her grasp.

  And she couldn’t, wouldn’t interrogate Morgan, for fear that she would arouse a sleeping tiger.

  All that day she remained curled up on the sofa with a blinding headache, tended by a concerned and sympathetic Morgan. He was so thoughtful and loving that she could almost believe she must have imagined what she’d heard.

  He’d always been over-protective towards Jack. Although she adored him, and dearly wanted to take a larger part in Jack’s care, she’d never been allowed to feed him, nor had Morgan ever left her in sole charge of the baby. Perhaps that was just a natural parenting instinct.

  She perked up. Perhaps Morgan just felt more secure with the prospect of having a wife. Despite political correctness, it was still unusual for a father to bring up a child alone—especially a tiny baby. Maybe Social Services had expressed doubts as to his ability and he’d felt threatened.

  ‘I’m glad to see you s
miling again.’ He stood in the doorway, a warm smile lighting his face. And she was sure there was love in his eyes.

  ‘I love you,’ she said fervently, ashamed that she’d doubted him for one moment.

  ‘Oh, Jodie!’ He came to her, knelt and held her tightly. She could feel him trembling and she hugged him hard. ‘We must celebrate our engagement,’ he murmured in her ear.

  ‘I could cook!’ she suggested, teasing.

  ‘Thanks. I don’t want to die yet,’ he said drily. ‘We should go out. Somewhere special.’ He frowned. ‘But somewhere we can take Jack—’

  ‘The pub’s fine by me,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t need champagne and waiters with French accents, or designer food sitting on raspberry coulis. All I need is you, Morgan. And Jack too, of course.’ She pulled back a little, anxious to reassure him. ‘He’ll be family, after all.’

  His smile touched her heart with its brilliance. ‘Yes,’ he said throatily. ‘He will.’ And he enfolded her in his arms again, crushing her to him with such intense passion that she could barely breathe for delight.

  Their lovemaking had never been so tender, so sweetly wrung with tremulous emotion. Jodie felt drugged by her feelings, washed by a tide of blissful sensations which made her limbs liquid, her brain dizzy with the intoxication of the deepest love.

  She watched him feeding and changing Jack, drowsily amazed at his stamina and energy. No matter how tired he was, how hard a day he’d had—or night—he stayed calm and gentle with his beloved son, and never once did he show impatience or resentment when Jack made his needs known.

  Not that the baby cried much. Morgan was always there, interpreting Jack’s needs, firmly and competently coping with his son. And she adored Morgan all the more for that, thinking ahead to the time when they would have babies of their own.

  Later, when they were settled in their favourite corner of the pub by the fire, Morgan took her hand in his and said gently, ‘To us. To our marriage.’ He lowered his lashes and said, almost under his breath, ‘To the woman I adore best in the world.’

  Her heart turned over. ‘Oh, Morgan!’ she mumbled, tears of happiness shining in her eyes. ‘To us,’ she responded. ‘The man I adore and will love always.’

  ‘We’ll go out tomorrow and choose a ring. Name the day. Make arrangements.’

  She smiled shyly. ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘And there’s something else. I kept a piece of news back for you. Sam’s going to the nursing home tomorrow. I think perhaps next week—when he’s settled in—would be a good time to talk to him about you. I’m sure he’ll be eager to meet you when I’ve told him the kind of person you are.’

  ‘Heavens! Don’t do that—he’ll run a mile!’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘I could make it up,’ he offered, his eyes twinkling. ‘Tell him you’re a slick city girl with a computer for a brain—’

  ‘But kind to ferrets and gerbils—’

  ‘Sure.’ He grinned, pretending to shade his eyes when he looked at her. ‘And who dresses…’ he did a mock wince ‘…soberly—’

  ‘And who’s always calm and collected!’ Jodie beamed. She enjoyed his teasing. Chas had teased. But it had been cruel and goading. Morgan did it in a loving way. She gave a contented sigh. ‘You’ve made my day complete,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to see my father—’

  ‘Jodie…’ He hesitated. ‘I have something rather difficult to say. It’s about Jack.’

  She froze. Suddenly Morgan seemed distant and withdrawn, his body language speaking volumes. ‘Are you in danger of losing him?’ she asked, voicing his fears.

  His head jerked up. ‘What the hell do you mean?’ he demanded roughly.

  ‘I—I don’t know, it’s just that I wondered…you seemed worried… Jack’s so important to you…’ Her voice faded under his savage frown. Her hand felt limp and shaky and she put her glass of Château Lafite down hurriedly. Morgan was on the defensive. She’d made a mistake. ‘Forget it. A stab in the dark. Silly—’

  ‘OK.’ He waved an impatient hand at her incoherent gabble and she subsided, hurt and on edge. She waited while he sat there, chewing over the words he intended to say, alarmed by his tense expression. ‘You know I’ve…looked after Jack ever since he was born.’

  She waited again. He seemed stuck, so she decided to encourage him. ‘I admire you for that commitment. And you’ve become welded to him because his mother left—’

  ‘She didn’t leave.’ His eyes met hers, hard, unfathomable. ‘She died.’ And before she could express sympathy he went on, his voice rough and grating. ‘Jack is Teresa’s child.’

  ‘Teresa’s?’ Jodie sat rooted to her chair in shock. ‘I thought…’ Her brow furrowed deeply as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. ‘But…Teresa was my father’s lover.’

  ‘Yes.’ Morgan licked his lips, picked up his wine and put it down again. ‘Of course when Sam was taken ill he couldn’t take over his role as…’ Morgan lifted his glass again and took a long gulp of claret. ‘As Jack’s father,’ he said, oddly hoarse. ‘So I took over.’

  ‘Jack…is Sam and Teresa’s baby?’ she said stupidly.

  ‘He was thrilled to know she was pregnant,’ he said, pursuing his own train of thought. But the smile he flashed at her wasn’t quite right and there was an odd sharpness to his cheekbones, which were standing high in his strained face. ‘I think if it hadn’t been for Jack your father might have given up the fight to live long ago,’ he finished stiffly.

  Her brain didn’t seem to be functioning. Why all this should chill her to the bone she didn’t know, but she felt shivers running up and down her spine. She stretched out her hands to the fire, glad to be avoiding Morgan’s hunted eyes.

  What was the matter? Why was he walking on pins? Injecting as much normality into her tone as she could, she said, ‘It’s a bit of a shock to learn this, Morgan. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’

  ‘Because you might not have stayed. Until I was certain that you would—and that you were committed to Sam—I didn’t want your decision to be swayed by an appealing little baby half-brother.’

  She turned and fixed him with a worried stare. ‘Any more surprises?’ she asked shakily, wondering why she didn’t entirely accept this reason.

  ‘Teresa is Jack’s mother. I swear that is the truth, on Jack’s head.’

  Again he hadn’t answered her question directly. Her heart sank. Was that why Morgan loved the baby so? Did Jack look like Teresa? Was Morgan hoping—longing, maybe—for Jack to grow up reminding him of the woman he’d loved with such an extraordinary passion?

  Her breath hissed in. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Need the Ladies’.’

  He caught her hand as she made to leave. ‘I want you to know that I did what was best,’ he said quietly.

  He was a good man. She smiled because she loved him, but she was hurting inside. ‘You’re taking care of a motherless baby whose father is seriously ill. Anyone would admire you for that,’ she told him in a low tone. ‘Must dash!’

  Her grin faded once she’d reached the safety of the cloakroom. She patted her hot, flushed face with cold water and held her wrists under the tap. In the mirror she saw a woman who’d fallen in love with a man who was still tied to someone else. Tied, too, to that woman’s baby.

  Of course he loved Jack. Anybody would. She herself adored him, loved his little fingers—builder’s hands, Morgan had said outrageously—and his sweetly peaceful face when he slept, the dark mat of hair and his warm, baby smell. And Morgan was a decent, wonderful man to devote himself to the baby.

  This was her half-brother. Her hands stilled as a bond sprang up which had not been there before. Awed, she realised that she now had responsibilities, duties towards Jack.

  But…Teresa’s child!

  Jodie groaned and swayed, nausea hitting the pit of her stomach. Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of the new situation.

  There was no blood link between Jack and Morgan—only a deep and unbre
akable love. Her father was Jack’s next of kin.

  Numbly she stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes widening as her mind raced on, setting things in place.

  Morgan knew that her father only had a short time to live. And he was obviously aware that she would soon be Jack’s next of kin. In law, she would be responsible for Jack.

  Her hands shook. Morgan had become firmly attached to Jack—almost over-possessive. Was this, perhaps, why Morgan had been so hostile? Why he’d tried to send her away? And why he’d kept Jack’s parentage a secret from her until now?

  Something else occurred to her. A thought so unspeakable that she pushed it back in horror. ‘Please, no!’ she whispered, aghast. ‘He loves me! He really loves me!’

  She would not believe that she could be so wrong about someone. Morgan wouldn’t have proposed to her just to secure his link with Jack!

  ‘No!’ she said fiercely to the doubting woman in the mirror. ‘He’s kind and he’s loving and every part of me knows that!’

  Be careful, the eyes of the woman said. Be cautious.

  With a wounded cry, Jodie fled, desperately banishing her doubts. Morgan loved her. She would make sure of that.

  And later that night she wove a spell over him, teasing, tantalising, luring him with her mind and body and soul, all her intense passions and fears focused on arousing his love.

  Once or twice, in the back of her mind, she wondered if he was thinking of Teresa during their most intimate moments. And in those brief seconds she felt her heart would crack in two.

  ‘Love me,’ she murmured passionately.

  His eyes closed in bliss, Morgan took her lower lip in his mouth, tasting its swollen softness. Jodie’s passion more than matched his own, flinging him into the deepest pool of ecstasy he could ever have imagined.

  He slid his tongue to her teeth and she immediately allowed him entrance into the dark, warm moistness. Their tongues meshed and fierce stabs of need scythed through his loins.

  She felt soft and pliable, her lissom body moving with agonising seductiveness against his, her eyes knowing and excitingly wicked.

  He nuzzled her throat and the slender collarbone while his knee parted her legs and his hands enjoyed the firm lushness of her high, rounded breasts.