Secret Son, Convenient Wife

by Maxine Sullivan

  And perhaps Gemma sensed it.

  It would explain a lot.

  Tate was grateful Bree chose that moment to come up to them carrying Nathan. He didn’t want to think about what had happened between Gemma and Drake. She was his wife now. There would be no opportunity for those two to get together in the future. He’d make damn sure of it.

  Gemma went to lift Nathan out of Bree’s arms. “Here, let me hold him.” She tried to pretend she hadn’t heard Darlene and Tate talking about Drake. At least she now knew why the other man hadn’t attended. Thank God he hadn’t! She hadn’t wanted to see him on her wedding day, but she hadn’t dared mention him, or Tate might think she was interested.

  She wasn’t.

  Not at all.

  Her sister-in-law stepped back with a cool smile. “No, Nathan’s fine. Besides, we don’t want you to dirty that beautiful dress.”

  Gemma really didn’t care about a dress that was off the rack, in spite of the fact that she and Nathan could have easily lived a year on the same amount of money. “That’s okay, Bree.”

  “No, I insist. Besides, you and Tate need to circulate.” It was a reminder of why this wedding was taking place. “I’m happy to look after my nephew.” Bree walked off with Nathan in her arms.

  Under different circumstances, Gemma would have gone after her and taken back her son, but Nathan was chuckling as Bree bounced him on her hip, so Gemma let him be.

  Anyway, Bree’s issues were with Gemma, not Nathan. When she had commented on it, Tate had said his family knew nothing about their previous relationship. He’d said she must be imagining it. But Gemma was aware they all blamed her for keeping Nathan from them—everyone except Tate’s mother, who was the only Chandler to show her some sympathy.

  And Darlene had paid the price for it. Gemma had noticed some tension in the air. Even Tate showed a hint of reserve with his mother, though it wasn’t something Gemma could put her finger on.

  Just then two older ladies came up to them. “Oh, it was a lovely ceremony.”

  Gemma acknowledged that the Chandlers had pulled out all the stops to get the wedding arranged in such a short time. Needless to say, it was amazing what one could achieve when there was money to spare and family honor at stake.

  “And so adorable how you gave your little boy a kiss on the cheek,” the other woman said. “That was so sweet.”

  “Yes, that was inspired,” Tate drawled, his meaning obvious, at least to her, though she noted Darlene gave him a sharp look.

  Gemma ignored him. “Thank you. I wanted Nathan to be a part of it all.”

  “Well, you did that very well, my dear.”

  “It’s good that he has both his parents now, don’t you think?” the other lady said without menace.

  Before Gemma could speak, Darlene stepped in, shepherding them away. “There’s someone over there I want you both to meet.”

  “I didn’t kiss Nathan for show,” Gemma hissed at Tate, “despite what you obviously think.”

  “Really? You went above and beyond the call of duty with that one.”

  “It wasn’t a duty.”

  “So you say.”

  “Drop dead, Tate,” she said, the words falling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  He actually looked amused. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Married and widowed to you on the same day? Sounds good to me.”

  “You won’t be so smart when we’re alone later.”

  Her heart stuttered. “Wh-what?”

  He stilled, then looked away. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Not a thing.”

  She had the feeling that, like her, he’d spoken without thought. It had been the kind of thing they’d used to say when they were lovers. They hadn’t discussed it, but she knew Tate would not let himself want her again. Their wedding kiss might have felt like a reunion for a few heartbeats, but neither of them would be caught out again.

  More guests came up to them, and Gemma tried to act relaxed, but she was glad when Tate excused himself to speak to his grandmother and his father, who were holding court across the room. Bree approached them, and Tate lovingly scooped Nathan out of his sister’s arms, making Gemma’s heart lilt. She’d been watching Tate with Nathan these past ten days, and she had no doubt he loved his son. Nathan had grown used to Tate, too. They looked relaxed and comfortable together, these four generations of Chandlers.

  She was the outsider.

  And she’d probably never be a true part of this family. Add that to her own parents cutting her off and she suddenly felt like everyone in the world had deserted her.

  Everyone but her son, she reminded herself.

  Nathan loved her.

  Nathan needed her like no one else.

  How she wished it could be different with her own family. For her son’s sake, she’d even phoned her parents to invite them to the wedding, hoping they might be pleased. After getting no answer, she’d phoned her father’s work to learn they had gone on a Mediterranean cruise. She had to admit now that she was glad they weren’t able to come. Her life was one big pretense, and she wasn’t sure she could keep up the facade of happiness with them here. They’d hurt her too much.

  At least Tate would be a far better parent to Nathan than her own parents had been to her, she thought, pushing aside her momentary self-pity as Nathan started to cry. Her poor little darling was overwhelmed and overtired. The doctor had said there were no complications from the operation, but Nathan could still be feeling the aftereffects.

  She excused herself and went to him. “Ssh, Mommy’s here, sweetie.” She lifted Nathan out of Tate’s arms, looking at the others. “It’s his nap time. I’ll take him upstairs.” She was about to turn away when Tate’s driver appeared at their side.

  “Mr. Chandler, the reporters are here. They want to know when you and Gem—I mean, Mrs. Tate—will come out to see them.”

  Gemma groaned inwardly. She knew this was part of the deal, but not right now.

  “Tell them they’ll be there shortly, Clive,” Jonathan Chandler said before Tate could speak. Then her father-in-law went to take Nathan from her. “We’ll get one of the staff to take this boy upstairs while you and Tate do what you have to do.”

  Gemma instantly moved her son out of reach. “I’m sorry, Jonathan, but I intend to put Nathan to bed myself.” She couldn’t call him Mr. Chandler. She wouldn’t. She doubted he’d ask her to call him “Dad.”

  “But the reporters—”

  “Can wait,” Gemma said quietly but firmly. Nathan needed her more than anyone else. And Lord knows, she needed the break.

  “Gemma’s right, Dad,” Tate said, surprising her. “Nathan’s needs are more important. The reporters can wait. They won’t go away anytime soon.” He gave a slight smile. “Unfortunately.”

  Jonathan looked from Tate to her and back again, then gave a sharp nod. “Okay, son.”

  Gemma had to bite her tongue. When she took a stand, she was ignored. When Tate took a stand, they listened. She hoped it wasn’t going to stay this way her whole life.

  Tate squared his shoulders. “I’ll go talk to them, while Gemma goes upstairs.” His gaze shifted to her. “Come down when you’re ready.”

  Gemma was grateful to escape, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to face them all. If only the day could be over.

  Upstairs she gave Nathan a bottle and then changed his diaper in the small bedroom connected to hers.

  “There we go, sweetie,” she said, putting him in the crib. His eyes were closing as soon as his little head hit the pillow, and she smiled to see him sucking furiously on the bottle. For a few minutes she watched over him with all the love in her heart.

  It wasn’t until she went to leave the room that she realized she had a dilemma. Tate had bought the latest in digital baby monitors so she could hear Nathan no matter what room she was in, but she wasn’t about to leave her son alone in here when a bunch of strangers were crawling all over the house. />
  Absolutely no way.

  She looked out in the corridor, hoping to see someone who could pass a message to Tate, but there was no one. She even used the intercom for the kitchen, but no one answered. They were probably all too busy, maybe not even able to hear it. There was nothing to do but sit and wait it out. Tate would eventually come looking for her, she was sure. He had to. He needed her for the photographs.

  About fifteen minutes later, someone knocked on her door and she hurried to open it. Tate stood there, his eyes showing his anger. “Is this some sort of protest?”

  She angled her chin at his tone. “I guess it is.”

  “Not now, Gemma. We’ve got—”

  “I’m not leaving Nathan up here alone.”

  He stopped and digested the info, then nodded. “I’ll get Sandy to come up and stay with him.”

  Gemma had met Peggy and Clive’s twenty-one-year-old daughter, and she was happy to leave Nathan with her. “No one’s answering the intercom in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll go get her.” Ten minutes later he was back and was soon escorting Gemma down the staircase, her arm tucked under his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You made quite an entrance earlier.”

  She wouldn’t let him know she’d been scared to death. “It’s what you expected, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s definitely something I would expect from you.”

  She hated the way he said that. “Actually, your mother suggested it.”

  “Did she now?” He remained quiet, but she wasn’t sure what he thought about what she’d said.

  Gemma was suddenly aware of Clive standing at the large front door, all set to open it to the reporters. When they reached the bottom step, she stopped. “Er…it’s only going to be a couple of pictures, right?”

  Tate looked at her oddly, then squeezed her arm. “A couple of photographs by the fountain, that’s all. I’ll answer the questions, but if they ask you anything, just do your best.”

  “Okay.” Would her best be good enough?

  He pulled her closer to his side. “Ready?”

  She was surprised by his gesture, warmed that he wasn’t quite prepared to feed her to the wolves. She cleared her throat. “Yes, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Gemma wasn’t sure how they pulled it off, but she and Tate managed to look like a loving couple as they stood in front of a spectacular fountain on the front lawn while a group of people took photographs. Hopefully any nervousness on her part was understandable.

  And then…

  “A kiss for the camera,” one man suggested.

  Almost imperceptibly, Tate’s arm tensed beneath hers. For a moment she thought he would refuse. If only he would. She didn’t want to relive the sensation of their last kiss.

  Then his head rushed toward her, and he didn’t miss another beat as he swept her into his arms like some romantic hero in a movie.

  Lights.

  Camera.

  Action.

  Even knowing this was all for show, her breath caught high in her throat. She fought not to let him take anything from her this time, but the kiss went on…and on…and on… Then, just as she started to yield, he released her.

  His eyes gave nothing away, but she could see a slight flush to his cheeks. That, at least, made her feel less exposed.

  With the practiced ease of someone who’d grown up in the spotlight, he turned to look at the photographers, a confident smile coating his lips. “Is that good enough, people?”

  “Terrific!”

  “Great!”

  “Hey, what does the new Mrs. Chandler have to say about it?” a woman asked.

  Gemma struggled to pick up her scattered senses. She had to play the game. If she showed how scared she was of the limelight, they’d chew her up and spit her out.

  She gave what she thought was a convincing smile. “Practice definitely makes perfect.”

  Laughter erupted as the cameras clicked.

  “Great quote! Now about—”

  Tate put up his hand. “No more. My wife and I have a wedding to get back to.” His mouth curved and he winked. “And a honeymoon.” He started to lead her back inside.

  “But what about the humanitarian award? What do you think about that?”

  Tate stopped briefly. “I’m very proud of my family. It’s an honor to receive such an award.”

  “And what about—”

  Gemma saw a helicopter coming toward them in the distance.

  Tate must have seen it, too, because he moved her toward the front door. “That’s all, guys.” They stepped inside and Clive closed the door behind them just as the chopper reached the estate.

  “You’d better get on that, Clive, or they’ll all be swarming overhead soon. They’ve got enough pictures now.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Chandler.” The other man hurried off.

  Gemma’s legs were shaky. “Thank God that’s over,” she managed to say.

  As well as everything had gone, there was nothing quite as daunting as a helicopter overhead and a flock of reporters intent on finding a story. Any story.

  Unless it was a comment from her new husband about a honeymoon…

  He didn’t mean it, she knew that. But still, it had shaken her, reminding her that Tate was a virile man and wouldn’t remain celibate for long.

  Would he take a lover?

  The thought made her feel ill until she hurriedly decided he wouldn’t. At least not yet. He wouldn’t risk raining more bad press upon his family.

  But would he want her eventually?

  She believed that any sex between them would be full of hostility. Yet his kisses today hadn’t been angry. She swallowed hard. That’s because they’d had an audience, she told herself. It had all been for show. Nothing more.

  Still, she’d started contraceptives last week as a precaution. The doctor had said they would take a month to work and had recommended using other precautions until then. She didn’t expect to need them.

  “It’s not quite over yet,” Tate said, bringing her focus back to the present. “We still have to return to our guests.”

  She forced aside her thoughts. She could handle the rest of the wedding. After that lot out there, it would be a piece of cake!

  Perhaps she would rethink that, Gemma mused to herself, when a short time later she ended up alone with Tate’s grandmother.

  “I hope you’ll treat my grandson right,” Helen Chandler said, with that same coolness her granddaughter, Bree, showed to Gemma.

  For a moment, Gemma thought Helen was talking about Nathan, then realized she meant Tate. “As long as Tate treats me and Nathan right, I will.”

  Helen inclined her head. “He will. My grandson knows his responsibilities.”

  “I’m sure.” His sense of duty was the reason they were here today, wasn’t it?

  And then…Helen seemed to hesitate. “Tate takes things to heart. He feels deeply…like his father.”

  Gemma had the feeling that the older woman was trying to tell her something. After all, there was no question that Tate felt deeply. He thought he’d been deceived. First about Drake and then about his son, and both assumptions had greatly upset him. But was Helen talking about more than that? Was there something Helen knew that she didn’t? Gemma couldn’t think what.

  Tate appeared in front of them. “I’m afraid I have to take Gemma away from you, Gran. We’re expected to dance.”

  Expected? There was that responsibility thing again. Gemma suddenly felt like someone’s cross to bear.

  His cross.

  She slipped smoothly into his arms, wishing she could slip as easily into his life—or out of it—but neither was to be. “I know where you and your sister get it from now,” she said, tilting her head up at him.

  “What?”

  “That attitude of yours. They’re never going to forgive me, are they?”

  “Gran’s old.”

  “And Bree?”

  “She’s young, but her experien
ce is light years away from yours.”

  Gemma swallowed her gall. He made it sound as if she’d been sleeping with the local football team. “As long as they don’t take it out on Nathan, they can be as cool as they like to me.”

  “No one in my family will hurt my son.”

  “Our son.”

  He ignored her comment as they continued dancing, but their conversation got her thinking. The paternity test had been taken, but Tate hadn’t mentioned it since. Maybe it took a while for the results to come in. Not that she was worried. Nathan could only belong to Tate.

  “Your parents will be sorry they missed all this,” Tate said, jolting her. She reacted without thinking.

  “I’m sure.”

  He immediately scowled. “Why do you say—”

  “Ouch!” she said, needing to change the subject.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My toe. You stepped on it,” she fibbed.

  She didn’t want to discuss her parents. If they were here, it would only be out of duty, and she’d probably get upset. Why give Tate the chance to be more critical of her?

  “I did? Sorry.” He actually smiled. “I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.”

  “Perhaps you’re going through puberty again,” she joked.

  He chuckled, and, for a brief instant, they were on the same wavelength.

  Like old times.

  Only, it wasn’t like old times, she reminded herself, quickly looking away.

  Far from it.

  The music ended and Tate led her over to his parents. Gemma was surprised to hear them talking about building a childproof fence around the gardens and grounds, to keep Nathan from accidentally wandering off or falling in the lake. For that, Gemma couldn’t stop her heart from softening toward them, and she now regretted keeping Nathan from them for so long. As painful as it was to be married to a man who hated her, she was glad that Tate had accepted his son and glad Nathan had people around him who would always care for him. That was a huge comfort.

  The afternoon came to a close after that, and the guests started to leave. Finally, only Tate’s immediate family remained, and they said their goodbyes once the caterers had cleared up. It was an hour’s drive back to the city, but everyone had agreed it wouldn’t look good “honeymoon-wise” to have the in-laws staying in the house, no matter that it was the size of a football field.