She flinched and tried to draw back, but his hands tightened on her upper arms. “Let me go,” she said anxiously. She wanted to sound firm, but her emotions were high and the words came out like a plea.
Satisfaction entered his eyes. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
A flashback rolled over her. Dear God, if Tate saw them like this… “Drake, look—”
“I’m looking, sweetheart.”
She found the strength to lift her hands to his chest, intending to push him away. “Please leave me alo—”
“Gemma?”
Oh, God.
The sound came from behind her and she twisted around to see Tate standing a few feet from them. The look in his eyes said it all. She could see his trust in her shriveling up, like a flash fire of betrayal had swept over him. He was disbelieving, angry, hurt… It was written on his face.
Gemma couldn’t take any more. She’d lost Tate. Lost the man she loved. Again. All that was between them was no more.
And this time she would lose her son, too.
She felt herself slipping down to the carpet.
Tate stood for a moment in a no-man’s-land, unable to move as his wife fainted in front of him. He felt sick to the stomach. He’d caught them again. They must have arranged to meet here, however briefly. They probably thought it was safer to meet in public.
Then something strange happened. He caught a glimpse of satisfaction on Drake’s face. Suddenly, Tate wasn’t sure about anything. He hadn’t heard from Drake since before the wedding, and he hadn’t contacted him about tonight either. He’d even felt guilty about it.
And Gemma needed him.
He started forward as an odd emotion rose up inside him like bile. She was his wife. No other man should be touching her. If Drake truly cared for Gemma, he’d already be on his knees beside her.
Hell, someone who truly cared wouldn’t have let her hit the ground. Tate jumped the distance between them, pleased to see her eyes open as she tried to sit up. It was as well that Drake moved out of the way or Tate might have knocked the other man’s head off for letting her fall.
“Gemma?” He half sat her against his body, allowing her to lean against him.
“I’m okay.”
Looking down at her face, he saw the color coming back into her cheeks, though not in a good way. “You need a doctor.”
She tried to get to her feet, but she looked agitated. “I’m fine.”
Tate’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “No, stay here for a moment.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Drake said quickly. “I didn’t mean to run into Gemma like this.”
Gemma’s whole body tensed, and, for the first time, Drake’s words didn’t ring true to Tate. They matched the satisfaction he’d glimpsed on his best friend’s face just moments before.
Yet he didn’t want Drake to know even a hint of what he was thinking. He struggled to get his emotions under control. By the time he looked up, he knew no one would guess what was going through his mind. “I can handle it from here.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Drake asked.
Tate felt a shiver run through Gemma. It wasn’t about her wanting the other man. It was the opposite, in fact.
“Can you tell my family what’s happened? They’re in the ballroom.” That at least would get Drake out of the way. “I’ll call Clive to come collect us so I can take Gemma home.”
“Sure. I’ll go tell them right now. No need for you to worry.” Drake walked away.
Tate followed him with his eyes. There was a definite swagger to his friend’s back that sent a chill through him.
“Tate, it’s not what you think.”
He looked down at Gemma’s anxious face and could see she thought he was upset with her. Hell, he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t upset with her. Deep down he was definitely upset with someone.
Then she flinched and something punched him in the chest. She looked like an injured animal expecting to be hurt. Had Drake done this to her?
Or had he?
“Come on,” he said, helping her to her feet. “We’ll go find somewhere for you to sit down until Clive gets here.”
A couple of women came upon them and offered assistance. Tate didn’t like others seeing this, but they were in a public place and it couldn’t be helped. He took up their offer to show him and Gemma to a small sitting area down the next corridor. Once satisfied they were no longer needed, they went back to the ballroom.
Tate called Clive on his cell phone, explained the situation and was thankful the older man was only about five minutes away from the hotel. Clive usually liked to arrive early and chat with some of the other drivers.
The next minute, Bree came racing toward them. “What happened? Drake said Gemma fainted.”
“She did, but she’s okay now.”
“Oh, good,” Bree said, looking relieved.
Tate had to admit he was surprised by the concern on his sister’s face. She hadn’t exactly been friendly toward Gemma these past few weeks.
“It was probably too much excitement tonight,” he excused, keeping Drake out of this. With his grandmother putting Gemma in the spotlight a short while ago, and after everything with her parents on television, it was understandable that Gemma’s emotions would be running high. “I’m taking her home soon.”
“Do you want me to come with you? Mom and Dad are dancing, and Gran’s having a great time with some old friends, but I don’t mind leaving early.”
“Thanks, sis, but we’ll be fine. Tell the others, will you? I don’t want Gemma disturbed once we get home. She’s going straight to bed.”
“Sure.” Bree went to walk away.
“Bree?” Gemma said, stopping his sister. “Er…thanks.”
Bree’s eyes softened. “You’re welcome, Gemma,” she said, before hurrying away.
Tate was startled at the pleasure he felt that these two women now had the chance to be friends. He hadn’t realized before how unsettled it had made him, having his sister hold a grudge against his wife.
His eyes met Gemma’s and a moment of connection passed between them, but turbulence soon rushed into her eyes and she looked away. He was grateful Clive rang on his cell phone right then to say he’d arrived. And, thankfully, no one appeared to notice anything out of the ordinary as they made their way through the foyer and out to the limousine.
Clive held the back door open for them. “Is Gemm—I mean, Mrs. Chandler okay?”
“Yes, but I’m glad you weren’t far away.”
“So am I,” Clive said, looking pleased to have been needed.
Gemma climbed on to the backseat. “I’m fine, thank you, Clive.”
They were soon driving off, the partition in front affording them some privacy.
“Tate, I—”
“Ssh. You should rest up.” He had things to think about. Serious things.
She turned her head to look out the side window, then just as fast turned back at him. “I won’t give up Nathan,” she said in a suddenly choked voice.
Everything rolled on its head. He’d been giving her the benefit of the doubt, but perhaps that had been a mistake. His jaw set as he ignored the stricken look in her eyes. “That sounds like a threat to me.”
“I don’t care what you do to me, Tate. You’re not having my son.”
He decided pity was overrated. “I won’t have my son living with another man.”
Her face went blank. “Wh-what?”
“If you go to Drake, Nathan stays with me.”
She gaped at him. “But…but I don’t want to go to Drake. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
The comment threw him. “You don’t?”
“No.”
So what was all this about then?
And then he knew. He’d told her he would take Nathan from her if he caught her with Drake again. And he would have done it—if he still believed she wanted the other man.
“Then we’re staying married,” he told her
, getting back to what was important.
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open. “We are?”
“Nathan is ours. We stay together.” He wasn’t about to tell her this just yet, but for the first time their marriage wasn’t only about their son. He wanted her to stay.
“Oh.” She swallowed hard, then released a shaky breath. “Well, that’s okay then.”
“Yes, Gemma, it is.”
They completed the rest of the journey in silence. Peggy had been minding Nathan for the evening, but she was at the front door as soon as the car pulled up, her concern obvious. “A nice cup of tea will do you good,” she said, once they were inside.
Tate led Gemma up the stairs and waited until she was bed. Once Peggy had brought up the hot drink and left the room, he moved to leave, too. “I’ll be downstairs in the study if you need me. Just call me on the intercom.” He took a couple of steps toward the door.
“Tate, about Drake—”
“Just let it be.” He didn’t want to hear the other man’s name right now. He was beginning to realize his best friend wasn’t all he appeared to be.
Gemma couldn’t describe the joy in her heart as Tate closed the door behind him. He might have left her by herself, but she didn’t feel in the slightest alone. How could she feel alone when she would be staying married to the man of her heart and keeping the son they had made together? Perhaps even with time and understanding would come love?
Then she remembered Drake Fulton, and her throat convulsed. God, Drake had put all that at risk for his own malicious purposes. He’d made her think she’d lost the two most important people in her life. She couldn’t have endured losing Tate again. And thinking about losing custody of Nathan was debilitating.
Yet somehow Tate believed she hadn’t engineered the meeting with Drake. She didn’t understand why, or the reason he seemed to have mellowed. Could it be that he was finally seeing his best friend for the person he was? Or was it more that Tate was learning to trust her?
She prayed it was both.
Eleven
The next morning, Tate left Gemma and Nathan still sleeping and went down to the kitchen early. He’d had a restless night, his mind trying to figure out if his best friend had been full of lies all along. Drake had convinced him that Gemma was the one in the wrong, but suddenly Tate could accept she hadn’t been a party to that kiss.
Or was it merely that he wanted to believe in her? Was her innocence simply more palatable, something that would not only allow him to stay married to her but to sleep with her as well? But if that was so, why couldn’t he shake the image of that smug look on Drake’s face?
In the kitchen, Peggy passed him a cup of coffee, waited for him to take a couple of sips and then handed him the morning newspaper. “I think you’d better see this, Mr. Chandler.”
The headline screamed out at him.
Chandler’s Baby?
“What the hell!”
Newlywed Gemma Chandler faints at the Humanitarian Awards Dinner last night…
It went on to describe an eyewitness account of Gemma in a heap on the floor in the corridor.
Does the Chandler family have more than their award to celebrate? Will matriarch Helen Chandler soon have another great-grandchild to show the Australian public?
“Damn them!” Tate threw the newspaper back on the bench after reading a rehash of his recent marriage and the reason behind it.
“I see Drake Fulton was at the dinner, too,” Peggy said, indicating the article.
Tate scowled and took another look at the front page. He hadn’t taken much notice of the photograph, which showed his family leaving the hotel. Drake walked beside Tate’s mother, smiling down at her as if he was enthralled by what she was saying. It was the way Drake smiled at all women. Nothing unusual there.
Tate nodded. “That’s right. He turned up late.”
A frown appeared on Peggy’s face. “I see.”
Something made him look harder at his housekeeper. “Why, Peggy?” She hesitated.
“Peggy, is there something you’re not telling me?”
She gave a tiny pause, then, “Did Gemma faint before or after Mr. Fulton turned up?”
It was his turn to frown. “After. Why?”
“Well…”
“Tell me,” he said, his tone firm, allowing no argument.
“He telephoned here about two weeks ago and spoke to Gemma,” she said, sending shock through him. “It was the time we were moving her things into your room.”
“Go on.”
“I heard Gemma tell him that he was never a friend of yours and that one day you’d see him for what he was.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chandler. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, but I really like Gemma and I didn’t like how upset Mr. Fulton made her. I know this is presumptuous of me, but I have to say it even if I lose my job. I think Gemma’s right to be wary of your friend.”
Tate felt like his eyes were being pried open. Wide open. Wasn’t it around that time Gemma had seemed distracted? It must have been because of Drake’s phone call. His blood boiled as he thought about Drake saying something to upset her or, worse, doing something.
“I appreciate you telling me, Peggy. And no, you’re not going to lose your job for speaking your mind.”
Relief swept over her face. “Thank you.”
His grip tightened on the newspaper in his hand. “I’ll take this upstairs. I don’t want Gemma seeing it.”
Peggy’s eyes softened. “She’s lucky to have you looking out for her, Mr. Chandler.”
An odd sensation flowed through his chest. “I’m beginning to think I’m the lucky one, Peggy.”
And he meant it.
He left the kitchen and went back upstairs. Gemma was on their bed in her nightgown looking gorgeous, playfully tickling Nathan’s tummy. He watched the pair of them, loving the moment and the sound of their giggling. His throat squeezed with a deep tenderness.
She looked up and an unusual warmth entered her eyes. “Tate, I didn’t see you there.”
“You two are having fun. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He wanted to extend this moment. Nathan saw him then and tried to get down off the bed. Tate strode forward and swung his son off the mattress and up into his arms. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured, cuddling him close. He smelled so…his.
Tate’s eyes met Gemma’s.
Theirs.
In danger of becoming too emotive, he was thankful that Nathan squirmed to get down on the floor. He placed the baby on the carpet just as Gemma said, “You’ve brought the newspaper.”
His head snapped up, not realizing he’d thrown the paper on the bed when he’d picked up Nathan.
She was unfolding it. Her eyes casually flicked over the front page…then went wide. “What’s this?”
There was no easy way to say it. “You made the papers last night.”
The blood drained from her face as she began to read more. “They’re suggesting I’m pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“But I’m not. I’m on the pill. And I didn’t faint because of—”
He didn’t want her saying Drake’s name. “Would being pregnant again be the end of the world for you?”
“Of course not!” she exclaimed, falling for the diversion. “I’d love another baby someday.” A blush spread across her cheeks even as she lifted her chin with a sort of dignity. “But I want it to be something private.”
He more than identified with what she was saying. “We’re in the public eye now, so we’ll be news whatever we do, I’m afraid.”
She let out a breath and threw the paper aside as she got out of bed. “I know.”
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t remain private people at home,” he said, sharing what his grandfather had once told him. “They don’t, and can’t, know everything.”
She considered the words. “That’s true.”
“So don’t let it—”
“Tate! He’s walking!”
&nb
sp; “What?” He felt his son grab hold of his leg.
“Nathan walked! It was only a couple of steps from that chair to you, but he did it.”
Tate looked down at his son, who was now standing pressed against his trouser leg. A lump rose in his throat.
Gemma crouched down a few feet away and spoke to Nathan. “Darling, walk to Mommy.”
Nathan looked across at his mother and hesitated.
“Come on. You can do it, darling. Come to Mommy.”
Nathan let go of Tate’s leg, wobbled and then took three steps in a rush to his mother, who scooped him up, tears in her eyes, sheer pride written across her face. Tate could feel that lump rise farther in his throat and choke him up. At that moment he knew he’d never give up Gemma or his son. He’d fight to the death for them.
Their son had walked.
Gemma couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt to see Nathan take his first steps, and how perfect that Tate had been there to share the special event with her. Not even that invasive article about her being pregnant could dull her excitement.
Their son had walked.
Then, after breakfast, Tate said he was going out but wouldn’t be long. It dampened her spirits a little. He’d been quiet while they’d eaten. At times she’d seen tension etched around his mouth, yet she had the feeling it wasn’t directed at her.
On his return, he appeared more relaxed, but he still had a hard look on his face. He was angry at someone. Her parents? Surely Tate would tell her if it was something to do with them.
Or could this be about Drake Fulton? Her heart lifted. As far as she knew, no one else had done anything to cause Tate anger. Oh, she did so hope that Tate was finally seeing Drake’s true colors.
“Gran’s decided she wants to hold an impromptu party tonight,” Tate told her now, as she and Nathan sat on the sunroom floor building a tower with wooden blocks.
“Tonight?”
He got down on his haunches, ruffled his son’s hair and added a block to the tower. “I think she’s feeling bereft that my grandfather isn’t around to share the award, and this is her way of keeping busy. She and Bree have been on the phone all morning inviting people.”
Secret Son, Convenient Wife Page 14
