After the last time they’d been together, when she’d made it crystal clear she didn’t want a baby the abortion question had been a test. He’d recognised her horror and determination to keep the child.
But what had happened in the meantime to make her change her mind?
Becca Wainwright was a beautiful woman full of mixed messages and contradictions. And she was driving him fucking crazy.
Lucas frowned now as another issue raised its head. His father. The old man would be over the moon with a grandchild. Don Norberto Juan Ortiz Conde Del Garda would insist on the child being legitimate.
However, by her behaviour towards him Lucas was more than aware that there was no way Becca would agree to marry him for the sake of a baby. Therefore it was important to keep the news quiet.
Her aversion to publicity was fair enough. He knew plenty of highly creative personalities, particularly actors and musicians, who lived solely to create and loathed the media circus surrounding their profession. So he got her, he did.
The beautiful haunted woman that was Rebecca Wainwright had captured his heart at first sight. He adored her and he wanted her in his life as his wife. However, Lucas was under no illusions. Life with Becca was not going to be an easy ride, especially in the beginning. He’d need to find the patience of a saint. She was still grieving and her heart had been broken. Whether or not he could help her mend it was something he didn’t want to consider. There were no guarantees. But they were connected for the rest of their lives by the child sleeping inside her.
He needed to keep the mother of his child close.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning found Becca in the back of the Bentley with Lucas.
Lucas’s white T-shirt had drowned her last night but after running her a bath he’d left her to it and she’d slept alone.
Now they were on their way to her apartment.
Lucas re-arranged his diary with Margo and was speaking now in lyrical Spanish on his cell phone.
Dressed in a dark bespoke suit, a white shirt in pristine cotton and hand-made shoes, the man looked like a walking advertisement for Dior. The single concession to his creativity was a silk tie in jazzy shades of red and hot orange.
Sitting next to him wearing a dress that revealed too much in such a confined space, she was too aware of him.
His dark gaze lingered on her from time to time when he’d reach out to squeeze her hand or stroke her arm as if he couldn’t help but have a physical contact with her. After a while she wondered if he was soothing himself as well as soothing her. A part of her recognised that he was physically indicating he was there as a support for her during a time of deep emotional turmoil for them both.
Staring out the tinted window, she couldn’t help but feel that same strange disconnect with the outside world. A disconnect she knew wasn’t healthy and a disconnect she’d lived with for far too long.
They were taking her to her apartment to pack for an agreed short stay at Lucas’s town house.
In the end she’d managed a good night’s sleep, probably because she’d made a decision for herself and her baby that had put her mind at rest.
Worrying or thinking of the future, she’d learned the hard way, was a lesson in futility. The best way was to simply get through each day, minute by minute, one step at a time.
Lucas was a man who got things done. He’d conveyed the confirmation of her appointment with a gynaecologist later this morning over breakfast.
The car slid into a smart road. Her apartment was on the top floor of a Victorian conversion.
Lucas opened the car door for her, taking her arm to help her out.
He didn’t let her go as she keyed in her code at the main entrance.
In silence she led him up three flights of stairs.
Inserting the key in the lock, she turned to him.
‘I moved here as a temporary measure after I sold the house,’ she offered by way of an explanation of how she lived. Or perhaps how she existed might be a better description.
Opening the door, she saw the space through his eyes and embarrassed heat flared into her cheeks. She’d never had anyone back here except Justin who kept threatening to organise a dumpster.
Lucas’s gasp of shock didn’t surprise her in the least.
‘How long have you been living like this?’
Cardboard boxes and packing cases piled to the ceiling made the long narrow hall tricky to navigate.
At least her kitchen/living room was clear of clutter.
‘Almost two years.’
He followed her through to an airy room with a pitched roof. The walls were painted matt white. One huge window, naked of curtains, fitted into the gable end permitting a skinny winter sun to pool on the tired oak floor. Four skylight windows sucked light into the rest of the apartment. For the first time she saw it for it was - a place to lock and leave. She had no mirrors, knick knacks, photos or even a print on the walls.
A couple of new couches in blue velvet, still with their labels attached, were placed either side of a hole in the wall gas fire. A fragile looking glass coffee table sat forlornly between them. Tucked away in a corner were a round glass dining table and four modern chairs in clear plastic. The tables, she noticed for the first time, were growing a beard of dust which would have horrified her mother who was fastidious about such things.
These days Becca could care less.
She tried not to think of the lovely old home she’d shared with Rick. Where carefully chosen antique pieces had made it a home. Spacious sofas had been covered with vibrant throws and fabulous cushions. The whole house had gleamed and glistened.
‘I’m afraid I’m not house proud these days.’ By the look on his face she could tell Lucas thought that was an understatement. ‘Why don’t you take a seat, I won’t be long.’
A frown creased his forehead as Lucas watched her hurry away.
Feeling increasingly alarmed, he turned in a circle. This wasn’t a home. It was like a priest’s cell. There wasn’t even a television, a magazine or even a radio that he could see.
A sturdy book case made of solid oak stood empty, every shelf covered in an inch of dust.
Feeling more dismayed by the second, he prowled into the tiny galley kitchen. Its cream painted cupboards and Formica work surfaces in a dingy grey revolted his keen eye. But at least it was spotless.
Filling the white plastic kettle with water from the battered stainless steel sink, he plugged it in and pawed through the cupboards looking for coffee and something to drink it in.
He discovered the cupboards and drawers held four of everything; forks, knives, spoons, plates, bowls and mugs in plain white china. No more and no less. It reminded him of a start-up kit for College students.
The tiny fridge offered up six eggs and an out-of-date yoghurt. No milk, no juice or fruit and vegetables.
Nursing a mug of black instant coffee he retraced his steps into the living room and stared unseeing out of the grimy window. Something was very wrong with the set-up. He knew she’d command decent money for her skills. She’d sold her house. Had she been left with nothing? Debts?
He turned as the sound of her footsteps.
Dressed in a well-cut black trouser suit with flat Chanel pumps in ivory with a black patent toe, Becca pulled a lightweight trolley suitcase in shiny black.
Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail of glossy curls which made her look ridiculously young.
She wore a light make-up, but still appeared too fragile this morning. Those blue eyes seemed too big for her face as her gaze met his. He read fear and anxiety. And knew exactly how she felt.
His attention was diverted by the wedding and engagement rings which had materialised on the third finger of her left hand. The engagement ring, a single diamond, a couple of carats, was set in platinum. The collar of his shirt suddenly felt too tight. And he had the distinct feeling she was sending him a message and wondered what the hell it meant.
He
checked his watch.
They didn’t have time for a debate and he didn’t want to upset her before visiting the consultant. The tension that crackled in the air between them had a hot stone of anxiety settle in his gut.
‘Is that everything?’ he wanted to know, desperately telling himself to remain calm.
Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip as she took a shaky breath.
‘Yes.’
The journey to Harley Street passed too quickly for Becca.
Lucas appeared withdrawn and the atmosphere between them since leaving her apartment was now too tense and too edgy. She fiddled with her wedding rings wondering what had possessed her to wear them. His eyes followed her fingers and she watched that mouth thin as his tongue ran across his full bottom lip. And she knew why she’d worn her rings, she needed him to back off and it appeared he was taking the hint because there was no touching her now. Instead he sat back against the butter soft leather seat and stared unseeing out into the passing streets, his work even forgotten as he ignored the relentless summons of his vibrating cell phone.
In a comfortable waiting room a smiling nurse ordered Becca to drink plenty of water.
A tray with a jug of water and a glass was placed on the table. She knew the drill. Apparently she was going to have a quick scan.
Lucas turned off his phone.
He sat beside her on the comfortable plush couch, close but not touching, with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped.
Time ticked past so slowly it was an exquisite lesson in sheer torture.
Eventually, the same nurse popped her head in the room and beamed at them.
‘Rebecca? Come through we’re all ready for you.’
Becca stood, moved to the door and the nurse raised a brow at Lucas.
‘You’re welcome too.’
His dark eyes flew to Becca’s. For a moment she had no idea what to say. But the baby was his as well as hers, he had every right to be there.
She held out her hand.
He stood and took it with a keen look at her face. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course.’
Minutes later, Becca lay on her back, her trousers and silk panties around her hips.
Why she was embarrassed that Lucas could see her pubic hair she had no idea, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it all before. She wore an ivory silk camisole under her jacket and it was pushed up to just below her matching bra.
‘What a lovely flat tummy,’ the nurse told the room at large in cheery voice.
A smart man in his forties entered. Becca liked him on sight. He had very kind eyes she decided.
‘Good morning, I’m Mr. Sanderson,’ he introduced himself and shook their hands. He removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands before sitting next to Becca. Squeezing a blob of gel low on her tummy, he smoothed the transducer from hip to hip and down towards her pelvis. A large computer screen lit the room as the nurse turned down the lights. ‘Right, let’s see what we’ve got here.’
Becca didn’t know if it was the tension of the moment, but her eyes began to sting along with the feeling of a heavy weight pressing down on her lungs.
Blinking frantically she tried to focus on the screen and Lucas captured her hand and squeezed hard. She flicked him a glance and saw his eyes were riveted to the screen too.
Mr. Sanderson fiddled with a couple of dials and moved the probe lower, pressing gently on her uterus low in her pelvis.
‘Do you see that frantic little pulse of light?’
‘Si,’ Lucas said in a hoarse voice.
‘That is a heartbeat.’ The doctor peered at the screen, adjusted a dial and moved the transducer again. ‘Actually, that is a couple of heartbeats.’
In response Mr. Sanderson received a shocked gasp from Becca and stunned silence from Lucas.
Once she’d visited the loo, been weighed and had her blood pressure taken, the nurse led an over emotional Becca into a smart consulting room.
Her legs were too shaky and her heart hammered crazily in her throat.
Lucas and Mr. Sanderson were chatting like old friends over a coffee.
‘It’s always a surprise to find two instead of one,’ the doctor was saying.
Kind eyes met hers as she sank into the chair next to Lucas.
‘Right, Rebecca, when we’re finished here the nurse will take bloods.’ He scanned his notes and checked the form the nurse handed him. ‘I see you’re having a problem with your blood pressure and I see you’re a choreographer. You’re slightly underweight. We need to watch that. How many hours a day are you on your feet?’
Still trying to get her head around the fact that she was having twins, Becca blinked at him like an owl. Sheer willpower forced her brain to function.
‘About ten or twelve depending on whether we’re working in the studio or on set.’
He nodded.
‘This is your first pregnancy?’
Becca took a deep steadying breath and looked him in the eye.
‘No, my second.’ The doctor’s eyes held hers. ‘I lost a baby at thirty-four weeks.’
She heard Lucas’s shocked inhale of breath, could feel his eyes on her face, but she held the doctor’s gaze. He nodded slowly and placed his pen on the table, sat back and prepared to listen.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
Her voice was no more than a whisper, ‘They said it was hypovolemic shock.’
‘You lost a lot of blood?’
She nodded. ‘I had a placental abruption.’ She heaved in a trembling breath as at last the dam broke and tears streamed down her face.
Lucas placed his hand over hers which were fisted in her lap.
‘Take your time,’ the doctor told her pushing a box of tissues towards her.
‘I was waiting for my husband to come home, making dinner and he was late. Which wasn’t unusual because he was never on ... He was a software designer, very clever and terribly forgetful when he was caught up in a project.’ She paused as Lucas handed her a tissue and she blew her nose heroically. ‘The doorbell rang and I thought he’d forgotten his keys. But two policemen were there. He was found by the cleaning company. He died at his desk. A stroke they said when a single blood vessel burst in his brain. Apparently death was instantaneous. He didn’t suffer.’
The doctor shook his head. ‘How old was he?’
‘Thirty-three.’
Mr. Sanderson rose and came around to perch on the desk in front of her.
‘When did the miscarriage take place?’
‘About an hour later, she was born in the ambulance.’
‘Madre del Dios,’ Lucas whispered. He squeezed her hand.
Dr Sanderson’s sharp eyes never left her face. ‘You’re bound to be anxious after such a trauma, Rebecca. However, I promise we’re going to look after you during this pregnancy. But you’ve got to do your part too. And that means plenty of rest, relaxation and no stress. I’ll see you in a few days once you’re over the shock and we’ll take it from there.’
In the car, Lucas instructed John to drive to the dance studio.
He pressed a button and a tinted glass privacy screen slid up. Lucas turned to her, his dark eyes swirling with emotion. He cupped her face in his hands, tipping up her chin to look into her eyes.
‘Thank you, querida, for sharing that experience.’
The sensation of the world tilting washed through her as she pressed the palm of her hand to her stomach. Twins!
‘I can’t believe it.’
Lifting her hand, Lucas swiftly bent his head to press his lips against her tummy. She forced herself not to clutch at his hair as silky and black as a raven’s wing. Easy tears stung her eyes as he lifted his head, dark eyes twinkling wickedly into hers.
His deep voice purred in his throat, ‘I am very potent, no?’
How was it, Becca wondered, that he managed to defuse the rollercoaster of her emotions?
Every time she was falling apart, he was the
re for her. The morning after the night before in the hotel and just now. Lucas appeared to have the uncanny knack of anchoring her.
She couldn’t help but smile back at his outrageous arrogance even as her bottom lip trembled. Those dark eyes went serious now as he took her face again, his thumb wiping away a stray tear.
‘Becca,’ he whispered her name. ‘I am so terribly sorry for your loss and for all you have suffered.’
The sincerity she read in his eyes and heard in his voice gave her courage.
‘I never speak of it. I can’t. It’s ...’
He nodded and pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Si, I understand. My mother died many years ago and my father has never truly healed.’
‘Someone said recently that it’s time for me to move on.’ Fierce loyalty to Justin would not permit her to repeat the things he’d said.
Lucas gave a shrug, shook his head.
‘You are grieving. I do not believe there is a time limit on loss. Only what is right for you.’
Who’d have thought the great Lucas Del Garda, PR Guru and man-about-town would have so much empathy?
Still holding her face, Lucas placed the whisper of a kiss on her mouth.
‘How did you and Rick meet?’
Becca took a shaky breath. ‘I was in the ballet. He was a friend of a friend and we hit it off. He’d already set up his business.’
‘It was successful?’
‘Very.’
He blinked. ‘So what happened? Why are you living in that place?’
Honesty had her open up to him. ‘I couldn’t go back home. Justin took care of the sale of the house. I wasn’t in a fit state to do anything except dance. I threw myself into work. The flat was supposed to be a stop-gap until I found something else. But we’ve been so busy with theatre and film work I never got around to doing anything about it.’
‘Which means you are financially solvent?’
She smiled as the penny dropped. ‘Ah, you think because I don’t need material possessions I’m penniless?’
‘The way you live was a shock. Where do you eat?’
‘Out. With friends or with the people we’re working with at the time. Basically, I use the place for sleeping.’
A Stormy Spring Page 10
