Why?
Tonight, after their lovely evening together, and after the past week when Gus had slipped so easily into his role as Nick’s father, it was hard to remember how she’d actually felt when she’d made such a rash, life-altering decision.
She drew a deep breath. ‘Gus, before we get to the taxi rank, I want to thank you. For everything. I know you’re terribly hurt that I never told you about Nick, and I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I—’ Her throat was tight and she swallowed, took another breath and tried again. ‘I want to thank you for being so good about it—about everything.’
To her dismay, he didn’t respond and his face was in shadow now, so she couldn’t even guess his reaction.
What had she expected? Sudden and total forgiveness?
Gus was helping Nick. Wasn’t that enough?
Her voice was so shaky she almost sobbed. ‘I also want to thank you for being such a willing donor. I wasn’t sure how you’d respond after all this time.’
‘It’s what any father would do. I love the boy, Freya.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Besides, I have two healthy kidneys and I can manage with one. I get to give. Nick gets to live.’
‘Yes.’
He made helping Nick sound like another of his well meaning and well thought out projects. Freya knew it was unreasonable to feel depressed.
Stop it, she told herself. Be grateful for what he’s doing. You can’t hope for more.
But, having him back in her life, she was so terribly aware of everything she’d given up. She hadn’t only rejected Gus’s lifestyle; she’d rejected Gus—the only man she’d ever met who could fill her with happiness and longing in equal measure.
I’m greedy. His help for Nick has to be enough. I mustn’t wish for more.
How many times did she have to tell herself this? When would it finally sink in?
In the back of the taxi, Gus sat beside Freya, watching the play of streetlights and shadows on her lovely face and he knew that the defences he’d been struggling to hold in place were toppling, finally and completely.
Once again, he was under Freya Jones’s spell and he no longer wanted to fight it. Just the same, his timing was off. This was hardly the night to be thinking of seduction.
As if to prove it, when the taxi stopped at the hotel, Freya slipped out quickly while he paid the fare and she opened her mobile phone again.
‘I’ve got to ring the hospital, Gus. I just have this awful feeling. I’m so frightened that something will go wrong.’
Her earnestness confirmed what he’d already known. Romance was out of the question. Hell. How could he be thinking about anything remotely romantic when he knew Freya was desperately worried about Nick?
She’d bravely avoided talking about the boy at the restaurant, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been thinking about him the whole time.
Gus knew he could say nothing to allay her fears and he watched with concern while she rang the hospital. He saw the frown creasing her smooth forehead and the dark shadow of worry in her sea-green eyes. Watched her teeth gnaw at her soft lower lip.
‘Hello? It’s Freya Jones. Nick’s mother. I was just wondering…is everything OK?’
She was a touching picture of worried concentration as she listened to the person speaking on the other end. She looked vulnerable and yet unbearably lovely and Gus wished with everything in him that he could take away her pain and banish it for ever.
‘Yes…’ Freya was saying and she nodded. ‘Yes…all right.’ Then he saw the sudden brilliance of her smile. ‘That is good news. Thank you.’
As she flipped her phone shut, she turned to him with a beautiful happy grin. ‘You were right. Nick’s sound asleep and absolutely fine.’
Almost giddy with relief, she stumbled towards Gus and, without hesitation, he opened his arms to catch her.
Her silky hair brushed his cheek; her warm breasts crushed against him. He could even feel her heartbeats. Freya, after all this time…
It was beyond blissful to be hugged by Gus.
Freya felt so reassured by him and so filled with hope. She wanted to stay in his arms, absorbing his strength and protectiveness and general gorgeousness, and she never wanted to let go. Her arms seemed to be stuck to him with Velcro. Stepping away from him took a huge force of willpower, but she managed it somehow.
‘Thank you,’ she said, trying hard to sound normal and nonchalant. ‘I needed that hug.’ Understatement of the century.
Gus’s eyes were twinkling. ‘You’re welcome. Any time.’
‘I needed to go out tonight, too,’ she told him as he opened the heavy glass doors of the hotel. ‘Our dinner was perfect. I’ve been tense for so long, and tomorrow is going to be so…so…’ She shivered. ‘I would have been in such a mess if I’d had to spend tonight on my own.’
Gus placed a protective arm around her shoulders as they crossed the hotel’s lobby. The concierge smiled at them—he probably thought they were lovers. Freya tried, unsuccessfully, not to mind that they weren’t.
There was no one else using the lift. Gus let her enter ahead of him, which was gentlemanly, but she would have been happier if he’d kept his arm about her.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked him.
To her surprise, he gave her a puzzled smile as if her question was extraordinarily difficult to answer.
‘Are you nervous about tomorrow?’
‘Oh.’ He gave a soft self-deprecating laugh. ‘Yes. Terrified.’ Smiling again, he reached for her hand.
She knew he was only being playful and it was silly to get all hot and breathless about a little hand-holding.
Or was it?
Freya stole another look at Gus and his eyes flashed a message that made her bones melt. When the lift stopped at their floor and the doors slid open, she wasn’t sure that her legs would support her.
Fortunately, she made it down the hallway to her room.
‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Gus.’ The words felt trite, inadequate. She wanted to invite him in for coffee, or a drink, but this wasn’t a date and Gus wasn’t just a comfortable old friend she could relax with, so she wasn’t quite sure if an invitation would be appropriate. They were in a relationship no-man’s-land.
While she was dithering, Gus smiled, then reached out and gently touched the side of her face. ‘You’re not going to lie awake all night worrying about tomorrow, are you?’
‘I…I hope not.’ The touch of his fingers was electrifying.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t spend the night alone, Freya.’
Zap! The very thought of spending the night with him sent wave upon wave of excitement rolling through her, but he was joking, wasn’t he?
Freya saw the look in his eyes—a kind of smiling, yet serious intent. Oh, heavens. Maybe he wasn’t joking.
Then his fingers trailed ever so gently down the side of her cheek and she knew for sure that this was something else entirely. Now she tried to remember why it wasn’t a good idea to spend an entire night with Gus Wilder.
Her brain absolutely refused to cooperate.
All she could think was that this night was their only chance to be alone together, and she couldn’t come up with a single reason why she should turn Gus away. He was, after all, the man who’d resided in her heart for twelve long years.
Her knees were trembling so badly she leaned against the door. ‘I…I don’t think I want to be alone, Gus.’
She lifted her eyes to meet his and a silent message flashed between them. Heat flared as if a thousand matches had been struck inside her. She wanted this so badly, couldn’t believe it might actually be happening. When she took the key from her clutch purse, her hand was shaking and she couldn’t fit it into the lock.
‘Here,’ Gus said gently and, taking the key, he slotted it smoothly home.
The door clicked open.
Freya stepped forward into darkness and silence, her heels sinking in luxurious thick carpeting. Gus followed and used the hotel door key t
o turn on the power. Immediately, the room came to life, lit by the discreet golden glow of table lamps. The air conditioner began to hum.
Freya prised her tongue from the roof of her mouth and she turned to him with a shy smile. ‘Would you like coffee or a nightcap?’
‘No, thanks.’ He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a chair, then stepped closer and took her evening purse from her tightly clenched hands, dropped it lightly onto a glass-topped table.
Freya’s heartbeats thundered. Her lips tingled with expectation as Gus’s head dipped to hers. She closed her eyes and their lips touched.
Gus. At last.
The taste of him and the scent of his skin were exactly as Freya remembered. She sank into his embrace, letting his kiss flow through her like a wave breaking on the shore and washing over the sand.
It was almost too good to be true. After so many years, Gus was kissing her, holding her close to his long, hard body, holding her as if he never meant to release her.
She’d thought she might be shy or embarrassed after such a long time, but there wasn’t a chance. Being with Gus felt perfectly, wonderfully right.
In a kind of blissful daze, they drifted towards the king-size bed and tumbled together onto the antique gold quilt. For a moment or two they just lay there, gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling, as if they were eighteen again and couldn’t quite believe their luck.
Gus lifted Freya’s hair away from her face. ‘Your eyes are still all the colours of the sea. They keep changing with your moods.’
‘Your eyes don’t change,’ she said, looking dreamily into their chocolate depths. ‘But I like them like that. Having them stay the same makes you very—’
‘Predictable?’
‘I was going to say grounded.’ She smiled again and he smiled back and she suspected that right now, at this moment, she was as happy as she’d ever been. ‘What colour are my eyes now?’ she asked him. ‘Sultry green.’
‘Sultry?’ She pouted, pretending to be disappointed.
‘Stormy, then.’
‘Yes, that would be right.’ She wriggled closer into the arc of his body heat and a fresh tide of longing washed over her. ‘I’m feeling quite stormy.’
‘Me, too.’
They kissed again in the most deliciously leisurely manner, nipping, tasting, then slowly delving deeper, letting their desire rebuild in wave upon glorious wave. Then, in a burst of impatience, Freya sat up and began to undo the pearl buttons on her blouse as fast as her trembling fingers would allow.
Gus was beside her, making short work of his shirt, his shoes, his trousers. Their clothes flew about the room and the last of Freya’s inhibitions went with them.
Her skin was burning as she lay down again. Gus was so beautiful and she was aching for his touch. A gasp broke from her as he knelt over her, as he lowered his head and scattered warm kisses over her jaw, over her throat and breasts.
She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, but this was Gus and her happiness was tinged with sadness too, for everything she’d lost.
‘Freya.’ It was only a whisper, but she caught the black note of despair in his voice. ‘How did I ever let you go?’
It was too much. Her emotions spilled and she clung to him, pressing her face into his shoulder, trying to smother her tears. But Gus gently eased away from her and he kissed her damp face and her wet eyelids and then he kissed her trembling, sobbing mouth. She tasted the salt of her tears on his lips and their kiss turned wild.
Much later, Gus turned out the lamps and gathered Freya close. Holding her in the darkness, he pressed his face into the curve of her neck and breathed in the scent of her skin. Was it his imagination, or could he smell a hint of frangipani?
‘Gus?’ she murmured sleepily.
‘Mmm?
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Sparks,’ he said.
‘Our sparks?’
He smiled as he kissed her neck. ‘Seems to me, we don’t have a problem with any lack of them.’
‘Seems to me, you could be right.’ Rolling onto her back, she picked up his hand and began to kiss each of his fingers. The simple intimacy wrapped around his heart and he found himself needing to confess one truth that had been nagging at him all evening.
‘In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t like that with Monique.’
Freya stopped her kisses. ‘Actually, I did wonder. I couldn’t help it.’
Gus lay very still, momentarily caught between an urge to tell her everything and a desire to save himself the pain. His conscience, as always, won.
‘The thing is, our marriage wasn’t working too well.’ He hated admitting this, but tonight—before tomorrow—he wanted Freya to know. ‘In some ways, I suppose you’d say we had a marriage of convenience.’
‘Really?’ She was shifting in the darkness, turning and propping herself up on one elbow. ‘Why?’
‘Oh…it seemed like a good idea at the time. Two young, like-minded adults living remotely in a foreign country…with healthy…needs.’
‘But you weren’t in love?’
After a beat, he said, ‘No. I think we were fond enough, but not really in love.’
‘Wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d just had an affair?’
Gus smiled. Freya really was her mother’s daughter. ‘Is that what you’d have done?’
‘I have occasionally. Very occasionally.’
‘Yes, well…it sounds pretentious now, but Monique and I were trying to set a good example. Social responsibility—respectable NGOs and all that. We had an image to protect, so we thought it would be better to marry.’ Even though the room was pitch-black, he closed his eyes, as if somehow that made the confession easier. ‘It was a mistake.’
Gus grimaced into the darkness, not wanting to tell Freya the next bit but, now that he’d started, he needed to get the whole truth out. Not being able to see her face helped. ‘That’s why Monique wanted to leave Eritrea.’
‘You mean she wanted to leave you?’
‘Yes, she asked for a trial separation.’ A sigh escaped him. ‘But my damn pride got in the way. I’ve never liked admitting to failure.’
‘Your parents would have been upset.’
‘That’s putting it mildly.’ His voice was rough and choked. Black clouds of despair threatened to smother him, but he forced himself to go on. ‘I was totally committed to building the dam and I persuaded her to stay on for another six months, till the end of my term.’
‘Oh, Gus, then the landmine happened.’
‘Yes.’ The word fell from his lips with a shudder.
‘How awful for you.’
Gus heard the sob in Freya’s voice and realised he was a fool. Why on earth had he started this conversation? Why was he trying to offload his regrets when he was supposed to be offering Freya comfort? Now he’d upset her and they were both wound up and disturbed when they were supposed to be sleeping, resting up for tomorrow.
Beside him, Freya was sitting up. ‘Roll over, Gus.’
‘Over?’
‘Yes. You’re upset and your shoulders are all tense. I’m going to give you a massage.’
‘But I’m supposed to be helping you to relax.’
‘You have helped, believe me.’ She gave his shoulder a gentle shake. ‘Now do as you’re told.’
Smiling, he rolled obediently onto his stomach. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a massage.’
‘That’s exactly why you need one now.’
Her hands began to work on his shoulders, kneading the muscles firmly and expertly in a way that was soothing rather than sexy.
Then again, Gus amended as warmth and contentment spread through him, those skilled hands were Freya’s…and she was naked…
Morning arrived all too quickly.
Freya heard the beep of the alarm on her mobile phone and she gave a sleepy groan as she reached to turn it off. Reluctantly, she opened one eye and saw the pal
e light of early morning. She’d slept better than she had in months.
Then she remembered. Oh, God. Nick. The transplant. Gus. They had to be at the hospital early.
Chilling fear froze her.
‘Morning, sleepyhead.’
Through the open doorway that led to the bathroom, she saw Gus at the basin, wearing black and white striped boxers while he shaved. One half of his jaw was clean and smooth, the other covered in white lather.
He looked amazingly relaxed and calm and, when he sent her a cheerful grin, her anxiety receded slightly. She remembered her vow to be brave and confident.
Admittedly, even with the ordeal that faced them today, she couldn’t help thinking that Gus was a perfectly lovely sight to wake up to. Couldn’t help admiring the very masculine way his broad shoulders and nicely defined muscles tapered down to his waist.
His skin glowed with a hint of bronze and there was a shadowing of dark hair on his chest, and every cell in her body tingled as she remembered what had happened last night. Making love with Gus had been beautiful and emotional and cathartic—every kind of wonderful.
Mmm… No wonder she’d slept so well.
But today his beautiful, strong and perfect body was going to be marred. For their son’s sake.
A rush of gratitude filled her, tangling with her happiness and her fear. She swung out of bed and grabbed a towelling robe.
Hurrying over to Gus, she dodged his shaving cream and hugged him.
He chuckled softly; his arms came around her and, for just a moment, her world was perfect.
Then her fingers traced the line of ribs on his left side and she stopped at the place where the surgeon’s knife would make its incision. Her stomach clenched.
She loved Gus. There was no escaping this truth. In the past she’d loved a sweet, sexy boy, but now she loved a soulful, generous and beautiful man. Whenever she was with him she felt strong and assured. Right at this moment, she was ready to fight dragons, to trek through dark jungles or endure four hours alone while today’s surgery took place.
Forcing her fear aside, Freya smiled up at him bravely and she kissed him, shaving cream and all.
A Miracle for His Secret Son Page 12
