For Now and Forever

by Diana Palmer

  Nick paused by the door, watching her incredulous expression as she stared at the ceiling.

  “I’ve never had a woman in that bed,” he said softly, as if he read the helpless speculation on her face.

  She laughed nervously. “Hard to believe,” she said.

  He caught her shoulders and turned her, missing nothing as his eyes went up and down her body in the velvety beige dress she was wearing. It emphasized her blondness, her creamy complexion and dark eyes. “I’ve been waiting for one very special lady.”

  The flush made her wildly beautiful. His eyes searched hers. Slowly, carefully, he lifted her clear off the floor.

  “Nick, you mustn’t,” she whispered.

  He stopped long enough to close the door and lock it. “Why not?” he asked gently, smiling down at her as he carried her carefully to the bed. “Don’t you want to see?”

  She let him put her down, watching as he shed his jacket and tie before he kicked off his shoes and joined her on the brown velvet bedspread.

  “Now.” He grinned. “Look up.”

  She did and saw his broad back, and the way he was levered over her, the muscles rippling in his shoulders, his long, powerful legs. She could see the back of his head where her fingers touched the dark waves.

  He traced her lips with a lazy finger. “Would you like me to take off my clothes and give you an unobstructed view?”

  She laughed, feeling girlish and shy and excited all at once. “You didn’t have the mirrors put there, did you?” she asked.

  He shook his dark head. “No, the house belonged to a wealthy European and his young wife. I suppose,” he continued drily, “he liked to see everything at once.”

  She touched his face, tracing the lines, loving him. Afraid that her eyes might give her away, she dropped them to his throat.

  “It’s a long time until dinner,” he said, studying her. “Wouldn’t you like to take your clothes off and talk to me for a while?”

  “Why would I need to take my clothes off?”

  “Oh, we might find something conversational about it,” he replied, smiling wickedly.

  “I look like a pumpkin,” she said.

  The smile faded. “Show me.”

  She blushed. “I can’t.”

  “I want to look at you, the way you let me the night I put you to bed,” he persisted. “I want to watch the baby move.”

  Flashes of pleasure burned her and she couldn’t look at him.

  He touched her face, her hair, with soft, tender fingers. “Let’s make love, Jolana. Let’s really make love this time, no more secrets, no more distrust.”

  She wanted to. She wanted to so desperately. But she looked up at him and remembered helplessly the last morning in her apartment in New York, what he’d said, how he’d looked.

  He saw it, and sighed heavily. “Bad memories,” he said, nodding. “Yes, I have them, too. I’ll tell you about mine one day, about my nightmares. About how I felt the day I finally found you in Monaco.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up. “But I had a few nightmares of my own.”

  “Yes, I know. All my fault.” He got to his feet slowly, standing just in front of her, looking down. He unbuttoned his shirt and ran a restless hand through the heavy mat of hair on his chest. Impulsively, he drew her to stand in front of him and lifted her hands to his body. “This is what drove me crazy,” he murmured, pressing her fingers hard into the darkness. “Remembering how you used to look at me when you touched me here, as if you loved the very texture of my skin. I could feel your hands in the night sometimes, and I’d wake up sweating.”

  Her hands moved slowly over the damp, muscular expanse with remembered pleasure, lingering where the male nipples were hard and distended. “It shocked me, the first time,” she said absently, “I didn’t know that men were aroused in the same places that women were.”

  “This, you mean?” he asked, pressing her palm hard against that rough nub.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know,” he asked, studying her face, “that you could do to me what I did to you in Paris before we left, and in the same way?”

  Her eyes lifted. “When you touched me...”

  “Yes.” He searched her eyes, breathing unsteadily as the memory came back full force. “You could tease me until I begged.”

  That was faintly shocking. She couldn’t picture Nick ever begging for a woman’s favors. She was almost tempted to see for herself.

  “I’d let you,” he whispered huskily, his eyes dark and his face hard. “I’d let you undress me and touch me until I couldn’t bear it, and I’d beg you with tears in my eyes to take me. Just the same way I could do it to you. And I wouldn’t be the least ashamed to let you watch me. Pride has no place at all between lovers.”

  Her hands stilled on his body. She wanted him to do that to her, she wanted to do it to him. But it was too soon.

  “Margery is a closed chapter in my life, Jolana,” he said after a minute. “I know how deeply I hurt you. I know the doubts are still there. But I’m going to teach you to trust me again. You’re going to marry me, and love me obsessively, just like I’m going to love you. And that baby you’re carrying will be the most cherished little human being alive.”

  She watched his hands lower to cup her stomach, and he smiled.

  “I’ve got you both now,” he whispered. “I hold you, and hold him.”

  Tears misted her eyes. She looked up and he bent and kissed her, tenderly, letting her feel his lips tremble with the longing she aroused in him.

  She smiled softly when he drew away, because he made her feel whole.

  “I love you,” he whispered softly.

  She sighed. “Nick...”

  “No more of that.” He guided her to the door and opened it. “Mama’s coming up this afternoon. She’s so excited that you’re here, she can hardly bear it. She’s convinced now that I’m over that insanity about Margery and ready to settle down,” he said, grinning.

  He made it sound as if it really was over. But she couldn’t help wondering.

  Later in the day, she and his mother went walking around the back of the house, where the lake spread out beautifully before them.

  “You feel good, yes?” The older woman smiled. “The baby, he makes you glow.”

  “I feel very good,” Jolana sighed. She touched her stomach lightly. “I’m still not sure that I should have come here with Nick, though. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to him.”

  “Embarrassment?” His mother sounded horrified. “How could you be?”

  “A visibly pregnant widow, living under his roof?” Jolana asked softly. “How must it look?”

  “But, it is where you belong,” the silver-haired woman said, patting Jolana’s hands warmly. “The baby is the most important thing now. There is nothing to worry about. Nick will take care of you both.”

  “He shouldn’t have to, though,” Jolana protested, staring miserably at the lake. “If my husband hadn’t been killed...” She shrugged, staring down at the ground. “It won’t be easy for him, bringing up another man’s child.”

  “He loves you,” the old woman scoffed. “Besides, Nick told me it is not your husband’s baby. There is no need to pretend, my darling. You love my Nick...”

  Jolana turned, staring blankly at the older woman’s gently smiling face. “What...?”

  Nick’s mother sighed impatiently. “Jolana, Nick told me the child is his, that your husband was sterile.”

  Jolana had gone white. “What are you telling me?” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Jolana?” The old woman caught her just as she started to sink, and helped her ease down onto the grass. “Jolana, what have I said? Surely to goodness you knew about your husband?”

  But Jolana’s eyes were closed and tears were streaming down her cheeks
. So that was why. It was all a sham. It was Nick’s baby she was carrying, and the deception had been played to its conclusion. He’d brought her here not out of love, but because he was responsible for making her pregnant. It was his child, and he felt obligated to take care of her, and it.

  “Dio, my tongue will be the death of us all,” Mama groaned. “Jolana, you didn’t know, did you? Oh, my darling, I am so sorry! So sorry! Wait, you stay here. Right here, you understand? I get Nick!”

  As if she could have moved, she thought miserably. Tears were washing down her pale cheeks in a flood, and she’d never felt so hopeless in all her life. The world had gone black.

  When Nick got to her, she was crying silently, staring at the lake through a thick mist.

  “Jolana?” he whispered huskily.

  She shifted, but she didn’t speak.

  He eased down beside her cautiously, watching her. “Mama said to tell you that she was sorry,” he said quietly. “She’s gone home.”

  Her eyes closed. She still couldn’t speak. Phillipe had to have known that the baby wasn’t his. He’d accepted it, but that explained why he hadn’t taken better care of her. Perhaps in his subconscious he hoped she might lose it...

  Nick drew in a slow breath, terrified to speak, to try to explain. He didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s your baby, isn’t it?” she whispered in a strangled tone. “Everybody...hid it from me. Phillipe was sterile.”

  “It’s our baby,” he said after a minute.

  She stared down at her lap. “You don’t have to marry me,” she said harshly. “I won’t deny you visiting rights!”

  He caught her by the arms and eased her down onto the grass, holding her there gently but firmly while his chest rose and fell raggedly.

  “Let me go!” she flashed, lips trembling, chest heaving as she struggled.

  He threw a leg across both of hers and held her pinned there in the sunlight until she stilled.

  She hated his superior strength. She hated him. But she was tired, and she was upsetting the baby, and all the fight drained out of her suddenly.

  “I could have told you in Monaco,” he said quietly, still holding her. “But I was afraid you might do something desperate if you knew. You even told me that you’d rather drown than bear my child.”

  There was a note in his voice that disturbed her, a huskiness that held a terrible kind of pain.

  She didn’t want to see it, so she didn’t look. “You hurt me badly,” she whispered.

  “What in God’s name do you think it did to me,” he ground out savagely, “to find you pregnant with my baby and married to another man?”

  He was trembling, and she forced her eyes up to his and was astonished to find a glaze over them.

  “Oh, God, you little fool, I love you so,” he whispered hoarsely, searching her face with fierce, loving obsession. “I love you and want you, want my child that lies under your heart... And I can’t even get near you.”

  He drew in a shaky breath and slowly let go of her hands. He sat up, running his hands through his hair, staring sightlessly at the lake with a hellish torment on his face.

  He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, shocking her, because she hadn’t seen him smoke since they’d been back together. “From the moment I left you all I could see was your face, that horrible agony in your eyes when I told you I didn’t want you anymore.” He took a long draw from the cigarette. “I called Tony, you know,” he said, glancing at the astonishment in her face. “That’s right. I was afraid for you. I was already sure I’d made the biggest mistake of my stupid life, and I didn’t want you making a bigger one over me. So I called and begged him to go see about you. I knew you wouldn’t let me near you, but I was sure you wouldn’t turn him away.” His eyes closed. “And he made it just in time, just barely in time. Oh, God, I’d have blown my brains out if you’d managed it, Jolana. I couldn’t have gone on living if you had died because of me.”

  She sat up, smoothing her skirt with fanatical meticulousness, not saying a word. He was saying some shocking things, and it occurred to her that no man could admit the things he was admitting without love. By the same token, he couldn’t have concealed the knowledge about the baby and his part in saving her life unless he’d cared deeply.

  He made a helpless gesture with one hand. “I don’t know what to say to you,” he said quietly. He glanced at her, loving her with his eyes. “You’re carrying my baby. I want it. I want you. I’ll love you both until I die.”

  Pride, he had said, had no place between lovers. And now she knew what he meant. He was baring his soul to her, as he never had before. He was giving her the chance to walk out on him, as he’d walked out on her.

  She got to her feet. He sat there, looking up. “I won’t blame you, if you go,” he said softly. “But at least let me provide for you. Will you do that?”

  She turned away from the worshipping, hurting eyes. “Let me have ten minutes, and then come inside, please,” she said quietly. She walked away, into the house.

  His room was on the ground floor, down the hall from hers. She walked inside, glancing ruefully at the mirrored ceiling, and went on into the spacious bathroom beyond. Without thinking about it, she ran the tub full, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the warm, surging jets of water with a long sigh.

  As she bathed, she considered her options. She could leave, hold on to her hurt pride and punish them both, and her baby. Or she could admit that she still loved Nick and try trusting him for a change. If she loved him, she had to trust him. And it dawned on her while she was soaking that Margery no longer bothered her. She did believe that the woman was a closed chapter in Nick’s life. She had to believe it, because no man who loved another woman could possibly look the way Nick had out on the lawn.

  She thought of Phillipe and felt a twinge of sadness for her young husband. Perhaps in another time and place, they could have made a good marriage. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, or if he’d been more stable... But that was all over now. She had to look to the future. And she honestly couldn’t see any kind of future that didn’t include Nick. Indeed, at this point she felt as if she couldn’t survive without having him near her.

  She finished bathing and wrapped herself in a thick, brown towel and stepped out onto the tile. There was a faint noise, like that of a door opening, and she smiled secretly.

  She clutched the towel lightly and walked out of the bathroom onto the deep pile of the beige carpet in the bedroom just as Nick closed the door behind him and paused.

  He turned his head, spotted her and hesitated, uncertainty touching his hard, broad face for the first time in her memory.

  “Hello, Nick,” she said softly, and slowly let the towel fall to the floor.

  His dark eyes traced every line of her, every curve, from her swollen breasts to her distended stomach and long, elegant legs.

  “Well, well, well,” he said. “And I thought I was going to have hell changing your mind. I came up here with all kinds of wild ideas, everything from chains to blackmail...”

  “You’ll have to take your clothes off first,” she answered teasingly, feeling more confident by the minute, despite her pregnancy.

  He cocked a heavy eyebrow. “Why don’t you take them off?”

  “Daring me?” she teased. She went close and began to remove his shirt, lingering over the broad, hair-covered muscularity of his chest, touching him with her mouth as well as her hands.

  “Just one thing, darling,” he whispered, catching her face in his unsteady hands. “I’ve been without a woman since the night I had you. For God’s sake, don’t arouse me too much. I couldn’t bear to hurt you or the baby.”

  Her eyes dilated wildly. “It’s been months!”

  “Almost six of them,” he groaned, burying his face in her throat. “Six months, wanting you, dreaming about you.”
His hands trembled as they ran slowly, tenderly over her back, her thighs, her hips and stomach and breasts. “I hurt like almighty hell.”

  “Oh, Nick, I never dreamed...” she whispered huskily. She led him to the bed and stretched out on it, avoiding the sight of herself in the ceiling mirror as he finished what she’d started and joined her there.

  “Have I shocked you?” he asked softly, watching her eyes run slowly, hungrily over his nudity.

  “I didn’t think men could go that long without sex,” she admitted.

  “I could have gone the rest of my life without it, if I couldn’t have gotten you back,” he growled huskily. “My God, I don’t want anyone else. Not anyone.”

  She touched his chest, running her hands slowly down his body until she made him tense and go rigid, until he groaned and his head jerked down to her shoulder.

  “I don’t want anyone else, either,” she whispered into his ear as she stroked him. “So I think you’d better marry me, Nick.”

  He said something, but she didn’t understand it, because his hands were suddenly at work on her own body. She felt her muscles clench and she cried out.

  His mouth bit at her lips, his voice whispered things she only half heard. His hands touched her in ways and places that made her arch and writhe and beg, and when she felt his strong thighs parting her own, she opened her eyes and looked at him as he overwhelmed her.