The Unexpected Baby

by Diana Hamilton

  If Liam hadn’t done so much damage he might have done. Maybe they would have talked far into the night. Or maybe he would have simply held her. Or maybe simply slept at her side, not touching, not talking. That would have been enough.

  She put a couple of soft down pillows and a light blanket on the chaise longue and got ready to occupy the bed in solitary state.

  It was more of the same the next day. Not until they were in the hire car leaving Jerez airport did a hint of a thaw creep in.

  They had the windows down, and she was sure she could smell the sherry on the hot air, the scent so evocative of this wealthy, productive corner of Andalucia. She watched Jed fill his lungs, certain he was beginning to look more approachable, and asked, ‘Do you mind if we detour through Cadiz?’

  ‘Sure.’ He eased the car into the traffic and headed south. ‘We’re going to need provisions, I guess. I don’t suppose you got around to getting in touch with Pilar to let her know we were coming?’

  She hadn’t even thought of it. All her mental energies had been focused on him. But his mention of the provisions she had overlooked handed her the excuse she’d been racking her tired brain to find.

  ‘I’ll need to go to the bank for cash, and then I thought we could stop by the market.’ She clutched at the excuse he had given her gratefully. ‘We could either eat out—early-supper-cum-late-lunch—or head straight back to Las Rocas.’

  ‘Head back,’ he said. ‘I fancy a quiet night in the mountains.’ He stamped on the brakes as a yellow Seat, covered in the white dust of the local Albariza soil, cut across them with long, strident blasts of its horn. Jed grinned, his teeth very white against his sundarkened skin. ‘Spanish maniac! Still, I could get used to it!’

  She left him parking the car while she went into the Banco de Andalucia. She couldn’t have felt more guilty if she’d been wearing a stocking on her head and carrying a sawn-off shotgun. She felt sneaky and devious, doing this behind Jed’s back.

  But he would have refused to allow her to give in to blackmail demands, and then he would have had to suffer the hateful consequences, she knew that, so even though she felt awful about it she was doing this for his sake, because she loved him. For herself, Liam could have gone ahead and done his worst.

  Thankfully, because she was a valued customer and well known at this branch, the transaction was completed swiftly. And she walked out onto the hot pave- . ment with the pay-off for Liam stuffed at the bottom of her handbag and the bunch of pesetas for household expenses innocently folded in her purse.

  Jed was strolling towards her, the breeze from the ocean ruffling his soft dark hair. Her heart flipped. He was so special, so very much loved.

  She waited for him, watching the way he moved. She loved his grace, his elegant strength. It made her heart hurt; it always had and always would. And the way his eyes lit with warmth when he saw her made her give him a lilting smile. Perhaps she could let herself believe that he’d done his thinking and their time here together would be special and important, a time of coming to terms with what had happened, accepting it and going on together.

  And Liam, hopefully, completely out of the frame.

  ‘I should have thought to ask you to wait.’ His eyes went to the open doors of the bank. ‘I could have changed a few traveller’s cheques. Want to come back in with me while I do it?’

  Stopping him from going into the bank with her had been precisely why she’d asked him to drop her off while he found somewhere to park. ‘No need,’ she told him blithely. ‘Let’s hit the market! I withdrew plenty.’ And wasn’t that the truth!

  ‘OK. Shopping, if you say so—I’ll just try to get used to being a kept man. I keep forgetting I’m married to a wealthy woman!’

  His relaxed smile gave her the courage to tuck her arm through his, just companionably, nothing to make him think she was about to repeat the flaunty, flirty behaviour she’d so misguidedly produced when they’d spent the day here with Catherine.

  Born out of pain, a primitive need to hurt him back, it hadn’t been one of her better ideas.

  She was aiming for friendly, not flirty. Friends exploring the busy, colourful market, heads together as they examined the piles of fresh produce for the best bargains, having mild arguments over the choice of swordfish steaks, giant prawns or clams, amicably resolving the difficulty by buying some of each.

  When they were overburdened with bags almost bursting with irresistible fruit and vegetables they looked at each other and grinned.

  ‘Whose army are we aiming to feed?’ Jed’s eyes were warm, soft silver, his sexy mouth relaxed, smiling for her, and Elena felt herself sliding effortlessly back into the safe haven of his love.

  At least, that was what she felt here and now, in the bustle and noise of the exotic outdoor market, with the Spanish sun beating down, and she was going to hang onto the feeling and hope nothing happened to take it away.

  ‘I guess we should make tracks for home and start chomping our way through it.’ Aquamarine eyes sparkled for him. ‘But how about grabbing an orange juice first?’

  ‘Not only beautiful, but bright too.’ He took her share of the bulging carriers and added them to his own. ‘Lead on. The rabbit warren of narrow streets confuses me.’

  Nothing confused him, Elena thought, keeping up with his long, effortless stride. Present him with a problem and he’d work it out, calmly, intelligently and logically. Which was what he’d done regarding the problem their marriage had faced.

  The fire and fury bit at first had been natural. His emotions had got in the way of logic. But he’d had his thinking time and—her heart lifted, spinning wildly—everything was going to be all right! Suddenly she was deliriously sure of it.

  They found a restaurant on the Plaza Topete, and, sitting at a table on the terraza, surrounded by urns brimming with perfumed flowers, sipping huge glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice, Jed remarked, ‘I take it the creep was trying to twist your arm, using bullyboy tactics?’

  She nodded. There was no need to say a thing. He’d been reviewing the scene in his mind, remembering body language, and had arrived at the right conclusion. She didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband, not now, not ever. She was feeling far too guilty because of what she had agreed to do to want him inside her head.

  But Jed didn’t want to let it go. ‘Speaking objectively, and having seen him, I can’t understand why you ever married the man. You’re an intelligent woman, Elena. Independent, fastidious.’

  Knowing what she knew, that she was deceiving him over the payment of Liam’s blackmailing demands, she wished he’d leave it, forget the other man had ever existed. But if there were things he wanted to know she’d tell him, because she owed him that. And his tone hadn’t been censorious, just calmly, objectively questioning.

  She traced a line in the condensation on the outside of her glass, amazed to find her hand was steady when her heart was punching her breastbone. ‘He didn’t always look like that, or act like a lout. He had a silver tongue, was very easy on the eye. He had the type of charm that could dazzle. I was gullible, easily flattered, overwhelmed by his lavish gifts—glitzy designer gowns, shoes made in heaven, jewellery. A bit flashy, not the sort of thing Nolan’s would touch with a sanitised bargepole, but expensive nevertheless.’ Her fingers worried at the corner of her mouth, and the way Jed fastened on that nervous betrayal, one brow drifting upwards, told her he knew how upset this conversation was making her.

  She was upset—her deceit over those blackmail demands was doing her head in—but if she weren’t careful he might think she was mourning the man her first husband had been.

  She clamped both hands round her glass and forced herself on. ‘After a time, it all began to pall—the fancy restaurants, the nightclubs, the feeling of being dressed up and paraded. And I came out from under his spell for long enough to question where all the money was coming from.

  ‘Gambling, he told me. And that I wasn’t happy about. Poor but honest—tha
t was the way Mum had brought me up. And that was why I was so shocked when I discovered his criminal activities, why I went to the police. Why I divorced him. Now—’ she looked at him from between her lashes, her eyes unconsciously pleading ‘—can we forget him?’

  ‘With pleasure.’ He was on his feet, collecting their belongings. ‘Consider the subject permanently closed. Shall we head for the hills?’

  She dragged in a shuddery breath, relief smoothing down her prickly nerve-ends. Whatever test he’d been setting for her, it seemed she’d passed with flying colours.

  They’d reached Las Rocas in the late afternoon, Jed flinging the windows wide while Elena dealt with the shopping. They’d taken turns to shower and change, both careful not to force an intimacy too soon, not before the problems within their marriage had been resolved.

  They’d been down that road on the night of the award ceremony and it had ended in unmitigated disaster.

  And now, after a quickly prepared meal of garlicky prawns, vegetable medley and masses of fruit, they were sprawled out on Siamese-twinned loungers, gazing out over the terrace at the vast starlit velvet night, the perfume from her pots of lilies and sweet-scented jasmine drugging the senses.

  She’d felt so swelteringly hot and sticky when they’d arrived she’d thankfully exchanged the clothes she’d travelled in for cotton shorts and a loose, cropped and sleeveless top. Jed, too, had dressed lightly. The fine cotton, collarless black shirt hung from his rangy shoulders in soft folds, the sleeves pushed up above his elbows, his brief white shorts making those long, elegantly muscular legs look deeply tanned and unbelievably sexy in the mellow glow from the outside wall-lamps.

  Quickly, Elena fixed her attention on the stars. The temptation to reach out and touch that bronzed skin was deeply compelling. Pictures of their former hedonistic lovemaking banded her brain, making her heart flutter, her mouth go dry.

  ‘Do you mind if we talk?’ From the corner of her eye she saw him turn onto his side, supporting his head with his hand. ‘Look at me, Elena.’

  She turned her head, obeying his soft command, her bright hair spread out on the reclining back-rest of the lounger. Starlight glimmered in his eyes, deep shadows emphasising the harsh hollows and planes of his face, making the line of his mouth tantalisingly sensual.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘Of course.’ Her soft mouth quivered. This was the breakthrough; she knew it was. She was willing to tell him anything he wanted to know.

  ‘I believe your story of artificial insemination. And, no, I didn’t check with the clinic. They wouldn’t have told me anything in any case. It would have been a gross breach of patient confidentiality. But the more I thought about it the more it made sense, fitted in with what I knew of Sam. Did you really want a child that badly?’

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off her face for a second, and she returned his steady gaze unflinchingly. ‘Yes, I did,’ she breathed. ‘It was a physical ache that wouldn’t go away. It got so bad it made everything I’d achieved in my life seem worthless.

  ‘After my divorce I made a solemn vow never to marry again. I’d make my own life and make it good. That,’ she whispered, ‘was before I met you and knew how wrong I’d been. Sam wanted a child, too, but for him it was different, a kind of stake in the future, his sole claim to immortality. It was a cerebral need. Not, as mine was, a deep emotional hunger. It was almost as if he knew he didn’t have long to live.’

  Unconsciously, her hand covered her unborn child, the protective gesture as old as time. And Jed rolled closer and slid his hand beneath hers, moving it gently over her rounded tummy.

  ‘Is this little bulge the result of gorging yourself at supper? Or is it what I think it is?’ His voice was husky, heavy velvet, his dark head close to her bright one, his clean breath feathering over her face.

  Elena pulled in a raggedy breath and moved, making enough space for him, just, on her lounger. If he’d a mind to avail himself of it.

  He had, and, so close to him now she was sure he must hear the race of her heart as it pushed the blood wildly through her veins, she murmured, ‘It’s what you think it is.’ She held her breath, because his reaction would tell her what their future was more plainly than any words. If he showed any sign of distaste then she’d know that he would always resent Sam’s child, and the future wouldn’t look hopeful.

  He didn’t say a word, simply undid the button at the top of the waistband of the shorts that were now just that little bit too tight, allowing his hand the freedom to dip lower.

  Relief made her giddy for long seconds, and then desire pooled at the juncture of her thighs, sweet and sharp and urgent. Would his hand slide lower, touch her there? Did he want her half as much a she wanted him?

  Would he let her into his heart again? Would he love her, let her love him?

  ‘Jed—’she croaked, wanting to ask him, but he wouldn’t let her finish, his voice sliding over hers.

  ‘Once, at Netherhaye, you let slip that you still loved me. Then that night at the hotel you told me, most emphatically, that you didn’t. Which version of the state of your emotions am I to believe?’

  ‘The first.’ She turned her head, resting her cheek against the angle of his shoulder, burning for him, loving him, loving him... ‘We were so close to making love. I knew you’d despise yourself if you did. And despise me for letting you. You hated me, closed me out, wouldn’t believe me! I had to do—say—something to stop us!’

  She was rapidly losing her ability to control herself. The need to feel his hands on her body, his lips on hers, to curl herself round the hard male length of him, to feel him deep inside her, hear words of love on his lips again, was pushing her to the limits of her endurance.

  The hand that had been softly stroking her tummy stilled. She held her breath, the fear of rejection surging back, a sour taste in her mouth, a cold stone in her heart. But he said thickly, ‘Will you forgive me for that? Can you ever forgive me for that? For refusing to listen, and, when you forced me to listen, telling you you were a liar? For refusing to trust? I think I went half out of my mind at that time.’

  ‘Oh, darling...’ In answer, she wound her arm around his neck, her lips feathering his mouth as she told him, ‘Of course I do! I understand how you must have felt. Had the positions been reversed I’d have behaved ten thousand times as badly!’

  ‘I don’t think I deserve you.’ His voice was rough, but his hand was gentle as it moved on her tummy again, protectively gentle. ‘But I promise you this. I will love this child as if it were my own. Not for Sam’s sake, and not because I love its mother. But for its own sake.’

  Emotional tears streaked her face and he kissed them lovingly away. She could feel the fine tremors that shook his taut body as he found her lips and parted them with his, and the last coherent thought she had was that Catherine had not been given the opportunity to wipe away those misconceptions of his about coming a poor second-best to his brightly burning, will o’ the wisp brother.

  He had put those aside himself. Dismissed ancient sibling jealousy and reclaimed his own.

  This much loved—adored—husband of hers was an honourable man.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he told her, his voice raw with need. ‘Let me show you how I love you.’ He took her hands and lifted them, turned them, placed fervent kisses in the centre of each curled palm. Then he lifted his head. The lamplight gilded the skin that was pulled tightly over his bones, his smoky eyes locking intently with hers. ‘Show me you forgive me.’

  Emotion shook her; she couldn’t speak. She wound her arms around his neck again and kissed him fiercely, and he returned her frenzy as, hands trembling, they tore the clothes from each other’s bodies until flesh met burning flesh.

  She heard him groan and curled her legs around his body, inviting him to enter her. She heard the slow, inward drag of his breath, saw his tough jaw tighten and knew a second’s terrible fear that this was all going wrong, before he said raggedly, ‘I’m wild for you, afr
aid of hurting you and the baby. Help me to love you gently.’

  She melted against him and thought she was in paradise. Nothing else could have spelled out his love for her more perfectly.

  ‘We’ll make it as slow and long and lingering as you like, my darling,’ she promised as he slid gently, slowly within her, and she wrapped her arms more tightly around him and knew she was in paradise.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE evening sun was low, spreading misty purple shadows in the valleys. Elena moved around the kitchen preparing supper. Sautéed clams with garlic and lemon, and parsley from her garden. Her eyes were inevitably drawn from the task in hand over the terrace, to where Jed was dragging the hose around the garden, dressed only in worn denim cut-offs and espadrilles.

  A sensation that was near to pain clutched at her heart. Oh, dear heaven, how she loved this man! Over the two days they’d spent here the new intensity of their love had revealed itself in every touch, every caress, every look and every word. Their love for each other doubly precious because they had so nearly lost each other.

  ‘Would you prefer it if we stayed here until the baby’s born?’ he’d asked her this morning as they’d stood on the terrace contemplating what needed to be done today in the rioting garden, not wanting to set foot outside their secluded paradise. His arms had come around her, pulling her into his body, his hands softly cradling her breasts through the gauzy aqua cotton of the loose sundress she’d been wearing over nothing at all.

  ‘Would you mind?’ She’d tipped her head back, nuzzling her lips against his throat, feeling the beat of his pulse, feeling her breasts swell invitingly beneath his tormenting hands.

  ‘I’d prefer it. This place suits you, and it’s certainly grabbed my affection. We could visit Netherhaye once in a while, just to keep the old place aired, and have Christmas there every year and invite the Mums. Because I’ve been thinking; I can just as easily keep an eye on the business from here. We could spend the bulk of our time here, making babies.’ His voice had teased, taking every last one of her senses and giving them delight. ‘Would you like that?’