Mistress: At What Price?

by Anne Oliver

  Dane. What would he say now? What would she say?

  Dr Martinez appeared at her side. ‘Good morning.’ She turned to look at Mariel. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

  ‘Last night I was told I’d had a miscarriage.’ To her shame, tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks, and her voice trembled when she said, ‘Will someone please explain what’s going on?’

  ‘You were carrying twins,’ Dr Martinez explained. ‘One foetus aborted, but the other one’s fine.’

  Mariel rubbed her chest to ease the nerves rioting through her system. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone having a miscarriage and still being pregnant. Is that normal? Is it dangerous?’

  ‘It happens. It’s known as Vanishing Twin Syndrome,’ Dr Martinez explained. ‘With IVF now, and very early monitoring, we’re finding it happens more often than we once thought.’

  Still unconvinced, Mariel looked back at the monitor. ‘Is this one at risk now?’

  The doctor touched Mariel’s hand. ‘There’s no reason why it shouldn’t be a normal pregnancy. And the other good news is you can go home this morning.’

  At nine-thirty the nurse entered Mariel’s room to bring in the discharge forms for her to sign. She was ready to go home, but where would ‘home’ be for her now? ‘Thanks, Tara.’

  Tara smiled and placed the papers on the table. Mariel stood at the window, looking out at the misty rain. Some time last night the cool change had blown in. She ran a damp palm down the side of the dress Dane had brought in with its matching jacket and paced back to the bed. She was jittery. Tara had told her Dane had left strict instructions at the nurses’ station that she was not to leave until he came to fetch her.

  She had to tell him about the baby.

  She had to go through that agonising moment again.

  ‘Are you and your fiancé planning on having kids?’ she asked Tara as the nurse walked to the door.

  ‘Not for a couple of years. We— Oh…wow. Oh…my…’ Tara trailed off, looking down the corridor. ‘Oh, my goodness.’ She fanned her hand in front of her face. ‘What a man.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  Dane was happening, Mariel realised when he appeared in the doorway. Filled the doorway.

  And he really was happening.

  At least she thought it was Dane. Except this man had neatly trimmed short hair, and a clean-shaven face, and he was wearing a tux and carrying the biggest bunch of pink and white roses she’d ever seen.

  Beyond the door she thought she heard a couple of feminine sighs, but she was too busy taking in the view, trying to calm her racing heart, and backing up to the bed before her legs gave way to pay any attention.

  His eyes fused with hers like an electrical short-circuit. Held. Without breaking contact, he closed the door with one shiny new shoe. It shut with a heavy thud. He walked to the side of the bed, went down on one knee before her. His tux—her own design, she noted through the haze—was dusted with a fine sheen of rain, his hair damp. The scent of misted roses and some sexy new aftershave wafted to her nose.

  But it was the naked emotion in his eyes that nearly did her in. This man knew her, often better than she did herself. He’d travelled childhood’s tumultuous journey with her, shared the ups and downs of their teenage years. They could argue the point till the sun switched off and still not give in. He knew her idiosyncrasies and delighted in holding them up to her.

  But in the end he respected her, gave her space when she needed it, let her be herself. He understood her because they came from the same place.

  He was the only man she’d ever truly loved.

  And he was kneeling before her like some knight to his lady. Like one of her teenage fantasies. Her heart was blossoming with so many emotions she didn’t know how she could possibly hold them all in. But a thread of pain ran through the beauty.

  ‘Dane, I have to tell y—’

  ‘Not a word,’ he said. ‘Not. One. Word.’

  He laid the flowers aside and pulled a shiny box from his pocket, opened it and held it up for her inspection.

  A solitaire diamond as big as her little fingernail sparkled in the light. Heavens. ‘Dane…’ She pressed her lips together to stop the tremble. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘My God, woman, what do you think I’m doing?’ His voice boomed in the small room.

  ‘There are sick people here,’ she whispered.

  His expression darkened. ‘And I might very well be one of them if you don’t let me get this over with. I told you to zip it. Mariel…’

  He took the ring between finger and thumb and held it up to her. ‘This ring’s like you. It’s bright and beautiful and one of a kind. And it’ll be the one you hand down to our oldest grandchild.’

  Grandchildren? Shock struck her speechless for one stunned moment, then a wave of happiness rolled up and swamped her. ‘Do you mean that?’ she whispered.

  ‘I was never more serious. But that’s down the track a bit. When you’ve recovered.’ He smiled briefly, then reached for her hand and slid it on. ‘Perfect fit. Like us, Queen Bee.’

  Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I have to tell you—’

  But he stifled her words with a finger. ‘Not done yet. I love you. I always have. I always will. I’ve loved you since that first day at school, when I saw you standing in the sandpit in your new brown and yellow uniform. The Queen Bee surrounded by her faithful swarm of little boys.’

  ‘You marched up and pulled the ribbon off my pigtail.’

  ‘I wanted your attention.’

  ‘And you got it, all right. I beat the living daylights out of you and got my ribbon back.’

  His smile faded. ‘When you told me you were pregnant I couldn’t come to terms with it. I couldn’t imagine being a father. I needed time. I didn’t give a thought to the fact that you’d be needing time, too. That we could have supported each other the way we always have and got through it together.’

  ‘Yes, we could have. We should have. You shut yourself off, but I should have tried harder to reach you.’ Mariel reached out to stroke his smooth, tight jaw, then patted the bed beside her in invitation.

  ‘You know my take on commitment,’ he said, rising. He sat beside her and searched her eyes. ‘But I know now that my heart was waiting for you. It just didn’t relay the information to my brain.’

  She shook her head. ‘I always loved you. Even ten years ago when I saw you with Isobel I loved you. And hated you.’

  His smile sobered as quickly as it had come. ‘You were so set on going overseas. I didn’t want to stop you from doing what you needed to do. And I was afraid to start anything with you, to show you how I felt, because everyone I loved either left or turned their back on me.’

  She fingered his newly cropped hair. ‘You’ve made a start with your father, Dane.’

  ‘We’ve still got a long way to go. But I’ve got some ideas that I want to discuss with you. Later.’ He cupped her face in one large warm palm. ‘We weren’t ready ten years ago. You needed to follow your dreams first and so did I. But children…’

  He shook his head, and in his expression Mariel saw the old wounds which had never quite healed.

  ‘After my own miserable childhood I was convinced family wasn’t for me. I was wrong. I want you to have my babies. I want to watch them grow inside you, see their first smile, be there when they take their first steps. Support them as they grow to adulthood. We can have more babies, Mariel, if you’ll marry me.’

  She smiled at him through a mist. ‘I guess I’ll have to marry you, Dane, and as soon as possible—because I want this baby to be born to loving parents who’ve made a lifetime commitment.’

  His eyes widened, then dropped to where Mariel’s hand touched her belly. ‘Run that by me again—the bit about this baby.’

  ‘I’m still pregnant.’ She sniffed, unable to contain her emotion any longer. ‘I saw it on a monitor. It’s real, Dane.’

  Grasping both her hands, he jack-knifed off the be
d. ‘You’re going to marry me and you’re having my baby!’

  The sound of clapping issued through the door as he hauled her against him and kissed her. And, wow, what a kiss. She cupped his smooth jaw and ran her fingers over his short-cropped hair. Again. To acquaint herself with its feel.

  At last they came up for air, and she stepped back so she could admire the man who’d walked North Terrace on a weekday morning wearing a tux and carrying flowers. The man who’d changed for her. ‘You are so the man for me. You always were. I have everything—a man who loves me, a baby on the way and a promising business.’

  ‘Ah, yes, speaking of which… Let’s get out of here. I have something to show you before the press catches on to all this news. There’s a cab waiting at the service entrance.’

  The taxi took them to a street near the centre of town.

  Mariel walked with him until Dane stopped and gestured to an empty shop just off Rundle Mall. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘About what?’

  He produced a key, handed it to her. ‘Your new business premises.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, goodness.’ Her fingers trembled so much she couldn’t get the key in the lock.

  He grinned, took the keys from her and did the honours. ‘I think this is where we started not so long ago. Fumbling with keys.’

  The smell of fresh paint and new beginnings met Mariel as she stepped inside.

  ‘There’s a big room out back for supplies, tailors, anything else you want,’ Dane said beside her.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Just beautiful.’ Honey-toned wooden counters gleamed. Empty racks lined the walls. A large shiny window faced the mall, waiting for the shop’s name to be painted on it.

  She spun a circle in the middle of the newly fitted-out room. ‘I can’t wait to move in. When did you do all this?’

  ‘Finished yesterday. It was hard trying to keep it a secret and organise it from up north. That’s why I had to go out the other night. There was a problem with the lighting.’

  ‘Ah… The night you asked me to trust you.’

  ‘And you did.’

  ‘Thank you. For this…’ She swept her hand to encompass the room. ‘And this.’ She took his hand, pressed it against her belly.

  Dane pulled her tightly against him. ‘Let’s go home,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I want to celebrate our good fortune in our bed.’

  She smiled, listening to the gallop of his heart against her ear. ‘Yes, let’s go home.’

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later

  ‘COME on, Danny, walk to Grandpa.’

  Mariel smiled as fourteen-month-old Daniel Huntington the Fourth’s toothy grin widened. His chubby hands were outstretched as he toddled the last few steps into the waiting arms of his grandfather.

  Since Dane’s father had moved in with them the pair had become inseparable. Mariel couldn’t have been happier. Dane and his father had been given a second chance, and they’d grabbed hold of it with both hands.

  Family, she thought. A blessing. She smoothed a hand over her still-flat belly. This time she wanted a girl, to even things up a bit. As for Dane—he was too happy about her announcement to care.

  ‘You sure you’ll be okay, Dad?’ Dane asked as he shrugged into his suit jacket.

  ‘You’re only a few minutes and a phone call away. Of course we’re all right—aren’t we, Danny boy?’

  The child gurgled up at him happily.

  ‘He’ll be fine.’ Mariel opened her compact, checked her make-up. ‘They’ll both be fine. Stop worrying.’

  ‘This is the first time we’ve left them together,’ Dane murmured.

  ‘He can change a nappy as well as you, if not better. Come on. The restaurant booking’s for eight and I don’t want to be late. Justin and Cass have got news, I just know it. Oh… Have you read my review?’ she asked nonchalantly as she adjusted his silk tie to her satisfaction.

  He didn’t even seem to mind her female fussing. ‘I have. Twice.’

  ‘Read it again. Aloud, so I know.’

  Fashion designer Mariel Davenport’s latest showing last night has been hailed by the fashion industry as a rousing success. Her label, Dane, is at the cutting edge of men’s fashion, with its subtle French influence and effervescent use of colour.

  Ms Davenport’s advice: ‘A man should stay true to himself rather than following fashion blindly. My husband is a prime example.’

  That’s why Dane Huntington is often seen in worn jeans while sporting the latest in cashmere jumpers.

  He’s the luckiest man in Adelaide.

  Twinkling eyes lifted to meet hers. ‘That’s why you wanted me to read it aloud.’

  She tilted her nose at him. ‘No. I just wanted to hear it again, Mr Luckiest Man. You don’t need to read it to know it’s true.’

  ‘You’re right. This time.’

  ‘I’m always right.’ She leaned in for a quick kiss. ‘That’s why you married me.’

  His eyes danced with laughter and he yanked her back for an encore. ‘No. That’s why you married me.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6014-0

  MISTRESS: AT WHAT PRICE?

  First North American Publication 2010.

  Copyright © 2010 by Anne Oliver.

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