The Marriage Demand

by Penny Jordan

  ‘Did you offer Hatton to the Foundation because of me?’ she asked him shakily in the fraught silence that followed his passionate outburst.

  Nash shook his head. ‘Not consciously. But…’

  ‘But?’ Faith pressed.

  ‘The truth sits between us, Faith. I can never forgive myself.’

  ‘In this instance surely any forgiveness is within my gift rather than yours?’ Faith pointed out wryly.

  But although she held on to her breath, and her hope, Nash made no attempt to reach for the ladder she had thrown him to cross the gulf between them.

  ‘The best thing we can hope for now is that there isn’t going to be a child,’ he told her heavily. ‘We should be able to end our marriage reasonably easily.’

  Desperately Faith demanded, ‘And what if I don’t want to end it?’

  Nash sighed and walked over to her.

  ‘Do you think I haven’t guessed what you really want?’ he asked her tautly.

  Faith held her breath again, waiting to hear him tell her that no matter how much she still loved him he could not return her feelings. But to her bemusement he continued harshly, ‘I have to set you free to make your own life, Faith.’

  What on earth was Nash saying? He must surely know that he was all she wanted. This must be his way of being tactful, of saving her pride. But her pride was the last thing she cared about now. And yet as Nash walked towards the kitchen door and away from her, for some reason she didn’t ask him the one question that could potentially have kept him with her. What if, as she suspected, she was pregnant? Would he still want to end their marriage then?

  Outside in the garden Nash stared unseeingly into the distance. It was too late for him to regret his behaviour now, but not too late for him to suffer the reality of his own shame. All those years ago he hadn’t believed her because he had been afraid of doing so, afraid of his love for her and what it might do to them both. It had been easier to tell himself that she wasn’t worthy of his love when the truth was that he hadn’t been worthy of hers!

  There was nothing for her here at Hatton now, Faith acknowledged as she headed for her bedroom. She ought to be feeling glad, triumphant, proud that Nash had finally accepted her innocence, and not…Not what? Not aching with love and need for him, not wishing that he still loved her?

  Automatically she touched her wedding ring, and then frowned as she suddenly remembered that she had been wearing her engagement ring on the night of the storm, when she had fled to the sanctuary of Nash’s room and Nash’s bed…

  Emotional pain did the most extraordinary things to a human being, Nash acknowledged as he made his way towards his bedroom and contemplated the wasteland his life had now become.

  As he opened the door he saw that Faith was sitting on his bed, her face turned slightly away from him. He could see a single tear glisteningly rolling over her cheek as she studied the rings on her hand.

  ‘What are you crying for?’ he asked her harshly.

  Faith started as she saw him. She had found her ring underneath Nash’s bed, where it must have rolled.

  ‘For what might have been,’ she told Nash sadly and honestly. ‘If…’

  ‘If what?’ Nash prompted her.

  ‘If you hadn’t stopped loving me, Nash,’ she told him steadily.

  ‘Stopped loving you?’ Nash exhaled sharply. ‘I have never stopped loving you, Faith,’ he told her thickly. ‘I couldn’t—no matter how many times I wished to God that I could.’

  ‘But you hated me as well.’

  ‘I hated my own inability to control my love for you,’ Nash corrected her. ‘It’s ironic, I suppose, that after years of fighting against myself, when I finally managed to make my peace with myself and confess to Philip that not even the loyalty I owe him could stop me from loving you, I should discover that I was the one who was guilty of the real sin.’

  Faith started to frown.

  ‘I don’t understand—’ she began, but Nash stopped her.

  ‘The night of the storm…when you…when we…I decided then that it was time to lay the past to rest. I went to Philip’s grave…’

  The night of the storm! Suddenly Faith knew what she had to do. She must be the embodiment of her own name. She must have courage and conviction.

  Slowly she stood up and walked over to where Nash was standing. When she reached him she said softly, ‘The night of the storm? When I kissed you like this…?’

  And she put her arms round him and stretched up to reach his mouth, slowly and very deliberately caressing it with all the power and determination of a woman in love.

  ‘Faith…’ Nash protested on a low groan. ‘You mustn’t…’

  ‘Why not?’ she whispered boldly, feathering the words tormentingly against his aching mouth. ‘I’m your wife and you’re my husband…my love…the father of my child…’

  As he opened his mouth to protest she closed her own over it, kissing him with passion and love.

  He moved, lifting his hands to her arms, and for a moment she thought he was going to push her away. But then his hands slid over her arms and he was drawing her closer, taking control of the kiss from her. Tenderly she yielded it to him.

  ‘Tell me that you love me,’ he demanded thickly in between kisses.

  ‘Not until you’ve told me,’ Faith responded, smiling.

  Abruptly Nash released her, and for a moment she thought she had got it wrong, overplayed her hand…And then he was entwining his fingers with hers as he commanded, ‘Come with me. I want to show you something.’

  By the time they reached the gazebo at the end of the walkway Faith was almost out of breath. It was a perfect summer evening, balmily soft, scented with roses and lavender.

  ‘The first time I stood here and saw you,’ Nash told her softly, ‘I knew how much I loved you, how much I would always love you—and I do, Faith.’

  ‘Tell me again how you felt that first time you saw me,’ she urged him.

  ‘Tell you?’ Nash questioned. ‘I’ve got a much better idea. Why don’t I show you instead?’

  ‘Out here in the garden?’ Faith whispered, semi-shocked but more excited.

  ‘Out here in the garden,’ Nash agreed, and he drew her to him and began to kiss and caress her.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘PHILIPPA. It’s such a pretty name.’

  Faith smiled warmly at Robert Ferndown’s fiancée Lucy as both Robert and Lucy cooed over baby Philippa where she lay snugly in her father’s arms.

  She was three months old and today she was being christened, at the same church where Faith and Nash had been married.

  They had asked Robert and Lucy to be godparents—a strong bond of friendship had begun to develop between the four of them, and Faith was looking forward to attending their marriage later in the year.

  ‘I do so envy you Hatton,’ Lucy had told Faith the first time Robert had introduced her to them.

  Faith had smiled.

  ‘It is a lovely house,’ she had agreed serenely, turning away from the other girl to watch Nash.

  She had still been pregnant with Philippa then. It had been Christmas, and for their first Christmas together Nash had sent away the army of builders who had taken over Hatton after he had decided that instead of giving the house to the Foundation he and Faith should make it their family home.

  ‘We shall need an awful lot of these,’ Faith had laughed, patting her bulge when he had told her, ‘to fill it!’

  ‘So…?’ he had teased back, lifting one eyebrow.

  ‘Robert will be disappointed for the Foundation,’ she had warned him.

  ‘I’ve got something else in mind for Robert,’ Nash had informed her.

  ‘Oh? What?’ she had asked, staring at him in bemusement when he told her.

  ‘The old children’s home where I…? But…’

  ‘I’ve made enquiries and the council is willing to sell it to me. The house can be demolished and a new one built—a proper home—not an institution.�
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  ‘And you’d do that and give it to Robert? Oh, Nash…’

  ‘Don’t you dare say “Oh, Nash” to me like that in your condition,’ he had warned her. ‘You temptress…’

  Philippa stirred in her father’s arms. They had named her for Philip, a loving tribute to him.

  ‘If you keep on gazing adoringly at her like that I’m going to get jealous,’ Faith warned Nash untruthfully as she left Lucy to slip her arm through her husband’s.

  ‘Wait until tonight,’ Nash whispered to her as they walked towards the church. ‘And then I’ll show you just how little cause you have to feel neglected or jealous. You will always be first in my life and in my heart, my darling, darling Faith.’

  ISBN: 9781408998748

  The Marriage Demand

  © Penny Jordan 2013

  First Published in Great Britain in 2013

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  Harlequin (UK) Limited

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