Children of Destiny Books 1-3 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 9)

by Ann Major

  Nick had told her she was wrong, that Triple needed a father, but she’d refused to listen.

  Now she wondered how she’d ever summon the strength to send him away again.

  Her fingers tightened in his, and she held on to him.

  Triple was as still and gray faced as death. There was no change, the female drill sergeant in white explained. He was holding on, but just barely.

  Fresh horror gripped Amy. His eyes seemed more sunken, and beneath his white skin, his cheekbones stood out like batons in a sail.

  Amy looked at all the criss-crossing tubes, IV and little lights blinking with bright regularity on the monitors. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic.

  As Amy watched, Nick leaned over and pressed Triple’s hot, limp fingers. “Triple, it’s your dad. I’m here, and I’m not leaving until you’re well.”

  Not by a flicker of an eyelash did Triple respond. Heat fairly radiated from his flushed face.

  “I’m here,” Nick repeated. “Can you hear me, Triple?”

  Amy held her breath.

  There was no sound other than the metallic rattling of the air-conditioning vent.

  “He doesn’t hear you, Nick,” Amy said hopelessly. “Oh, I’m so afraid he’ll never...”

  Nick sensed how close she had come again to the breaking point. “I think we’d better go,” he said.

  “No. I want to stay with my baby. I have to stay with him. I...” She touched Triple’s forehead. “Oh, Nick, he’s burning up.”

  “Hush, darling,” Nick murmured hoarsely. He brought his fingers gently to her lips as if to seal them. “I think the crisis will come tonight,” he said. “I know it’s hard for you to leave him here alone, but it’s just as hard for me.”

  Amy looked into her husband’s bleak eyes and saw a pain as terrible and profound as her own. His handsome face was haggard with anxiety. Nick needed her every bit as much as she needed him.

  Without thought she slowly put her arms around him, and offered him the only thing she could, the warmth and comfort of her body. She had him in her arms, her face pressed against the roughness of his cheek. When she felt his large body shudder against hers, she just hugged him until finally he let her go.

  Stiffly, blindly, like two sleepwalkers they stumbled toward the waiting room.

  Later in the night, it became so cold that she began to shiver. He took care of her, wrapping her snugly first in her own light jacket and then in his oversized raincoat. He stretched out on the sofa and pulled her down beside him.

  “Get some sleep,” he whispered, pushing her raven head down on his lap when she made a feeble show of resistance. “Forget how you feel about me. We’re in this thing together.” With a weary sigh he let his head fall back against the wall.

  Sleep. She wondered vaguely if she could ever sleep again, but she lacked the strength to argue with him.

  Instead she let her cheek obediently rest upon the firm warmth of his thigh. Even though she was determined to watch him warily, it wasn’t long before her eyelids started to droop. His masculine profile blurred.

  She forgot the danger of him and relaxed in his arms. Soon she slept the deep, still sleep of a person utterly exhausted while behind the closed doors of the intensive care unit, their son battled for his life.

  Three

  An icy fear knotting his stomach, Nick held Amy in his arms. Throughout the long night he was afraid as he hadn’t been afraid since Jack’s fatal motorcycle accident two years before. Jack had fought for his life for three days and three nights, but in the end he’d lost.

  Losing the brother who’d always hero-worshiped him had devastated Nick. In many ways his love for the wild and boisterous Triple mirrored his affection for his wild and boisterous younger brother.

  It couldn’t happen all over again. He couldn’t lose Triple the same way he’d lost Jack. He still dreamed of Jack, still missed him.

  Dear God, not Triple, too! Nick knew if he lost Triple, he would lose whatever small chance he had with Amy as well.

  He remembered his last visit with his son right before Christmas, and he was glad that he’d gone against Amy’s will and seen Triple. Brief though their visit had been, Triple had been thrilled to see him.

  The little boy had taken him into the garage and shown him Amy’s catamaran. He had bounded onto the twin hulls with the sprightly agility of a small monkey and precociously pointed out what everything was.

  “Could you teach me how to sail her, Dad? I mean really sail her?”

  “I thought you already knew how. Sebastian sent me a picture of you and your mother.”

  “‘Course I know how, Dad,” Triple had proclaimed with his usual confidence. “Only Mom doesn’t think so, and she said she’s not going to let me sail her anymore ‘cause she says I don’t do what she says on a boat. I bet if you taught me how, she’d change her mind. And I bet pretty soon I could sail so fast I could cream every kid around here. ‘Specially Elgin Ferris.”

  “This is a mighty tough boat for a little boy to start off with,” Nick had said, laughing. But he’d promised Triple that when summer came, he’d teach him how to sail. “I might have to get you your own boat.”

  Triple jumped down from the boat with a single, foolhardy leap. Shining blue eyes gazed eagerly up into Nick’s. “My own boat, huh? Maybe I could spend the whole summer with you instead of just July.”

  “Maybe...”

  Nick had realized then that he should have fought Amy long ago for more time with Triple. Instead, he’d chosen not to fight her too hard and had buried himself in his work and sailing races and had ignored what was really important—his family.

  When Amy had come home unexpectedly he’d pled for more time, but he’d quit pushing when she’d looked tearful after saying no.

  No more giving up, he vowed, glancing at the sterile hospital walls. Not after coming this close to losing Triple. If Triple lived, Nick was determined to change things. He was through with letting Amy call the shots. He’d let her use him to suit her own purposes long enough.

  The delicate floral scent of Amy’s perfume rose to Nick’s nostrils. Her fingers clutched at his arms as she whimpered in her sleep from some bad dream. He glanced down at the tousled dark head in his lap and saw pain flicker across her pale features.

  Even in her sleep, she was suffering. Whatever she felt toward him, she loved their son. Nick felt a rush of protectiveness toward her. He wished he could help her get through this as she’d helped him when Jack had died.

  She moaned softly, burrowing her head into his belly in an intimate way that would have deeply shamed her had she been awake. Through the thin silk of his shirt he felt her hot mouth nuzzle his flesh.

  He caught his breath at the sudden flash of unwanted desire that made his body harden. Again her hands clutched him, as if she were seeking to bury herself in the warmth of his body.

  Almost involuntarily his hand came to rest on her head. He smoothed the wispy strands of black silk into place, touching her lightly for fear of waking her. In the dim light with her inky lashes curling against her pale cheeks, her delicate features softened by sleep, she was lovely.

  Still asleep, she called his name. He felt a sudden tearing pain in his whole being. More than anything he wanted Triple to live. And he wanted his wife. It didn’t matter that she’d used him and married him only when he’d forced her.

  *

  Dr. Alsop led Amy and Nick into the intensive care unit. “I know it isn’t visiting hours, but Triple’s so much better this morning, I knew you’d want to see him. He’s been awake, and his fever’s down.”

  “Then the crisis is past?” Nick demanded.

  “Maybe not entirely, but he’s definitely much improved.”

  Dr. Alsop knocked on Triple’s door and pushed it gently ajar. “I wouldn’t stay too long. After what he’s been through, he’ll tire easily.”

  As they stepped inside, a single shaft of wan sunlight streamed through a high window and touched
Triple’s hair. The lock gleamed like dark gold against his pale skin. He was no longer flushed, and a slight sheen of perspiration beaded his forehead. To Amy he looked like a sleeping angel.

  “Triple,” she whispered.

  Triple’s eyes opened drowsily. He managed a thin smile for his mother, and then a bigger one for his father, which produced a gnawing ache in Amy’s stomach. “Dad, I knew you’d come,” he whispered. Triple clutched Amy’s hand weakly when she touched his fingers. “Didn’t you just know he would, Mom?” His blue eyes were big and trusting as he gazed at her.

  Only for a second did the shock of her son’s eager questions register on Amy’s face. She was too aware of Nick’s piercing gaze.

  “I should have known it,” she replied evasively, letting her lashes fall to veil her eyes. She felt an uneasy prick of conscience. His father’s presence meant so much to Triple, and for five years she’d done everything she could to keep them apart.

  “Dad, you’re going to stay for a while, aren’t you? You’re not leaving the minute I get better, are you? Mom, you’ll make him stay, won’t you.”

  A twinge of guilt raced through Amy. “Triple, your father’s a very busy man,” she said softly. “We can’t expect him to stay too long when he has to run South Sails with its branches all over the United States. Not to mention all of his racing commitments.”

  Amy would have said more, but when she felt Nick’s hard blue gaze raking her, she swallowed the words.

  Nick leaned over the bed and contradicted his wife in a deceptively smooth voice. “I won’t be leaving, son—not even when you’re better.”

  “Is that a promise, Dad?”

  “That’s a promise, son.” Nick’s cutting gaze slashed up to Amy’s face as he spoke, daring her to protest. “From now on, I’m not going to let anything come between us.”

  Amy cringed at his words and the defiant challenge she read in her husband’s eyes.

  Triple’s need for his father was natural. It was the circumstances of her marriage that made Nick’s continuing presence a frightening prospect.

  “Good.” The faint word died on Triple’s lips as he let his eyes droop shut. “You don’t have to go just ‘cause I’m sleeping, either, Dad,” he murmured, his voice dying away again. He had forgotten his mother completely.

  Nick smiled a slow smile that transformed his rugged features into an expression of unbelievable tenderness.

  This sweet look tore Amy to pieces. Once he had reserved it for her alone. She closed her eyes against the sharp ache of longing that assailed her as she remembered the bittersweet tenderness of their brief love affair. When she opened them again, she was glad Nick had his broad back turned toward her as he leaned over the bed holding Triple’s hand.

  “Excuse me,” Amy murmured shakily. “I’ll let you spend some time alone with him.” She stumbled outside.

  When Nick returned to the waiting room, he found Amy tucked into one desolate corner.

  “Sulking?” he demanded, not in the mood to indulge her coldness toward him.

  “No,” she whispered raggedly, twisting the leather strap of her purse. She couldn’t look up. She was too afraid he might read the aching emptiness in her eyes. “Damn you. Why did you have to come back?”

  “He’s my son, too,” Nick said.

  “We shouldn’t be fighting over him,” she said.

  There was the barest tensing of his expression. “That’s exactly my point.”

  “Nick, you shouldn’t have made a promise to Triple you don’t intend to keep.”

  Eyes as calm as a blue winter sky met hers. “I didn’t.”

  “You can’t mean that you really intend to stay.”

  “For a while.” At her frown, a bitter grimace chased across his mouth. He came closer, so close that he towered menacingly over her. “Would it really be so awful having your husband home?”

  His gaze swept over her, and she was conscious of every part of her body that his eyes touched.

  “I don’t feel like I have a husband,” she replied sharply, rising to her feet, desperate to escape.

  “Then I’ve definitely stayed away too long.” He spoke with a deadly softness that should have warned her. “I realized that last night when I held you in my arms and almost kissed you.”

  Disdain glittered coldly in her eyes. “No,” she murmured with tight finality. “The best thing for all of us would be for you to go away and stay out of our lives completely.”

  “I don’t believe that anymore. Last night you needed me. When I got here you were falling apart.”

  “Last night I would have been fine, if you hadn’t come.”

  “Oh, you would have?” She was edging toward the door. With the swift, savage grace of a jungle cat, he seized her by the wrist and yanked her against his body. “You lying little cheat,” he muttered bitterly. “You can’t even say, ‘thank you, Nick, for being there when I needed you.’ No, you just use me and then kick me in the gut when you’re through with me. You didn’t even bother to call me and tell me he was sick.” His harsh grip dug into her skin. “I’m tired of the way you treat me, honey.”

  “Nick, don’t...”

  “I flew across an ocean and this entire country to get back to you, to help you, but you don’t want me. All you’ve ever wanted is my money. Or Sebastian’s, once you’d used me to get a hold on him.”

  Words of denial sprang to Amy’s lips, but she bit them back. There were too many secrets between them for her to blast him with bitter truths.

  He pressed her against himself until every hard muscle and bone of his body imprinted themselves on her soft curves. He was burning hot, his arms crushing steel bands. “Maybe it’s time you learned what marriage really means.”

  Her heart raced in frantic alarm. “I don’t want you,” she whispered breathlessly.

  His hands wound into her hair. She felt his fingers digging into her scalp as he pulled her head back. She wanted to despise him, but the hard pressure of his male body against her ignited her senses. The warmth of his breath gently wafted over her lips while his musky scent tantalized her. Every nerve in her body was treacherously aware of him.

  She pushed at his arms, struggling to break their hold.

  “But I want you,” he said softly. “I’ve waited more than I’ve ever waited for another woman.” His eyes were as hard as diamonds. “Maybe I’m tired of wanting and waiting and never having. You’re my wife. Maybe it’s time I took what I want.”

  He covered her lips with his, and his rough, unshaven cheek burned against hers. He kissed her hard and insolently, not caring that he hurt her, that he humiliated her.

  “You are mine,” he muttered hoarsely, determined to dominate her with the emotion that dominated him. “Mine.”

  The fierce words branded her soul. Overpowered by his masculine strength, she didn’t even try to fight him. His mouth smothered hers, and blackness whirled in a mist of stars behind her closed eyelids.

  She felt faint, helpless in his arms, caught in the blaze of his passion. Only when she stopped fighting him did the furious quest for revenge cease to rule him, a gentler emotion stealing into his heart. His hold didn’t slacken, but instead of hurt, his mouth exerted mastery.

  Intuitively sensing this change in him, her body melted into his, and slowly some emotion, long buried, flared hotly alive as his lips and tongue and hands caressed her. Against her earlobe he murmured soft, heated endearments, and she could not hold back a tiny moan of surrender. She returned his kisses, softly at first, her mouth playing sweetly beneath his, and then more feverishly.

  In the white heat of passion all their differences ebbed away.

  “You are mine,” he whispered, and she could not deny it.

  When he let her go at last, she was so thoroughly shaken she would have fallen clumsily, had he not reached out and caught her. Only when she had regained her balance, did he let her go.

  Not a word passed between them as she turned her back on him and w
ent to the small window that looked out on the hospital parking lot.

  She heard his footsteps approaching behind her, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled in awareness of him. She didn’t dare to look at him, but a fierce tremor of longing shivered down her spine.

  Just as his words in December had haunted her, all it took was a kiss to show her that all their years apart, all her stubborn determination to hate him were as nothing against the terrible power he held over her. She had loved him, and once he had almost destroyed not only her life but the lives of the people she loved more than anything.

  “Why don’t you just go?” she said in a low strangled tone. “Please...”

  She was aware of his hands brushing over her hair, and she quickly sidestepped to avoid his touch. But not before her heart had betrayed her and begun to flutter wildly.

  He flicked the miniblinds apart. “Storm’s over,” he said. His voice was distant, yet warmly ironic.

  She glanced indifferently at the gray, wet world revealed through the parted blinds. All she could think of was his immense body, so burningly near hers. All she could feel was an insane urge to throw herself into his arms and let him hold her once more. No matter what he’d done in the past, he had a power over her no other man had ever had.

  “I think it’s time I drove you home,” he began, “so we can both shower and change and get some rest.”

  His matter-of-fact suggestion created a chaos of emotion. He was closing in on her, taking over, ordering her around as if it were his right to do so.

  One kiss, and he thought he owned her.

  Amy whirled around.

  For a numbed moment, she could only stare mutely at him.

  In the gray light his blue eyes flashed with the glint of icy steel as he regarded her down the arrogant length of his aquiline nose. She noted the commanding thrust of his jaw—never a good sign—the startling prominence of his chiseled cheekbones and the cynical lines slashed on either side of his hard mouth. His was always an uncompromisingly masculine face, but at the moment, he looked so ruthlessly determined she knew that only a fool would dare to stand up to him.