by Penny Jordan
“Not unless it’s the answer I want to hear.”
She snickered and turned in his arms. “Why are you like that?” she asked with sudden curiosity. “What made you so bullish?”
“Having nothing and hating it. You should get some sleep.” He rolled back to reach for the light switch.
“Honestly, if I try to sleep, I’ll just lie here and worry. Tell me something to distract me. What were you like as a child? Before your mom died,” she prompted.
“Scared,” he admitted, letting her glimpse the flash of angry honesty in his expression before he doused the light and drew her body into alignment with his. Her robe was bunched, her bra restrictive and the fabric of his pajama pants annoying when she wanted to stroke her bare leg on his.
At the same time, she was caught by the single word that didn’t seem to fit with a mother he’d described as “maternal.”
“Why were you scared?” she asked gently.
Gideon sighed. “I really don’t like talking about it, Adara.”
“Mmm,” she murmured in old acquiescence, then said into his chest, “But I told you about my childhood, unhappy as it was, and we’re closer for it. Aren’t we?”
He sighed and rolled onto his back, arms loosening from his hold on her. “My story’s a hell of a lot uglier than yours. I don’t know much about my mother except what I told you before. I give her credit for somehow getting us into a rented room by the time she died, but before that, I can remember her leaving me in, literally, holes in the wall. Telling me to stay there until she came back. Can you imagine a woman—a child—trying to keep a baby alive while living on the street? I never felt safe.”
“Oh, Gideon,” she whispered, reaching her hand onto his chest.
He clasped her hand in his, taking care not to crush her fine bones, but was torn between rejecting her caress of comfort and clinging to it. He was sorry he’d started this, but part of him wanted to lay the groundwork. If his past ever came out, he wanted Adara to understand why he’d become who he was.
“I hate remembering how powerless I felt. So when you ask me why I go after what I want however I have to, that’s why.”
“How did she die?”
The unforgettable image of his mother’s weary eyes staring lifelessly from her battered face flashed behind his closed eyes. He opened them to the streaks of moonlight on the bedroom ceiling, trying to dispel the memory.
“She was beaten to death.” By a john, if he’d pieced things together in his mind correctly.
“Oh, my God! What happened? Did the police find who did it? Where were you? Did you go into foster care after, or...?”
“I didn’t stick around for police reports. I was so terrified, I just ran.” All the way onto a ship bound for America, barely old enough to be in school.
“You saw her?”
“I told you it was ugly.”
Her breath came in on a shaken sob. “I’m so sorry, Gideon. And you saw that other man, too. Your mentor.”
“Kristor,” he provided. Kristor Vozaras, but now wasn’t the time to explain how they’d come to have the same name. “I knew I couldn’t live like that, on the docks where crime is a career and a human life worth nothing. No matter what, I had to climb higher than carrying everything I owned in a bag on my shoulder. Whatever it took, I had to amass some wealth and take control of my destiny.”
She moved her head on his chest, nodding in understanding perhaps. Her warm fingers stroked across his rib cage and she hugged herself tighter into him, the action warmly comforting despite his frozen core.
“I’m glad you didn’t limit yourself,” she said. “I’ve always admired you for being a risk-taker. I’ve never had the nerve to step beyond my comfort zone.”
“Oh, Adara,” he groaned, heart aching in his chest as he weaved his fingers into hers. “You’re the most courageous woman I know.” How else could she stare down the probability of another heartbreak with fierce love for their child brimming in her heart?
Maybe he couldn’t control whether or not she kept this baby, but he was going to fight like hell to keep her. No matter what.
* * *
Adara woke in her old bed and thought for a second it was all a dream. She hadn’t gone to Greece, hadn’t found closeness with her husband...
Then he padded into her room, half-naked, hair rumpled, expression sober as he indicated the phone in his hand. “Karen wants to know if we can get to her office before the rest of her patients start arriving.”
It all came rushing back. Pregnant. Fear clutched her heart, but she ignored the familiar angst and sat up, nodding. “Of course. I’ll get dressed and we can leave right away.”
“Um.” Gideon’s mouth twitched. “You might want to wash your face.”
Adara went to the mirror and saw a goth nightmare staring back at her. “Right,” she said with appalled understatement.
Gideon confirmed with Karen and left for his own room to dress.
Their lighthearted start became somber as Gideon drove them to the clinic, neither of them speaking while he concentrated on the thickening traffic and the reality of their history with pregnancy closed in on them.
Nevertheless, as urgently as Adara wanted to self-protect right now, she also really, really appreciated Gideon’s solid presence beside her. He warmed her with a strong arm across her back as they walked up to Karen’s office and kept a supportive hold on her as they stood numbly waiting for the receptionist, still in her street jacket, to escort them into an exam room.
Karen, efficient and caring as she was, was not pleased to learn Adara had miscarried two months ago without telling her.
Adara drew in a defensive breath, but Gideon spoke before she could.
“Let’s not dwell on that. Obviously there was no lasting damage or Adara wouldn’t be pregnant again. I’d like to focus on what we can do to help her with this pregnancy.”
Karen was used to being the one in charge, but shook off her ruffled feathers as Gideon’s obvious concern shone through.
“I’d like to say there was a magic formula for going to term. Mother Nature sometimes has other plans, but we hope for the best, right? Adara, you know the drill.” She handed her a plastic cup.
A few minutes later, Adara was in a gown, sitting on the edge of the exam table while Karen confirmed her pregnancy. The frown puckering her brow brought a worried crinkle to Adara’s and Gideon’s foreheads as well.
“What’s wrong?” Adara asked with dread.
“Nothing. Just our tests are more sensitive than the over-the-counter ones and.... Do you mind? I won’t do an internal just yet, but can I palpate your abdomen?”
Adara settled onto her back and Karen’s fingers pressed a few times before she set the cool flat of the stethoscope against her skin. “Tell me more about this miscarriage you had. When do you think you conceived that time?”
“Um, late April?” Adara guessed. “I can look it up on my phone.”
“So fourteen, maybe fifteen weeks ago?” The cool end of the stethoscope was covering a lot of real estate.
“You’re not thinking I’m still pregnant from then,” Adara scoffed. “Karen, I know a miscarriage when I’m having one.”
“I want you to have a scan. Let’s go down the hall.”
Gideon’s face was as tight as Adara’s felt. He held her elbow, but she barely felt his touch, limbs going numb with dread. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Karen’s sobriety told her that.
Except that, five minutes later, they were looking at a screen that showed an unmistakable profile of a baby’s head, its tiny body lounging in a hammock-like curve, one tiny hand lifting above its head to splay like a wishing star.
Gideon cussed out a very base Greek curse. Not exactly appropriate for such a reverent moment, but Adara had to a
gree. This was unbelievable.
“Is that a recording from someone else?” she asked, afraid to trust her eyes.
“This is why we put you through those procedures during a miscarriage, Adara,” Karen said gently. “We look for things like a twin that might have survived. Given that this one has hung on past your first trimester, I’d guess he or she is exactly that. A survivor. This is a very good sign you’ll go to term.”
CHAPTER NINE
IF THEY’D WALLOWED in disbelief and shock last night, and tension had been thick on their way to see Karen, it was nothing to the stunned silence that carried them back to the penthouse.
Adara sank onto the sofa without removing her jacket or shoes, totally awash in a sea of incredulity. She was afraid to believe it. They might actually have a baby this time. A family.
An expansion of incredible elation, supreme joy, as if she had the biggest, best secret in the world growing inside her, was tempered by cautious old Adara who never quite believed good things could happen to her. She might have a solicitous husband who felt every bit as protective and parental toward his offspring as she did, but he wasn’t in love with her. Not the way she was tumbling into love with him.
Shaken, she glanced to where he stood with hands in his pockets, the back of his shirt flattened by his tense stance, the curve of his buttocks lovingly shaped by black jeans, his feet spaced apart for a sailor’s habitual seeking of balance.
“What are you thinking?” she invited hesitantly.
“That I can’t believe I let you climb down to that beach in Greece. I’ve been on you like a damn caveman...” He ran a hand over his hair and turned around. His face was lined with self-recrimination. “I wish to hell I’d known, Adara.”
She set her chin, not liking the streak of accusation in his tone. Sitting straighter, she said, “I’m not going to apologize for refusing to see a doctor before today.” Even though a lot of things would have been different if she had.
Would she and Gideon have come this far as a couple, though?
And was this far enough?
She clenched her hands and pressed her tightened mouth against her crossed thumbs, trying to process how this pregnancy changed everything. While Gideon had shown no desire to discuss adoption, she had kept divorce on the table. Now...
“It’s done anyway,” he said, pacing a few steps, then pivoting to confront her. “But moving forward, we’re taking better care of you. Both of you. I’ll start by informing your brothers you’ll be delegating your responsibilities. I want you working four-hour days, not twelve. Travel is curtailed for both of us. Chile will have to wait and Tokyo will go on hold indefinitely. The architect needs to start over and you can’t be here through renovations, so we’ll have to hurry the Hampton place along.”
“Karen said everything is normal, that this isn’t a high-risk pregnancy,” she reminded, tensing at all he’d said. “I can still work.”
“Do you want to take chances?”
“Of course not. But I don’t want to be railroaded either. You’re acting like—”
Imperious brows went up. “Like?”
“Like it’s actually going to happen,” she said in a small voice. She watched the toes of her shoes point together. All of her shrank inward, curling protectively around the tiny flicker of life inside her.
“You just said yourself, it’s not high risk.” His voice was gruff, but she heard the tiny fracture in his tone. He wasn’t as steady as he appeared.
“It’s just...to make all these changes and tell people...What if something happens?”
The line of his shoulders slumped. He came to sit beside her, angled on the cushion to face her while he pinched her cold fingers in a tight grip. “I’m going to move whatever mountains need moving to ensure nothing does. We’re going to have this baby, Adara.”
She didn’t look convinced. Her brow stayed pleated in worry, her mouth tremulous. A very tentative ray of hope in her eyes remained firmly couched, not allowed to grow.
Gideon clenched his teeth in frustration that sheer will wasn’t enough. “I realize you’re scared,” he allowed.
“I may not be high risk, but there’s still a risk,” she insisted defensively.
She was breaking his heart. “I’m not disregarding that. But my coping strategy is to reduce the chances of any outcome but the one I want and go full steam ahead.”
“And the outcome you want is...a baby?”
“Is there any doubt?” He sat back, unable to fathom that she’d imagine anything else.
“I asked you what you were thinking and you started talking about architects and Tokyo, like this was a massive inconvenience to your jam-packed schedule.”
His breath escaped raggedly. “I’m a man. My first thoughts are practical—secure food and shelter. I’m not going to hang my heart out there and admit to massive insecurities at not knowing how to be a father, or reveal that I’m dying of pride.”
Her mouth twitched into a pleased smile. “Or own up to whether you’d prefer a boy or a girl?” Underlying her teasing tone was genuine distress. Adara would have had more value in her father’s eyes if she’d been a male, they both knew that.
That wasn’t why he took her question like a lightning rod to the soul, though, flinching then forcing his expression smooth. “I’ve always wanted a girl,” he admitted, feeling very much as if his vital organs were clawed from him and set out on display. “So we could name her Delphi, for my mother.”
Adara paled a bit and he knew he’d made a mistake. He could practically see her taking on responsibility for never giving him that.
“Babe—”
“It’s a lovely name,” she said with a strained, sweet smile. “I’d like it very much if we could do that.”
But she wasn’t like him, willing to bet on long shots. Her cheekbones stood out prominently as she distressed over whether she could come through for him. He didn’t know how to reassure her that this wasn’t up to her. He had never blamed her, never would.
“Will you wait here a minute?” He kissed her forehead and stood, leaving to retrieve the ring he’d wanted to give her last night. When he returned, he sat on the edge of the sofa again, then thought better and dipped onto one knee. “I bought this to mark our fifth anniversary, but...”
Adara couldn’t help covering a gasp as he revealed the soft pink diamond pulsing like a heart stone of warmth from the frozen arrangement of white diamonds and glinting platinum setting.
“No matter what happens, we have each other.” He fit the ring on her right hand.
Her fingers spasmed a bit, not quite rejecting the gift, but this seemed like a reaffirmation of vows. She had been prepared to throw their marriage away a few weeks ago and didn’t know if she was completely ready to recommit to it, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her hesitations when her ears were still ringing with his words about his mother. Every time she’d lost a baby, his mother had died for him again. Small wonder he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.
Given time, would it become more accessible?
He kissed her knuckles and when he looked into her eyes, his gaze was full of his typical stamp of authority, already viewing this as a done deal. The impact was more than she could bear.
Shielding her own gaze, she looked at his mouth as she leaned forward to kiss him lingeringly. “Thank you. I’ll try to be less of a scaredy-cat if you could, perhaps, let me tell my mother before calling the architect?”
She glanced up to catch a flare of something in the backs of his flecked eyes that might have been disappointment or hurt, but he adopted her light tone as he said, “I’m capable of compromise. Don’t drag your feet.”
* * *
For a woman battling through an aggressive cancer treatment, as Adara’s mother, Ellice, was, the quiet of Chatha
m in upstate New York was probably perfect. For a man used to a nonstop pace through sixteen-hour days, the place was a padded cell.
It’s only one afternoon, Gideon chided himself. Adara had tried to come alone, but he had insisted on driving her. Still reeling over yesterday’s news, he already saw that the duration of her pregnancy would be a struggle not to smother his wife while his instinct to hover over her revved to maximum.
Letting her out of his sight when they’d arrived here had been genuinely difficult, but he respected her wish to speak to her mother alone. She had yet to bring up the topic of Nic. Ellice had been too sick for that conversation, but with doctor reports that weren’t exactly encouraging, Adara was facing not having many more conversations with her mother at all.
Scowling with dismay at the rotten hands life dealt, Gideon walked the grounds of the property that Adara’s father had bought as an “investment.” The old man had really been tucking his wife away from the city, isolating her as a form of punishment because he’d been that sort of man. Gideon saw that now. Not that it had been a complete waste of money. The land itself was nice.
Gideon wondered if either of Adara’s brothers wanted this place when their mother passed. With only a dried-up pond for a water view, it wasn’t Gideon’s style. He didn’t need a rolling deck beneath his feet, but he did like a clear view to the horizon.
Maybe that was his old coping strategy rearing its head. Each time his world had fallen apart, he’d looked into the blue yonder and set a course for a fresh start. One thing he’d learned on the ocean: the world was big enough to run away from just about anything.
Not that he was willing to abandon the life he had here. Not now.
He stilled as he noticed a rabbit brazenly munching the lettuce in the garden. Bees were the only sound on the late-summer air, working the flowers that bordered the plot of tomatoes, beans and potatoes. The house stood above him on the hillock, white with fairy-tale gables and peaks. Below the wraparound veranda, the grounds rolled away in pastoral perfection.
