It was clear he didn’t want her here, and part of her wanted to leave. The cowardly part. But if she returned home in the morning, she might never have another chance to apologize for the way she’d left. She’d poured her soul into the three-page letter she’d placed on his pillow that last day, told him about her heart’s need for a baby and knowing they’d never be able to find their way through together, but it wasn’t the same as telling him to his face. Much as she might like to take the easy way out, it would be hard to look herself in the mirror every morning if she didn’t do the right thing now. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Samuel,” she said softly to his back, “I’m sorry about the way I left. For not telling you in person.”
There was deathly silence, where the only sounds were of the storm lashing the land and her own breathing. He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken. Then his rumbling voice reached her, as if carried on the wind. “Why did you do it?”
“I—” She paused, swallowed and began again. “I was scared.”
“Of me?” he asked turning to her, his face appalled. “You thought I’d do something?”
She shook her head as she reached out and touched his forearm. “You’d never do something that would scare me.”
He frowned down at her hand, but didn’t move his arm. “You’re not making sense.”
It was all such a mess of emotion and thoughts and regrets in her head that making sense was probably unlikely.
She dropped her hand. “I was scared of what you’d say.”
His eyes held a world of pain. “I only would have asked you to stay.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said, wincing.
“Why?” The one word held all the confusion and frustration she’d felt inside for three years, so she allowed herself to absorb it, absorb his feelings, but only for a moment.
She closed her eyes, centered herself, then opened them again and met his gaze. “Because I would have. I’d have stayed.”
The wind changed direction, toying with the ends of her fair hair and bringing a flurry of leaves across the wooden floor, past their feet.
Seemingly oblivious to the weather, Samuel planted his hands on his hips and glared at her. “If you’d have stayed just because I’d asked, Maddy, then maybe you shouldn’t have been leaving.”
“Samuel, when we were married I would have done anything you asked. Doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do.”
“And leaving was?” he challenged.
She pressed three fingers to her lips, almost afraid to say the words, but knowing they needed to be said. “Tell me, how do you feel about fatherhood?”
He rubbed a finger across his forehead. “We discussed this before we got married. Neither one of us wanted children.”
“Times change, people change,” she said, using his own words from the night before. “Or more correctly, I changed and you didn’t.” She’d told him once she’d realized she felt differently, and he’d said he still felt the same. There weren’t many places she could go from there.
Deep frown lines crossed his brow. “A baby is this important to you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. When she was younger, she’d had no idea how much she’d come to want a child of her own. How deep the yearning would be.
“I’m sorry, Maddy,” he said, letting out a sigh that sounded as if it came from the depths of his soul. “I’m just not cut out to be a father.”
And there was the crux of the matter. She desperately wanted to be a mother, and he wouldn’t even discuss the idea. The hopelessness of the situation washed over her, as it had all those years ago. “If I’d stayed, one of us would have had to give in.”
“We’d have worked something out,” he said, as if it was no big deal.
“No, Samuel, we couldn’t meet halfway on this issue. Either I had to give up on the dream and live the rest of my life with regret, or you would have reluctantly become a father and possibly resented the baby. I couldn’t do that to either one of us, or to a child.”
He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“You deserve to know.” She moistened her dry lips. “To hear the reasons in person, not just in a note. You always deserved that much and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long.”
The rain had eased to occasional drops, but the clouds above remained ominous. He stalked down the stairs to where the land began to slope away then stopped and stared out at the stormy sea, arms crossed over his broad chest, feet shoulder-width apart, spine ramrod straight. Untouchable.
But she followed anyway and stopped beside him, following his gaze into the distance, giving him the space for whatever he needed to say. She’d given her apology, it was up to him whether he accepted it or threw it back in her face. So she waited.
After excruciating minutes, the rain began to fall again, but neither of them moved.
Finally, Samuel cleared his throat. “How long had it been, Maddy?” He turned to face her, dropping his hands down to sit low on his hips. “Before you left, how long had it been since you’d loved me?”
A crack formed through the centre of her heart and she wobbled on unsteady legs. He’d thought she hadn’t loved him? “I loved you as much when I left as on our wedding day. Maybe more.”
His gaze didn’t waver as the rain soaked his hair and ran down his face in rivulets. “I find that very hard to believe.” He swung his head away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. “You say you left because you’d changed your mind about a baby, but it makes more sense that you’d stopped loving me.”
She took a small step closer, willing him to see the truth in her eyes. “It took me two years to get over you, and most days of those two years I thought about running home and begging you to take me back.”
His face twisted with pain for a split second, but he took a deep breath and brought himself under control.
She laid a hand on his arm, over the bicep that tensed at her touch. “I wanted to tell you things that happened in my day, to share the little things. To pick up the phone and hear your voice. And the wanting…it never left.”
A burning intensity lit his eyes. “Never?”
She swallowed. “Never.”
“It never left for me either,” he murmured, moving infinitesimally closer.
Having him stand so near, her lungs had to labor to bring in enough air, so she focused on keeping her breath even as she spoke. “Maybe it never will. Maybe it’s merely human biology—our pheromones match or something.”
“Or something.” He glanced down at her hand still resting on his bicep and she followed the direction, only then realizing her fingers had been far from still, they were tracing a feather-light pattern on the damp fabric that clung to his skin.
She stilled the hand, but before she could withdraw, he covered it with his own warm palm. Her pulse jumped at the contact and the way his eyes flared showed he’d noticed. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body despite the cool air surrounding them, could smell his masculine scent across the mere inches that separated them. The urge to close the sliver of space so her whole body would be pressed against him was almost irresistible. A shiver raced across her skin.
“You’re cold,” he said, his voice deeper, huskier, than it had been moments earlier.
That hadn’t been the reason for her shiver, but he was right, nonetheless. The coat she’d pulled on had protected her from most of the rain when she’d first run outside, but some had run down her back, and her hair was saturated. The second set of clothes she’d need to change in one day.
He stepped closer and rubbed his hands up and down her arms, bringing warmth back into the skin. “You really should be inside,” he said, but instead of banishing her, he walked her back to the dry area in the centre of the gazebo, then undid the zipper on his coat and wrapped the sides around her, sharing his body heat.
Enveloped in his arms, in his coat, pr
essed against his chest, was a heaven she hadn’t expected to experience again, so she closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself a blissful moment to soak up the sensations. His heart thumped a rhythm beneath her ear and his chest rose and fell, seeming to pick up speed in time with her own. Whenever she was near Samuel, her senses always became hyper-aware, and now was no exception, her skin prickling without even touching, her head swimming with his scent.
“Maddy.” The word rumbled in his chest, so she felt it as much as heard it. She looked up at his face, unsure what she’d find. His eyes were hungry, wolfish. Ready to devour her. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Maddy,” he repeated, but this time it was a demand and a plea rolled into one.
She took a shaky breath, then pressed her hands to the solid wall of his chest and was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath. His mouth came down hard on hers, kissing her as if there was no tomorrow, no yesterday. Just this moment. He gripped her to him tighter and she snaked her hands up to twine about his neck, reveling in the contact. In him. She was lost. Lost, with no interest in ever being found again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maddy swayed on her feet. Samuel’s large body was her anchor in the maelstrom of sensation, her touchstone in a world she barely understood anymore. With his tongue sliding wickedly along hers, she pushed the sides of his yellow raincoat away, then over his shoulders and down his arms until it slid the rest of the way to the floor under its own weight. She needed to be closer, as close as she could be.
His hands moved down her back and came to rest on her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh. He was touching her again. It was almost too much to comprehend, so she let the thought go. No thinking, only feeling.
She drew back to refill her lungs, but he caught her bottom lip, and tugged it with his teeth. Her pulse spiked. He released her lip and she kissed him again, no longer caring if she had enough air. She needed Samuel more.
His fingers speared into her hair, his mouth moving over hers. The whole world shrank to just Samuel and her, to the flash fires everywhere his body touched hers, to the dizzying desire that consumed her. She tried to unbutton his shirt, but the fabric was wet and her fingers were trembling with need, so she didn’t make much headway.
Dragging her mouth away, she refilled her screaming lungs and focused on the problem of his buttons. Samuel glanced down, frowned, and then ripped at the sides. The fabric tore, and without hesitating, she spread her hands over the warm skin of his chest, over the crisp hair smattered over his pecs, then leaned in to place an open-mouthed kiss over his heart. He growled her name, and it was all she could do not to combust.
While she continued to explore, he leaned down, dropping kisses over her forehead, over her face, murmuring words of want and need as he went. He tugged her earlobe into the heat of his mouth then gently bit down sending a trail of sparks dancing across her skin.
“Again,” she whispered, and he groaned in response. This time as he grazed his teeth over her earlobe he pressed his thigh against the centre of her, where she was throbbing with sensation already, and the combination dissolved every bone in her body. Just as he’d known it would—no man had ever understood her body the way Samuel did, and he was using every bit of that knowledge now.
He pushed up under her sweater, shoving her bra out of the way, and his warm hands covered her breasts sending an effervescent rush through her veins. Then his head bent, and his mouth took the place of his hands. The wet slide of his tongue over the peak of a breast almost undid her. She whimpered—it was too much, but not enough. She would never get enough of this man.
The only place she could reach was his back, and she ran frantic fingers over the cotton shirt that still hung haphazardly on his body, but she was desperate to feel his skin, so she pulled his head back up to her and kissed him, tugging at the shirt until it was gone and her fingertips had unfettered access to the bare flesh of his torso. There was nothing in the world like the feel of Samuel’s skin, the smell of it so close, surrounding her. Greedy for him, she stroked the hard planes and sloping muscles. She was mesmerized. She was energized. She was his.
As he lowered the zipper of her jeans and slid his hand inside, her hips arched, meeting him, welcoming him, encouraging him. The slide of his fingers was decadent, all-consuming. Sending her into meltdown.
With a hand under her knee, he lifted her leg high, his arousal pressed to the cradle of her hips, but she needed more. She reached inside his trousers, burning to connect with the most intimate part of him. As she wrapped her fingers around him, a shudder ripped through him, and he pushed himself more firmly into her hand.
She wanted to take her time to relearn his body, to explore the places she’d only touched in dreams for too long, but the urgent beat of need inside her wouldn’t let her slow down. The need pushed her to rush. It wanted everything now.
She toed off her galoshes, and kicked them aside. His boots followed, then he peeled the jeans down her legs. The rush of cool air from the storm’s breeze across the sensitized skin of her legs was electrifying.
His gaze was hungry—hungry for her—and the sight made every cell in her body sing. He leaned her back against the wide support post in the middle of the gazebo, then lifted her legs, one at a time to wrap around his waist. The centre of her was pressed against his erection and she stilled, allowing herself a moment to revel in the feeling. Samuel. But a moment was all the driving beat inside her would allow. She flexed her legs to lift herself, and with hands gripping her waist, he guided her down into a sensation so familiar, yet so intensely here-and-now.
“You’re everything,” he said, his voice ragged, and then he began to move, and the world tilted on its axis. Nothing would ever be the same.
Digging her nails into his shoulder, she matched his rhythm, feeling the wildness overtake her, loving him with her body the way she couldn’t allow herself with her heart.
His gaze captured hers. “More?”
“Please,” she breathed, although she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle more. His hand snaked down between their bodies and unerringly found the place she needed him.
“Samuel, it’s—” But she couldn’t complete the thought.
“I know,” he ground out. “I know.” The world coiled tighter, smaller, to just a single point, unbearably tense, and she panted his name, wanting, needing, and as he stroked again everything imploded. She gripped him tightly as he moved, still chasing his own release, and she clenched around him, and then a wave seemed to ripple though him as her name was torn roughly from his lips.
When she found her breath again, she slid her legs down to hold her own weight, and they stood, leaning on each other, their breathing still heavy.
Slowly, her brain kicked back into action and two things became apparent. One: she’d just made love with her husband within hours of him signing divorce papers.
Two: they hadn’t used a condom.
CHAPTER NINE
Standing in the circle of Samuel’s arms, her body still tingling from his lovemaking, the very last thing Maddy wanted was to start an awkward conversation. Her chest clenched but she—they—had to face the music sometime, and it wasn’t going to get any easier.
“Samuel,” she whispered, easing away from his warmth.
He tried to draw her to him again. “Mmm?”
“We didn’t…” She swallowed and tried again. “We didn’t use a condom.”
He froze, his face draining of color. This time as she eased back, he let her. Stupidly, she wished he’d stopped her again. That he’d pulled her closer instead. But that was wishing for the moon, and she needed to stay grounded in reality. After everything they’d been through, after their separation over her longing for a baby, now his worst fear was a possibility. Would he hate her?
He let out a muffled oath, then dragged in a shuddering breath. “Let’s get you inside and warm,” he said grimly.
Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes. For a long time sh
e’d desperately wanted to carry his child, but not like this. Not when he looked as if he’d rather face a firing squad.
Once they were inside, Maddy showered and changed into a pair of old cargo pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt from the main bedroom’s wardrobe. Her body felt so mellow and satisfied and so at odds with the turmoil in her mind.
She was sitting in the bay window, watching the storm and warming her hands around a mug of coffee when Samuel came back into the room. Prickling at the back of her neck alerted her before she heard him, and she turned to find him in fresh, dry clothes, heading for her. Despite the weight of what sat between them now, her heart still stuttered at the sight of him.
He sank down beside her on the window seat, and took the mug of tea she offered him. For endless moments neither spoke, and the silence stretched taut between them.
Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “About the condom—”
“I swear, Samuel,” she said, turning to him, “I didn’t plan that.”
“I know.” He nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the wild weather outside. “I was there too. But I want you to know, if you’re pregnant, I’ll stand by you.”
They were the right words, but their delivery couldn’t have been further from her secret fantasies of this moment. Her stomach seemed to hollow, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. “Do your duty?”
“Basically,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Yes.”
She watched him closely. “But you’re praying it won’t come to that.”
“Fervently.”
Fervently. It was a strange word in the situation. She’d always figured he simply had no interest in being a father, but now she had a sinking feeling there was much more to this than he’d admitted.
“Why?”
“You know I don’t want children,” he said, dismissively.
“Yes, but you’ve never told me why.” She had a feeling that gentle persistence would be the key.
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