'So you went to your father?'
Ginny closed her eyes against painful memories. 'He wouldn't let me in the house, even when I told him about the baby. He said things … '
Roarke's face grew tight. 'I've heard him. I can guess what he said.'
Ginny dropped her head to her knees. 'He said I could come back, so long as it was without the baby. I refused, and he shut the door in my face.'
'The man wants taking out and shooting!'
'Amen to that.'
Roarke let a little time pass before pressing on. 'What happened then?'
On the bed, Ginny shrugged, keeping her voice level, trying not to feel anything as she told the sorry story. 'I went back to my grotty bedsit and did the best I could. Things got worse, though, and by the time I was seven months' pregnant I owed back rent and was down to washing dishes. That last day I was sick again, and I had this ache low down in my back all day. When the landlord came for the rent, I hid in the dark. I had to wait ages for him to go and that made me late for work. I lost my job.
'I thought that was the darkest moment, but I was wrong. As I walked home, wondering what I was going to do now, someone snatched my bag. I fought them, because I couldn't afford to lose the money in it, but they were stronger than I was and shoved me into an alley.' She felt again those hard hands pushing her. 'There were several large metal bins in there and I must have hit one of them, because I ended up on the floor.' Ginny felt her pulse pick up, and she licked her lips to moisten them. 'That was when the pain started.'
'Go on,' Roarke urged her, even as his own stomach twisted into a knot at what he knew was coming.
'I managed to crawl out of the alley, but that was all. Someone must have found me, because the next thing I can remember I was in an ambulance. Then everything begins to blur. I remember patches. People bending over me. Lights. The smell of disinfectant. Voices telling me to do this or that.' She swallowed hard as memories came rushing back, but the lump remained in her throat. 'Do you know what sound echoes the loudest in my mind? Her cry when she was born. It was so weak, barely there, and I knew then that something was wrong.' Tears welled up in her eyes, and her lips trembled. 'In my heart I knew I wasn't going to have her for long.'
A teardrop overflowed, and then another. She felt the bed depress, and only then realised that Roarke had left the couch. She stared at him, her eyes filled with an unutterable sadness. 'She lived for six hours. I held her hand. It was so tiny, Roarke. She seemed to hold on to me for a while … and then she died. My beautiful baby daughter died,' she whispered achingly, and the tears that she had held back all these years finally found release.
She didn't feel Roarke take her in his arms and rock her whilst the tears fell and she gave vent to her despair in long raking sobs. She cried until her throat ached and there were no more tears to shed. She wept for a life that had been cut tragically short, and for the love she had been unable to give. Finally she was still, and she sighed raggedly.
'I loved her,' she said huskily.
'Only a fool would doubt it,' Roarke returned gently, stroking a soothing hand down her back.
It was that which made Ginny aware of where she was, cradled against the warmth of his strong male chest. She could have felt awkward, but she didn't. For the first time in for ever she felt … comforted. It was a strange sensation, considering who it was who held her.
'I never meant to cry all over you,' she apologised a little awkwardly.
'Something tells me those tears have been a long time coming,' he observed, looking down at her, and Ginny sighed.
'I couldn't cry, because I knew that if I started I would never stop, the pain was so bad. Instead I put all my energy into making something of my life. I got a job, took evening classes. Found a better job, and so on.'
Driving her on had been the need to stay one step ahead of her grief. Allied to a determination to never allow her emotions to blind her. Passion was a drug that scrambled the mind, leaving her open to hurt and betrayal. But she had learned her lesson and passion was out. This time she was going to be in control of her life. This time …
A yawn took her by surprise.
'Think you can sleep now?' Roarke queried.
'Um-hum,' she mumbled. Her eyelids felt weighted, and she decided to shut them for just a few seconds, then she would send him back to the couch.
Roarke listened to the measured sound of her breathing and smiled wryly. She was already asleep but he didn't want to disturb her, so he would wait a few minutes before settling her back on the bed. Making himself comfortable against the pillows, he hooked her in more securely and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
GINNY drifted to consciousness feeling warm and cosy. Sighing, she rubbed her cheek against the pillow-and something tickled her nose. She moved her hand to brush it away, and her fingers encountered more of the tickly material. Puzzled, she opened her eyes and discovered her 'pillow' was a man's chest, and the 'tickly material' the silky hairs that grew there. Furthermore, her 'pillow' was rising and falling rhythmically as it breathed.
Lifting her head carefully, she could see a stubbly jaw and ruffled black hair and recognised both as belonging to Roarke. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then the memories slowly returned. Last night she had had that dream again. Roarke had heard her, and he had urged her to talk about it. She had, and she had cried too. Cried tears that had been battened down inside her too long. The crying had drained her, and she must have fallen asleep in his arms, but why was she still there? Why hadn't he gone back to the couch? Because he had fallen asleep too, came the obvious answer.
Ginny bit her lip and glanced down at the body she was literally draped around. She had certainly made herself comfortable, she thought dryly. He had some body, though, was the thought that swiftly followed. She had been right; there wasn't an ounce of spare flesh on him. Her eyes began a lazy perusal of long legs and strong thighs, skipped over loins hidden by his shorts, and roved on over a flat stomach, that powerful chest and broad shoulders. Tanned and healthy and pretty much perfect, she decided whimsically.
She wondered what all that bronzed skin felt like to the touch. Her pulse-rate increased slightly as she considered the prospect of running her hand over his chest. A tiny voice in the back of her mind asked her what she thought she was doing, but with the thought had come a need to touch him, to know, and the voice was quashed.
Ginny set her hand down gently and held her breath as she moved it through the forest of silky hair. His skin was smooth, and touching it sent a tingle up her arm that slowly spread through her whole system. Her senses sprang to life, and she could feel her heart racing. That tiny voice urged her to stop, to be sensible, but she was enthralled by the sensations she was experiencing.
So caught up was she that it took a while for her to register that his chest was no longer rising and falling gently but much more powerfully as he dragged in air. Shock at the knowledge that Roarke was awake brought her head up, startled green eyes locking with smouldering grey ones. Time seemed to stand still, but then those eyes dropped to her lips, and they tingled as if he had actually touched them. She couldn't help but moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue. With a growl Roarke's fingers tangled in her fiery hair and eased her up those few inches necessary to allow his mouth to take hers.
It was no gentle kiss, but a sensuous invasion that sought pleasure even as it gave it. The intensity was mind-blowing, for it seemed as if they were intent on devouring each other. Ginny could feel her body responding to the stimulation and, as she moved against him instinctively, she felt the powerful response of his body too. Her stomach clenched, and that familiar ache started deep within her. She wanted him … badly.
'Roarke … ' His name was a low moan in her throat as he tore his mouth from hers only to plunder the sensitive cord of her neck. She felt dizzy. Caught up in an overwhelming maelstrom of sensations. Her heart was tapping out a crazy beat …
But it wasn't her heart she could hear. Penetrating through the passion-induced mists in her brain, she slowly realised that what she could hear was a frantic tapping on the bedroom door. Roarke must have heard it too, for they both froze at the same time. Staring at each other, both recognised the look of disbelief each wore at the realisation that they had responded to each other again. Yet there was no time to discuss it, for the tapping continued, managing to sound even more frantic.