The Unexpected Baby(17)

Yes, there were things that had to be said, but the stress and trauma of the past week had finally caught up with her, draining her of every last ounce of energy.

‘You’re “in no mood”—that figures.’ He advanced slowly, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Your ego’s too big to see round, isn’t it? Your needs are the only things that matter. You agree to marry me, conveniently forgetting to mention that you and Sam were lovers, that there was a distinct possibility you might be carrying his child, then get all hurt and bewildered when I understandably say I want out.’

He pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, the tanned skin of his tautly muscled torso gleaming in the soft diffused light, the line of his mouth condemning as he continued, ‘And then you blank Catherine—who doesn’t deserve it—because, amazingly ,’ he stressed insultingly, ‘your own mother appears to prefer her company to yours.’

Elena closed her eyes, fighting to hold back a feeble sob. Never before had she felt this useless, unable to take one more brickbat. She had been barely nineteen when Liam Forrester—he of the sharp suits, fast cars and dazzling smile—had swept her off her feet. And only a year later her world had come crashing down when she’d discovered she was married to a common criminal. But she’d picked herself up, because she was basically a fighter, and made a new life for herself from the ashes of the old.

But now, it seemed, she’d lost it. Lost the ability to pick herself up and carry on and—‘What are you doing?’ she asked thickly, her eyes opening wide as the rustle of clothing sounded ominously close.

‘What do you think?’ His trousers joined his discarded shirt on the carved blanket box at the foot of the bed. Naked, apart from brief boxer shorts, his male magnificence made her throat clench.

‘You can’t sleep here!’ She panicked, despising herself for not being able to invest the words with more authority. ‘Our marriage, for what it was worth, is over.’

‘So it is,’ he agreed coolly. ‘But don’t worry, I’ve no intention of making demands on the delectable body you went to so much trouble to display this evening. What were you trying to do? Remind me of what I was missing? If so, it didn’t work. Move over.’

‘No.’ She kept her eyes firmly closed as he removed his shorts, hugging the sheet more tightly under her chin because she was naked, too. And she hadn’t done her best to look sexy to remind him. Or had she?

She felt the mattress dip and began to shake. Having him share her bed would be sheer, unmitigated torture.

‘I’m not overjoyed about this, either,’ he admitted drily as he extinguished the bedside light. ‘But Catherine’s always been an early riser. Crack of dawn and she’s up and doing.’ She felt him slide his legs beneath the sheet, punch the pillow. ‘If she sees us coming from separate rooms in the morning she’ll know something’s wrong.’

‘And that’s all that matters, is it?’ Elena snapped, stung. Didn’t he consider her feelings at all?

‘At the moment, yes,’ he said, his voice cleaving the soft warm darkness. ‘She’s going through a tough time at the moment; I won’t add to it. Sam was always head and shoulders her favourite. Naturally she wouldn’t have wanted to lose either one of us. But she did, and I’m the one that’s left. I feel guilty enough about that without adding to her grief. Just go to sleep, will you?’

He turned his back on her, carefully leaving a yawning space between them, and Elena lay rigidly, staring into the darkness.

What he’d said about feeling guilty was crazy. Wasn’t it? Or was there something about his relationship with his brother that she didn’t know about? Something that might explain the brutal transformation from a warm and loving husband, partner, friend and companion, the soul-mate she’d believed him to be, into a hard, uncaring, bitter adversary?

She didn’t know, and if she asked he wouldn’t tell her. He had refused to believe her when she’d truthfully said that she and Sam had never made love, closed his mind when she’d tried to explain, cut her out of his life and his heart.

Whatever it was that had troubled his relationship with Sam had risen up and cut out his love for her as surely and completely as a surgeon expertly wielding a very sharp knife.





CHAPTER FOUR

THE smooth rhythm of his breathing agitated her beyond bearing, set every nerve-end tingling. Lying as far from him as she could get, practically on the edge of the big double bed, she held her body stiffly, every muscle aching with tension.