The Unexpected Baby(49)

Quickly, Elena fixed her attention on the stars. The temptation to reach out and touch that bronzed skin was deeply compelling. Pictures of their former hedonistic lovemaking banded her brain, making her heart flutter, her mouth go dry.

‘Do you mind if we talk?’ From the corner of her eye she saw him turn onto his side, supporting his head with his hand. ‘Look at me, Elena.’

She turned her head, obeying his soft command, her bright hair spread out on the reclining back-rest of the lounger. Starlight glimmered in his eyes, deep shadows emphasising the harsh hollows and planes of his face, making the line of his mouth tantalisingly sensual.

‘OK?’

‘Of course.’ Her soft mouth quivered. This was the breakthrough; she knew it was. She was willing to tell him anything he wanted to know.

‘I believe your story of artificial insemination. And, no, I didn’t check with the clinic. They wouldn’t have told me anything in any case. It would have been a gross breach of patient confidentiality. But the more I thought about it the more it made sense, fitted in with what I knew of Sam. Did you really want a child that badly?’

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her face for a second, and she returned his steady gaze unflinchingly. ‘Yes, I did,’ she breathed. ‘It was a physical ache that wouldn’t go away. It got so bad it made everything I’d achieved in my life seem worthless.

‘After my divorce I made a solemn vow never to marry again. I’d make my own life and make it good. That,’ she whispered, ‘was before I met you and knew how wrong I’d been. Sam wanted a child, too, but for him it was different, a kind of stake in the future, his sole claim to immortality. It was a cerebral need. Not, as mine was, a deep emotional hunger. It was almost as if he knew he didn’t have long to live.’

Unconsciously, her hand covered her unborn child, the protective gesture as old as time. And Jed rolled closer and slid his hand beneath hers, moving it gently over her rounded tummy.

‘Is this little bulge the result of gorging yourself at supper? Or is it what I think it is?’ His voice was husky, heavy velvet, his dark head close to her bright one, his clean breath feathering over her face.

Elena pulled in a raggedy breath and moved, making enough space for him, just, on her lounger. If he’d a mind to avail himself of it.

He had, and, so close to him now she was sure he must hear the race of her heart as it pushed the blood wildly through her veins, she murmured, ‘It’s what you think it is.’ She held her breath, because his reaction would tell her what their future was more plainly than any words. If he showed any sign of distaste then she’d know that he would always resent Sam’s child, and the future wouldn’t look hopeful.

He didn’t say a word, simply undid the button at the top of the waistband of the shorts that were now just that little bit too tight, allowing his hand the freedom to dip lower.

Relief made her giddy for long seconds, and then desire pooled at the juncture of her thighs, sweet and sharp and urgent. Would his hand slide lower, touch her there? Did he want her half as much a she wanted him?

Would he let her into his heart again? Would he love her, let her love him?

‘Jed—’she croaked, wanting to ask him, but he wouldn’t let her finish, his voice sliding over hers.

‘Once, at Netherhaye, you let slip that you still loved me. Then that night at the hotel you told me, most emphatically, that you didn’t. Which version of the state of your emotions am I to believe?’

‘The first.’ She turned her head, resting her cheek against the angle of his shoulder, burning for him, loving him, loving him... ‘We were so close to making love. I knew you’d despise yourself if you did. And despise me for letting you. You hated me, closed me out, wouldn’t believe me! I had to do—say—something to stop us!’

She was rapidly losing her ability to control herself. The need to feel his hands on her body, his lips on hers, to curl herself round the hard male length of him, to feel him deep inside her, hear words of love on his lips again, was pushing her to the limits of her endurance.

The hand that had been softly stroking her tummy stilled. She held her breath, the fear of rejection surging back, a sour taste in her mouth, a cold stone in her heart. But he said thickly, ‘Will you forgive me for that? Can you ever forgive me for that? For refusing to listen, and, when you forced me to listen, telling you you were a liar? For refusing to trust? I think I went half out of my mind at that time.’

‘Oh, darling...’ In answer, she wound her arm around his neck, her lips feathering his mouth as she told him, ‘Of course I do! I understand how you must have felt. Had the positions been reversed I’d have behaved ten thousand times as badly!’