A Perfect Marriage (25 page)

He sounded like an inquisitor. What did he want from her? The final humiliation of admitting that not a day went by that she didn't think of him, long to have him at her side, smiling at her as he made some wry remark, or putting a casual arm about her shoulders, or simply brushing his lips across her cheek as he left for work; that every night she lay in their bed torturing herself with the remembrance of what they'd shared; that when she found one of his socks that had fallen down behind the drier she'd held it to her face for a moment while the tears welled in her eyes? That every time she saw him she experienced a leap of her pulses for sheer joy, before the grief of knowing that he didn't want her stilled them? That she had to steal herself to hide her instinctive yearning for his touch every time he came near?
That minutes
ago, sitting two feet away from him, watching the way his hand encircled a cold beer can, the way his throat tautened when he raised the can to his lips, the way his hair grew on his neck, and the faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip, she'd been almost faint with wanting him? Even now she had a mad urge to hurl herself into his arms and beg him to come back to her on any terms at all.

And then, blessedly, a wave of anger swamped the tide of desire. "You have a bloody nerve!" she said. Discovering that she still held her empty glass in her hand, she recklessly hurled it at him, not even knowing what she'd done until it hit him on the chest as he sidestepped, too late to dodge it. And then two things happened. The glass fell and smashed to pieces on the tiles, and Max missed his footing on the edge of the terrace and went sprawling down the steps to land heavily beside the pool.

"Max!" Heedless of the broken shards and her bare feet, Celine plunged down the steps after him, but even as she made to kneel at his side he was getting up, his face thunderous, brows low over his eyes and the sculpted contours of his mouth drawn into an angry line.

"Max?" Half crouched beside him, she instinctively drew back, not realising how close to the pool's edge she was until she felt herself falling and then the water closing over her head.

She hadn't had time to take a breath, and she surfaced, gasping.

"Here." Max was standing above her, his hand extended.

Shaking water from her eyes, she grabbed the hand and was instantly hauled up. Her feet had barely touched the tiles before he released her hand and gripped her with both hands on her wet hair, his fingers at her nape and his thumbs on her cheeks, tilting her head, and then his mouth was on hers in a kiss that knew no mercy.

Astonishment held her rigid for a few seconds. But her mouth obeyed his silent, savage insistence, and parted for him.

The kiss became deeper, searching her very soul, making her heart pound and her veins catch fire. She was burning up despite the water that soaked her clothes and dripped down her neck and pasted wet tendrils of hair to her face. She shivered, but not because she was cold, and clutched at Max's shoulders, a muffled, astonished sound coming from her throat.

His hands left her face and swept to her waist, hauling her against him, hard. She went willingly, wanting him closer, so close that they would never part again.

And then, with an abrupt movement that would have unbalanced her again if his hands hadn't now been tightly clamped on her upper arms, he pushed her away, with the strangest expression of bafflement overlaid on the flush of angry passion, and his eyes lowered to the sodden shirt wetly moulded to her body.

Lowering her head, she brought her hands protectively to her stomach. She heard the distinct sound of Max's
teeth
 
coming
suddenly together, and returned her eyes to him as he swallowed, and his face drained of colour.

"My God," he
said,
his voice hoarse and unnatural. "You're pregnant!"

]

Chapter12

"Yes," she said.
Pointless denying it.
She was still able to hide it under loose clothing, but he'd been holding her so close there was no way he could have missed the changes in her body.

Max shook his head as if to clear it. "Now?" he said, echoing
her own
initial disbelief.

"It needn't concern you." Celine brushed a dripping tendril of hair from her face with trembling fingers. She had known she'd have to tell him sometime, he'd find out, anyway. But today she wasn't prepared, didn't have the words ready. One thing she was determined on; she was not going to use this as a lever to bring Max back. Worse than knowing he had left her would be the knowledge that he'd returned from a sense of duty. "I... think you'd better go," she said. "I need to get changed."

He was so stunned that he appeared unable to move from the spot where he stood. Celine had turned and walked up the steps, avoiding the broken glass, leaving a trail of water on the tiles, before he spoke again.

"Who does it concern, then?" he asked.

 
Celine turned. Now he came slowly up to the terrace and stood looking down at her, his face still pale. "Roland Jackson? Is he looking after you?"

Unprepared for the conclusion he was jumping to, she stalled. "He's ... been very good to me." It was true. Since the day he'd whisked her off to the doctor, Roland had been anxious that she didn't overwork and that she ate regularly and well. A couple of times he'd persuaded her to eat out with him again. His unobtrusive pampering was balm to her wounded spirit. It was nice to think that someone cared, but she'd meticulously kept the relationship on a superficial level. She didn't want him to think she was likely to develop any deeper feelings.

"Have you seen a doctor?" Max asked. "Are you all right? It's a bit late to be having a first baby, isn't it?"

Her mouth curled wryly. "Yes, I've seen a doctor, and I'm on iron and calcium and having regular checkups. He said in view of my age, it's especially important that any problems are seen early. But I feel okay, just a bit tired sometimes."

"That fall into the pool-is it likely to-?"

Celine shook her head. "I'm not hurt, just wet and uncomfortable. It won't have done any harm. Please go now, Max. When I've changed I'll probably have a rest."

He still looked like a man who'd been recently pole-axed. "If you're sure that's what you want."

 
9 I'm sure."

She had to think about this. Could she let him think that the baby was someone else's? It seemed wrong, and yet she dreaded telling him the truth. She needed time to consider all the implications....

You've had three months to think about it, her conscience told her sternly as she trudged up the stairs after Max had reluctantly departed. And she still didn't know how to break it to him.

She had a warm shower, hoping it would soothe some of the turmoil from her thoughts. Her wardrobe yielded very few things that fitted these days. She slipped on a shirt-

  
 
waister
dress and removed the belt, revelling in the freedom from constriction. She'd have to go shopping for some maternity clothes. Soon there would be no hiding the fact of her pregnancy, and she badly needed some appropriate clothing. She couldn't help a small thrill of excitement at the thought.

She saw the shock on Roland's face on the day that the new offices were opened with a celebratory buffet lunch, and was smitten with conscience-perhaps she should have prepared him for this.

"Yes," she said quietly at his questioning look. "I'm going to have a baby."

He nodded. "I see." Although his next question confirmed that he didn't. "You've reconciled with your husband?"

Celine shook her head. "It's not quite like that."

There were people all around, but the level of voices was so high that, standing in a corner by the buffet table, they might have been alone. Roland said, "You're going through with it, though?
The pregnancy?"

"Yes!" She'd never thought of anything else. "At least I'll have-"

"His child."
Roland nodded. "You still love him, don't you?"

Apologetically, she met his kind brown eyes. "I don't think I'll ever stop."

He touched her arm. "Let me get you a drink." Looking down again at the bulge under her loose dress, he added, "Lemonade?"

Celine smiled. "Thanks, yes."

Now that the project was finished, Roland had no excuses to keep seeing her, and he didn't offer any more invitations. She missed him a little, but mostly she was relieved. He was too nice a man to hurt, and she knew he'd been on the verge of setting himself up for it. She hoped he'd find the woman he was looking for, someone whose heart was free to give him the love that he deserved.

 
She wasn't going to be able to keep her secret from Nancy, she knew. The next time the older woman came round, Celine said, "I have something to tell you." Today she wore a flowing cotton shirt over a pair of specially cut pants, and her condition wasn't so readily obvious. They were sitting as usual at the kitchen table, with cups of coffee and a plate of biscuits.

"Go ahead," Nancy said. "It's about time."

"You know? Did Max ...?" Somehow she'd been sure that Max wouldn't mention it.

Nancy shook her head. "I guessed. I'm going to be a grandmother again, right? What I don't understand is why you and Max are still living apart."

"He ... he doesn't know."

"But you just said..:" Nancy's brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

"He thinks
it's
someone else's baby, not his."

For a moment Nancy was speechless.
"But, Celine, dear!
It is his-isn't it?"

"Yes, of course!" To her own surprise, Celine felt scalding tears fill her eyes and spill onto her cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do this."

Nancy got up and came round the table to put a soothing arm about her. "Have a good cry. You probably need it."

When it was over and Celine had wiped her flushed face with a paper towel, Nancy sat down again. "Did you have a fight about it?" she asked.

"Nothing like that.
He just assumed..."

"And you didn't put him right? Why?"

"Because I'm afraid he might decide he should come back to me."

"Hmm.
You don't think that might be a good thing?"

"Not if it's because of this. That's why. .. I have to ask you not to tell him, Nancy. Please."

Nancy looked slightly confused, but said only, "I'm glad you've told me
. "

"It didn't seem fair to deprive you of your grandchild."

  
 
Looking her in the eye, Nancy asked, "Is it fair to deprive Max of his son or daughter?"

Celine looked back at her rather helplessly. "It's all such a mess!" she said. "Max doesn't want my child-our child-now. He's looking forward to having a family with Kate. Don't you see what it will do to him if he finds out now that .., that I'm having his baby?" She shuddered, imagining Max torn between his love for Kate and his sense of right. Trapped into returning to her, he'd have to resent the fact, and what sort of marriage would they have then? "Maybe it won't matter once he's married to Kate," she said. "Maybe then we can tell him."

Nancy sighed. "It is a muddle, isn't it? But I can't help thinking that he ought to know, Celine. It just doesn't seem right."

"Nothing does."

"I have to agree with that. Oh, if only that wretched girl had never caught his eye!"

"Don't you like her?"

"She's nice enough, I suppose. I felt sorry for her more than anything. Max brought her round a couple of times when Michelle and her family were home with us, and we tried to welcome her for his sake. But ... I think she felt awkward. The girls wanted to know where Auntie Celine was, of course, although Michelle had tried to explain. And Kate's obviously not used to children. She didn't know how to talk to them. She probably didn't want to come back."

"I'm sure when you get to know her better, things will be easier," Celine said with an effort at fairness.

Nancy looked at her curiously.
"Maybe."

At first Celine had been afraid to start preparing for the advent of a baby, feeling it was tempting fate, but as the weeks went by and she began to be sure that the small fluttery sensations in her abdomen were not just wind, and her doctor continued to be pleased with her progress, she started to think seriously about what was going to be needed.

 
Max's study had remained empty and closed ever since he'd removed his things. One day she flung the door wide and walked in, deliberately appraising the room. "Perfect," she said to herself. She had taken another commission, for the house of a friend of Roland's, but now that the weather was often rather too wintry for gardening she still had time to spare. She would spend it on turning this room into a baby's room, eradicating the memory of when it had been Max's exclusive domain.

The cot would go in the corner by the window, and she'd need a changing table, maybe a low chair. The wallpaper was too neutral for a child's room. She'd get something patterned, bright. The books she'd been reading said that babies needed visual stimulation from birth....

She had just had her five-month checkup when the phone rang one evening and Max's voice said urgently, "Can I come over? I want to talk to you."

"You're talking to me now."

"I need to see you."

He sounded very tense, and she said, "What's wrong?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about. Are you free now?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly. She'd been fooling herself that she was getting over him, managing her life admirably without him. At the sound of his voice something within her went molten-hot and liquefied. If just speaking to him on the phone still did this to her, how would she feel seeing him face-to-face?

As she put down the receiver she experienced a ridiculous leap of hope. Maybe it hadn't worked out after all with Kate. Perhaps Max realised that he was making a mistake, and was going to tell her it was over.

Ruthlessly squashing such futile fantasies, she spent the next twenty minutes trying to relax and achieve a serene, unflappable mood.