For the Babies' Sakes (Expecting) (Harlequin Presents, No. 2280) (12 page)

‘No. Not clumsy.' He was having difficulty getting the words out. They sounded stilted and unsympathetic. He tried harder. ‘Are you sure you're not hurt?'

‘No!' She gave a rueful laugh. ‘Only my pride. I screamed because the crash sounded so loud. It gave me a shock. I'm unhurt, honestly—'

‘Will you…will you be all right? The babies, I mean?' he muttered.

Her hand went to her abdomen. Laughing grey eyes met his and he was drawn into their smoky depths.

‘They're doing leg circles, too,' she said softly. ‘Feel.'

‘I…don't think…'

‘Stop thinking, Dan, and do what you want to,' she coaxed. ‘These are your babies. Say hello.'

If she did but know it, he said ‘hello' to them every time he saw Helen. But…he did want to feel them move. Desperately.

Fiercely controlling his delight, he put on the kind of concerned attitude a doctor might adopt and tentatively let his palm come to rest where she'd indicated.

Something—a hand, a foot—jabbed angrily at his hand and he jerked it away in alarm before replacing it.

Small bumps appeared at random, disturbing the smooth and gentle swell of Helen's abdomen. His heart melted with love. Gently he stroked the silky skin and, lost in wonder, bent to kiss it.

Hello, babies, he said silently. Your father here. Hello, little ones. Hello, my loves. I'll be a good father. Promise. Will love you with all my heart.

His mouth nuzzled softly, the warm sweetness of her infusing his lips with tantalising tastes. He put his cheek
against her abdomen and stroked her lovingly while she coiled his hair in her fingers.

The amazing fact that he and Helen had been part of the creation of these tiny lives made his heart lurch. Awed, he slowly kissed every inch of her belly, silently repeating his promise to his babies that he would love and care for them all his life.

My darling, precious babies.

He was overcome with emotion. It flowed through him like a river, melting bone and sinew, and resolution alike. And somehow her arms had wound around him and she was sighing and he was exploring further, gently caressing her breasts, touching them with a lightly questing finger, his dark, glowing eyes mesmerised by the dark-centred nipples.

She shrugged off the wrap. Her mouth was on his and they kissed with a long, lazy thoroughness that tantalised more than any fast and fevered passion. This was adoration. This was worship.

With great care he let his lips brush her blissfully closed lids, his hands cradling her upturned face in awe.

Mother of his children, he thought hazily. And he had felt them move as if welcoming him—though they were quiescent now, perhaps sleeping. He shook with the wonder of it, needed to keep on kissing her to ease the huge lump of emotion that was stuck in his gullet.

It would be a complete tour of her body. His mouth would know every inch. His hands would follow. He needed to remember Helen in exquisite detail when he was alone.

Unexpectedly, she began to remove his clothes. Gradually he felt himself being swallowed by something dark and wonderful, drowning in a whirlpool of sensuality, her skin hot now, her body trembling, groans of need whispering from her lips.

‘Make love to me,' she breathed into his ear.

He raised drugged and harrowed eyes. ‘No, Helen! No! I…hadn't meant…'

‘Too late,' she murmured.

‘I was only…'

It seemed impossible for him to say more than a few words before his throat closed up.

‘I know. But these things happen,' she whispered into his mouth.

Wanting their union, he groaned and did his best to resist.

‘It—it was the emotion of the moment. Feeling the babies move beneath my fingers. It was…amazing.'

‘And we've been wanting to touch one another for weeks,' she said candidly.

Perceptive woman. Had it been that obvious? Had she seen the wealth of longing in his eyes, the desperate efforts he was making to stop himself from touching her?

‘It's…not a good idea—'

‘To hell with good ideas,' she husked.

He groaned. ‘I…can't.'

‘I think you can,' she said, placing her hand on his groin, and he felt himself leap to her touch, hard and throbbing. ‘Proof positive. I want you, too, Dan.'

He could have drawn back then. Just. But she kissed him artfully, curling her tongue around his, moving her breasts against his chest so seductively that his iron will was broken.

His mouth tasted her sweetness. His body became master of his head. ‘Is it still safe for you?' he asked hoarsely.

‘Be gentle. Please. Probably our last time.'

He disguised his choking cry by kissing her hard. Then with infinite care he drew her onto his lap. His pregnant wife. The woman he'd once surrendered to, had viewed
as the one person who could save him from a life of inhibition and a lack of love—and who had failed him.

Though he still wanted her.

Last time, he told himself. And let his tongue coil around hers, invading her mouth, her eager response sending him over the edge and into the world of pure sensation he'd never thought he'd know again.

An extraordinary thrill claimed his entire nervous system, charging it with electric tremors that rippled through him over and over again. The silk of her skin, her frantic little moans, all conspired to intensify his pleasure as he devoted himself to arousing her in a languorous and complete dedication to the woman who carried his children.

Goodbye, Helen, he thought with a lump in his throat as she shuddered and swayed against him. And then he lost himself in the slow, powerful build-up to his climax, abandoning for a while the certain knowledge that this was the end of it all and from now on they would become as strangers to one another.

He wanted this to last for ever. Did everything he could to ensure it did, postponing the moment when cold reality would hit him and he would be her estranged husband once more.

But her movements foiled his plan and he felt himself spiral up to another plane, hover in a prolonged, sweetly pained ecstasy, and then float back down again. Helen slumped against him, spent, as replete as he. And suddenly hurting somewhere in his chest, he withdrew from her arms, looking into her drowsy, slaty eyes.

‘Rub my back,' she mumbled sleepily.

Breathing hard, he turned her around and pulled her buttocks against his pelvis, his fingers working the muscles of her back with a rhythm that was highly arousing for him. So he moved away.

‘What is it?' she asked softly.

He couldn't bear it any longer. This way of living was destroying him inch by inch. There was only one solution. He felt the hot pricking of tears and willed them to retreat.

‘Dan! You're frightening me! Don't look like that,' Helen pleaded, kissing his mouth. He jerked away. ‘We've not done anything wrong. We're married—'

‘That's just it, Helen,' he said harshly. ‘We're living a farce and I can't stand it any longer. We can't stay married. We must make a clean break. It's not right that we keep easing our sexual needs with one another.'

‘But—!'

‘I don't want to listen to anything you have to say!' he lashed, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘All the time we're hitched up like this, we might as well be shackled. I want out. As soon as possible.' He mustn't weaken. Mustn't let her dismayed face sway him. ‘Then maybe we'll treat one another like acquaintances, instead of potential sex objects.'

She swallowed, the pain all too visible in her limpid grey eyes. ‘Sex,' she said bitterly, ‘has a hell of a lot to answer for.'

‘So we take it out of the equation. I will be a lodger and the father of your children.' He clenched his teeth together hard and came out with something to clinch his argument, something that would drive home to her what he intended. ‘If I need sex, then I will go elsewhere.'

‘I thought you had,' she flung, clearly hurt.

He gave a noncommittal shrug. What did it matter what she thought?

‘I'll see a solicitor in the morning.'

With a hastily stifled gasp, she dragged on her robe, her huge grey eyes fixed on his granite face.

‘Take me along, too. I will need a—a s-solicitor,' she stumbled. ‘I'll cite your adultery with Celine, of course.'

He tensed and then realised the futility of any expla
nation. Better this way. Better for his sanity. With a curt nod, he turned away, picking up his clothes.

‘I won't contest it,' he croaked. And walked out. Unsteadily, but he managed it.

So he'd admitted it at last, she thought miserably. After all his protestations of innocence, his expressions of injured pride, he'd finally realised that he couldn't deny his infidelity any longer.

Her heart felt as if it had been emptied of all emotion. Dan had lied and lied to her—perhaps he'd done so for a long time.

Had Dan latched on to her all those years ago purely for security? She knew how awful his upbringing had been. Perhaps he'd needed a comfort blanket. And also was physically in need of someone he could eventually possess as his convenient bed-partner. It had been sheer sexual need all the time. That and the safety of someone he knew.

All this time she'd imagined that he loved her deep down, and that he'd come back to her because they were meant for one another. It had all been in her head. She'd been the one in love, not Dan. She'd adored the ground he walked on, but he…he'd used her to fill a more basic need.

Someone he could trust. Someone he could have sex with.

Dan hadn't ever wanted her as his wife and partner, someone to love. But he
had
needed to satisfy his lust. And he had needed a haven for his wounded soul.

She…she'd been someone safe and unthreatening. Good old Helen, fine for a roll in the hay but not good enough to love!

Well,
rot
him! She'd live very well without him! He wasn't worth worrying about! He'd soon see that she
didn't need him, that she could function perfectly well on her own, with the twins.

They'd see him, but on her terms. Not with Celine, for instance. At the solicitors in the morning, she'd make darn sure of that.

Crawling out of bed late, she discovered that he'd left a note saying he'd be out till four p.m. and that she was to ring him if necessary. The note wasn't even signed and the pencil strokes were hard and fierce, the writing erratic as if anger and hatred had driven every word.

She snorted. She'd only ring if the house was burning down around her and a horde of escaped murderers brandishing cutlasses were banging on the door.

And from then on, she made a point of keeping out of his way—while he seemed to be doing exactly the same thing. They were completely estranged, communicating only by phone or by note.

She felt bitter and badly used. And very unhappy that there was nothing that would bring back the man she'd thought she'd married.

O
N THE
morning of November the fifth, the rain eased at last. Helen went for a walk, though she felt a little woozy and soon made her way back, deciding to save her energy for the fun of the evening. Dan surprised her by calling in on his return, to say that he'd have the car outside at five-fifteen—apparently he was still intending to go to the Bonfire Night Parade. Amazing.

Conversation during the drive to Lewes was desultory. Neither of them referred to what had happened when they'd last been together and had made love. Helen could hardly believe it herself.

She heaved in a shuddering breath, remembering. He had spent hours just kissing and touching her. She'd never known that there was such an intensity of latent pleasure in her body. There had been something sweetly and painfully poignant about the way they'd explored one another…as if they'd never really known what their bodies were like.

And now every pore of him was emblazoned in her mind. The difference in muscle tones, the thinness of skin over bone, the tension that ripped through him when her teeth grazed gently at his flesh.

It would have been wonderful if only he had loved her, too, instead of seeing her as a convenience. What an idiot she'd been. Dan would never have stayed with her if he hadn't been so wary of rejection from other women.

He'd kept up the relationship merely because the alternative was too unnerving for him. He got good sex—or he had done, until they'd both started working so hard—
and he was relieved that he had a wife he felt comfortable with.

Huh. Helen glared. It wasn't the basis for a good marriage. No wonder he'd strayed when Celine had joggled her bosom at him.

‘Here we are. You jump out, I'll watch you in then go and park the car.'

‘Right,' she said crossly, annoyed by his curtness.

This temporary ‘togetherness' was a sham. She hated it. But they had to go through with it this evening. Already the divorce was under way. She winced.

‘Hurry up,' he said irritably. ‘I'm holding up the traffic.'

‘I'm hugely pregnant, they'll have to wait!' She paused. ‘Dan…you'll be nice for Kirsty and Tom, won't you?' she asked warily.

His profile hardened. ‘I won't let you down.'

Relieved, she hurried to the flat door and rang the bell. Tom answered, apologised for the stairs she'd have to climb and guided her up to the first floor where she was hugged by Kirsty.

The living room was tiny but decorated with flair and imagination. There were photos of Kirsty and her husband Tom everywhere, and of her parents, brothers, sisters, his brothers and sisters and parents…not a surface seemed to be without a collection of lovingly arranged frames and smiling faces. Kirsty showed Helen around with pride and they chatted for a while before the doorbell rang and Dan was let in.

‘It's very homely,' he said quietly, after Kirsty had invited him to sit in one of the threadbare armchairs.

Kirsty made a face. ‘You mean it's tatty,' she teased.

‘No. I mean homely. Somewhere you'd want to come back to.'

‘Flatterer,' said Kirsty, but she beamed with pleasure. ‘All done on a shoestring, I can assure you.'

Dan's eyes were thoughtful. ‘What does Tom do?'

‘He's a milkman.' Kirsty's face was soft and loving as she fondled a photo of Tom. ‘It's lovely. He gets up when I'm fast asleep, works a full day and yet still comes home mid-afternoon.'

Helen gulped. She wanted that kind of affection very badly. For some reason, being here only made her situation harder to bear.

‘We've brought you a present. For the baby.' Gruff and diffident, Dan pulled a small and beautifully wrapped packet from his pocket. Helen's eyes widened. She didn't know anything about this. How thoughtful. She met Dan's eyes and her face softened in gratitude. ‘Just a token to say thanks for giving us a grandstand seat,' he said.

‘Thank you! I wasn't expecting…' Kirsty's voice trailed away as the wrapping paper fell away to reveal a cute white and navy spotted outfit. ‘It's gorgeous!' she cried, bending to kiss Helen and then Dan. ‘From Tot's!' she gasped, reading the label.

‘I hope you haven't got one like it already,' ventured Dan, warily.

‘Are you joking? Me, buy stuff from Tot's? Junior will be in hand-me-downs or second-hand stuff. He won't know what he's wearing, after all. He's sleeping in a drawer till he's big enough for my sister's cot. And she's handing over her buggy any day now. We decided to co-ordinate our kids and take turns with equipment, you see!'

Dan chuckled, warmth suddenly relaxing his tense face.

‘Your baby is very lucky to have you and Tom as its parents,' he said easily.

Kirsty batted her eyelashes at him. ‘A charmer as well as a hunk!' she declared and whispered loudly, pseudo
sotto voce
, ‘I will seriously have to consider you for the father of my next child!'

They all laughed, the ice broken, though Helen's laugh was hollow and forced. It pained her to think of the children he would father by another woman one day. Because whether he was wary of being hurt or not, he'd be snapped up pretty darn quick.

Upset, she fell silent, explaining away her reticence by saying she was feeling tired—which was true.

To be polite, Dan asked about Kirsty's extended family and she happily explained the huge ramifications of her family tree while they munched on sandwiches and watched the crowds building up outside in the High Street.

Despite her preoccupation with her loverless future, Helen found herself enthralled when the procession started. Kirsty tried to point out Tom but the blazing torches were so bright that it was hard to identify him. Dan was nowhere to be seen. He'd stayed around for a while, behaving like an attentive husband should, and had then gone walkabout in the crowd.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her back was aching a lot now. And the pain had moved around to the front. She began to feel worried. By ten o'clock the ache was stronger, and hitting her in more and more frequent waves. She was relieved when Dan returned and they could say their goodbyes.

‘Hold my arm,' she said, a catch in her breath as they walked to where he'd parked the car.

‘You look very pale. Rather drawn. Something's wrong, isn't it?' he asked, his eyes narrowed.

‘Yes. It is. I have a pain,' she answered as calmly as she could.

He frowned warily, his gaze now piercing. ‘What sort of a pain?' he demanded.

‘I think,' she said, suddenly frightened, ‘that it's the kind of pain that ought to be investigated.'

Dan swore under his breath, hooked an arm around her and guided her to the car.

‘It'll be quicker if I drive to the hospital, rather than call an ambulance,' he said tersely, feeding her into the passenger seat with great care. He raced around to the driver's side and flung the car into gear. His hand briefly enclosed hers, big, warm and security itself. ‘Don't be afraid. I'll look after you. Now you ring the hospital and get them on stand-by. I've already programmed the number in, in case of any problem. It's on the menu. Can you manage that?'

‘Yes.'

Surprised and oddly comforted that he'd thought so far ahead, she found the number and dialled. He was already forging a way around the back streets and heading out of the town for Brighton.

‘Well done,' he said abruptly, when she'd made the call. ‘Tell me what the pain is like. And how you feel. No being brave, now. The truth.'

‘I thought it was just a backache. A kind of dull ache. It wasn't painful but just sort of there, all the time. And then it started to come and go and it got worse this evening and now it's here,' she said, holding her tummy. ‘And it comes more strongly than before, then goes again. I'm frightened, Dan. I don't want to lose the babies!'

His big hand grasped hers tightly and then let go. ‘You won't. We'll get you seen to. It'll be a false alarm.' He threw her a shaky grin, which she knew was false because it wavered. ‘Indigestion. Kirsty's tuna sandwiches, perhaps.'

‘Yes. Course,' she agreed.

But she knew it was more serious. And she felt more scared than she'd ever been in her whole life.

 

‘If it's a urinary infection as they say,' argued Dan more than an hour later, ‘they'll get it under control easily. You
know the babies are OK, we saw that on the ultrasound—'

‘But they said the infection could start off labour!'

Alone now with Dan in the dimly lit room, Helen felt cold and utterly terrified. She could see that Dan's face was pale and he looked as harrowed as she felt. He was doing his best to cheer her up but she knew how strong the contractions were and the painkillers and antibiotics weren't helping.

‘If that happens, then you're in the best place,' he reasoned.

She wanted a cuddle, not wisdom. But he sat rigidly a few feet away as if they were commuters on the train to London.

‘I'm twenty-eight weeks, Dan!' she moaned. ‘I'm supposed to go to forty! And now they've pumped steroids into me to help if the babies come prematurely and I'm full of horrible drugs which I never, ever wanted, and I feel
sick
.'

‘What can I do to help? Tell me. Anything.'

‘Get the babies on your mobile. Say I'm not ready,' she muttered, bringing a faint smile to his anxious face. ‘I'm sorry to whine, Dan. It's just that this isn't how I imagined it.'

‘Life never is,' he said quietly, his eyes remote.

No. She'd learnt that in the past few months. ‘Help me off this wretched bed, will you, please? I need the loo.'

Dan left her to the ministrations of the midwife. It gave him a moment to gather himself together. He was confused by his feelings—unsure whether he was afraid for Helen's sake, or for the safety of his children. His mind seemed to be having difficulty touching base. Terror had taken over. This wasn't a time for deep thinking.

He looked up as Helen and the midwife returned a
lot faster than they'd left, Helen's expression one of sheer panic.

‘Oh, Dan! The babies might be coming!' she cried shakily.

And he took her awkwardly in his arms. ‘If they do, they'll be fine. Tough stock. Great parents,' he murmured in her ear. And all the time his heart was screaming in despair. It was too early. How could they survive? And Helen… ‘Don't worry,' he forced out somehow, in a reasonably calm voice. ‘They've got everything in hand.'

People arrived from everywhere. Helen was examined, phone calls were made. Dan watched the activity with growing alarm.

‘What's the matter?' he demanded. ‘Why aren't you moving her to the labour ward
now
?'

‘We can't. We need two incubators in case,
in case
, I emphasise, the babies are born,' the midwife said, her measured tones belying her harassed expression. ‘We're just organising them.'

‘Upstairs?' Dan said, suddenly reading more into the midwife's words than he liked.

‘No. We don't have any spare,' she admitted.

Helen gasped. ‘My babies!' she whimpered, holding her abdomen defensively.

‘It's all right,' the midwife said calmly. ‘We're phoning round.'

‘Who? Where?' Dan shot, ready to knock heads together if necessary.

‘The registrar's sorting it now. There's a national computer that shows available beds and incubators and we'll know in two ticks. Now.' The midwife turned to the terrified Helen. ‘Let's put you on a drip and we'll be all ready.'

‘For where?' growled Dan, eyebrows glowering.

The midwife didn't seem phased. Presumably this was
a common occurrence. ‘Could be Scotland, Birmingham, or possibly Plymouth or the Isle of Wight.'

Helen's mouth fell open.
‘What?!'
she shrieked.

‘No panic, I assure you. There'll be plenty of time for you to get to your designated hospital,' the midwife soothed.

‘But…all those places are
miles
away! We'd have to stay overnight!' she cried, aghast. ‘Dan! You don't even have a change of shirt—'

‘It doesn't matter,' he said gently, amused by her concern for him at a time like this. ‘It's not important.'

And Helen stared at him in amazement. ‘Not…important?'

‘No. I know what
is
important now. And it's certainly not a clean shirt.'

He smiled at her, his fingers briefly caressing her upturned face, and she persuaded her lips to wiggle a little in a pathetic attempt to smile back.

The midwife sat next to her and took her hand. Dan saw that it trembled and his heart went out to her.

‘Helen, if the babies are born prematurely, then they'll be in hospital for quite a while. You and your husband will be able to stay—there are bedrooms put aside for such eventualities. Not Ritz standards, but adequate. Or does your husband have work commitments he can't get out of—?'

‘No, I don't,' Dan said quickly, stroking Helen's hair. She leaned into him and he felt her relax a little against his thumping heart. He'd stay a year if necessary. ‘I can put my work on hold for as long as it takes, wherever you send us.'

He didn't care. His precious business could go hang if it meant that Helen and his babies were all right.

‘Good.' The midwife smiled. ‘You'll be a great comfort to your wife. Now, the babies might not be born now at
all, of course, but if they are, then they'll remain in the hospital till they're fit enough to be transferred to a hospital nearer to you. OK?'

‘How long might it be before they come back to Sussex?' Helen asked tremulously.

‘I can't say. It depends on their birth weight and how they progress. But it could be three months before they're home with you.'