Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) (15 page)

"You're crying," he said, anxiety threading his rough voice. Raising his face quickly, he searched her eyes for any sign of distress. "Did I hurt you?" he demanded. "Tell me. Now."

"No, no. I'm just crying because I'm so... happy." She sighed in contentment as lethargy settled into her muscles. Realizing her nails were digging into his back, she abruptly released him and cupped his face, the light beard rubbing against her palms. "Did I hurt you?" she asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes, you did," he murmured intimately, running his lips over a ruby-painted nail before nipping a finger. "You hurt me so good."

As if his words whispered a reminder to her body, she began to feel a little of the discomfort she'd escaped during the heat of the moment. Faith winced before she could tell herself not to.

"I'm heavy. As much as I hate to do this..." He began to roll off her. Faith quickly grabbed him.

"I don't want you to leave," she insisted while her mind came fully awake. If she didn't do something quick, she was going to have a lot of explaining to do. "Let's turn off the light and snuggle," she suggested, hugging him close with one arm while reaching for the light with the other.

"Better yet, let's leave on the light and snuggle." Myles caught her hand at the lamp switch. "I want to look you over. Just to make sure I left you all in one piece."

"Look tomorrow," she said quickly, fighting her rising sense of urgency. She reached for the lamp again, and he grabbed her wrist, beginning to frown.

"What don't you want me to see?" he demanded.

"Nothing!" She forced her voice to remain calm. "Nothing. I'm just tired, that's all."

"If that's all, then you won't mind resting while I put my mind at ease, will you?"

He got off her, and when she quickly reached for the light, he manacled her wrists with a single hand while his other began tracing the length of her body.

His brow was furrowed in concentration as he slid his fingertips over her breasts, then lower to her abdomen, carefully examining her. As he began to move lower, she struggled.

"No, Myles," she entreated. "Don't."

She moaned, trying vainly to twist away from his stern grip. What would she say? How could she explain without giving herself away? And why was she beginning to respond to his inquiring touch, the vague pain giving way to a far deeper ache?

And then he wasn't feeling her anymore. He was touching and staring at the sheet in disbelief and groaning, "My God, of my God... I'll never forgive myself."

He abruptly released her and bounded off the bed, heading straight for the phone beside the sound system where the music continued to play.

She went after him, and he barked an order for her to stay put. As he frantically began to punch out a number, Faith reached him and depressed the button in the telephone's cradle.

"What the—get back in bed. I'm calling the doctor."

"Myles, it's not what you think."

He held out his hand, slightly tinged with her blood and rasped, "Not what I think? Faith, I—"

"Took my virginity."

For a full minute he stared at her mutely, stunned.

"I did
what
?"

"Please, Myles, come back to bed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, beginning to look not only shocked but enormously relieved.

"Because..." Her legs began to shake, and he caught her to him, holding her close, feathering possessive kisses on her temple. "Because I was afraid you wouldn't go to bed with me if you knew. Or you'd think... there was something wrong with me. I thought it might bother you."

"Bother me? What are you, nuts? I'm ecstatic, I'm thrilled, I'm"—he held her away, shaking his head—"confused. I'm amazed, and wondering what the hell kept you waiting this long. You're not what I'd call timid. And you didn't exactly seem inexperienced."

"I'm not inexperienced. Just not, umm... deflowered."

"What were you waiting for?" He studied her closely.

"The right man." That much was true.

"Weren't you ever curious? For a modern woman, you're not keeping up with the times."

"Sure I was curious, and I certainly satisfied my curiosity to a point. Far enough to be disappointed when the fireworks I expected never came." She wouldn't mention how each Christmas vacation, each summer visit with him and Gloria had stoked her ceaseless longing and sabotaged any relationship that was close to intimacy. "I'm no prude," she added, "but I was stubborn enough to hold out for a memorable experience."

"Stubborn, huh? For some reason I don't have too much trouble buying that."

She punched him playfully, then ran her hands over his chest before softly biting into the firmness of muscle.

"It was worth the wait," she assured him.

Myles chuckled. "And here I was eaten up with jealousy because another man had taken my woman first."

"You're the first, Myles," she whispered, letting her eyes tell him all the things she couldn't yet share. It was too soon; what would he think if he knew she had coveted her own sister's husband, especially after their bitter confrontation over the pictures?

"The first," he concurred, gently picking her up and striding purposefully toward the bed. "And the last."

Chapter 11

"Good morning, Mrs. Wellington. Or maybe I should say, good afternoon, sleepyhead."

Faith's answer was a muted groan, and her left hand groped for the covers he'd moved away from her back. He smiled as the diamond wedding ring on her finger winked a two-carat greeting.

Myles traced a path of kisses down the curve of spine turned to him. Faith had given up sleeping on her stomach over a month ago, due to the baby's spurt of growth. Thank goodness they only had two months to go. He didn't mind being woken up by a strong, unexpected kick from her belly in the middle of the night, or by Faith tossing incessantly in their big new bed as she tried to get comfortable. But he missed their fiery, passionate interludes. They slept naked, made love gently, frequently, but even that was proving to be a test of his mettle.

Still, the love that remained unspoken for his wife and the child she carried for him curbed the hungry urgency eating at his control. No, he hadn't told her in words how much he loved her, but his actions spoke for him. He put aside his more demanding needs; he ignored her mood swings; he tramped through pouring rain for takeout Chinese when he really wanted a drink, his wife, and a warm bed after a long, hard day at work. Did she love him too? He thought so, even if she did seem more preoccupied with her pregnancy than with him half the time.

Myles frowned, displeased. Jealousy again. Just when he'd gotten over the mystery man, he'd begun to wrestle with a surprising and ridiculous resentment over the baby's demands on his wife's emotions and body. It wasn't a very flattering realization, and he struggled to rise above this maddening possessiveness.

"It's Saturday," she grumbled, though she arched against his mouth with a gratifying moan, and her searching fingers forgot about the covers and trailed through his hair. "I want to spend the day in bed."

Myles stretched behind her, fitting their bodies together like two spoons.

Nuzzling against her neck, he chuckled. "Sounds good to me, but I think Carol's expecting to see the wedding pictures, not the two of us cavorting in the sack. Shell be here in an hour, and you haven't eaten breakfast—or rather, lunch—yet."

"Not hungry," she muttered. "Besides, I'll just get indigestion."

"Maybe what I've got in mind for a snack isn't usually served on a tray or the table."

Faith giggled in a low, throaty voice, and he could feel a surge of response in his groin.

She rolled over and looked at him with dreamy, sleep-filled eyes.

"Two's company," she said, "but the crowd"—she patted her belly—"is putting in an appearance before Carol gets here."

"The crowd seems to forget that two months of marriage means we're still on our honeymoon." Myles gulped down a grimace; he loved this baby almost as much as he loved Faith, but the intrusions were becoming more frequent and were doing nothing to appease his masculine appetite. "I'm warning you, wife. Once the company's in its crib, your husband's got plans to make up for lost time."

"What kind of plans?" Her lips tilted upward, into a coy come-on. "I'd like to hear them, each and every naughty one."

"Shockingly naughty," he assured her. He whispered a graphic scenario into her ears, wanting more than anything to put his words into action.

"Myles!" she gasped. "That's... that's—"

"Decadent? Risqué?"

"Indecent and... very creative."

"Do I take that to mean you'd indulge me?"

"But what if my figure's not as... appealing as it was before I got pregnant? I might be a disappointment. I do have a few stretch marks."

"Those are marks you should be proud of, Faith. I treasure them. And besides, you'll always be beautiful to me, perfect or not."

She snuggled in closer and purred, "In that case I'll indulge you in anything. You're my husband." She gave his title the sound of a loving caress. "I married you, wickedness and all."

"You did that," he murmured, kissing the ring on her finger. "But I was never that wicked until you came along. You're a witchy woman, Faith Wellington, bringing out the beast in me. It's a liberating feeling to know I can growl anything I like, even if it's impure, and you're still there. Accepting me just as I am."

"More than accept, Myles."

Loving me?

"Wanting you," she said. "Wanting to spend my life with you."

Myles hesitated. Faith had a right to know. Even if it was a truth he didn't want to accept himself, one that was dark and had inflicted more than a little pain in his growing years, it was time to come clean with his wife.

"Even though I'm a bastard?"

"A bastard?" she repeated. "Where did that come from? You're not—"

"I am." He leaned over her, letting her see the deeply imbedded thorn that could still pierce his soul. "I should have told you before now, but... my pride got in the way. My mother didn't die when I was young, that's just the story I led everyone to believe. She was, shall we say, a lady of the night who got knocked up by my father. Or at least she was a good enough actress to make him believe I was his. Once he was stuck with the goods, she disappeared."

"Oh, Myles," she whispered, reaching up to stroke the stern lines of his face. "How horrible for you."

He looked away, remembering, confronting the bitterness still inside him. "I'll never forget the night I found out. I was seven, and my father was drunk, stewing over bills and griping about having an extra mouth to feed. That's when he let it slip, along with his suspicion I wasn't even his kid. He was sober the next day and tried to apologize."

Myles's laugh was short, harsh. "He wasn't very good at saying he was sorry. Maybe I was his after all. It's not too easy for me to humble myself either. Our relationship was never quite the same after that. Even as I aged and could understand a man's resentment for having to raise a child that possibly belonged to some nameless stranger, there was always this... distance."

"I'm so sorry, Myles, when I called you a—If only I'd known."

"Few people do. It's something I grew up abhorring. I even misled... Gloria." Her name was still dear, her memory cherished, but the reality of their life together had receded to a sweet, distant dream. The present was so real, his marriage to Faith pulsing, fulfilling, exciting. "I'm not too proud of myself for that deceit. She deserved the truth. But I've always been ashamed of the one thing I could never change. Even after all these years I feel a little tainted. But there it is, and maybe now you can understand why I was so determined to save my child from the same stigma."

"It was a reflex and I can't blame you for that. I do understand, Myles. Much better than I did before."

Her acceptance was a healing balm to his old wound. Now that he had finally taken the leap, he wanted to tell her all. "I vowed to myself a long time ago that I'd carve out a legacy for my children, begin traditions that started with me, since my own parentage isn't really certain. Maybe that's why having a family of my own means so much to me."