Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) (19 page)

Faith was vaguely aware their baby was crying in the next room.
Their
baby? Her baby, not his.

She forced herself to go to the nursery. Her body was numb, as numb as her heart. She had to be numb to survive this terrible ordeal.

She moved mechanically, like an animated mannequin, until she reached the crying infant. Staring down into the crib, she felt her heart shattering the fragile, insulating shield of ice.

"Gloria," she sobbed. "Gloria." She held the baby to her, rocking back and forth as she sought to soothe herself more than the infant. Feeling her legs begin to give way, she stumbled to the white wicker rocker and held on to Gloria as if she were the only solid thing left in her shattered world.

The baby nursed hungrily, and Faith was grateful for the bond. She needed it now more than ever while she vainly tried to sift through each conversation with her sister that could hint at a clue.

Nothing.

Suddenly Faith quit rocking. In her mind a light shined brightly, accusingly, on the memory of Myles's near discovery of her sculpture.

Was it possible that Gloria had discovered the bust Faith had sculpted in loving tribute? Had Gloria guessed that they were in love with the same man? And if so, had she been desperate enough to have a child that she had led Faith to believe it was Myles's? Had she known it would be the ace, the one drawing card that Faith couldn't resist?

The air rushed from her lungs in a painful whoosh. Nothing else could explain it. And wasn't it true? Her sacrifice had been no sacrifice, no noble gesture or last-ditch effort to please her sister. She had agreed because it was Myles's baby; if it had been any other man's, she doubted that her nobility would have extended so far.

The tears began to roll down her cheeks while silent sobs wracked her chest. Her selfless decision had been more selfish than she had dared admit to herself until now. How desperate she must have been to have some part of him, as desperate as Gloria in another way. In spite of their sisterly devotion, the depth of their love, they had cheated each other.

That realization was almost as painful as knowing she had no choice but to confess the truth to Myles. All of it. Since the day he'd bared his soul, he had lived with the illusion they had no secrets. How would he take it? Would he love her just as much once he knew the baby wasn't his?

His words came rushing back to her:
"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."

She couldn't bear his distance. If she'd needed him before they married, he had now become as essential as breathing to her existence.

"Faith? Faith, are you here?" Myles called from somewhere in the house.

Her head snapped up from her chest. How long had she been in here crying and mourning while Gloria peacefully slept in her arms?

He stopped at the doorway, and the hall lighting cast his silhouette in a long black shadow on the nursery floor.

"Faith?" he repeated. "Is that you?"

"Yes," she whispered hoarsely.

"Why didn't you answer me? I was worried."

"I... Gloria's asleep."

"But why was the house dark? I tried calling to let you know I'd be home late, but no one answered. "

"I guess... I didn't hear the phone ring."

She had to tell him. She couldn't. How could she ever push the horrid words past her lips?

The nursery light suddenly switched on. Fearfully she looked at Myles.

"Oh my God," he exclaimed as he gazed at her tear-streaked face. "What's wrong? What happened? Did the doctor find something bad?" he demanded as he closed the short distance between them.

When she only looked at him, shaking her head, he took Gloria from her and laid the baby gently in bed.

"Talk to me," he commanded. "Please, just talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Myles," she sobbed, falling into his open arms. "Oh, Myles. It's terrible. You don't want to know. You don't want—"

"I want the truth. Just start talking and don't stop until you're through."

She collapsed against him, and he picked her up. Sitting in her rocker, he held her head against his chest and whispered his love against her hair.

Haltingly, she told him about her discovery, the words catching between dry sobs. "Our baby can't be yours. Please, tell me you don't hate me. Don't tell me you don't want us anymore or that you'll resent us every time you remember this."

Looking up at his face, she saw his shock. He tried to speak, but no words came. Then he lifted her up and carried her over to the baby's bed. She could feel the trembling of his large frame.

"I can't believe it," he finally whispered in a shaking voice. "I can't believe she's not mine. Because she is, Faith, and so are you. No matter what happened, you're both mine. But what tears me up even more than this hideous joke on the two of us is that you could actually believe I would love you any less or wish you out of my life. How could you have such little faith in me and the commitment I made when we took our vows?"

"I'm sorry, Myles. It's just that I love you so much, it would kill me to lose you. And then I kept remembering what you'd said about your father."

His expression hardened, and he said roughly, "That has nothing to do with us or our family. We were made for each other, and you'd better never forget that again."

She had no answer but her own cry of relief, of gratitude to God that Myles did love her without condition, that his love had never been contingent on her giving him his own baby. He
did
love her, just for herself. Hadn't he told her so before? But then she'd never been able to fully believe it, had she?

"Do you have any idea why Gloria would have done such a thing?" he asked as he leaned over the crib and studied the baby's sleeping face with such love and tenderness it made her ache.

"I... I think I might have an answer. But it would be easier if I showed you something first. Something I should have shown you a long time ago." But she hadn't, and now she knew why. Without realizing it, she had waited for a signal, a sign that the depth of his love matched hers.

"I want a promise from you first," he said. "We promise to each other our baby will never know about this. Well go to our graves with this secret binding us as tightly as the marriage vows we took."

He slid her down his length, and they embraced, sealing their pact within a fierce kiss. Myles tucked the blanket around their baby before she led him down the hall and into the studio. Faith stopped at the last sealed box that held her secret.

"Open it," she said. "Open it and look inside."

Impatiently he tore the box open and lifted the heavy mound inside. It was still wrapped. Faith could feel herself shaking again, not with fear but with anticipation.

He removed the layers of packaging, slowly unveiling the moment of truth. When it was done, he simply stared, disbelief and confusion etched into his features.

"This is me," he finally said. "Why do you have a sculpture of me? And why didn't you want me to see it?"

"Don't you know, Myles? Didn't you ever guess? I sculpted this before your wedding to Gloria."

His gaze met hers, comprehension slowly dawning, before his eyes turned once more to the plaster bust.

"You said he was married, the mystery man you loved who was the reason you moved away. He was—"

"How could you think it was anyone else?" she whispered brokenly as she caressed the sculpture. "It had to be you."

Chapter 14

She waited, holding her breath.

"You loved me," he murmured. "Even then you loved me."

"I tried not to. I knew it was wrong because you belonged to someone else. But I learned that hearts have a way of making their own decisions. I didn't want to love you, but I did. And I do."

"What did I ever do to deserve so much?" He placed the sculpture on her table. "No man has a right to all I've been given."

Myles took her into his arms, his hands threading through her hair, tilting her head back.

"I kept it covered except when I needed you. You were never meant to see it. Until now."

He shook his head. "You don't know how this makes me feel."

"Tell me," she urged, pressing as close as she could get. "Show me."

His lips claimed hers urgently, fierce with demand.

"This is what you make me feel. It isn't gentle or patient, but it's deep and intense and so full it can make my heart ache."

"Then let me take the ache away." She slid her hand between them and curled her fingers over his groin. "Let me show you what you make me feel. Tonight it's reckless and desperate. I'm a woman who's craving to be consumed by her man."

He strained against her while a growl rumbled up from his soul. Somehow they made their way to their bed. Then his hands were on her, and quickly they stripped the clothes off each other.

With no baby between them, they fit hip-to-hip, hardness to softness, their bodies separated by only the thin sheath of protection.

"Give me the man inside you," she whispered. "Untamed, uninhibited, wild."

"You've asked for the beast and you've got him. The unwanted bastard stripped of the veneer he's spent a lifetime making others see. Aren't you afraid of him?"

"No. He pleases me. Excites me."

"But he's unpolished, not pretty or smooth."

"He's beautiful. Perfect for his woman."

"Then take me. Take the man who needs you more than he's ever needed you before."

"I need," she whimpered. "I need too."

He let her set the pace, and she knew she wouldn't be content with a gentle joining.

Finally their hoarse shouts of raw ecstasy resounded against the walls.

In the aftermath they stroked each other's faces, kissed with tender lips. They joined hands and rocked together murmuring over and over "I love you... I love you... I love..."

* * *

"Myles," she said against his chest in a sleepy voice, "the phone."

"Ignore it," he muttered, clamping a leg over hers and managing to tangle the bedsheets tightly around them. "We already agreed it's just the three of us today. We don't need any visitors infringing on our time. They can call back tomorrow."

"It could be important."

"Ah, hell," he grumbled. "All right. But after this I'm unplugging the damn thing." He snatched up the phone and barked, "This is Wellington.... Oh, hello, Martin. Welcome back. You just interrupted some important negotiations, so I hope this is good."

Myles suddenly sat upright in bed, practically tumbling Faith onto the floor. He caught her and immediately tucked her under the haven of his arm. She played with the hair on his chest, feeling the glow of memories from the night before. Their exhausting romp had given way to hours of shared affection and strokes of loving tenderness.

"Okay... okay. Thanks for calling. We'll see you in another hour."

"What is it?" she asked, more than a little curious about what had prompted her husband's about-face. Myles shook his head, his expression disturbed.

"Martin's bringing over that certain something we've been joking about for months."

"Did he tell you what it is?"

"He did. And Faith, it's far from a joke."

"What is it?" She sat up too, anxiously clutching the sheets.

"A letter," he said, a frown creasing his brow. "It's from Gloria. She addressed it to us, in the event we ever married."

* * *

Faith rubbed her arms to ward the chill off her skin. She looked from Martin, who was holding Gloria and making an utterly lovable fool of himself, to Myles seated beside her and carefully fingering the sealed envelope. He looked at her in question, and she nodded.

"Read it, Myles," she whispered. He broke the seal and unfolded a crisp sheet of paper. The handwriting was weak but undeniably Gloria's. He began to read aloud:

Dear Faith and Myles,