Tempting Fate (57 page)

He didn't say anything.  He just stared at her, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath he took.  The look of frustration that plagued him was replaced with panic. 

Blood pumped furiously to her head, banging against her temple like a sledgehammer.  She prayed silently that he would say something.  Yes, I'll be there.  Yes, I want you to be part of my life forever.  Yes, I want you to love me and be my wife, my lover. 

Oh, it was a wonderful dream, one that she'd found herself having too often lately.  But Jonah wasn't going to say the words she wanted to hear.  And in that moment, Maggie knew without a doubt she did want those things more than anything.  Because she'd fallen completely in love with Jonah. 

She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip to steady it, and pushed herself to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest as best she could over her ample belly.  She dragged in a gulp of air to tamp down the sob that threatened her. 

“Go to England, Jonah.  I can take care of myself.”

She turned away from his stricken expression, unwilling to reveal the truth of her own heartache.  She loved Jonah.  It was absolutely the worse thing she could do, but she did love him.  With all her heart and soul.  But she wouldn't need him.  She wouldn't make that dreadful mistake.  She couldn't, because she couldn't survive leaving him if she did.

“Are you sure?” 

Maggie's heart shattered with sound of Jonah's voice, rough and laced with pain.

“I'll be okay without you.” 

I refuse to need you.

She glanced up at him and gasped softly.  It was if she'd just slapped him across the face.  She wanted to turn around, throw her arms around him and tell him to stay.  She really wanted him to stay.

She left the library instead.

# # #

Chapter Eleven

 As usual, Jonah met with his grandfather in the smoking room in Wiltshire.  As a child, it wasn't a room Jonah had ever felt comfortable venturing in alone, and even now, considered it a refuge solely for the elder family member. 

Aaron Wallace was seated in the same leather wing chair in which he always sat whenever he visited Wiltshire.  A cigar was clipped between his index finger and thumb, and a noxious cloud of smoke hung in the air, surrounding his head like a ghostly halo.  The elderly man slowly dragged himself to his feet as Jonah entered the room. 

“It's good to see you, my boy.”

Jonah firmly clasped Aaron's outstretched hand and shook it.  There had never been any outward displays of affection or emotion in his family, one of the few things he could safely count on.  Distance and too few visits had a way of keeping their relationship “proper”. 

“You're looking good, Grandfather.”

Aaron laughed, a cloud of gray and white smoke seeping from his mouth.  “Likewise.  Marriage agrees with you.  So, where is the young girl?” Aaron said, peering passed him as if expecting Maggie to magically appear at the doorway.  “I hope you didn’t fill Maggie with stories about your crusty old grandfather or your bride will make herself scarce all evening trying to avoid me.”

Tension wheeled its way through Jonah as he recalled Maggie's words before he left.  Her declaration that she didn't need him should have come as a relief, but it hadn't.  Instead, it had left him empty.

“Maggie stayed behind in America.”

Aaron wrenched the cigar from his mouth.  “She's not ill, is she?  You should have told me if she was having trouble with the baby.  I would have gone to see you in Boston instead of dragging you away.”

Mouth slightly agape, Jonah stared at his grandfather.   “No, the baby's fine.  She had some...other commitments at work.” 

They both sank into matching chestnut leather wing chairs opposite each other.  Like a prewritten script they'd rehearsed a hundred times over, Aaron silently offered Jonah a cigar and Jonah shook his head in refusal. 

“How did you know about the pregnancy?”

Aaron laughed again, deepening the craggy wrinkles around his gray eyes.  “Mary all but busted her apron telling me about it.  Maggie has stolen Mary’s heart as well.  Perhaps I'll have the pleasure of meeting her next time you visit.”

Mary had talked with his grandfather about Maggie? “Perhaps.”   

Aaron flicked the tip of his cigar in the stand alone brass ash tray that sat between them.  “I understand women are more independent now than when I was a young lad.  But do you really think it's wise Maggie continues working during her pregnancy?”

Jonah didn't miss the note of disapproval in his grandfather's tone.  “If it were up to me, she wouldn't.  But that's Maggie's decision.  I can't force her to do anything against her will.” 

Wiry gray eyebrows stretched high and formed creases on Aaron's forehead.  “Is that why you're here?  Because I've forced your hand?”

Jonah loathed the tension between him and his grandfather, created these last few months over Wiltshire.  Despite the distant relationship he had with his parents, he'd always been somewhat close to his grandfather.  He only hoped that when all the legalities were finalized, they'd be able to repair whatever damage had been done. 

“You know why I'm here, Grandfather.”

Aaron cleared his throat.  “Have you spoken with your parents lately?”

“I spoke with Mother before I left Boston.”  Jonah didn't often speak with his parents in recent years, their relationship having suffered from the distance that plagued him as a child.  The conversation went as usual, filled with generalities and a promise to visit when he could, which was usually about once a year out of duty and respect. 

“Then she's had a chance to fill you in on her plans.”

“A reception for Maggie and I.  She told me.  But under the circumstances I don't think it's appropriate.  And since Maggie stayed home, it's no longer possible.”

“Ridiculous.  A marriage in the family is cause for celebration.  And now that there is a baby on the way, we'll have to make doubly sure to celebrate.”

Jonah's eyebrows knitted.  He leaned back in his seat, suddenly peeved.  “Grandfather, let's not pretend this marriage is anything more than what it really is.  You and I both know I didn't have a choice in the matter.”

Aaron sliced his hand through the cloud of cigar smoke.  “Rubbish.  I gave you a choice and you made it.  If you hadn't wanted to marry Maggie you could easily have walked away from Wiltshire.”

“I couldn't do that anymore more than you could.”

Sitting ramrod straight, Aaron leveled Jonah with the intensity of his gaze.  In his eyes, Jonah saw the same concern he'd seen as a child. 

“If I'd have known things would turn out as they had, I would have.  This house wouldn't have become so bloody important to you,” he said, his tone filled with regret.  “It’s nothing but a chain weighing you down.  Your father was never happy here.  Unfortunately, he wasn't happy being a father, either.”

“Was having me his stipulation for inheriting Wiltshire?”

Aaron's eyes widened.  Easing back in the wide leather chair, he sighed heavily before taking a long drag from the cigar.  The tip's angry glow seemed to answer his question.

Jonah had always wondered, especially during the last few months since Aaron had informed him he'd need to marry before inheriting Wiltshire.  His family was so remote, even during the brief time they'd all lived under the same roof.  No one had uttered a word, but Jonah had wondered why two people would bring a child into the world only to make him feel so utterly alone.  Now he had the answer.

  “That was your great grandfather's doing, I'm afraid.  My mistake was thinking that if I moved away from Wiltshire, your parents would finally take responsibility and settle down to some sort of family existence.  Unfortunately, that plan backfired.  Your father had already inherited his money, but he refused ownership of Wiltshire rather than be tied to it.”

And me, Jonah thought, a bitter slice of pain he hadn't felt in a long time stabbing him.

  “Your parents are much too selfish.  I'll always regret there aren't a whole lot of warm childhood memories for you here.”

Jonah gritted his teeth, trying to strike the painful images that crept into his mind.  The memories Aaron spoke of were light-years away.  He averted his eyes, staring instead at the priceless antiques that were bought by members of his family he barely knew long before he was born.

Jonah swallowed a mammoth lump of emotion.  “That's all in the past.”

A slow grin creased the old man's mouth, and he nodded.  “That's what I keep telling myself.  But for some strange reason you still want to keep this stuffy old castle.”

“Despite what happened, it belongs to the family.  This home will one day belong to my children.  I can't just let that go.”

“Wiltshire hasn't been a home to anyone in a long time.  And keeping it isn't going to change anything that happened.  You're married now, and have a family of your own back in America.  Does Maggie want to live here?”

Jonah shook his head.  “Her mother is in Boston.  She doesn't want to leave her.”

“I don't blame her.  Life can be awfully cold without family around.”

His eyes locked with the weary eyes of his grandfather.  What passed between them were unspoken words of regret, and Jonah was painfully aware they were no longer talking about Maggie.

  Abruptly, Aaron drew in a deep breath.  “I'm a man of my word.  Wiltshire is yours to do with what you please.  I've had my attorney file all the necessary papers to immediately transfer ownership.  I see no reason to wait the full year.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

 “I want you to know one thing, and you're free to do what you want with this bit of information.  I'd fully intended to give Wiltshire to you whether or not you'd married Maggie.”

Jonah stared at his grandfather in disbelief.  “What?”

“I release you from any conditions I placed on you regarding your marriage.  For the record, I have to say how truly pleased I am Maggie is in your life now.  If she makes you half as happy as Mary says she does, filling your house in Boston with the life that was never here, I don't regret any trouble my little plan caused you initially.”

Jonah leaned forward in his chair with his chin resting on his tented fingers, unable to meet his grandfather in the eyes.  He'd never snapped at his grandfather, had never uttered one word of disrespect in all his thirty-three years.  But the anger building in him, a frustration born not only of the worry over Wiltshire, but his unending worry over Maggie, threatened to spill over the edges of his sanity.

He wrenched himself out of the chair, fists shoved deep in the pockets of his charcoal trousers, and circled the deep pile area rug in the center of the room.

He never had to marry Maggie.  He never had to marry anyone!

“You orchestrated all this just to con me into marrying?  How could you do this?  And to what end?”

“I should think it's obvious.  You may only be thirty-three, Jonah.  But you’ve been alone too long.”

Forcing a deep gulp of oxygen into his lungs to steady himself, Jonah's mind reeled in a furious state.  He never had to marry Maggie.  And now his grandfather was telling him that he didn't need to stay married to her, either.

Aaron lifted to his feet.  “Like I said, do with the information what you please.  It's your choice.  You have a castle and you have a beautiful wife.  I just hope through your anger you're smart enough to realize which one is the real prize.”         

* * *

Maggie tiptoed across the wide hallway and eased Jonah's bedroom door open.  She felt like a cat burglar prowling in his room...for what?  She wanted something.  It nagged at her all night, but she couldn't put her finger on just what that was.

He'd called tonight.  Jonah had called and her heart pumped furiously, hearing the deep timbre of his sexy voice in her ear, telling her he was coming home early.  He was coming home.  She'd actually felt herself get giddy and had to contain her excitement while she was on the phone to keep Jonah from suspecting.

She missed him, dammit.  And being bedridden in this huge house without him only made it worse.  It gave her much too much time to think about everything about Jonah.  Every time she sat on the sofa in the library, she expected to see him walk through the door, his briefcase in his hand or a box of chocolates because he thought she might be having a craving.    

Yeah, she missed him.  In more ways than she dared to admit.

The staff had all gone home and Mary had long since gone to bed.  Maggie knew she should, too, but she couldn't sleep, thinking of Jonah, and she was too uncomfortable in her nightgown to boot.  It didn't fit right anymore.  In fact, nothing in her wardrobe fit her that the baby had grown so big. 

So what was she doing now, lurking around Jonah's bedroom in the dark searching for something?  She knew in an instant she flicked on the bed lamp.  She was looking for Jonah, some connection to him that she'd been missing since he'd flown to England.  It had only been a few days, but it seemed like so much longer.

She glanced around his room.  In all the months she'd lived at the mansion, she'd never once seen the inside of Jonah's bedroom.  It was much different than she'd imagined it would be.  His king-size bed was snug against the wall by the door.  A few pillows were piled up against the tall iron headboard, almost calling her to fall into them.  There was a denim blue wing-back chair with matching sofa tucked into the corner by bookshelves on the far side of the room.  The bedroom was more casual than the stiff front Jonah sometimes put out for the world to see.  She guessed this room, more than all the others in the house, was more of Jonah than she'd ever seen.

Maggie pulled at the middle of her nightgown and groaned, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the dresser mirror.  She had always known it was inevitable she'd become as big as a house, but how had she managed to get this big without noticing?  Instinctively, she padded to Jonah's walk-in closet and swung open the door, snapping the light on.  Inside it was huge, about the size of the baby nursery in her room.  A sense of warmth cascaded over her, making her weak, as she sifted through the clothes on the rack.  Jonah's clothes.  It seemed so intimate to be in his room looking through his closet.