The Marriage Secret (2 page)

Emily gasped audibly and looked away, but not before Finn had seen the soft unfocused sensual glaze slide into her wide, liquid-brown eyes. He smiled.

“You think sex solves everything!” she accused hoarsely.

An inherently honest person, Emily was forced to concede that her own attitude might have contributed more than a little to his assumption! The problem was, no matter how unreasonable Finn might be, or how mad he made her, when he touched her she was lost. Finn had come along with his sinful smile and wicked laughing eyes and a sensual side of her nature that she'd been blissfully ignorant of had hungrily awoken.

“It's as good a place to start as any,” Finn drawled languidly.

“What sort of insensitive idiot would even think about making love at a time like this?” Emily wondered scathingly.

“The sort of insensitive idiot you fell in love with and married, and if I—being the injured party here—am prepared to forgive and forget…”

“Your generosity is astounding.”

Finn grinned appreciatively at her sarcastic riposte.

It had been one of the great delights in his life to discover the restrained, shy, wide-eyed schoolteacher he'd fallen for at first sight possessed a sharp tongue, a clever wit, and a passionate warm nature. Far from being scared by his passionate advances as he'd feared, she'd responded with a rapturous enthusiasm and lack of inhibition that had knocked him sideways. And still did.

“I suppose some people find your arrogance attractive.”

“You did.” Mockery glittered savagely in his electric blue eyes as he lifted her chin gently with one finger.

Closing her eyes tight was about the only defence left to Emily. As defences went, it wasn't great.

“I pretended.” Her voice emerged as a breathy whisper. “Don't do that, Finn,” she pleaded throatily as she felt him unfastening the buttons on her coat.

“Why, you're hot…I know you're hot.”

His silky, suggestive drawl sent Emily's temperature soaring another few sizzling degrees, and her eyes fluttered open. Her needy gaze fastened on his face at the same moment her coat slid to the ground with a rush.

Emily heard his stark sibilant intake of breath, and saw his eyes widen.

“Did you put that on for me?”

His husky words brought back vividly the elation and confidence she'd felt when she'd dressed earlier that evening. It brought back even more vividly how miserable it had felt sitting there alone watching the minutes tick by.

It was obvious to Finn even before she replied in that wooden little voice that he'd said the wrong thing.

“Yes, I put it on for you, Finn. I put it on when I thought that for once you'd come home when you said you would.”

“I didn't forget it was our anniversary, Emily.”

“That only makes it worse!”

“There is an explanation…”

“I don't want an explanation, Finn, I just want to know one thing. If I asked you to sack Maeve, would you?”

In two seconds flat Finn's mobile features were wiped clear of all warmth and animation.

“I don't respond well to blackmail, Emily. Neither am I about to pander to your insecurities.” Eyes icy cold, nostrils flared, he regarded her with chilling detachment. “Maeve has always been a loyal and valuable member of the team.”

Not to mention the mother of his son and his first love! “I'll take that as a no, shall I?”

“
Why
do you feel so threatened by Maeve?”

Emily's jaw dropped. Was he for real?

“Other than the fact you were drinking champagne with her on our anniversary? Let me see….” She pressed a finger to her pursed lips and adopted an expression of intense concentration. “I'm deeply irrational?” The fake smile vanished as she lifted her narrowed eyes to his face. “Or I suppose it could have something to do with the fact you're virtually joined at the hip to someone who is incredibly beautiful, talented, has your baby…”

Swearing harshly under his breath Finn grabbed his wife by the waist and hauled her roughly against him.

“I didn't marry you for your childbearing hips, woman.” His hands slid down until his thumbs rested on the soft curve of her narrow pelvis.

Emily's foxy red hair, soft and silky, brushed underneath his chin as her head fell forward against his chest. With a groan Finn pressed his face into the burnished mass, inhaling deeply the sweet, freshly washed smell. His hand moved under the short skirt of her dress and he felt her shiver as his fingers moved over the silky soft skin of her inner thigh.

“Cut that out, Finn!” Emily, on the point of dissolving, yelped, pulling free just as his tongue started doing shivery delicious things behind her ear.

“What?”

“Don't look the innocent, Finn! You know I can't think when you…” The raw sensual glint in his eyes made her stomach flip. “And put some clothes on,” she added hoarsely. “This isn't about getting pregnant, Finn. Well, not entirely,” honesty impelled her to add. “Actually I…”

“Actually what?”

Emily shook her head, you couldn't use a baby to paper over the cracks in a marriage. “It's about the basics.”

“Basics?” He regarded her with obvious impatience.

“Things like you letting me share things with you.”

“I share.”

“No, Finn, that's Maeve you're thinking of. I'm Emily, the dumb redhead you keep at home.”

“Sure, keep ‘em barefoot and tied to the sink, that's my style.”

“Don't be flippant! I want to be involved, Finn. I want to know about the things that worry you.”

“
You
worry me when you talk like this.”

“Sometimes you treat me more like a mistress than a wife!” she accused hotly.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“This isn't a joke!” she raged.

Finn looked into her stormy distressed face and drew a deep breath before gritting his teeth. “I know how much this baby issue matters to you. If you want, I'll go with you for tests and things.”

Emily didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was touched by what for him was obviously an enormous sacrifice, but also frustrated by his inability to see what she was trying to say.

“Have you listened to
anything
I've been saying, Finn?” she despaired. “And don't worry, there won't be any need for
tests and things,
because I'm pregnant!”

There was only so long a girl could hold her breath, Emily thought. Finn hadn't leapt for joy at the news she was pregnant—in fact, he hadn't moved a muscle.

“Well I know this isn't new for
you,
but I was expecting a
moderate
display of pleasure.” Unless, of course, he'd changed his mind? He already had Adam; perhaps the boy satisfied all his paternal needs.

Finn blinked. “You…” The muscles in his throat worked convulsively. “You're
pregnant
?” He grabbed her by the forearms.
“Pregnant…!”

Emily watched the slow wondering smile break out across his dark face and felt a surge of relief.

“I did the test this morning. Well, actually,” she admitted, “I did three—just to be on the safe side. I had it all planned I was going to tell you over dinner, only—”

“—I didn't turn up.” He grimaced and Emily pushed aside the unwelcome thought that he looked guilty. “I've got terrible timing. God, what a hell of a coincidence!”

“You're pleased then?” she asked, feeling for some reason ridiculously shy.

“I'm stunned,” Finn breathed honestly. What man wouldn't be, discovering he was about to become a father. Although he thought of Adam as his own son—and as far as the rest of the world was concerned the boy was—it wasn't the same as knowing you'd created a life with the woman you loved.

“Stunned
happy
?”

Finn swept his wife into his arms and kissed her lingeringly. “Stunned, deliriously happy and of course, relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“Relieved that I won't have to subject my person to the indignities of medical intervention.”

“Well it was never going to happen, was it?” she pointed out, amused by his squeamish shudder. “I mean,
your
fertility was never under question—you've got Adam.”

An odd expression flickered momentarily into her husband's brilliant blue eyes. “God, yes, I hadn't thought of that.”

Emily had. She'd only shared her thoughts on the subject once with Finn, who had said he'd strangle her if he heard the word
blame
in that context again. She'd believed him.

It was only now that Emily could finally admit that her desire for Finn's baby had put their marriage under a lot of strain lately.

Emily linked her fingers behind Finn's neck and twisted the dark hair that lay against his nape. “What would you like, a boy or girl?”

“Surprise me.”

She gave a contented sigh. “Earlier, when you said something about a coincidence, what did you mean?” she wondered idly.

“You're not the only one who's pregnant.”

“I'm not? Who else…?” It would be nice to have someone else to compare pregnancy notes with, she thought, burrowing into his shoulder.

“Maeve told me tonight that Adam is going to have a little brother or sister, hence the champagne.” He felt Emily stiffen in his embrace before she pushed away.

“
Maeve
is having a baby?”
Please don't let it be….

“Apparently.”

“And who is the father?”

Finn regarded the signs of tension and hostility in his wife's rigid figure with deepening misgivings and growing incomprehension.

“Actually, Maeve isn't too keen on anyone knowing—”

The shifty look could mean only one thing. “How
could
you, Finn?”

“How could I what?” He got no reply; Emily was gone.

By the time Finn emerged from the lift into reception he had worked out what Emily had meant. This accounted for the red haze of fury dancing before his eyes.

“Anything I can do, sir?” The youthful figure behind the desk asked, trying hard not to look at the boss's bare feet.

Another button came off and Finn gave up on fastening his shirt. “Which way did my wife go?” he barked unsmilingly.

“Which one, sir?”

The savage expression on his employer's lean face as the laser blue eyes slid over him convinced the young man he was about to lose his job or maybe even his teeth.

He let out a silent sigh of relief as the rigid tall figure stalked wordlessly past him.

Finn recalled again the expression of tearful reproach in Emily's eyes and ground his teeth. She thought—the woman he loved, the soon-to-be mother of his child
actually
thought…He pressed his foot to the car floor, felt the powerful engine respond, and reflected bitterly on the sheer perversity of females in general, and his wife in particular.

“I wish I'd never seen the damned woman!” he snarled out loud.

His grim expression lightened fractionally as his mind drifted back to the first moment he'd ever seen Emily. A tiny thing with a cloud of wayward burnished curls, melting brown eyes, and a wide kissable mouth. The combination had stopped him in his tracks. Finn had felt physical attraction before, but nothing had ever approached the exultant sense of recognition he'd experienced at that moment. She was
his
—it was that simple!

“Adam's very artistic, Mr. Lynch,” she'd said gravely as she handed him the childish daub. “You must be very proud of him.”

Adam, clearly besotted by his new nursery teacher, had only reluctantly relinquished her slim hand to take his father's. Finn had understood the boy's reluctance totally.

Finn had gone straight back to the house he shared with Maeve and asked her for a divorce. It was something they'd both agreed should happen if one of them eventually met someone that mattered. There would be no bitter recriminations, and all arrangements would have to disrupt Adam as little as possible.

Despite this agreement Finn could tell Maeve had been taken aback by his request. He didn't blame her; he was pretty taken aback himself, as their unconventional arrangement had worked pretty well for five years.

“Who is she?” Maeve had asked.

“I don't know her name, but she's not wearing a ring.”

Maeve had regarded the man she thought she knew so well with growing fascination. “You looked?”

Finn nodded. “Definitely no ring.”

“Don't you think, Finn, that it might be an idea to get to know this woman-without-a-ring a little before you do anything drastic?” an amused Maeve had asked. “Perhaps a date…?”

Finn had shaken his head decisively, his expression quite ruthless as he'd observed, “No, she's not the sort who would get involved with a married man.” And he didn't want an affair, which was strange because Finn Lynch, despite his wedded state, had never thought of himself as the marrying kind.

“You could tell that just by looking?” Maeve asked wonderingly.

“Most definitely.”

He'd been right. It had been an uphill battle to get Emily to date him after the divorce came through. Unfortunately, she'd got it into her head that he was acting on the rebound, and he was in no position to put her straight.

Finn drew up outside the 16th-century, half-timbered cottage he and Emily shared. A taxi was still parked on the forecourt. This was going to be tough.

“I've got money inside,” Emily assured the cynical-looking taxi driver.

“But you don't have a key?”

Emily's embarrassed blush deepened. “They were both in my coat.”

“Which you forgot, right?” He'd heard it all before. In his experience the ones with the posh accents, in the fancy clothes, were often the worst culprits.

“It's the truth!”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn't,” came the laconic response. “But either way it doesn't pay my bill, lady.”

“The little window in the utility room is open,” Emily exclaimed excitedly. “If you gave me a leg up I could get through, I'm sure I could!”

“The man looks far too sensible to be party to a breaking and entering.”

Emily recoiled, not only from the blast of cold air that entered the cab as the passenger door was flung open, but also from the grim-faced owner of the deep voice.

“Don't listen to him!” Emily instructed the driver rigidly. “Go away, Finn! she hissed, throwing the tall figure a look of loathing.

“I'm not going anywhere. I live here, remember?” Finn drawled.

Emily was the first to look away, unable to withstand further contact with the scornful blaze in his spectacular eyes. What a cheek! From the way he was looking at her anyone would think
he
was the injured party!

Not that she could blame Finn entirely. It had been obvious right from the outset that he hadn't been telling her everything about his divorce. Why hadn't she listened to her instincts? Because you were too damned eager to jump into Finn's bed is why, came the humiliating reply.

The driver rubbed his chin. “Seems to me as though he's got a point, love.”

“It's got nothing to do with him!” Emily responded shrilly.

“Listen, I don't want to get mixed up in a domestic dispute—I just want my money.” He looked hopefully at Finn, who nodded and reached into his trouser pocket.

His hand came out empty.

“I must have left my wallet in my other trousers.”

The driver sighed. “That figures. You know, you two are well suited. Between you, you might even have a full set of clothes.” His disparaging gaze shifted from Emily's dress to Finn's bare feet.

“I think,” Emily commented in her best schoolteacher voice, “that you're a very rude man! I shall climb in the window myself,” she announced.

“Do you really think you're dressed for it, Emily?”

Emily felt her nipples pinch hard and tight as Finn's insolent blue glance dropped deliberately to the bare upper slopes of her breasts. To think I bought this dress with the purpose of seducing him!

It was comforting to know that, if he dared comment on the appearance of her breasts—and Finn was crude enough to do so, thought Emily, choosing to overlook the fact she'd often enjoyed Finn's
crudeness
—she could blame these physical developments on the cold, for it was teeth-jarringly freezing.

 

“I hardly think you're in any position to make fashion judgments, Finn Lynch,” she observed with a disparaging sniff.

It was at that point Finn decided not to mention the spare key he kept in the Jag!