A Winter's Rose (20 page)

This was the first time she and David had been face to face since the day she'd left, and as she met his eyes a wild mix of emotions raced over her. Fear and vulnerability, revulsion, panic. She wanted to run, she wanted to drop to her knees and, as she had done more than once during their marriage, beg him to leave her alone.

In her lap she flexed her ice-cold fingers. She wasn't a victim anymore. David had no control over her. She was done letting him, or anyone else, have the power to hurt her without reason.

She recognized him for what he was. And, more important, she recognized what she was.

In that moment her fear disappeared, as did her panic. In that moment, the terrible feeling of being cornered evaporated, leaving in its place a feeling of power, of strength.

As he had done so often to her, she swept her gaze tauntingly over him. “David,” she murmured, smiling coolly. “What brings you out from under your rock?”

Bentley heard her mother's quickly indrawn breath and when she darted a glance at the other woman, she saw that her face had drained of color.

David laughed smoothly. “My little kitten has grown claws.”

Bentley narrowed her eyes. “A lot more about me than that has grown. But that's no concern of yours.”
How could she have ever been married to this man? How could she have not seen that his eyes were as flat and lifeless as a shark's?

He raked his gaze insultingly over her, telling her without words that she was nothing, hoping to intimidate. His mouth tightened almost imperceptibly when Bentley smiled, unperturbed, and tipped up her chin.

“I hear through the grapevine,” he said, “that you're taking another stab at marriage.”

“Stab implies uncertainty. Sorry to disappoint you, David, but that's not the case. There's nothing in my life that's uncertain any more.”

He lowered his eyes to her ring. “I can't quite remember. What does this fellow
do?
”

“Jackson runs an organization designed to protect Galveston Bay and the Texas coast. Perhaps you'd like to contribute something to our cause?”

“Perhaps. Why don't you call my secretary about it.” He turned to her mother and smiled warmly. “Trixy, it's so nice to see you again. You look lovely, as always.”

Actually, her mother looked as if she might swoon, but she still managed a gracious smile. “Thank you…David.”

He turned. “I wish you well, Bentley.”

“Do you really?” She arched her eyebrows. “Then perhaps you should be one of the first to know. I'm pregnant, David.”

He paled. “What?”

“Pregnant.” She smiled. “Without benefit of doctors, drugs or technology. Interesting, don't you think? Considering that you and I…” She let the thought trail off and smiled again, this time sweetly. “But I'm sure it's for the best. You would have been a horrible father. But you know what? I'm going to be a good mother, David. I don't have any doubts about that.”

His face mottled with color, and he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Turning on his heel, he walked away.

Bentley watched him go, a feeling of elation charging through her. A feeling of freedom. She'd done it! She'd stood up to him. She hadn't allowed him to hurt or bully her, and he hadn't the power to do either ever again.

With her elation came thoughts of Jackson. Thoughts of how much she loved him and of how desperately she wished that he returned her love.

Bentley gazed at Jackson's ring, tears springing to her eyes. She deserved his heart as well as his name. She deserved a man who believed in her. In them. She'd evaded facing the truth about Jackson's real feelings because she'd been afraid of the truth.

Only a fool or a coward feared truth. She was neither.

“Honey…I'm so sorry.”

Bentley looked at her mother's stricken face. “Why, Mama?”

Trixy folded her hands in front of her, visibly working to calm herself. “I ran into David a couple days ago. I mentioned your engagement and that we were…having lunch today. Here. He seemed to still care for you and I thought… I'd hoped—”

“It's okay. You didn't know.” Bentley covered her mother's hand once more, squeezing her fingers. “David didn't hurt me today. And he never will again.”

* * *

Jackson strode to his picture window and stared out at the empty drive and wintry garden.

Where was Bentley?

He checked his watch again. She'd left before eleven to meet her mother for lunch in Houston. It was nearly five now and he hadn't heard from her.

What if she didn't return? What if she'd decided to leave him?

Jackson spun away from the window, too keyed up to stand still. He paced the length of the living room, struggling to get hold of his runaway imagination.

Get a grip, Reese, he chided himself. Bentley had simply gone to the city to have lunch with her mother. They had visited longer than she'd expected. Maybe they had decided to catch a show, or go to a museum, or—

A car swung into the drive, and Jackson's heart tipped over. A moment later he saw that it wasn't Bentley's BMW, but Randa's mother's white station wagon. Randa jumped out and waved excitedly. Jackson returned the smile and wave, then turned. “Chloe,” he called. “Randa's here.”

Chloe barreled down the stairs, her overnight bag clutched in one hand, her pillow and sleeping bag in the other. Billie was having a slumber party, and Chloe had been beside herself with excitement all week. “Bye, Daddy.” She yanked the door open.

“Hey…haven't you forgotten something?” He tapped his cheek.

“Oh, yeah.” Leaving the door ajar, she raced over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. The difference in her, in their relationship, continued to astound him. “Have fun. But be good. And get some sleep.”

Laughing, she pried herself free. “Tell Bentley I borrowed her crimping iron.” At his look, she added, backing toward the door, “She said I could.”

“I'll be here if you need me.”

“Right, Daddy.” Chloe rolled her eyes, then ducked out the door.

Jackson watched as his daughter raced down the steps and across the drive. With a final wave, she hopped into the waiting car, and Randa's mother backed down the drive.

When the station wagon had disappeared from sight, he glanced at his watch, his thoughts returning to Bentley. The last few weeks had been strained between them. She'd been on edge and uncommunicative.
A half dozen times he'd looked up to find her watching him, the saddest expression in her eyes.

Jackson swung away from the window, unreasonable panic tightening in his gut. Bentley felt trapped, too. He recognized the signs, felt them himself. She'd begun to have second thoughts. And they weren't even married yet.

Jackson swore. This was great. Just great. If they did go through with the marriage, how long would it last? A month? Three? Until the baby was born?

If
they went through with it.
If
she came home.

Where the hell was she?

Jackson dragged his hands through his hair. This was insane. He had to get a grip on his emotions. Ever since she'd told him about the baby, he'd been acting—feeling—strangely. On edge and possessive.
Illogical and sentimental.

Like a lovesick fool.

Ridiculous. Impossible. He wasn't in love.

Furious with himself for his thoughts, Jackson turned toward the window. He hardened his jaw. No, it was the baby that had him acting so out of character. The upcoming wedding. In love with Bentley Cunningham was one thing he wasn't. And never would be. He wouldn't allow it.

The sun had made its final dip below the horizon when Bentley's headlights cut across the driveway. Even as he said a silent prayer of thanks, he acknowledged a simmering anger. Jackson crossed to the front door, opened it and stepped into the cold evening air.

He descended the steps to the drive, stopping at its edge. At his first sight of her his knees went weak with relief. The baby, he told himself for what seemed like the millionth time. He'd been concerned about the baby.

Bentley turned off the car's engine. She looked anxious, on edge. She smiled, but the curving of her lips looked forced.

Tension settled like a fist between his shoulder blades, and Jackson swore. This had to stop.

What was wrong with him?

“Hi.” Bentley swung open the car door and stepped out.

“Hi.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, moving his gaze over her, looking for something, anything, about her that was different from this morning. He found nothing. And yet, something about her
had
changed.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she averted her head, motioning to the trunk. “I have some packages. Mama wanted to shop for some things for the baby.”

Jackson drew his eyebrows together. Had it started already? Had she grown tired of working? Had she begun to long for the days when she'd been able to shop all day?

Had she grown tired of him?

“I was worried,” he said tightly.

She searched his expression. “Were you?”

The question, the way she voiced it struck a nerve, and he narrowed his eyes. “You
are
pregnant. With my baby.”

“Oh, of course,” she snapped. “Silly me, the baby.”

“You could have called.”

“You're right, I should have. I'm sorry.” She ducked past him. “I had things on my mind.”

He caught her arm. “What things?”

Bentley looked at him sharply. “I don't think you want to know.”

“Try me.”

Bentley narrowed her eyes. This wasn't the way she had wanted to broach the subject of his feelings about her and their upcoming marriage. She'd wanted them both to be calm, mellow. Rational. She hadn't wanted to be spoiling for a fight.

And she was, indeed, spoiling for one. And so was he.

Maybe it was better this way, she thought, shaking off his hand and facing him. Maybe if she was angry enough it wouldn't feel as if her heart was being ripped from her body when he forced her to tell him goodbye.

“What do you want, Jackson?” she asked, inching her chin up a fraction more. “Or maybe a better question is, what do you believe?”

“It depends on what the subject is.”

“The subject is me.
Us,
our upcoming marriage. Do you think we're going to make it? Or do you think we're going to end up like you and Victoria did?” At his silence, Bentley curled her fingers into fists at her side. “Tell me, Jackson. I need to know.”

“I think we're going to end up…apart.”

“Divorced.”

“Yes,” he murmured.

The simply spoken word sliced through her like a dull blade. She caught her breath. “Then why are you marrying me?”

Jackson took a step toward her. “Come on, Bentley. Let's not play games. You know why we're getting married—”

“Say it, Jackson,” she said, her voice high and tight. “I want to hear it!”

Jackson tipped his face toward the black sky and swore. “The baby, Bentley. I want the baby to have a father. I want him, or her, to have my name.”

“You don't have to marry me for either of those. You are the baby's father. Your name will be on the birth certificate.”

“Damn it, Bentley, you know what I mean.”

She strode to the edge of his garden, barren now at winter's peak. She stared at the brown leaves and flowerless vines, then swung to face him. “You've never spoken of it, so I have to ask.” She inched her chin up, battling tears. “Do you love me?”

“Don't do this, Bentley.” He held his hand out to her. “Please—”

“Do you?”

He dropped his hand. “No.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Do you think you will ever love me?” The question ripped at her, but she had to ask. She had to know—and face—the truth.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Bentley, I don't think this is the time. Why don't we—”

“I have to know now, Jackson.”

He swore again. “Why? It didn't matter four weeks ago when we agreed to do this thing. Why now? This moment?”

“Because I've changed. I didn't realize until today how much.”

“I see,” he said coldly. He pinned her with his angry gaze. “No, I won't ever allow myself to love you.”

Bentley brought a hand to her mouth to hold back her cry of pain. She hadn't been wrong about how much hearing those words would hurt. But she hadn't realized just how much she'd been hoping and praying for a different response.

She fought the pain, the denial and tears. “Why, Jackson?” she asked brokenly, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Bentley,” he said softly, crossing to her. “Please, try to understand. I've been through this before.”

“You're not the only one who's survived a bad marriage. You're not the only one who's been hurt.”

“That's not what I mean.” He unwrapped her arms and caught her hands, rubbing them between his. “I know you're not like Victoria, but you are from her world. Marriage to me is going to be a big life-style change for you. It's better not to pin hopes on things that will end. And I just know that one day you'll—”

“What?” Stunned, she lifted her eyes to his. “That one day I'll thank you?” His eyes told her everything, and she jerked her hands from his. “I can't believe you would think that. You arrogant, condescending… You think I'm going to get bored with you? With my job? With Chloe and the baby?”

Tears filled her eyes, then spilled over despite her vow that they wouldn't. “I love you. And I care deeply for Chloe. Every day she becomes a bigger part of my life.” She shook her head. “I've never been happier than in the last couple of months. Yet you think I'm going to get bored.” Her voice rose. “How could I get bored with loving you? With loving Chloe? You don't know me at all.”