Convenient Brides (29 page)

Emily ignored the sandwiches that had arrived and focused on the tiny pearl of an orange seed in the bottom of her glass while she tried to unscramble the disorder of her brain. He wanted to stay married to her?

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, looking up again. ‘After all, you accused me of setting a trap. Why should you help tie the noose about your own neck?’

He gave her a long look. ‘As you said last night, why punish the only innocent party? This child has nothing to do with the machinations that brought about our marriage. And for that reason the marriage will continue in order to protect and nurture it.’

‘Do I get a choice?’

‘You’ve already made your choice. You chose to marry me, now I’m going to hold you to it.’

‘By force?’

‘No,’ he said implacably. ‘By insisting you face up to responsibility.’

‘I can’t see what you hope to gain by staying tied to me. Your opinion of me is hardly conducive to a happy union, especially in the long term,’ she argued.

‘Perhaps not, but the sex is good.’

Emily flushed and reached for a sandwich to cover her embarrassment. She bit into it and chewed slowly and pur-posefully so she didn’t have to respond.

‘I thought you’d be pleased. After all, isn’t this what you planned in the first place?’ he said.

‘I didn’t plan anything.’

He gave an embittered laugh.

‘I’m finding this conversation very unpalatable,’ she bit out.

‘Of course you would. But it’s about time we faced the implications of both our actions.’

‘You’re hardly innocent yourself,’ she pointed out. ‘Have you considered this baby might actually be yours?’

He gave her another one of the long studied looks she found so disquieting.

‘The thought had crossed my mind, but I immediately dismissed it. Why else would you have consented to marrying me unless you had a desperate need to do so, and in a hurry?’

‘Being a single parent these days is hardly the stigma it used to be,’ she pointed out.

‘But it’s a whole lot easier with money behind you to back you up,’ he replied with a touch of cynicism. ‘And that’s one thing Danny is short of right now—money.’

Emily found even the mention of Danny’s name sent sparks of tension and guilt all through her, especially since their chance meeting—was it only yesterday?

‘Have you seen him lately?’ Damien asked unexpectedly.

‘No,’ she lied. ‘I’m sure he’s very busy with his fiancée Louise.’

‘I’m afraid that’s all off,’ Damien announced dispassionately. ‘It seems Louise got wind of the details of Danny’s financial situation. He’s never really been all that good with money.’

‘So he comes to you for advice?’

‘He comes to me for money, not advice.’

‘Do you give it to him?’

‘Not always,’ he said, and then, changing the subject abruptly, asked, ‘Are you going to contact your family about your pregnancy?’

‘No.’

He gave her another of his penetrating looks. ‘You’re very isolationist. Is that wise?’

‘I like to be independent. There’s less hurt that way.’

‘Who hurt you? Your parents?’

Emily scrunched up her napkin and got to her feet.

‘I feel like that walk now,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’

Damien watched her make her way through the knot of tables to stand watching the cool blue of the ocean in the distance. He sighed and, collecting the bill, made his way to the counter to pay for the lunch Emily had barely touched and he’d had little appetite for.

T
HEY
walked in silence along the foreshore leading to Bronte Beach. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak, content to simply enjoy the view and light sea breeze that was taking the stinging heat out of the unusually warm spring day.

At one stage of the walk Damien reached for Emily’s hand as she stumbled over an irregularity in the pavement. She didn’t resist, but allowed his hand to swallow hers as they walked on. To others walking past them she imagined it would be easy to assume they were a devoted couple, enthusiastically planning their future together. There was no outward indication of the underlying tension simmering between them, but Emily was aching inside at the assump-tions he’d made about her. It didn’t seem possible to change his mind about her.

‘Do you fancy a swim?’ he asked as they made their way past Tamarama Bay to Bronte Beach.

Emily flicked the sticky hair out of her face and looked out across the bay. ‘It’s sounding more and more appealing.’

‘Come on, then.’ He handed her the bathers and towel he’d been carrying in his backpack. ‘Go and get changed and I’ll meet you here in five minutes.’

Emily made her way to the changing-rooms and slipped into her slim-fitting black bikini. She looked down at her still flat stomach and wondered how long it would be until she began to show. It didn’t seem possible that inside her right now a tiny baby was beginning to grow. She thought there should be more of an outward sign, a certain glow in her features, an aura of delight clearly visible to others. But
all she had was uncertainty, fear and hopelessness that the child’s father thought so poorly of her.

Of course, much of it was her own fault. She’d been little less than a virago the whole time she’d been with him, fighting him at every turn. How ironic now to realise how much she loved him when there was nothing she could do to convince him of her change of heart. He’d cynically assume it was another one of her ploys to ensnare him, to get him to provide a home and security for herself and her child.

She met him outside the changing-rooms with her clothes bundled under her arm. His eyes swept over her in an appreciative male manner, lingering momentarily on the gen-tle curves of her breasts. He reached for her clothes and put them along with his in the backpack. Emily feasted her eyes on his long lean body, the muscles of his stomach and chest rippling as he placed her things on top of his.

‘Come on.’ He reached for her hand once more. ‘Let’s get wet.’

She followed him down to the lapping surf, her hand still in his. She hesitated once the water foamed around her ankles and he stopped and turned to her encouragingly.

‘Come on, I’ll hold on to you. I won’t let you go.’

Emily allowed him to lead her further into the surf, wishing with all her heart that he would never let her go. She wanted to be by his side for ever, facing everything in life together—most particularly the birth of their child.

The water was now around her waist and she squealed as the cool waves lapped at her.

‘That’s enough,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to go in any deeper.’

‘Where’s that fighting spirit of yours?’ he teased, pulling her in deeper. ‘Here comes a nice wave. Turn your back and jump.’

She did as he directed and laughed when the wall of water broke over her hips, splashing her right up to her breasts.

‘It’s cold!’ she squealed again.

‘Here’s another one—watch out!’

Emily turned and the wave hit her full on. She felt the rush of water drag at her legs but Damien’s hand was still tightly holding hers. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and smiled up at him.

‘We’ll dive under the next one.’ He smiled back at her. ‘Once we get out a bit it’s a whole lot calmer.’

‘I’m not going out there!’ Emily stared at the rolling breakers in front of them.

‘It’s just here that it’s rough, where the breakers are spilling. Look out beyond that last wave—nothing, just still water.’

She clung to his hand and allowed him to lead her out. After one or two big waves caught her she realised he was not going to let her go. She suddenly found herself enjoying it. A wave would roll towards them and he’d instruct her to turn her back and jump over it, and, just like a roller coaster ride, her body would be lifted up and then put down once the wall of water had passed. It wasn’t long before they were beyond the breakers, where the water was calm, the waves gently forming and rolling towards the shore, lifting their bodies from time to time before carrying on towards the sand, gathering momentum as they went.

‘I’ve never been out this far before,’ she said excitedly as she trod water beside him. ‘I’ve always been too scared.’

Damien smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re starting to trust me.’

Emily waited until the next roll of water lifted them both before replying. ‘But you don’t trust me. That hardly seems fair, don’t you think?’

He pulled her against him when a larger wave rolled towards them. Emily found her legs entwined with his, her breasts pushed up against his chest as the wave carried them forwards slightly until it went on without them to crash thunderously against the shell-encrusted shore.

He released her once the wave had gone and trod water beside her, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

‘Trust is a bit like respect; you have to earn it.’

‘It’s very hard to earn someone’s trust when they have a deep-seated bias against you,’ she said, pushing a piece of floating seaweed away from her.

‘You worked very hard to construct that bias, so I’m afraid you’ll have to work even harder to remove it,’ he said.

‘So it’s all up to me, then, is it?’ she asked, blinking the sting of salt water out of her eyes.

‘It’s up to both of us. We each have to make an effort, otherwise there’d be no point in pursuing this at all.’

She wanted to tell him there
was
no point. Certainly not while he had such misunderstandings about her. But just then a larger than normal wave began building behind them and he reached for her hand once more.

‘Come on, let’s see if we can catch this one to the shore.’

She followed his instructions and let the wave carry her with an exhilarating rush towards the beach. The wave spat her out in the shallows and she got to her feet, her long hair like a mermaid’s around her shoulders, her eyes shining with triumph.

‘I did it!’

He came towards her, his tall lean body glistening in the sun, his strongly muscled thighs cutting through the swirling water like a hot knife through butter. His eyes ran over her lightly.

‘So you did. Well done, and you kept your top on too. That’s some achievement.’

Emily had to smile. Her bikini top was full of sand and bits of seaweed and she’d had to clutch at her bikini bot-toms before she’d stood up to cover herself respectably.

‘Only just.’ She picked out a piece of sea lettuce from between her breasts and threw it back into the water. She looked back up at him, still smiling. ‘Thanks for taking me out there. I would never have done it by myself.’

He lifted his hand and removed another piece of seaweed from her hair, his body so close to hers she could feel the
warmth of his flesh. She could see the crystals of salt water clinging to his dark eyelashes. His dark hair was pushed back off his forehead, the tense lines about his mouth no-where to be seen. She lowered her eyes to the smooth mus-cles of his chest, where droplets of sea water were trickling, making her ache to reach out and lick them away with her tongue…

A small child ran past them in the shallows and then toppled over as his little legs tripped in a gutter of sand underneath the foamy shallows. He came up screaming and Emily rushed to him, helping him up and reassuring him. The child’s mother hurried over, carrying another small child of about a year old on one hip.

‘Oh, thank you!’ she said gratefully to Emily. ‘He’s such a tearaway at times. I only turned my back for a second and he was back in the water.’

‘That’s OK.’ She stroked the little boy on the head. ‘He’s gorgeous. How old is he?’

‘Three going on thirteen,’ the young woman said rue-fully. ‘Come on, Matthew, let’s go and get an ice cream.’

The little boy trotted off with his mother and baby sister, turning once to wave back at Emily.

‘It seems you’ve got what it takes,’ Damien said as they walked towards their things on the sand.

She looked up at him, hunting his face for the derision she’d come to expect. ‘Meaning?’

He handed her a towel, his fingers brushing hers.

‘You’ll make a good mother. You have a natural affinity with children.’

She dried herself roughly as she replied, ‘You say that as if you had some doubt before.’

‘Not at all. I was just making an observation.’

‘How comforting to know you’re such an expert on de-termining whether a woman is good mother material or not. I’m glad I meet your exacting standards.’

He frowned at her as he slipped on his casual shirt, leaving it unbuttoned.

‘Would you rather I’d said you weren’t suited?’ he asked gruffly. ‘What is it with you? Every time I give you a compliment you throw it back in my face.’

‘I’m not used to hearing compliments from you.’

‘Well, then, I’ll have to work on that omission. Let’s start with this one: you look absolutely stunning in that almost-there black bikini. How’s that?’

Emily tossed her sand-encrusted hair. ‘It’s a good start.’

‘And I think you’ve got a beautiful smile when you relax enough to use it.’

She stared at him. How she wished she could tell him about her friendship with Rose. She still didn’t understand why Rose insisted she keep quiet about it. It just didn’t make any sense.

‘But I suppose Danny’s told you that many times,’ he added cynically when she didn’t respond.

‘Danny’s full of insincere compliments. I learned not to pay too much attention.’

‘Wise of you.’

They continued walking along in silence, the warmth of the afternoon sun soaking into their bodies. When they got back to Bondi Beach it was even more crowded than it had been earlier.

‘Let’s grab a coffee before we head home,’ he suggested, leading her across the busy street.

She fell into step beside him and when he finally found a vacant seat for her she slipped into it gratefully. She felt tired and more than a little out of her depth. He seemed so unreachable most of the time—aloof, distant, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with her. They’d shared such inti-macy, but ever since he’d found out about her pregnancy he’d kept his distance, hardly touching her, as if he couldn’t bear to do so. It made her feel so empty and alone, and she craved his touch all the more, even though she knew it was hopeless. His love was directed elsewhere—to Linda Janssen. She’d seen it with her own eyes; there was no
point in pretending it didn’t exist. It did, and it was tearing her heart apart to even think about it.

The coffees arrived and Emily busied herself with toying with the milky froth of her latte with her teaspoon.

‘Emily.’

She looked up from her coffee; his eyes were on her, his expression serious.

‘Yes?’

He stirred his coffee absently before saying, ‘I think it’s about time I took you to visit my aunt.’

Emily’s fingers on her teaspoon stilled. ‘Has…has she requested it?’ she asked.

He gave a rueful half-smile. ‘Rose has been wanting to meet you for weeks, but I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. I’ve decided it’s time.’

‘What you mean is you didn’t think I could be trusted, isn’t that more to the point?’ she asked with a resentful edge to her voice.

‘What I think is largely irrelevant,’ he said evenly. ‘Rose wants us both to come to dinner tonight.’

‘Does she know…’ Emily chewed her lip briefly. ‘Have you told her about—?’

‘No.’ His eyes moved away from hers. ‘I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. She’ll find out soon enough. Perhaps you could announce it at dinner.’

‘I’m not sure my pregnancy would be an appropriate topic for a Double Bay dinner party,’ she said. ‘Especially since you’re claiming not to be the father.’

The silence was palpable. She lifted her eyes to his and then wished she hadn’t. The hard glint of barely suppressed anger reflected there frightened her.

‘How did you find out where she lives?’

Emily blinked at him, wondering what to say. He pushed his half-finished coffee away and stood up. She got to her feet and followed him out of the café, her steps dragging.

‘Get in the car,’ he commanded, opening the door for her, his tone frigid.

‘Damien, I—’

‘Get in the damn car.’

She got in the car and he shut the door heavily. She sat nervously as he went to the driver’s side and got in.

‘I expressly forbade you to make any contact with my aunt,’ he ground out as he started the car. ‘That was part of the deal.’

‘I didn’t make contact with your aunt,’ she said. ‘She made contact with me. Literally.’

Damien turned to look at her, his hands still white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

‘When? What do you mean?’

‘When you were interstate. I walked into her in the street three doors from your house and nearly knocked her over.’

He turned back to the task of driving through the intersection, his mouth set into a grim line. ‘What a windfall that must have been,’ he derided. ‘Tell me, did you take notes?’

‘Of course not! It was nothing like that.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘So, what else is new?’ she chipped at him. ‘You don’t believe a lot of things I tell you. Why should this be any different?’

‘How many times have you seen her?’

‘Several.’

He drove on in a rigid silence. Emily sat with her head turned to the passing scenery, her eyes seeing nothing. After a long pause he turned to glance at her.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because she told me not to.’

The traffic moved ahead and he turned back to concentrate on his driving.

‘All the same, you should have told me.’

‘What? And break a confidence?’ She glared across at him. ‘You’re always telling me how untrustworthy I am, how I’d do anything for a good story. I decided to prove you wrong for once.’