Loving Lydia (Atlantic Divide) (13 page)

“Sam,” came the loud whisper from the culprit. Aaron.

“Uh.”

“Sam, Mummy’s still asleep.” He rolled and the child fell off his chest into the center of the big, soft bed. Aaron’s mummy was lying face down spread-eagled with one arm flopped over the edge of the bed and the opposite leg laying possessively across both of his. She was sound asleep.

He slipped out from under her and beckoned for Aaron to follow him just as Rosie peeked her head around the doorway. He picked his clothes up on the way and sneaked a look back at Lydia. She wasn’t moving any time soon. He would have liked some time to look at her while she slept, but he thought it was more important to get the little rascals out of earshot. She obviously needed sleep more than he did.

He put the television on with their favorite DVD to play, and then slipped into the downstairs bath for a quick shower. He rubbed his teeth over with his finger and eyed his unshaven face in the mirror. He needed a plan.

By the time Lydia came downstairs looking fresh and edible, Rosie and Aaron were eating French toast like it was going out of business.

“Who broke in and vandalized the place?” Her eyes scanned the counter that was covered in broken eggs, spilled milk, and breadcrumbs. Numerous bowls and pans had been thrown wildly around. Gritty sugar covered the entire counter and spilled down onto the floor as they’d made a hell of a mess in their pursuit of breakfast.

Sam smiled and shrugged. It was no big deal; he could tidy up.

“Sam let us make our own breakfast,” Rosie volunteered happily.

“Oh. I see.” A pretty smile split her face as her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Have you heard from Kate and Jack?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Little girl, born at six eighteen this morning, Gemma Louise, seven pounds three ounces.” Jack’s weary voice came from the back door.

“If she’s a good girl, they’re going to allow them home tomorrow afternoon.”

Delighted for his brother, Sam watched Jack’s chest puff out with pride and Lydia’s eyes fill with tears as she ran forward to hug him. Jack scanned the kitchen.

“Who broke in?”

Tears flowed freely from both Kate and Lydia when Sam took her to visit the hospital two hours later. Sam stared down at the new addition with mild curiosity. With a shock of almost-black hair, the baby looked insultingly like her father after being carried by her mother for nine months. Her very proud father, who needed to be forced to give up possession of his little girl so Lydia could nestle her into her bosom.

Chapter 7

He watched his brother fawn over wife and daughter, and then flicked his gaze over to Aaron and Rosie, who were taking their duties as older cousins so seriously. Fetching and carrying tiny diapers, miniature socks, and onesies.

Rosie wanted to change Gemma’s clothes every three minutes, but Sam could tell Aaron’s interest was waning. He suspected Aaron was a little disappointed with a girl, but then he was probably more disappointed because she got lots of attention and hardly moved at all, and after a whole week of being home, she still didn’t do more than wave her arms and legs in the air. When she waved them furiously, that awful howling sound came out of her.

He could feel a silent chuckle in his chest as he watched the boy. Sam had kept away for the last few days to give them all time and space for the newborn to settle in. He’d still seen the twins down at the riding lessons, but Lydia had stayed to help out her sister, and he hadn’t managed to get his hands on her again.

He watched Jack move across the kitchen to help himself to coffee just as Lydia walked in the door, a small pair of pink sneakers in her hands. As she spotted him, her pretty skin flushed becomingly, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she gave him a small smile of acknowledgement. He wanted to eat her. Right there and then need rose in him so viciously he felt his stomach cramp. He wanted it all—the woman, the kids, the newborn baby—and he wanted it all now. He wanted to howl with frustration that nothing had happened in days. He hadn’t even seen Lydia, never mind reach his goal to get her naked. He needed to get out of there. He stood up and scraped the chair back sharply in his panic. Kate stood at the same time and looked straight into his soul.

“Sam, take Gemma for me, will you? I need something upstairs.” He glanced around to check out what the other adults were doing. Jack raised his mug of hot coffee in salute, and Lydia was preoccupied as she slipped sneakers onto Rosie’s feet. Kate’s smile was sly as she handed the baby over to him. It was the first time he’d held her, and his heart almost stopped as Kate tucked her safely into the crook of his arm.

Sinking back into the chair, his chest filled as he watched the cherubic face. He was surprised at how much she took after his brother, thick, black hair with the same hairline curving around her face. Her eyes were very definitely brown, and as they fluttered closed, he watched her tiny fist find its way to her little rosebud mouth, which opened automatically at the touch of her own hand to her cheek. She turned her head seeking the source of that touch. Warmth radiated from his stomach. Her little mouth was just like her cousin Rosie’s. Perfect, sweet little Cupid’s bow and a full pouty bottom lip.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at her, and still smiled when he glanced over at Lydia as she opened the door to the yard so the children could go for their riding lesson. Her clear, green eyes were unnaturally bright and filled with a turmoil of sadness and regret as she turned away. He felt the lump in his chest turn to uncertainty.

She looked as though she had been crying by the time he caught up with her. She sat on a small rug on the grass as she watched the children lead Carl on a merry dance.

“Is something wrong?” He lowered himself beside her, making sure he pressed up against her side as close as he could get. He felt her move away and annoyance unfurled softly in his stomach like a slow moving snake that checked out its prey before it decided whether or not to strike.

She leaned forward and picked up the camera she’d brought along with her to take pictures of the children. It appeared to give her trembling hands something to keep them occupied, and she seemed to use it as an excuse not to meet his eyes. He felt the tightening coils in his belly, but patience won and he waited her out.

She brought the camera up to her eye and adjusted the telescopic sight until Rosie and the pony were in focus. The shutter clicked in rapid-fire succession, and she lowered the camera back to her lap.

“I saw the way you looked at Gemma.”

“Exactly how did I look at Gemma?”

She lifted the camera back up to her eye, zoomed in, and took some shots of Aaron as he kicked up dust in the stable yard.

“Like she was the best thing in the world.”

“She is.”

“Like that’s exactly what you want.”

“I do.”

Impatient, she placed the camera back down and turned to look at him. At last he could see her. He saw the fear, the confusion, and the turmoil.

“You should be looking for a woman who can give you that.”

“I’ve found the woman I want.”

She snorted with derision. “What if I can’t give you anything, Sam? I have two babies. If nothing else, I can love and cherish that fact for the rest of my life. But you … you need a woman who can give you everything. You deserve a woman who can do that.” She drew her legs under her and came up on her knees so that she leaned in close, her eyes filled with misery and conviction. “I can’t guarantee to give you that.”

He let the whiplash of his annoyance dictate. Grabbing her, he pulled her on top of him and then rolled until she lay flat on her back on the thick grass by the side of the rug. Careful not to put his weight on top of her, he leaned over and brought his face close to hers. The sun reflected from her bright, green eyes and her pupils dilated as she met his stare.

“I’m not asking for guarantees, Lydia,” he ground out, allowing his frustration to show. “No one gets guarantees in life.” He stared down as she wet her lips nervously. “I’m just asking for a chance.” He let the anger follow through and lowered his mouth to hers. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth and allowed his hands the freedom he’d avoided giving them to roam her curves.

Her body lay stiff for a moment before he felt her arms come around his neck. He hauled her so that they lay on their sides facing each other, nudged her legs apart, and felt her welcome him closer. Her mouth softened, her tongue tangled with his, and she pressed closer. Her lush little body sent his system into overdrive. Her hand slid up the inside of his T-shirt and her nails gently raked his back, causing his hips to roll against hers.

The sound of his groan was overpowered by the shriek of two laughing, whooping children as they leaped on top of them, both demanding to join in the game of rolling in the long grass.

Laughter rumbled through his chest as Sam raised his head to see Jack and Kate standing over them with baby Gemma cradled in Jack’s arms. Lydia scrambled up, her pretty face flushed and well-kissed, and proceeded to tickle Rosie until she screamed with laughter.

Carl leaned on the fence and pushed his hat to the back of his head. “You two should get a room.”

Lydia straightened Rosie’s clothes and then her own. Her face was a beautiful shade of crimson. Sam wondered if he should rescue her, and then realized he didn’t care to, so he sat back on his heels and laughed as Aaron clung on to his neck and shoulders like a monkey. Putting his hands behind his head, he grabbed the child and somersaulted him over into his lap.

Kate lowered herself gingerly onto the rug, saying nothing, just lifting an arched eyebrow. As her husband lay down next to her and shuffled the baby onto his chest, her eyes shifted to watch her snuggle into her daddy.

“I did that with Sam when he was in Mummy’s bed.” Aaron’s clear little voice carried to the adult ears, and Lydia’s crimson face turned puce as she slapped her hands up to her cheeks.

Sam met Jack’s slow, lazy look and tried not to fidget like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It had been totally innocent, but if it hadn’t, it was no one’s business but theirs, and he didn’t think he should be judged. His eyes cruised over to Kate as her mouth dropped open and she stared at her sister, who now had her face and hands tucked into her knees and was rocking. It took him a split second to realize she wasn’t still laughing. He felt a slither of anger crawl up his spine at her mortification. Why did she feel so embarrassed that people assumed they were sleeping together? Didn’t she think he was good enough to put his hands on her? He leaned over and wrenched her hands away from her face so she stared deep into his eyes.

Rage danced through his veins. She gave him a puzzled look as though she had no idea why he would be angry.

“You may be everything I want,” he ground out, “but excuse me if I failed to ask what it is that you want.” He stood and brushed his clothes off and glanced at the children who were preoccupied as they performed little cartwheels, their sturdy legs flipped up two inches as their hands hit the floor.

“I’ll make sure I keep my dirty hands off you in the future.”

He needed to walk away before the pain became so intolerable it left him scarred for life. She’d made it clear she couldn’t love him, but he thought it was only a matter of time before he could bring her round. Now, she’d made it clear that she was embarrassed by him.

“Sam? Sam!”

He simply couldn’t look back; his long legs lengthened the distance between them.

Chapter 8

She’d stolen one of the trucks from the stable yard when she realized he’d taken off on his horse, headed for his own house. She followed the dirt track across the ranch and kept her fingers crossed that it would lead her to the right place. Relief coursed through her when she found the horse turned loose in his yard as she got there. She just hoped no one reported her for theft of the truck. She would never have stood a chance if she’d had to search for him across the acres of ranch land, but she would have given it a go.

Now she had to see if she stood a chance anyway.

It made her worry as she slipped quietly into a house that she didn’t really know, except for the route up and down to the bedroom. She wasn’t in the habit of walking into other people’s houses uninvited, and she felt uncomfortable as she sneaked through. She needed to keep as silent as possible just in case he heard her and climbed out the back window.

She didn’t understand why he’d been so annoyed about this. It was only natural for her to feel embarrassed about them being caught out. Wasn’t it? After all, they weren’t even together. They may never be. Was she totally unreasonable? She wasn’t sure that she wanted to apologize this time, but she needed to do something to prove that she wasn’t ashamed of him, simply uncomfortable with the fact that her own children had just announced to the world that they had found Sam in her bed. If the truth be known, Kate was probably delighted and Jack … well, Jack would probably pat his brother on the back.

She had no idea why she had felt so embarrassed. She had missed out on that teenage giggly-schoolgirl reaction when she was younger, but she felt she had just displayed all the attributes of a fifteen-year-old girl. Sam seemed to inspire that reaction in her.

As she walked through his living room into his kitchen, she heard water running. The sound came from upstairs. She crept through his house silent and cautious.

*

He knew he’d been unreasonable, but the clawing sensation of an animal inside of him was driving him crazy. He wanted her. She had no idea how much he wanted her, otherwise she would take off back to England with her kids in tow. It seemed like she might be about to.

It wasn’t just a passing fancy like he had with all the women he’d ever been with. From the moment he first saw her, he’d been aware of a primitive possessiveness that raged through him screaming take, take.

She belonged to him, and if she knew that was the way he thought of her, she would probably kick his ass out of her life anyhow. She’d already had one possessive, abusive husband. She hardly needed another one. Not that he would ever so much as harm a hair on her head, but she was his. His.