Wedding-Night Baby (15 page)

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Authors: Kim Lawrence

BOOK: Wedding-Night Baby
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She swallowed convulsively as she listened to the rasp of his voice.
‘You were warm and sensuous, Georgina. I should thank you for bringing me back to reality with a bump, waking up to find myself very alone the next morning. I might have made the same mistake my father did and confused lust for something else.'
‘You were hardly a passive victim, Callum,' she responded shakily as she absorbed the implication of his last admission.
‘I suppose under the circumstances you think you were the victim.'
‘There's not much to be gained from allocating blame. We made a baby,' Georgina said quietly. ‘I suppose that's all that really matters. If we hadn't I wouldn't be here, we wouldn't be together.'
‘Why did you go to May, not me?'
The hard question threw her off balance. ‘I didn't go to him, Callum. He just happened—'
‘Never mind, it doesn't alter anything,' he interrupted tersely.
She stared in frustration at his closed expression and pushed away her plate. Sometimes, she mused angrily, he acted as if he was jealous, which was ridiculous.
 
 
The house was a sprawling converted farmhouse built of a rosy-hued stone. It was nestled on the lower slopes of a hillside above the fertile plains of a valley.
‘You went out like a light,' Callum said as she rubbed her eyes and blinked around her. ‘Slobbering all over my shoulder.'
‘I do not slobber,' she contradicted him, recalling with a flush the muscled curve she had awoken against ‘Drool gently maybe...' she conceded, stretching luxuriously.
‘It's not as remote as it seems,' Callum continued, helping her out of the passenger seat. ‘The other approach road leads to a market town that's only a few kilometres away. My housekeeper, Mathilde, has agreed to move in, at least until after the baby is born, so you won't be alone. Her English is better than your French,' he added in a teasing tone.
‘I've a jailer! How cosy,' she snapped, reluctantly accepting his help to lever herself from the vehicle. Right now it was winter but this was the sort of place that would have bougainvillea growing over the roof in summer; she liked it immediately. Will I still be here in the summer? she wondered.
If Georgina felt ungainly as she straightened up it was nothing to how she felt as a tall, slim shape emerged from the sprawling house and ran up the slight incline right into Callum's arms. She kissed him warmly on the lips and drew back, smiling. By the time the woman's eyes turned to her Georgina felt as unwieldy as the average tank.
‘When did you breeze in, Josie?' Callum enquired, not seeming to find her form of greeting anything out of the ordinary. Georgina had ample opportunity to see that the young woman's profile was perfect.
‘Last Saturday. Greg asked me to lend a hand as you were...delayed in London.' The willowy brunette flicked
Georgina a cold glance and turned her attention back to Callum.
‘That was good of you, Josie. How's the weather been?' he asked, his eyes lifting to the dark clouds overhead.
‘Cold enough to make me feel at home,' came back the laughing remark.
The wind was icy and Georgina was already aware of it cutting through the light fabric of her jacket. She certainly didn't feel at home; she felt like an intruder. ‘I'll go in if you've no objection,' she said stiffly.
‘Sorry, I haven't introduced you two. Georgina, this is Josie Dupont, my partner Greg's sister.'
Georgina responded to the slight inclination of the other girl's head in kind. She had to concede that the other girl was attractive, if you liked long-limbed, athletic creatures with madonna-like features. She was gloomily certain from his attitude that Callum did. Partner—she hadn't even known he had a partner, but then, she didn't know all that much about Callum, she reminded herself.
‘Watch the cobbles outside the back door,' Callum yelled after her. ‘They get slippery after rain.'
Georgina was panting when she stepped into the warmth of the large, flagstoned room and pushed the protective hood off her hair. As she shook the strands back the rich colour glowed in the subdued light; pregnancy had enhanced her crowning glory.
The kitchen ran the full width of the house. Its walls were exposed stone and the dark beams, from which drying herbs hung in bundles, were low. An ancient range stood in the inglenook, but, seeing the modern appliances in the room, she assumed its presence was more aesthetic than practical.
‘Mathilde!' Callum yelled as he caught her up. ‘You could have broken your neck out there,' he accused, casting
Georgina an exasperated glance. ‘Mathilde!' he said again.
‘Oh, Cal, I gave her the day off. Her niece was getting married and she was desperate to go. I said you wouldn't mind. Did I do wrong?' Josie asked, grimacing prettily as she looked up at him.
‘Of course not,' Callum said, the line of concentration between his dark brows clearly revealing that he wasn't happy with the situation. ‘I need to catch up on things and see Greg; he's been carrying my load long enough as it is.'
I suppose that's my fault too, Georgina thought, swamped by a sense of isolation. Why had she allowed him to bring her here, take control of her life so completely? I must have been insane, she thought despairingly.
‘What's stopping you?' the brunette asked.
‘I can't leave Georgina alone.'
‘Don't be ridiculous,' Georgina snapped, her colour heightened as she intercepted the disdainful look the other girl flicked her. ‘Isn't the winery here?' she asked. She had assumed the outbuildings she'd glimpsed housed it.
Josie gave a superior smile. ‘No, it's the other side of the valley,' she explained with a mix of superiority and scorn that made Georgina's blood simmer. ‘I'm sure Georgina understands you have other commitments, Callum.'
And are you one of them? Georgina wondered, watching the way the girl smiled at Callum. Josie was cool, capable and very easy on the eye—just the sort of female Callum wouldn't mind hanging on his every word, she thought sourly. She also had a waist, which was very tactless of her!
‘It's not open for discussion,' Callum said firmly. ‘Tell Greg to come over for dinner. You too. of course. We can catch up then.'
Josie had to be satisfied with that and she hid her pique
well, but Georgina knew from the unfriendly glare she received that she was far from pleased with the outcome of this discussion. She'd wanted to whisk Callum away and she wasn't pleased at having her plans thwarted.
‘I'll show you your room and you can rest,' Callum observed after the sounds of a four-wheel drive had disappeared into the distance.
‘I don't need a keeper.'
‘Opinion differs on that one,' he said drily. ‘You do need a rest and if you weren't so stubborn you'd admit it.'
Common sense made her abandon her objections. A steep staircase led to the upper storey and Callum showed her into a large, airy room furnished mainly with antiques. The large bed had a brass frame and it was covered with a patchwork quilt. The flowers on the bureau made it seem possible that the absent Mathilde might be more welcoming than Josie; hopefully she wasn't in love with Callum too.
There seemed to be a rash of that particular disease at the moment, she thought, recalling the expression in Josie's grey eyes as she'd looked at Callum. If they'd had a relationship, or even
still
had a relationship, she thought with a swallow, no wonder the young woman viewed her with a lack of enthusiasm.
‘It's very nice,' she said awkwardly. She turned to find Callum watching her with that curious intensity that was unique to him. She experienced the usual frisson of sensation that always occurred when she looked directly at him. It prickled along her senses like neat electricity. For a fleeting moment the awful sense of longing nearly swamped her. The effort to tear herself free of the hopeless yearning made her tremble. ‘I am tired.'
Callum had looked as though he was about to say something but he pulled up short at her prosaic announcement and nodded curtly. ‘If you need anything, just yell. There's
a bathroom through that door,' he said, indicating the far end of the room.
Too tired to think, she kicked off her shoes and slid fully clothed beneath the bedcovers. Her dreams were dark, vivid and troubled...
She awoke with a start, sitting upright, confused and disorientated in a strange, darkened room. It took several heart-thudding moments before her temporary amnesia lifted.
It wasn't much more comforting to recall the truth; she was in some remote corner of the Languedoc with Callum, even though it was fairly obvious he wished her elsewhere. How much more cosy it would have been for him to return to find the lissom Josie on his doorstep.
If I hadn't been hanging around his neck like some sort of albatross he wouldn't have sent her packing, she thought bitterly. She spent a few agonising moments imagining what Callum and Josie would have been doing under different circumstances.
Always self-sufficient, it hurt Georgina to have her independence snatched away. It was made worse because Callum was the person she had become dependent on. His motivation was clear enough he felt the responsibility for the unborn child deeply. The fact that he was prepared to put up with her presence proved that.
She couldn't let herself grow used to being cherished and protected because the situation was a purely temporary one. How was she ever going to recover from this mindless infatuation when she was constantly seeing him? Infatuation! she thought with a grim smile. How like her to use euphemisms to hide from the truth, she thought with self-deprecating humour. All the associations, relationships and infatuations were not going to change the fact that she was in love with him!
She felt a movement in her belly and smiled, throwing
off her dark thoughts. Home was already growing cramped for the little one.
Exploring, she found the deep claw-footed bath a temptation. She turned on the taps and slowly slipped off her creased garments. Her reflection in the cheval-glass as she placed the bundle on the bed caught her eye. With fascination she looked at the swollen contours of her belly and the heavy ripeness of her breasts. The continual changes never failed to amaze her.
A movement on the periphery of her vision made her head turn as she gave a startled gasp. ‘Callum!' Instinctively she snatched up her discarded shirt and held it in front of her.
She closed her eyes, imagining how gross and ugly he must find her body. She didn't want to look at him, sure that, at best, her own embarrassment must be mirrored in his eyes. She couldn't bear to see his repugnance.
‘My God...' she heard him breathe.
Her eyes flickered open in protest as she felt the cotton shirt being firmly removed from her grip.
‘You should be proud of the way you look, Georgina,' he said in a faintly unsteady voice that she hardly recognised.
She stood immobile as his hand tentatively touched the place where a waistline had once been. His expression was one of quiet awe and the touch of his long, sensitive fingers was gentle.
The glow of warm sensuality she felt surprised her. Confused and agitated, she wasn't sure she ought to feel like this in her present condition. But then why should being a mother stop her being a sensual person with healthy needs and appetites? Appetites that only Callum could excite.
She desperately wanted to step closer to him and increase the contact between them. ‘I am proud,' she said as
emotion rose to clog her throat. ‘But I don't expect anyone else to share my fascination. I know I'm a bit of a blob.' She tried to smile to show she didn't mind if he thought that.
His blue eyes flickered to her face. ‘You're beautiful, lush and ripe,' he said, his deep voice vibrantly caressing. ‘I've never been this close to a miracle before.'
His response was too fervent to be a mere sop to her vanity. She gave a convulsive shiver and his expression changed to one of concern.
‘You're cold,' he said, drawing a blanket off the bed.
‘I was about to have a bath.'
‘Come on, then; I'll help you. I don't want you falling; the sides are pretty steep.'
She didn't protest even though his reason sounded pretty thin; she might be a bit restricted but she could still climb in and out of a bath. It was a little like living out a part of her fantasy. A fantasy of having him close, cherishing her the way a lover—in the true sense of the word—would. If this child had been the result of a true, loving relationship this wouldn't be a fantasy, it would be real. Her starved senses had to be content with the illusion of intimacy.
Wordlessly he soaped her back and the heavy fullness of her breasts, his eyes examining the darkened aureoles of her nipples with open curiosity. Her body tingled from his gentle ministrations. He seemed fascinated by her body and she was content to watch the water slide off his sinewed forearms through half-closed eyes. She felt warm, relaxed and strangely at peace.

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