The Honor Bound Groom

Well, postponing it wasn’t getting the job done—or making it any easier. After running a quick brush through her hair, she charged out. Immediately she noticed that the back door was bolted and the outside lights shut off—and Mac must have hung up her coat because it had disappeared—so he was obviously in the house somewhere.

She padded through the kitchen, trying to remember the downstairs layout. The east side of the house held the kitchen, a long dining room with cushioned window seats and then a library/study kind of room with a fireplace and ceiling-tall bookshelves and a fat, plush, Oriental carpet in a million colors. She half hoped to find Mac there—she’d already identified that room as a great private haven—but no dice.

Across the hall was a polished staircase leading up, and although she didn’t remember much about the west side of the house—she didn’t have to. She promptly found Mac in the giant living room. And one look from the doorway was enough to make restless nerves prowl through her pulse again.

The room was ... stupendous. The ceiling and walls had all been paneled in heart-of-redwood. A stone fireplace arched to the beamed ceiling and was big enough to roast a boar. None of the furnishings were exactly fancy. They were just ultracool guy stuff—a ten-million-button entertainment center, throne-size chairs, two long couches, sturdy antiques with a western flavor, fabrics in a forest green that complemented the rich redwood. The whole darn room was perfect—at least for a guy—except for the pile of battered suitcases and boxes all over the place.

Mac had shed his tux coat and unlatched the buttons at the top of his shirt. Until he saw her, he was hunkered down by the hearth, getting a fire going. Flames were already dancing, licking the kindling, warming the whole room with the tangy scent of pine—but all she could see were her waiflike suitcases cluttering up his elegant room.

He stood up with a smile. “I was wondering if you got lost.”

“I’d probably better tell you now—I’ve got the geographical sense of a deaf bat. I can get lost in a room with one door. You’ve got a beautiful home, Mac.”

“Your home now, too.” He motioned to the piled suitcases. “I had your things moved this afternoon so you wouldn’t have to be carrying anything on your own—but I couldn’t guess on the bigger items like furniture. I thought we could go over to your apartment in a few days? And then you could choose whatever you wanted to bring here—”

“Um, most of my stuff is pretty much early-attic. I don’t think anything is exactly going to fit in here too well.”

“We’ll find room. Or just move some of my things out. For that matter, if you want to redecorate or change something, all you have to do is say. And in the meantime, I didn’t mean to dump everything here—or leave it for you to carry. But without asking you first, I didn’t know where you wanted to sleep. Do you remember the upstairs?”

“To be honest, no.” Actually she remembered the master bedroom—Mac’s bedroom—with embarrassing clarity. But she’d been too nervous that day to pay much attention to anything specific about the house.

“Well...upstairs there are five spare bedrooms. I figured you’d want to choose two—one to fix up for the baby and one for you? But I didn’t know which ones would suit you without asking. I also thought, you must be exhausted after this long day—maybe you’d just like to pick a bed to sleep in tonight, and save any other decisions until tomorrow or when you feel up to it.”

“That sounds fine. I really don’t care where I lay my head tonight.” Kelly thought this was going like a dream—only too much so. He didn’t seem to notice that her suitcases looked like Little Orphan Annie had come to visit. A small tray on the coffee table held two glasses—the one with milk was obviously considerately meant for her. He’d eased into discussing the sleeping arrangements the same way he’d handled the wedding, the drive, everything—Kelly didn’t know what she expected, but it was never this level of perception and thoughtfulness. He was taking care of her as if she was precious china, for Pete’s sake, when he’d been stuck with this marriage no different than she had.

“We can either go upstairs now and get you settled in...or maybe you’d like to just put your feet up in front of the fire and unwind for a while—”

“Mac.” She reached for the glass of milk and gulped down a slug. “Don’t you dare say one more kind thing. You’re just making me miserable.”

“Miserable?” Instantly he quit messing with the fire and surged to his feet. “Hell, why didn’t you say something? It is the baby? Are you sick—?”

“No, no, it’s not that kind of miserable. I just feel...look, I’m disrupting your whole life. It’s one thing to believe we had good reasons for doing this, and another to figure out how to be comfortable together. Everywhere I look you’ve got this great house all set up for a bachelor, and suddenly you’re stuck with a woman who goes in for lace curtains and a pink couch. Somehow we’ve got to figure out how to talk the same language.”

Mac looked confused. “There’s no problem, Kelly. If you want lace curtains in here—”

“No. Holy kamoly. No. They’d look awful.” The mental picture of frothy curtains against the rich, dark heart-of-redwood almost made her laugh. “I didn’t mean I cared about anything like that. I just...would you mind if I asked you some blunt, nosy questions?”

“Of course not. Shoot.” He settled in one of the massive forest green chairs and motioned her to take the other.

She considered a straight chair—knowing how hard it was to get in and out of anything these days—but the only straight chair in the room was a mile from Mac. So she sank into the luxuriously fat cushions of the chair across from him and started in. “There are so many things we talked about before. I know you realized how frightened I was the night I was attacked—”

“I know. And I just wish I could change things, Kelly, but I’m afraid criminals tend to prey on a family like the Fortunes.”

“I understand that now. But when I fell in love with your brother, I’m afraid I never even thought about his being a Fortune—or how that could affect me or my child.” She chugged another gulp of milk. “What I’m trying to say, though, is that your asking me to marry you solved so many things. Just from the angle of protection alone, I’ve got you behind me, and the Fortune family and those nice big, tall gates.”

“And your baby will have a name.”

She nodded. “Yes. He—or she—will have the last nam he’s entitled to, and the family relationships that go with that. Securing a future for my baby—Mac, that’s everything to me. But we’ve been through all that, too. All those pa pers you had me sign. They were all a benefit to me. To my child. You even built an easy out for me into all those legalese papers—”

Mac cocked a black-stockinged foot on the coffee table From his quizzical expression, he still didn’t understand where she was leading this conversation. “The trust we se up for the baby was to secure his future no matter what we choose to do down the road. And we talked about this Kelly. You’re especially vulnerable now, this late in a preg nancy—and right after the baby’s born, too. But those cir cumstances aren’t going to be the same, down the pike, and that means you could want to make different choices. We both agreed there’s no reason this marriage has to last if i stops working at some point.”

Kelly again made a gesture of frustration. “Yes. Al that’s great. I know all the advantages for me and the baby But that’s just it. It’s so one-sided. What on earth is in this arrangement for you?”

Mac’s eyebrows arched as if the answer to that question should have been obvious to her. “It was because of my brother that you were put in danger. We may never know if that jerk meant to kidnap you, but there’ve been kidnap pings in the family before. Con artists, thieves, blackmai schemes tried on us. And your relationship with Chad mad the society columns often enough to make the public awar that you’re pregnant with a Fortune child.”

“But it was Chad who put me in that situation. Not you None of it was your fault, Mac.”

“Fault, no. But responsibility is a different thing. We had a problem on the table that had to be solved—keeping you and the child safe. If fixing that were as simple as hiring security for you, anyone in the family could have done it. It wasn’t that simple. You weren’t raised in this kind of family. There were risks you had no possible experience to know how to cope with. And money alone was no way to do right for the baby, either.” Mac hesitated, and then reached for the glass of scotch from the tray. “Did Chad ever tell you much about our family?”

“Some. Not much. I know your mother died when you were around ten—which had to be terribly hard for you. And I know you’re the oldest, that there’s a big age gap between you and the twins. I’ve met Chloe, because she and Chad were so close—”

“Thick as thieves,” Mac concurred. “And much as I love them, both of them are hell on wheels—my father just seemed to lose heart after Mom died, let them run wild. But Chad has had the hardest time finding his way. I know his good qualities, and I know you do, too. But growing up, I was so much older that I really felt to blame for not being a stronger influence.”

She shook her head. “I understand what you’re saying. You felt extra responsible because the baby was Chad’s. But this was still your brother’s mistake. And mine. Not yours.”

“That’s my nephew or niece you’re carrying. Blood kin. And it could be the closest to a child I’ll ever have. Making sure that relationship was a legal tie—”

“Would give you the right to interfere in his upbringing?”

Mac hadn’t ducked any blunt questions she’d asked him before, and he didn’t evade this one. “To a point. Yes. I wanted a vote in all those million things that come up when you’re raising a child—schools, health care, security, the chance to give the kid some coaching and time from the male gender side of the fence—”

“Mac, for heaven’s sake, I’d have let you have those things, anyway. And down the road, if we don’t agree on issues like that, I assume we’ll fight—but no silly legal piece of paper would stop me from telling you if I thought you were overinterfering. But back to what you said a moment ago...why on earth would you think this is your only chance at a child? Why haven’t you married?”

She caught a flash of humor in his eyes. “Um...is this where the nosy part of those questions kicks in?”

“Mac, I’m not just asking to be nosy.” She struggled to find the right words to explain. “I’m trying to figure out how to make this work for you, not just me. I look around this place and it’s a bachelor’s paradise. Suddenly you’re stuck with a woman who likes clutter and lace and flowers. For that matter, the house I grew up in would probably fit in this living room. I don’t know how two people could be more different. And if you never really wanted to be married—”

“All right, I can see where you’re headed with this now. And the truth is—I never did plan to marry.” Mac scratched his chin. “The whole family’s pushed hard for me to tie the knot. I’m not sure I can explain why I haven’t. Maybe a wariness just built up over time. Although there are plenty of happy marriages in the family, those aren’t the ones I see. If someone’s coming to me, it’s because there’s trouble. Everyone always starts out talking about how much they’re in love, but I see what happens when the chips go down, how lives are torn up in the name of love, how the kids are ripped apart when things don’t go right. To be honest—”

A log tumbled to the hearth, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. Mac leaned forward as if he were going to promptly go over and tend the fire, but Kelly was afraid she’d never get him talking this way again. “Please. Finish saying whatever was on your mind.”

“Well, you might find this hard to believe, but this marriage you and I put together is the first one that ever appealed to me.”

“You have to be kidding. Why?”

“Because I think we’ve got freedom in this relationship that other couples never have. We can make our own rules. We don’t have to do one thing that doesn’t work for the two of us. You want to do the whole house in pink—be—lieve me, Kelly, I don’t care, go for it. If you don’t like anything, all you have to do is say. I’m sure we’ll have to compromise on all kinds of things—but neither of us have love or emotions tangled up in this. We can be honest with each other.”

Kelly fell silent, studying her new husband. She could have guessed Mac would value honesty and freedom in a relationship. With his heavy responsibilities, he’d go nuts with a high-maintenance mate—or even a friend—who demanded constant attention. And as always, his expression was self-contained, those wonderful dark eyes of his unreadable. He didn’t seem lonely. Yet his settling for so little sounded terribly lonely to her. “You don’t believe in love, Mac?” she asked softly.

“Sure. I believe in all kinds of love. Love, loyalty, family, taking care of your own—”

“But not the other kind of love? Between a man and a woman?”

Mac finished the last of his scotch in a gulp, and met her eyes squarely. “I believe the power of hormones can be a hell of a lot of fun—but if one of the things you’re worried about is whether I’ll be faithful to you, rest your mind. I can’t say I’m fond of a celibate lifestyle, but right now...hell, it seems to me we both have our hands full and will for some time. It’d go against my grain to cheat while I was wearing a wedding ring—and whether we’re sleeping together doesn’t change that. However...”

“However...?”

“However... Chad could come back. Or you could find someone. So could I. That’s why we worked out all those prenuptial legal papers, to protect you and the baby no matter what happens to us. There’s no such thing as an overnight divorce, Kelly, but we’ve made it as easy as possible to sever the tie if either of us wants to. As long as we’re careful to build this right, we won’t have the hurt and ange and emotional baggage that usually goes with a split up Either we make this work or we’ve lost nothing. We’ve still done the right thing for the child. We’ve still done the right thing to protect you at this moment in time.”

And doing the right thing was obviously a critical thing to her husband, Kelly mused, but there was still a gaping hole in this discussion. He’d asked for nothing from her—except honesty. Maybe Mac didn’t want her to have any real place in his life, but she was living here now. There had to be needs she could fill, things she could do for him to at least balance all the things he was doing for her.

But before she could say anything else, she heard a clock chiming in the front hall. One, two, three...abruptly she realized that the clock was going all the way to twelve. In seconds it was going to be the new year.

Mac was diverted by the clock chimes, too, and suddenly stood up with a chuckle. “It looks like we’re both running on empty, but do you have enough milk there to toast the New Year?”

“You bet.” She leaned forward to grab her milk glass.

“We made it through one incredibly unusual day—thanks to the bride’s willingness to kick the groom in the shins when he forgot his lines. Did I remember to say thank you for that?”

“No, but, um...you could pay me back now with a little help.”

His eyebrows lifted. “What?”

She rolled her eyes with an embarrassed laugh. “I was trying to stand up for this toast. Only I think I’m stuck. should have known better than to sit in this chair—the cushions are so deep, and the only thing I can get gracefully out of these days is a straight chair. I feel like an ungainly elephant—”

Before she could even try to scooch forward again, Mac swiftly hooked both her hands and pulled her up. The serious mood was obviously broken, Kelly thought, and they could talk another time. Right now she just figured on toasting the New Year with him and then packing it in. But for just that instant when he helped her up, her protruding tummy grazed against his flat abdomen. And her hands...for some reason he didn’t release her hands for another whole millisecond. His grip was warm and strong, his touch sparking an electric rush in her pulse.

She’d felt the same sizzle when he’d kissed her at the wedding. She was positive, then and now, that she was imagining it. He was being kind. He’d frankly brought up sex with her, several times now, with the same ease he’d mentioned having macaroni and cheese for dinner. He thought she was in love with his brother. There wasn’t a single rational reason in the universe to think he felt an ounce of attraction for her.

And she didn’t. She really didn’t.

But for that miniscule second, the muscle in his jaw tightened and some kind of emotion flashed in his eyes. Something bleak and stark. Loneliness. Aloneness. As if he realized—as she did—that a normal bride and groom would never be ending their wedding night this way.

It was just an impulse, while he was already standing as close as a heartbeat, to wrap her arms around him. She didn’t want to give her new groom a stroke, and hugs weren’t part of their deal. Maybe a hug was presumptuous, but she didn’t care. That look of stark loneliness got to her. Everyone needed a plain old affectionate hug sometimes, the warmth of a connection to someone else. If he had a heart attack, then he’d just have to have a heart attack.

He stiffened like a poker when her arms curled around him.

But then he unbent.

Holy cow, did he unbend...

Three

Mac poured another mug of coffee—his fourth that morning—and carried it to the window. The sun hadn’t even thought about waking up until past eight. The horizon still had the pink-pearl luster of dawn, making the snowy landscape look as pretty and innocent as a Christmas card—but there’d sure been nothing innocent about the blizzard winds last night. He estimated there were two fresh feet of snow on a level, which wouldn’t be that hard to plow out, except that nothing was on a level. Some of the swirling, eddying drifts were taller than him.

With Kel pregnant, he got antsy at the thought of her being cut off from doctors and civilization, even if the city was as shut down as they were. Still, he had a pickup with a blade. He could have their country driveway cleared in a few hours, but for damn sure no one was going anywhere this morning.

Hearing the thump of a distant footfall from upstairs, Mac immediately spun around. The kitchen was lit up brighter than a hospital surgery. Granted, the teal blue counters and Italian-tile floor were a tad littered, but he’d been working like a dog. Four pans jostled for space on the stove, one for eggs, one for bacon, one for muffins and the last for pancakes. The table was crowded with lined-up boxes of cereal and bowls heaped with apples and oranges and melons—he’d been challenged to find space for silverware, particularly after he’d added pitchers of both orange and cranberry juice.

Mac scratched his chin. Possibly he’d overdone it just a little. Hell, somehow he seemed to have enough food for a battalion of marines, but pregnant women were a completely alien species. He didn’t know what Kelly was supposed to eat or what appealed to her, either.

Mac hated being unprepared.

When he heard another footfall, his heart started banging in his chest. Swiftly he shoveled a hand through his hair, checked his jeans zipper, then glanced at his black sweatshirt to make sure there wasn’t as much pancake batter on him as there seemed to be on the floor. The sound of footfalls moved to the stairs. He braced as if he were imminently facing a firing squad of Uzi’s.

That’s exactly what went wrong the night before, Mac figured. He hadn’t been braced. He hadn’t been prepared. Technically there was nothing wrong with a hug, but he’d just never expected Kelly to suddenly wrap her arms around him. He still had no clue why she’d done it. Maybe every pregnant woman got a wild hair. Maybe she was tired and not thinking. Maybe she needed reassurance. Maybe she’d forgotten she was in love with his brother.

Mac hadn’t. Even if he’d tried, the family must have asked him forty times what would happen if Chad came home. They didn’t get it. Of course Chad was going to show up sometime—he always did after one of his playboy disappearing acts. Mac knew that perfectly well when he’d asked her to marry him, known she’d loved his brother, too. Those sticky complications didn’t erase the reasons for the marriage, but the opposite. Kelly had been in danger. Cut-and-dried. And Mac loved his brother, but he knew him. Painfully well. Whether Chad was snoozing on a beach in Jamaica or right here made no difference. Mac couldn’t trust his brother to protect Kelly or to do right by the child. Keeping her safe was up to him.

And that was precisely why his response to that damn hug was so inexcusable. Mac shoveled a hand through his hair. He remembered folding his arms around her, because he couldn’t just stand there like a lump, and hell, he didn’t want her feeling rejected or scared. Returning the hug seemed an okay thing to do, but after that it all got hazy. Sensations had bombarded him like bullets. Soft bullets... like her hair tickling his nose, and the feel of her tummy pressing against him, and the way her skin glowed so vulnerably in the firelight. She smelled like peach shampoo and soap and that teasing, illusive perfume she wore. It bugged him, those self-deprecating comments she made about being graceless and as big as an elephant. She wasn’t. She’d felt so small in his arms, so warm, so real. He remembered closing his eyes, remembered feeling gutpunched with a stupid, alien, childish wave of longing...he also remembered, too well, being aroused faster than a trigger-hot teenage boy.

He’d jerked back faster than a whiplash, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But all night long he’d seen the bathroom light go on and off. He’d worried about her pregnant kidneys, worried she was sick. But mostly he’d worried that she couldn’t sleep because she was in a strange house with her whole life turned upside down, and now he’d become a new kind of unknown worry in that picture for her, too.

He was just going to have to fix it, that was all. Hell, he’d handled multimillion dollar mergers, European stock crashes, hiring and firing staff in four countries. How much trouble could one pip-squeak-size pregnant woman be?

And then suddenly she was in the doorway. “Morning, Mac. You’re up so early. Whew, can you believe all this snow?”

“Good morning back and yeah, some of those drifts outside are really something.” Oh, God, one look and he could feel a sinking. Give him a stock crash anytime. He knew what to do about that kind of thing.

No matter how glaringly lit the kitchen was, she was still a brighter shock of color. She smiled at him through a sleepy yawn. Her hair was brushed—he was pretty sure—but it still fell around her shoulders in tumbled swirls. An oversize red sweatshirt burgeoned over her tummy, the color matching the two dots of color on her cheeks and her pants both. Unless he was mistaken, she was wearing fat fluffy hound dogs on her feet. It occurred to him that they must be slippers. And that five-hundred-watt sleepy smile suddenly disappeared—hell, had he already done something wrong?

She motioned around the kitchen. “Oh, Mac. You’ve gone to so much trouble—”

“No trouble at all,” he said swiftly. “I just figured you might be hungry for breakfast—”

“I’m always hungry, but I’m afraid I get a queasy stomach first thing in the morning. The most I can handle is a little juice and toast—”

“Toast.” The one thing, naturally, that he hadn’t thought of. “No problem, I know we’ve got bread around here somewhere—”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.