Amber's Wedding

‘It’s all right, Amber,’ he soothed. ‘Calm yourself. You can relax. Everything’s fine. You’ve been scratched, you’ve bled a little, but there’s no lasting damage. In a short time you’ll hardly know you’ve been hurt.’

Hardly listening to what he was saying, more interested in how he was saying it, she snatched her hands from his, shaken by the resonating warmth of his husky drawl. As far as she was concerned, everything wasn’t fine. Because in his dark eyes there had been an unmistakable flare of desire. In his mouth too, she thought in confusion as his lips parted over even white teeth.

Her head was spinning, the world whirling. The heat that flared in her body made her want to groan in despair. It was a sure sign that her nausea was returning. The prickling sensation swept relentlessly over her sensitive skin and she began to breathe faster. Much faster. Her lungs seemed empty in seconds.

‘What is it?’ he asked with a worrying tenderness.

‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ she said, trying—and failing—to keep her voice even. ‘I’ve been through hell. I feel terrible. Miserable. I—I—’ Helpless tears filled her eyes and she groaned as her stomach rolled in a final warning. ‘Oh, help!’ she flung at him in panic, and rushed through the archway.

Picking up her skirts, she fled from Jake down the spiral steps, her hair and her veil flying out behind her like a banner. No sound came to her ears other than the harsh rasp of her own breathing and the tap of her satin slippers. Thank heavens, she thought, he’d decided not to follow her.

At last she reached the bottom of the tiny stairs and her feet were on the thickly carpeted landing. Ahead lay the sanctuary of the room which had been put aside for her that day. Getting there—alone—was all she could think of and she heaved open the heavy door with a moan of relief.

Safe at last. Slamming the door shut, she leaned her back against it, panting hard. And then she raced for the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged, feeling pale and drained, her mass of flaming hair in disarray.

Only to find Jake, sprawled on the bed.

Her eyes widened till they were two huge dark smudges in her white face as he nonchalantly lifted his arms and made a cradle of them behind his head. Her throat dried. She felt too battered by life to cope with him.

‘Not you!’ she groaned rudely.

Amber watched him stretching like a contented cat. His arms were strong and sinewy, his lithe body displayed to full advantage on the oyster silk bedspread. He looked confident and dangerous, the line of his muscular thighs never more blatantly apparent than now, in the supremely masculine pose.

‘Me,’ he agreed implacably. ‘We have to talk, Amber.’

‘Talk?’ she repeated weakly. That was the last thing she was expecting. The crippling weight of nausea and depression flowed through her. ‘I can’t face anything or anyone right now, Jake!’ she muttered, hating herself for sounding so pathetic. But she knew that she was about to snap and wanted to be on her own when it happened. ‘Give me ten minutes. I must be alone.’

‘This can’t wait,’ he insisted. His eyes glittered beneath the thick fringe of black lashes. ‘Bear with me, Amber. I need to know why you ran away from me just now and why you’re so miserable. You seemed perfectly all right until you heard that Leo was leaving—and then you went to pieces. What am I to make of that?’

Amber strolled around the bed, hoping that she looked nonchalant, hoping that she could reach the door and make a graceful exit. And then, she thought, with a flash of her old humour, she’d be able to wail and gnash her teeth and shake as much as she wanted!

‘It wasn’t anything to do with him. If you must know, I ran off because I felt sick. I was scared of throwing up all over your DJ,’ she answered, deciding to be blunt. That might curb any lurking passion! she thought waspishly.

Frowning, he slid his feet to the floor and stood up. ‘When you came back to Castlestowe on the couple of occasions you were on leave from Africa...did you and Leo meet?’ he asked quietly.

‘Of course!’

‘I presume your reunions were...affectionate? You were delighted to see him. You flung yourself into his arms.’

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yes. Why not?’ To her surprise, he winced. Hastily she sought to reassure him. ‘I’ve told you, we’re childhood friends. But I—I was going around with Enzo at the time, remember?’ she reminded him, seeing where this was leading.

‘Nevertheless, your emotions were in a turmoil,’ he persisted soberly. ‘When you came home each time, you felt exhausted and in need of a friend’s loving warmth. You needed someone to soothe you, to help you forget the pain and suffering you’d left behind, because the mind can only take so much, can’t it?’

‘Yes! But—’

‘If I recall, Leo was in need of love too.’ Oddly, it sounded as though Jake was forcing himself to talk about her relationship with Leo. Judging by the pinched expression on his face, it wasn’t something he relished. ‘You told me,’ he went on gruffly, ‘that he and Ginny had been divorced and he was deeply unhappy.’

Her eyes darkened. ‘You’re implying I gave him sexual comfort!’

Amber gazed at him in open-mouthed astonishment. She was about to launch into a furious defence of herself when he sucked in a sharp breath and transfixed her with a lethal stare.

‘What I have to know is this,’ he growled, his voice shaking. ‘Is there the remotest chance that your child might be Leo’s?’

Shocked into silence for a moment, she struggled to find her voice. ‘No!’ she cried in horror. ‘How dare you? He loves Ginny. He always has, always will—’

‘You are sure?’ he demanded, his muscles tense with anticipation. ‘Absolutely, totally sure?’

‘I swear on my mother’s memory!’ she said fervently.

Jake’s raised shoulders relaxed and he let out all the air in his lungs as if he’d stored up doubts and uncertainties for a long and stressful time. The lines eased out of his face till he looked like the friendly Jake she knew and liked.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed. ‘Forgive me if I’ve offended you, but I had to ask.’

‘I’m puzzled,’ she said slowly. ‘Why don’t you mind Enzo being the father of my child but dread the thought of it being Leo?’

He frowned and lowered his head. ‘Enzo wouldn’t jeopardise his marriage by putting in a claim to your child,’ he said to his feet. ‘Leo might have done if he’d been the father.’

‘That matters?’

Slowly his head lifted till his veiled eyes met hers. ‘I intend to commit myself to you and your child. I wouldn’t want a legal battle for possession. I’m relieved it’s Enzo who’s the father.’ His normally confident voice sounded shaky. ‘Other than us, only your boss, Mary Smith of Unite, knows the truth. I want it to stay that way. No one must ever discover that I haven’t fathered your child.’

She didn’t reply immediately. Her eyes searched his face while she tried to work out why he should be so anxious. ‘Why not?’

He hesitated. ‘Pride,’ he said after a while. ‘I don’t want to be seen as a cuckolded fool.’

Somehow she felt that that wasn’t the right reason. It was so unlike him to put the opinion of others before what was right. ‘A child should know its biological parents,’ she said gently. ‘Always. My child must be told about its father as soon as he or she can understand—’

‘No!’ he said emphatically, closing the space between them with rapid strides. ‘Because of the unusual circumstances of our marriage, we have to give your child our love and a stable background. Maybe we’ll never tell him or her the truth. Or we might decide it’s appropriate in ten, twelve years or so—’

‘Ten years?’ She looked at him doubtfully. ‘I don’t know, Jake. It’s such a big thing for me to decide now, when I’m muddled and unsettled.’

‘Then I’ll make it easier for you,’ he said flatly. ‘Agree that we postpone any decision to tell your child about Enzo for at least ten years and I will stay with you. Disagree and I leave you—now. So you can damn well think on your feet, Amber!’

She would have done, if her legs hadn’t been giving up on her. It worried her that she might feel this feeble for the next month or so of her pregnancy.

His eyes burned into hers. Against her will she felt a sweep of helpless surrender. It had been like that when Jake had coaxed her into accepting his proposal. She’d been powerless then because her shock at Enzo’s betrayal had left her limp and defenceless. For the first time in her life she hadn’t cared what happened to her, and had been indifferent to the way that Jake had been taking over her life. He was doing so again.

‘I suppose,’ she said, struggling to think rationally, ‘you’re right about making my child feel secure first but—

‘No buts. Promise,’ he insisted. ‘OK. You asked for this. I didn’t want to spell it out, but you have to think of the consequences, Amber! Your child would need to be older than you think to cope with the news that you had an adulterous affair.’

‘Jake!’ she protested.

His eyes flickered at her involuntary gasp of anguish. And suddenly his tone gentled to a soft huskiness which carried a wealth of heart-warming tenderness in it. ‘I’m trying to get you to see what it would feel like, both for you and your child.’ He paused, his eyes full of compassion. ‘Imagine that you yourself discovered that, oh, for instance neither of your parents have any blood ties to you.’

‘Awful!’ she acknowledged fervently.

‘Worse, you heard that your biological father was a liar, a cheat and an adulterer who didn’t think twice about breaking his marriage vows.’

She gave a little shudder of distaste, dreading the moment when her child learnt about its father. ‘I take your point. If that happened to me, I’d go to pieces!’

His eyes flickered with pity. ‘Yes. You might...unless you had a lot of support to cope with the revelation. You’d feel hurt and bewildered.’ He adopted a casual tone, but she couldn’t help noticing that he kept fiddling with his cuffs. That wasn’t like him. Just as she was about to probe his feelings he said with a rather unnatural lightness, ‘And you’d feel shame? Hatred, maybe?’

‘I think I would,’ she admitted.

Jake seemed inordinately relieved. ‘And so would your innocent child. This is why many fostered or adopted children aren’t told of their background,’ he said gently.

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed, surprised at his perception. And she thought of the future—telling her child about Enzo and trying to explain how she’d been stupidly infatuated with a philanderer. It was a horrible image. Jake was right; her child would surely turn from her.

‘Then we’re agreed. Your baby must be accepted as my own, without question,’ he said with an easy smoothness, as if he’d rehearsed those very words.

But by marrying her and taking on her child as his own Jake would have an heir without Cavendish blood. And that wasn’t what he wanted, surely? She struggled to understand and wished that she felt more alert. The answer was all bound up in her child somehow, but she couldn’t for the life of her work it out.

‘You weren’t exactly on the shelf,’ she declared. ‘Given time, you could have found someone you loved.’

‘In my job?’ He lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. ‘I’m always on the move. It doesn’t give any relationship a fighting chance. And of the dozens of women I have met I’ve loved none. I can’t let go, you see. And women want me to. They like emotional commitment. I don’t have it in me. And don’t ask me about my past,’ he said, when she opened her mouth to do just that.

There was a wounded look to his eyes which stopped her from pursuing the mystery. Instead she remained silent, keeping to herself the knowledge that something traumatic in his background had made him determined to protect his emotions.

She remembered his reaction whenever she’d touched on her happy home life and wondered if his parents had been repressive or cold. But he’d spoken of them with love earlier. And Mrs Cavendish had sounded warm and affectionate on the telephone.

It was as she’d thought; it must have been a romance that had gone sour. Surprisingly, that disturbed her.

‘What about it, Amber?’ he asked persuasively. ‘I’d prefer not to disillusion my parents about their grandchild at this time—or about you.’ She winced. His parents would be appalled if they knew the truth. ‘Nor,’ he continued with a winning smile, ‘do we want any family member pronouncing our son or daughter illegitimate and claiming the Cavendish fortune when I die, do we?’

‘Or the Fraser fortune!’ she said wryly.

Jake flashed her a suspicious look then relaxed when he saw that she was mocking her own lack of funds. ‘That’s settled,’ he said decisively. ‘As far as everyone’s concerned, your child is mine. It’s for the best, Amber. Enzo won’t care, will he?’

She winced again, shame flooding her face with colour as she remembered the humiliating rejection scene. ‘He washed his hands of his responsibilities.’

Jake nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s over. Life will begin again for you.’

But Amber felt like crying. The future seemed bleak without the prospect of a man she could love in her life. Desperate to stay calm, she turned away, walked over to the window and stared into the darkness. ‘I wish I could believe that.’

‘You can’t shut yourself off for ever,’ he murmured softly.

Hearing the coaxing message in his tone, she whirled around, half-blind with the film of tears. ‘You don’t understand how badly I feel about myself! I mean to keep my head below the parapet in future! I’ll never forget what it’s been like to feel disgusted with myself for abandoning my self-respect.’

Jake made a consoling gesture. ‘You were the victim of an expert seducer—’

‘I succumbed. He didn’t force me,’ she admitted honestly. ‘It’s been a nightmare, Jake—one I’ve deserved. I blame myself for being stupid.’ She felt herself drooping with exhaustion. ‘Don’t expect anything of me, other than the friendship I’m sure we can share. I’ll be a good wife and a good mother and a good companion. Please don’t ask any more of me—I can’t give it. Mary Smith thinks the world of you and I respect her judgement. I’m trusting you to leave me alone. In return, I’ll agree to keep my child’s origin a secret for the time you suggest. You have my word.’

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’ll do my best to be a good father whenever I’m around. I know that you’ll more than compensate for my absences. You have a natural way with children, Amber. The refugee kids loved you. And you gave them a great deal: laughter, comfort, love...’

His voice was husky but unthreatening and she warmed to Jake, the man she admired, who’d spoken gently to her when she was so hurt and who’d made her begin her life again. He’d given her a way out of her hell, some hope, some dignity.

Her spirits rose a little. The future would be better than the past, she told herself. It had to be. She had no reserves of strength to cope with any more distress.

‘The children had lost everything,’ she said pensively. ‘And I’ve had such a loving family. I know how awful I felt when each of my parents died. A gap opened in my life that’ll never be filled. Stuart did his best, but it wasn’t the same as having my father around. Dad was part of me, you see—my flesh and blood.’

‘And you adored your mother, you said.’ Jake sounded as if he understood her emptiness.

‘I miss her dreadfully,’ she admitted. ‘That’s why I could empathise with the displaced children. That’s why I worked so hard to find their parents for them. My parents were everything to me. Loyal, truthful, totally straight—’

‘Yes, yes...’ Jake wouldn’t look at her. He shifted uncomfortably, as if her confidences embarrassed him. ‘Don’t build up your parents to be gods in your mind, Amber,’ he said in warning. ‘Don’t put them on a pedestal. It’s a mistake—’

‘Not in their case.’ Her eyes shone softly. ‘They were special and I’m proud to be their daughter.’

‘No one is perfect,’ he persisted, much to her annoyance. ‘Even they might have had failings or secrets they’d have preferred kept hidden.’

‘I won’t hear a word against them!’ she declared indignantly, a little uneasy with the solemn, almost pitying way he was looking at her. Tiredness swept over her and she sighed. ‘I feel drained.’

‘Poor Amber. You’re shaking like a leaf. It’s all become too much for you to handle, hasn’t it? Why don’t you lie down for a while?’

The bed looked welcoming. But, strangely, so did he. Her urge to throw herself into his arms was rather unnerving. ‘I think I’d better keep going,’ she said thinly. ‘I’ll spend a little time with our guests and then perhaps we can leave.’ She took a few unwilling steps towards the door.

‘Wait a minute. You can’t go like that,’ Jake said in a kindly tone. ‘Your veil is crooked and you look very wan with no make-up on your face.’

‘Oh!’ Amber heaved a sigh. ‘I am a bit of a mess. I forgot. Thanks.’

‘You’re not a mess. You’re very beautiful. Rather fragile and ethereal,’ he said quietly.

She blinked in surprise, at a loss for an answer. Nervously she picked up her skirts, rustling her way to the dressing table, and sat down to make the adjustments. Her hands were stiff and awkward and she couldn’t make them do what she wanted them to.

While she fumbled in her make-up bag for a lipstick, her attention kept straying to Jake, who was reflected in the mirror. The warm slide of his encouraging smile made her drop the lipstick on the floor. She bent down for it and knew the minute it was in her shaking hands that she’d never be able to use it. She’d end up looking like a clown.

‘Try the powder,’ he suggested.

‘I was going to.’ Hastily she dabbed at her face with a sable brush. ‘Look, I’m edgy. Do you have to watch?’ she muttered, uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny.

‘I think I ought to stay with you,’ he replied.

His voice had deepened to a husky growl that reached all the way down to her wriggling toes and all the way up again, doing odd things to her body on the way.

She slammed the powder-compact down. ‘It’s no good! I can’t face the guests,’ she said in dismay, dreading the thought of having to pretend to flirt with Jake.

‘Yes, you can,’ he said firmly. ‘Like some help with your lipstick?’ he offered.

She froze. He took two strides towards her. She felt her heart soar to the roof of her mouth, and before she could drag it back down again he’d dropped to his haunches in front of her, picked up the lip pencil she’d been agitatedly fiddling with and was holding her chin firmly between his finger and thumb.

‘I’m quite good at this,’ he said reassuringly.

‘Not as good as me!’ she squeaked.

He smiled in amused disagreement. ‘Have you seen your hands? Hold still.’

The velvety whisper kept her paralysed in the chair. Jake slowly brought the pencil towards her mouth. Amber held her breath and watched the lazy flutter of his incredibly long eyelashes as they lowered almost to the sword-blade cheekbones. His concentration was spellbinding and she was its prisoner, captured by the sensual beauty of his face.

Quite irrationally afraid, she let the pencil softly shape the full curves of her mouth. It felt deeply erotic, having Jake do that for her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare to speak. Because she knew that she’d croak like a frog and he’d misinterpret her confusion.

‘Open,’ he coaxed, smiling charmingly.

Her lips had parted for him before she could stop them. She closed her eyes to shut out his handsome face. It was too sexy, too dangerous and too near. The faint drift of his breath lifted all the tiny hairs around her mouth. Next she felt the stroke of the creamy lipstick around the high arch of her mouth and then it was gliding over her full lower lip very, very slowly. Too slowly.

And then it stopped. Jake’s breathing rasped louder. Somehow she forced her eyes open. He was looking at her as though transfixed.

So quickly did he jump to his feet that she jerked her head around to check her reflection in the mirror and see what had startled him. Two hot spots of colour burned on her cheeks. Her mouth seemed to be pouting an indolent invitation. She peered closer. Was that because of the way he’d painted it? Or had her apparent allure startled him?

‘Here.’ Apparently quite detached, Jake passed her a tissue to blot her lips. ‘Anything else you want me to adjust?’ he asked lightly. ‘Corsets, false leg, suspenders?’

‘I can manage!’ she said, hastily fixing her hair, lifting her arms in a graceful arc.

‘Ready for our dance, then?’ he murmured.

Somehow she managed to smile, her lips a bright splash of colour in her white face. But she gazed in growing consternation at his compelling face with its wickedly expressive mouth and come-to-bed eyes. No, she couldn’t dance with him, let alone look as if she’d die for him. Nor did she want to go back to the cottage with him. Caught between a rock and a hard place...

To her dismay she began to cry.

‘Oh, darn it!’ she mumbled furiously.

‘You’re in an emotional mess, aren’t you? I thought this might happen,’ Jake said sympathetically. He lifted her hand from where it clutched the dressing table and watched it trembling limply, dwarfed by his large palm. She hoped that he hadn’t seen how white her knuckles were. ‘You’re exhausted,’ he said with a frown. ‘I think you ought to call it a day. You’ve got a lot ahead of you yet.’

Amber scowled at the ominous prediction. ‘You’d be exhausted,’ she said sulkily, ‘if you’d been fighting off nausea for the last few hours.’

Abandoning her hand, he came to stand behind her and lightly rested his fingers on her tense shoulders. Amber gritted her teeth because she wanted to risk throwing her arms around him. Their eyes met in the mirror and she watched his frown deepen.

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