Grounds For Marriage

“I’m planning to get married.” About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright

“I’m planning to get married.”

For perhaps three seconds Tully didn’t move, just sat staring at her, his expression a total blank.

Then he moved like an explosion, scraping his chair away from the table so it screeched on the floor and the jacket hanging over the back swung violently. “You’re what?”

Looking at him looming over her, Lacey blinked. “I’m getting married,” she repeated.

His eyes looked black and brilliant, fixing intently on her. “So...” he said. “Who’s the lucky man?”

FROM HERE TO PATERNITY—romances that feature fantastic men who eventually make fabulous fathers. Some seek paternity, some have it thrust upon them, all will make it—whether they like it or not!

DAPHNE CLAIR lives in Aotearoa, New Zealand, with her Dutch-born husband. Their five children have left home but drift back at irregular intervals. At eight years old she embarked on her first novel about taming a tiger. This epic never reached a publisher, but metamorphosed male tigers still prowl the pages of her romance novels. Her other writing includes nonfiction, poetry and short stories, and she has won literary prizes in New Zealand and America. Daphne Clair also writes as Laurey Bright.

Grounds For Marriage

Daphne Clair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

IT SHOULDN’T be difficult to tell him, Lacey thought, tipping a tray of warm, sweet-smelling biscuits onto the wire rack to cool.

Her ears, alert for the sound, identified the muted hum of the Peugeot’s engine as the car swept into the drive outside, then the double slam of the doors, and Emma’s childish voice answered by Tully’s deep masculine one.

Lacey took a shaking breath. There was no reason for the flutter of nerves in her midriff, the unsteadiness of her hand as she picked up a biscuit that had dropped onto the counter and placed it on the rack. She stowed away the tray and pushed back a tress of light brown hair that had fallen across her cheek, curving it behind her ear with one finger.

Then the door burst open and Emma came in, her face flushed and eyes alight, wisps of dark, fine hair escaping from the hood of her padded windbreaker.

‘Mum, we’ve been horse-riding—it was neat fun! The lady said I’ve got a natural seat. Can I please have a pony of my own? Please?’

Emma was tall for a ten-year-old, taking after her father. Not for the first time, as Tully followed the child inside, Lacey thought how alike they were, with their near-black hair and inky blue eyes. Even some of Emma’s mannerisms resembled his. Of course, she would never have Tully’s masculine assurance, the underlying awareness of being male and liking it that was implicit in every movement he made. He couldn’t even stand still without radiating a subtle sexual challenge to every adult woman in the vicinity. It wasn’t deliberate, just part of his personality.

Over Emma’s head his amused eyes met Lacey’s. The heat of the stove had warmed the small, primrose-painted kitchen, and one long-fingered hand slid down the zip of his fleece-lined jacket as he closed the door to shut out the gusty wind. According to the radio news the ski fields at Tongariro were deep in snow, and in the South Island farmers were losing lambs. It never snowed in Auckland, which was close to New Zealand’s subtropical north, but grey days like this could be chilly.

Lacey said, ‘Owning a pony is a big responsibility, Emma. And expensive. We’ve nowhere to keep a horse.’ The suburban section on which the modest two-bedroom bungalow stood wasn’t even big enough for them to have a dog.

Some of the glow died from Emma’s face. ‘We could find somewhere. I’d look after it. I look after Ruffles.’

‘A cat is a bit different from a horse,’ Lacey pointed out.

‘Why?’ Emma’s voice held both disappointment and a hint of impending argument.

Tully ambled over to the counter and picked up a biscuit. ‘For one thing, it’s bigger,’ he said. ‘But we’ll talk about it when you’ve had a bit more practice, Em.’ He bit into the biscuit. ‘Mm. This is good.’

Distracted, Emma asked, ‘Can I have one?’ ‘They’re not ready,’ Lacey objected, eyeing Tully with exasperation as he grinned down at her, totally unintimidated. ‘They’ve only just come out of the oven.’

“That’s when they taste best,’ Tully said, and took another, tossing it to Emma. ‘Catch!’

She did so, giggling and then shooting a half-guilty, half-triumphant look at Lacey as she stuffed the biscuit into her mouth.

Giving up, Lacey took some cups from the hooks under the cupboards. ‘I suppose you want coffee?’ she asked Tully.

His mouth full of biscuit, he nodded, moving aside to allow her to reach the coffee maker.

‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Emma, when you’ve finished that go and hang up your jacket, and then you can do your homework.’

‘I’ll do it afterwards,’ Emma offered.

‘Now. I told you if it wasn’t done Friday night you’d have to do it Sunday afternoon.’

‘I’ll do it after tea.’

‘You’ll be tired.’

‘But Daddy—’

‘I want to talk to your father,’ Lacey said firmly. ‘Homework.’

Emma made a face and turned towards the door. Then she whirled, coming back to give Tully a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I had the greatest time today!’

‘Shut the door,’ Lacey ordered as she left the room. Tully looked after her with a smile that faded as he turned towards Lacey. ‘One biscuit won’t hurt her,’ he said.

Lacey poured coffee into two cups and set them on the laminated table. Tully had taken off his jacket and hooked it onto the back of a chair before sitting down. In well-worn jeans, with the cuffs of his cotton shirt pushed back and the collar open, he looked more like a manual worker of some sort than the managing director of a highly successful business.

He said, ‘Am I in for a lecture?’ With a mixture of impatience and mock-solemnity he added, ‘I’m sorry if I undermined your discipline.’

It wasn’t what she’d wanted to talk to him about, but she seized on the issue as a delaying tactic. ‘You do spoil her.’

For an instant his handsome face wore an expression that reminded her of Emma’s when she was being stubborn. ‘I don’t see it that way.’

Inwardly Lacey sighed. ‘How do you see it?’ she asked. Shrugging, he picked up his cup and stared into it without drinking. ‘I can’t be with her every day like you,’ he said, ‘so I try to make up for it when we’re together.’

‘By letting her have everything she wants?’ Lacey enquired dryly.

‘By showing her that I care for her—as best I can.’

‘Giving in to her every whim isn’t necessarily the way to show it.’

He shot her an exasperated look. ‘I don’t do that. I’ve read some child psychology books, too. Emma’s not a demanding child. What’s the point of denying her a perfectly reasonable request when I can well afford it?’

‘I’m not talking about the computer or the bicycle.’ They’d had stiff little discussions about both when he had bought them.

‘Right,’ Tully said. ‘Are we talking about one biscuit?’

Lacey shook her head. ‘Of course not. It’s just that you...’

She hadn’t meant the conversation to go this way. She’d pictured a friendly cup of coffee over a plate of fresh-baked biscuits, a few minutes of casual talk, and then herself saying, ‘By the way...’

She jumped up and turned to the counter, scooping half a dozen biscuits onto a plate that she put down on the table before resuming her seat.

‘A peace offering?’ Tully looked from her to the plate and back again. ‘Or coals of fire?’

Reluctantly, she smiled. ‘Neither. Help yourself.’

He took one of the biscuits and bit off half of it, sipped some coffee and said, ‘I get a kick out of watching her enjoy things. You don’t really think having fun is bad for her, do you?’

She said sharply, ‘It’s all very well for you to treat her as a combination of playmate and pet. Someone has to impose some discipline in her life.’

Tully put his cup down, his eyes going darker. ‘Someone being you?’

“There is no one else—is there?’ Her resentful hazel eyes met his.

A faint frown drew his black brows together. ‘You’ve always said you could manage alone...’

‘I have—for ten years. But apparently you don’t agree with the way I’ve raised Emma.’

He looked at her for a moment and said, ‘She’s a lovely kid and .a credit to you. But do you mind if I put in my two cents worth now and then?’

He’d put more—much more—than two cents worth into making Emma’s life, and Lacey’s, easier than it might have been. ‘No,’ she muttered finally. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’

‘You’re touchy today. It isn’t like you.’ He inspected her face searchingly. ‘Is something wrong?’

It was her cue. Somehow it no longer seemed the right time to break the news, but she tried to smile and look happy. She was happy! ‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she said. ‘Just the opposite, in fact. I... have something to tell you. Even Emma doesn’t know yet, because I thought she might blurt it out to you, and I would rather you heard it from me...’ She stopped to take a wavery breath.

Tully looked warily alert, his strong hand curled about his cup on the table. ‘So what is it?’

She swallowed, and said, ‘I’m planning to get married.’

For perhaps three seconds Tully didn’t move, just sat staring at her, his expression a total blank.

Then he moved like an explosion, scraping his chair away from the table so it screeched on the floor and the jacket hanging over the back swung violently. ‘You’re what?’

Looking at him looming over her, Lacey blinked. ‘I’m getting married,’ she repeated. ‘You heard me.’

Tully shook his head as though to clear it. ‘I heard. I just didn’t believe it.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ she said tartly. ‘I’m free and way past twenty-one—but not exactly over the hill yet—sane, not suffering from any communicable disease, and have all my own teeth...’

‘All right!’ Tully cut in gratingly. ‘I wasn’t trying to be insulting.’

‘Well, be sure to tell me when you are trying so I’ll know the difference!’

He gave a reluctant crack of laughter. ‘It was just... unexpected.’ He hooked the chair round with his foot so that its back faced her, dropping down astride it with his chin resting on his folded arms along the back. His eyes looked black and brilliant, fixing intently on her. ‘So...’ he said. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

Lacey relaxed slightly. The worst was over. ‘His name’s Julian,’ she said. ‘Julian Wye. He’s a solicitor.’

‘Emma’s never mentioned any Julian Wye. How long have you known him?’

‘I first met him a couple of years ago. He was a friend of a friend.’

‘And now he’s your friend. Your...fiancé?’

‘It’s not official yet. There are complications.’

‘What sort of complications?’

‘For one thing Emma may need time to get used to the idea, and Julian has a sixteen-year-old daughter—’

Tully’s head lifted as he straightened. ‘How old is this guy?’

‘Thirty-nine. He’s—’

‘He’s too old for you!’

‘I don’t think so. Anyway, it’s not relevant.’

‘You want to marry some guy who’s nearly forty, and you think it’s not relevant?’

‘I’m nearly thirty.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he argued. ‘I’m not even thirty yet. He’s a dozen years older than you!’

‘Eleven. Anyway,’ she said, brushing aside the question of relative ages, ‘the thing is, I need your help.’

‘Whoa!’ Tully said. ‘Just hang on a minute. What about the mother of this sixteen-year-old daughter of his? Is he divorced?’

‘She died,’ Lacey said. ‘Julian had to bring up Desma by himself.’

‘And she lives with him?’

‘Of course. He’s her father:

‘I’m Emma’s father.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it? I thought there was only one way to father a child. Leaving aside test-tubes...’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Ah. You mean we weren’t married.’ He paused. ‘You know the offer is still open.’

‘No, thanks!’ Lacey said decisively, and saw unexpected anger flare deep in his eyes. She supposed her vehemence had been less than tactful. ‘We’ve discussed all that,’ she reminded him.

‘Not for a long time. Years, in fact.’

‘Nothing’s changed.’

‘But apparently it has. Or it’s about to. You can’t tell me that everything will stay the same if you marry this... Julian.’

She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t want Emma to feel she has to choose between you and him. I need you to help her understand that it’s okay to grow fond of her new... her stepfather.’

For a while she was afraid he wasn’t going to answer, then he got up off the chair again and went to lean back against the counter, one foot hooked over the other ankle, his thumbs thrust into the waistband of his jeans. It was a casual attitude but he didn’t look casual. He looked like a large, wary, wild animal debating whether or not to attack. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’

A prickle of annoyance ran along her spine. ‘It’s for Emma’s sake,’ she said. ‘Surely you can see that?’ She assured him, ‘It won’t make any difference to your time with her. Julian knows that you have access to Emma, and he thoroughly approves.’

‘Good of him.’

‘I wouldn’t have considered marrying him if he’d suggested you stop seeing Emma,’ Lacey said quietly. ‘You know I’d never do anything that might hurt her.’

‘You won’t. How do you know what he might do?’

‘He’s not that sort of person. And it will be good for Emma to have a man in the house.’

‘I thought you were quite satisfied with our arrangement.’

‘It was the best we could do for her, and of course she will still feel the same about you.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Tully, you’re not jealous, are you?’

‘Jealous?’ He cast her a strange, surprised look. His eyes were nearly opaque as they drifted from her face to the baggy T-shirt and faded jeans disguising a figure that had long since lost its teenage chubbiness but would never be really slim, although the generous swell of her breasts and hips made her waist look smaller than it actually was.

‘Emma,’ Lacey said hastily, ‘loves you. Julian doesn’t want to replace you in any way.’

‘Oh yes, he does,’ Tully murmured almost absently, his gaze still on what he could discern of her body, not her face. ‘In at least one way he does.’

Made uncomfortable by his scrutiny, Lacey stood up and swept the coffee cups off the table to dump them in the sink. Turning on the hot tap, she said crossly, ‘You know that’s nonsense.’

Tully remained leaning on the counter beside her, his eyes thoughtful as he watched her rinsing the cups. ‘Did you tell Emma not to mention Julian to me?’

‘No, of course not!’ She stepped back to take a tea-towel from the wall. ‘Why would I do that?’

He shrugged. ‘I just think it’s a bit odd that she’s never said anything. Seeing you and he are so...close.’

Lacey was vigorously drying a cup. ‘Maybe she has talked about him but you didn’t notice. She chatters a lot.’

A smile momentarily curved his mouth. ‘She does. But if she’d mentioned anyone who’s special to you I’d have noticed.’

Carefully, Lacey hung the cup on a hook and picked up the remaining one. ‘She hasn’t seen all that much of him. We’ve been meeting each other mostly when Emma’s with you.’

‘And you haven’t told her that?’

‘Not every time.’ Why was she feeling so defensive? ‘She isn’t all that interested in what I do when she’s away. Children are pretty self-centred.’

Once or twice Julian had offered to include Emma in an outing. She had politely declined a visit to the zoo, saying she’d seen it before and didn’t think zoos were a good idea anyway. And although she’d enjoyed Kelly Tarlton’s Underwater World on Auckland’s waterfront, most of her knowledgeable comments on the sharks, fish and other denizens of the deep had been addressed to her mother. All Julian’s remarks had been answered in monosyllables.

When Lacey had asked Julian to come to the house for a meal, hoping that he could get to know her daughter better, Emma had made it obvious without being in the least bad-mannered that staying around the grown-ups bored her, and had asked permission to go off and do her own thing.

After Julian left, Lacey had asked her casually, ‘Do you like Julian, Emma?’

Emma, her eyes innocent and surprised, shrugged. ‘He’s all right, I s’pose, for a grown-up.’

‘I think he’s very nice,’ Lacey said cautiously ‘He likes you very much.’ He’d said she was a nice, well-behaved child.

‘He’s your friend,’ Emma said with patent indifference, ‘not mine. Can I have Riria over to play after school tomorrow?’

And that just about summed up their conversations about Julian, Lacey realised. Either Emma was oblivious to the fact that Julian was different from her mother’s other friends, or she was deliberately shutting out the possibility. Lacey suspected the latter, which was why she needed Tully’s help.

‘I want you to reassure her,’ she said, ‘that it isn’t going to cause any change to your relationship.’

‘How can you know that?’ Tully sounded slightly edgy, almost irritable.

Turning from hanging up the tea-towel, Lacey stared at him, perplexed, and with a hint of foreboding in the pit of her stomach. ‘You wouldn’t let it, surely!’

He stopped lounging against the counter and his hands gripped it behind him. ‘I may not have the choice,’ he said. ‘You don’t think you can just foist a stepfather on the child and expect it to make no difference, do you?’

‘I’m not foisting Julian on Emma! I’m trying to go about this in the most sensitive way possible. That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you first! So that you could help her to make the adjustment.’

‘You’re taking a lot for granted.’

She said coldly, ‘I thought I could take it for granted that you love Emma and want what’s best for her.’

Tully shifted his position, folding his arms as he leaned back on the counter again. His eyelids drooped a little and his voice was clipped when he said, ‘That’s exactly why I want to know more about this prospective bridegroom of yours. How can I be sure he’s a suitable stepfather for my daughter?’

‘I’d have thought you’d trust my judgement!’

His brows lifted in derision. ‘Your judgement?’ he queried, with the faintest emphasis.

‘I might have been lacking in it when I was seventeen,’ she said somewhat waspishly, ‘but I’ve developed some discrimination since then.’

He gave a silent whistle, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. ‘You pack a punch when your dander’s up, don’t you?’ He added thoughtfully, ‘I can’t recall that I’ve ever seen you in a real temper.’

‘Don’t push your luck.’

He laughed. ‘I’m only thinking of Emma’s welfare—and yours.’

‘I can look after my own welfare, thank you. And Emma’s. You know I wouldn’t risk making her unhappy.’

‘Not knowingly,’ he conceded. ‘But the soundest judgement can be clouded by love.’

‘You’d know.’ He had enough experience.

He laughed again, shortly. ‘I’m not in love with Julian. Maybe I should meet him.’

Strangely reluctant, she looked at him without answering, until his quizzical expression forced her to say something. ‘Do you really feel that’s necessary?’

‘We’re bound to bump into each other sooner or later,’ he pointed out. ‘If you want my cooperation, Lacey, I insist on meeting him. I won’t hand my daughter over to another man without knowing what sort of guy he is.’

‘You’re not being asked to hand her over!’

‘If he’s going to be her stepfather,’ Tully insisted, ‘it amounts to something like it.’

He had a point, although it galled her that Tully wouldn’t take her word for the fact that Julian was entirely trustworthy. ‘He’s brought up a daughter of his own,’ she said.

‘You said there was a problem there.’

‘I said it’s a complication,’ Lacey protested. ‘We don’t know how the girls will get on.’

‘They haven’t met?’

‘No.’ She’d met Desma several times but couldn’t claim to be close to her. From Julian she’d gathered that his daughter was in the difficult phase of mild rebellion common to many teenagers. ‘We both realise that we need to take our time, let the girls get used to the idea.’

‘Supposing they don’t like each other?’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when—if—we come to it. Emma’s not difficult to get along with.’

‘Desma’s older. What if she bullies Emma?’

‘That’s hardly likely,’ Lacey argued. ‘With the age gap, she’d more likely ignore a younger child altogether.’

Tully frowned. ‘Desma’s an only child?’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Then she’s accustomed to having her father to herself, I presume. If she’s jealous she could take it out on Emma.’

‘I’ll be on the watch for it,’ Lacey assured him with determined patience. ‘And I’m sure Julian won’t allow her to do that.’

‘Desma’s his daughter. What if he takes her side?’

‘For heaven’s sake, Tully! All these problems are purely theoretical.’

‘You ought to be prepared for them,’ Tully warned. ‘They’re common enough in blended families.’

‘Maybe you should set yourself up as a counsellor,’ she suggested, with more than a hint of sarcasm, ‘as you’re so knowledgeable about these things.’

‘I’m not claiming any special knowledge. I’ve seen some of my friends in similar situations, and read a few articles. Common sense should tell you it’s not going to be easy.’

‘Do you think the last ten years have been easy for me?’

She saw him visibly stiffen, as though she’d accused him. ‘I’ve done all I can to make it so,’ he said.

‘I know that.’ She looked at him helplessly. ‘You’ve done more than most men would have in the circumstances, and I’m grateful—’

He made an impatient gesture. ‘I owed it to you...and to Emma.’

‘I agree you owed it to Emma,’ she said, ‘but it would have been easy to walk away. That’s what everyone fully expected you to do.’

His jaw tightened. ‘You certainly have a great idea of my character.’

‘You were nineteen. It would have been understandable. But maybe now you owe it to Emma to help me establish a more normal family life for her.’

‘Are you saying you’re doing this for Emma’s sake?’ Tully enquired.

At the deliberate mockery and conjecture in his gaze, she felt a slight heat on her cheeks. ‘No, I’m not saying that. But it is a consideration.’

‘Be honest, Lacey,’ he said brutally. ‘You’ve got the hots for this Julian, and you want me to make it easy for you by talking Emma round.’

Her hands went out to close on the back of the nearest chair. ‘That’s a foul thing to say! And it’s not true!’

‘I’m sorry if you find my language too basic. You’re not going to pretend that sex doesn’t enter into it?’

‘Sex is a very small part of love. There are much more important things.’

‘Really? Tell me about them.’

‘Respect, for one. And consideration—tenderness, sharing...’

He made a disparaging little sound. ‘Does Julian think sex is unimportant?’

‘I didn’t say it’s unimportant.’

‘A small part of love? That doesn’t sound as though you place much importance on it.’

‘One thing I learned from my experience with you,’ she said acidly, ‘is that sex on its own is worth nothing!’

An oddly bleak expression flickered across his face. Then he asked, ‘Isn’t Emma worth something?’