“You want me to forgive you so I will come home with you to avoid any scandal?”
“Actually, I hadn’t thought about that. No, I want you to forgive me because I’m sorry I hurt you. I promise to try to keep my godawful temper leashed in the future.”
“You should only make promises, Alex, you have a modicum of chance of keeping.”
“All right. I promise to apologize every time I lose my temper. Now do you forgive me?”
She stared into his dark eyes. “Does it really matter to you, Alex?”
“Of course it does, Giana,” he said, gently kissing her. “You see, you stubborn little hellion, I love you.” He felt her stiffen, but continued in a soft voice, “When I came home, somewhat the worse for wear from brandy, and found you gone, I wanted to beat the hell out of you and slash my wrists for being such a maniac.”
She stared up at him, as if dazed. “But you can’t love me. You never said so. It was a business deal you proposed in the first place.”
“That was before many things.” He felt her wariness, her uncertainty, and said, “Don’t leave, Giana. Come home with me.”
The stark emptiness vanished without a trace. “Yes,” she said, smiling up at him. “I will come home with you, but I shall never understand you.” She turned her face against his throat and breathed in the male scent of him, so familiar to her now.
“Do you understand yourself?”
“No, well, sometimes.”
“Did you want to leave me?”
She sighed. “I didn’t see any choice. It was you who wanted me to go.”
He kissed her again, then said slowly, “I would rather hear you say you trust me than you love me.”
She was held speechless for a long moment. He knew, damn him, he knew. “But we are always arguing,” she said, knowing as well as he did that it was an evasion.
He pulled away from her and rose.
“Where are you going?”
“It is time for our dinner,” he said.
She was sipping her second glass of champagne when he said abruptly, “What were you doing in the shipyard?”
“I had some very exciting news for you, and if you had but taken the time to listen to me, you would not now have to ask me.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Alex, the first thirty reapers are on their way to New York this very minute.” She lowered her eyes to her plate. “That was why I came to the shipyard. I was so anxious to tell you that I forgot you didn’t want me to be there. I didn’t think, I suppose.”
Alex sat back in his chair, his long fingers fiddling with the stem of his champagne glass. “My wife a successful businesswoman.”
“With good business judgment,” she said.
“Yes, that too, it would appear. Would you like to get drunk? To celebrate your success?”
Her tongue caressed her lower lip, an exquisitely sensual gesture that made his body hard. “Can it not be our success, Alex?”
He smiled widely. “Yes,” he said, “I should like that. Are we to have a drunken celebration?”
She looked at him uncertainly. He was so damned slippery sometimes. He had told her that he loved her, yet now he seemed to be playing a game with her. “Yes,” she said, disappointment clear in her voice, “if that is what you would like.”
Her eyes were on his mouth, and he laughed softly. Her passion for him never ceased to amaze and delight him. He rose from his chair, stretched, and slowly undressed, folding each article of clothing neatly over the back of a chair. When he was naked, he pushed back the chair and smiled down at her from a most immodest pose.
“There is a bruise on your ribs,” she said.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
He grinned at her, his eyes flitting from the top of her head to her bare toes, and cocked a wicked eyebrow at her. “Isn’t it your turn now, love?”
Giana tossed back her head and looked him squarely in the eye. “Yes,” she said, “I suppose it is. You will not embarrass me, Alex Saxton.”
Still, she could not quite meet his eyes when her dressing gown and chemise lay on the floor. She felt his hands close over her arms and draw her gently to him. He pulled her down on his lap. “You have become quite an armful,” he said, resting his hand on her belly.
She squirmed slightly against him and pressed her breasts against his chest.
“Have you no control, woman? You are shamefully eager.” He kissed her deeply, feeling the violent emotional jumble of the day fade away, leaving a tenderness in its wake.
He could feel the hammering of her heart against his chest as he lifted her to the bed.
He made love to her gently, with only the sound of her quickening breath and her soft cries filling the silence. When he felt her tense against him, he gloried in it, and buried his own moans of pleasure against her throat.
“I love you, Alex. Damn you, I love you.”
He twisted his hands in her hair, and covered her soft mouth with kisses.
“I will take your love,” he said, stroking her back gently as she calmed. “It is enough, for now.”
She raised passion-drenched eyes to his face. “I am so frightened,” she whispered. “I am no longer just myself.”
“Then you know how I feel.” He lifted her easily beneath her arms and raised her off him, despite her protests, and smiled. “Let me tell you what I did today,” he said. “Then perhaps you will let me rest awhile.”
He settled himself beside her, eased her against his side, and pulled the covers over them. “After I left you, I went to a sailors’ bar down on the Battery. The bruise on my ribs is the result of a drunken brawl.”
She ran her fingers lightly over the purple bruise. “Was it me you were hitting?”
“No. I am much too mild a man ever to strike a woman.”
“You, mild, Mr. Saxton?”
“Mild but potent,” he said blandly.
“Very true. Your son has been pounding me all day.”
“Giana, there is something I want to tell you.”
She was alerted instantly.
“You remember I told you that Charles Lattimer had wanted to marry Laura?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t quite all of it. You see, love, upon reflection, I think my great anger at you was because of Laura, and my memories of her.”
“I don’t understand, Alex,” she said.
He drew a deep breath. “Laura didn’t die in a boating accident, Giana. She killed herself.”
“Oh, Alex, no.” She shuddered at the pain in his eyes. “But why?”
“Her illness became apparent toward the end of our first year of marriage and her pregnancy with Leah. She became afraid of everything, afraid of me, afraid of seeing people, afraid of dying in childbirth. After Leah’s birth, she slipped into a depression so profound that no one could help her. That is why I bought the house in Connecticut. She lived there for three years with her companion. After the death of her father, she lost all hold on reality and killed herself.”
“I’m sorry, Alex.” She clutched him to her, wanting to erase the memory. “But then I must have brought it all back, all of it, at Thanksgiving. You were so superb, you never let on any of it, you never blamed me. It never occurred to me that—”
“How could I blame you?” he said, surprise in his voice. “There was no way you could have known. No one knows the truth. I even kept it from her family. They are Quakers, and the truth would have destroyed them.”
“I always rush into things. I’m an idiot, I never think.”
He drew her to him. “There is no reason for you to blame yourself for any of it. It is over, long over. It is just that you had to know.”
They lay quietly for a time, and then she said, “Alex?”
“Hum?”
“Why do you love me?”
He smiled into the darkness. “Because you fake passion for me so well?”
He felt her fingers close over the hair on his c
hest and tug. He smiled grimly. She had wanted to know why he loved her, and he, agilely enough, had evaded her. How could he explain why when it was simply a feeling, a need that seemed to overshadow everything in his life?
“There is something I would like to hear from you, Giana. I would like you to look me straight in the face and tell me that you want to be my wife and spend your life with me, and damn the unfair laws and damn any men who are unfaithful and harsh with their women.”
He heard her draw in her breath sharply. “It is still a matter of trust, isn’t it?”
“You must give me time,” she whispered at last. She knew she didn’t want to lose him, but she could not help her fright. She saw herself at seventeen, so very young, so very trusting, so very foolish. And Rome, a specter that still haunted her, though less now, she realized, so much less since Alex had come into her life.
As she sought for words to explain to him, she heard him say calmly, “There will always be men like Randall Bennett to take advantage of innocence. You were lucky, Giana. I agree with your mother—Rome was preferable to the unhappiness you would have known with him.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“If you hadn’t been in Rome,” he continued, “I never would have fallen in love with the coy little virgin I bought.”
“Perhaps you would have loved the girl you met four years later in London.”
“That cold woman?”
“I wasn’t cold.”
“You were buried under a foot of snow. I never would have been able to dig my way to you if I hadn’t met you in Rome.”
“You really believe that, Alex?”
“Yes, I really do.”
Giana drew a deep breath. “I know that above all I want to stay with you, Alex. Can I stay, even after the baby is born?”
He was silent for a long moment, knowing that it wasn’t enough, but that it wasn’t the time to say so. There is still time, he thought, his jaw tightening, there is always time. He slowly nodded and drew her to him.
“Yes,” he said. “I want you to stay.” He kissed her temple and listened to her breathing until it slowed and she was asleep on his shoulder.
Chapter 27
It was a glorious day in early April. Delaney, just returned from Washington, strolled beside Giana on the green at Washington Square, matching his stride to hers. She told him about Randall Bennett as they walked, omitting what she thought she must, and dwelling on what Alex had done to him.
Delaney laughed. “You know, Giana, Alex was always beating up whoever dared rub his little brother’s nose in the dirt. Thank God he hasn’t had to do it since I was ten years old. An honorable man, my brother,” he added, squeezing Giana’s arm.
“Yes,” she said, pulling her eyes from the brightly uniformed regiment practicing on the green. “In all his dealings with me, he has certainly been that.”
“I knew once Alex fell in love, he would fall like a mighty oak,” Delaney said.
“He loved Laura.”
“He was fond of Laura,” he said, almost sadly. “Poor girl. He did love her father, dearly. He would have done anything for him. That was really why he kept Laura’s suicide from the Nielson family. It was an awful time for him. I am glad he told you about it. But now, I have never seen him so content. Never would I have imagined that a pert, mouthy English girl would have gotten under his hide.”
“Well, something got under somebody’s hide,” Giana said.
“Spare my blushes, Mrs. Saxton, since your husband certainly won’t. The man can’t keep his hands off you, particularly your stomach.”
“Oh, Delaney, I feel like such a cow.”
“Alex told me you were no longer dashing about like a racehorse. But a cow? Really, my dear girl.”
Giana suddenly stopped in her tracks. She pressed her hands over her belly and raised shocked eyes to Delaney’s face.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s a month too soon.”
“What do you mean?” Delaney asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“My water just broke. Dr. Davidson told me that it happens when labor starts.”
Delaney stared down at her, appalled. He knew absolutely nothing about babies and less about having them. “Home,” he said. “Yes, we must get you home.”
Giana felt a sudden tightening in her belly, followed by a wrenching contraction. She yelped, more in fright than in pain, and raised panicked eyes. “The baby.”
“No, don’t say it,” Delaney said. He hoisted her up into his arms and loped across the green, the eyes of the Seventh Regiment watching his progress. To his heady relief, Alex was at home. He took in the situation at a glance.
“How close are the pains, Delaney?”
“I have no idea, Alex.” He gingerly placed Giana in his brother’s outstretched arms.
Giana winced and clung to Alex’s neck. He bellowed orders as he strode up the stairs, Giana in his arms. He nearly dropped her when she suddenly twisted in pain. “I’m sorry,” she panted when the contraction eased.
“Don’t be a fool. Birthing a child hurts dreadfully.”
“Alex.” His name was a wisp of a sound. “I am so afraid. It is too soon.”
“How the hell can you be afraid? You’re with me, remember?”
He fairly ripped the clothes off her, cursing at the knotted ribbon on her chemise. He wondered if he looked as frantic as the ashen-faced Herbert, who had moved with amazing speed to fetch Dr. Davidson.
Alex stayed beside her, mopping the sweat from her face. He winced at the fear in her eyes, suddenly hating himself for planting his seed in her womb, for bringing her this pain. “Hang on, love,” he said to her. “Elvan will be here soon. Hold my hand.”
He almost instantly regretted it, for she dug her fingers like claws into his flesh. When Elvan, red-faced, suddenly appeared in the doorway, Alex swore to double his fee.
There were no blushes on Elvan’s pleasant face. “How close are her pains?” he asked calmly, pulling off his coat and rolling up his sleeves.
“Continuous, for about ten minutes now.”
Elvan nodded, then ignored Alex. He whipped back the sheet and quickly examined her.
“She’s a month early,” Alex said.
“It’s just as well,” Elvan said, not looking up. “ Another month and I would have been worried.”
“What can I do?”
“Get out and send me Mrs. Carruthers,” Elvan snapped. “Join your brother downstairs. From the look of both of you, you could use some brandy.”
“No,” Giana yelled. “Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me.”
Alex saw the terror in her eyes, and shook his head at Elvan.
“Very well, then,” Elvan said. “No, Mrs. Saxton, don’t press down, not yet. Take short breaths. Remember what I told you.”
Giana was unaware that Anna Carruthers was now in the room, calmly instructing a trembling Ellen what to do. She was drenched in her own sweat, consumed by a pain she could never have imagined.
She felt Alex’s arms about her shoulders, holding her, felt him wipe her forehead with the damp cloth Mrs. Carruthers handed him.
“It won’t be long now, Mrs. Saxton,” she heard Dr. Davidson say, his voice sounding tired. Long, she thought vaguely. It had already been forever.
For several moments the pain locked out everyone and his words made no sense. It was Alex shaking her that brought her back to a semblance of reason. At a nod from Elvan, Alex said in his most imperious voice, “Push down now, Giana.”
She groaned, straining desperately. She let out a scream and lurched upward.
“The baby’s coming. Again, Mrs. Saxton, push.”
Alex released his hold on her just in time to see Elvan catch his son. “My God,” he said, staring at the mop of black hair. At his son’s furious wail, he said again, “My God.”
Alex turned back to Giana, a wide smile on his face. He kissed her lightly on her parched mouth. “
Thank you, love. You promised me a son. I should never have doubted you.”
Giana smiled even as she closed her eyes.
“Now will you get out of here, Alex? Damn, if she had waited another month, your son would have been born speaking.”
Alex sat on the edge of the bed, watching Elvan show Giana how to feed their son. When the baby’s small mouth suddenly closed around her nipple, she gasped, then smiled, her eyes flying to Alex’s face.
“Oh my,” she said, “how very odd that feels.”
Elvan rose. “Well, you don’t need me anymore for the present. I won’t ask you to accompany me out the door, Alex. I can see you’d far rather watch your son have his dinner.”
“I don’t think Giana cares what I do for the moment,” Alex said, laughing. He watched her shake aside the thick, plaited braid that lay over her shoulder as she stared down, bemused, at the tiny fingers clutching at her breast. She looked so very lovely. Who would guess that she had given birth only yesterday? He felt a welling of pride and tenderness so intense that he had to turn away.
“A glass of wine, Elvan?” he asked, and led the way to the library.
When he returned to their bedroom, Nicholas was sleeping in a cradle Alex had hastily bought.
“I expect him to snore any minute,” Giana said, pulling her eyes away from her son. “And you, Alex, you look so very pleased with yourself.”
“It is you I am pleased with,” he said. He cupped her face between his large hands, dipped his head down, and lightly kissed her. “Thank you for my son.”
She felt him trembling slightly, and gently stroked the curling black hair at the back of his neck.
“He is rather nice,” she said, breaking the power of the moment. “But he looks not at all like me. It isn’t fair, and I did all the work.”
“Ah, but I, my dear, made it all possible. ‘One damned time,’ if I recall your words correctly.” His grin faded and she heard the anxiety in his voice as he added, “Do you feel all right now?”
“Of course. And so flat. Feel, Alex, I’m skinny again.”
He forced a smile to his lips, and laid his hand lightly on her belly. “I will see that you stay that way,” he said, and she started at the intensity of his voice. It was odd, she thought, but the terrible pain she had endured was fading from her mind more quickly than from Alex’s.
Evening Star Page 34