by Diana Fraser
“How about somewhere closer to home?” He felt a pang of guilt when he saw how miserable Gemma looked. “What do you think, Gemma?”
She shrugged as if she didn’t care. But she appeared to be diminishing under the stony cool of his mother’s aura. “Does it matter what I think?”
His mother’s fine grey brow swept upwards. “Matter? My dear young lady, it is your wedding. I’d have thought it matters a great deal.” She took a sip of white wine and placed the cut-glass back on the mahogany table with deliberate care. “Claire organized her wedding most ably.”
Gemma bit her lip and shook her head, fixing her eyes firmly on her plate.
“And I’m sure Gemma will organize our wedding most ably,” Callum said firmly. “Especially if she’s given some support.” Callum was rewarded with a grateful glance from Gemma.
Lady Mackenzie shrugged noncommittally—a tense little shift of her narrow shoulders. “Our family weddings have always been in Christchurch. Even Dallas and…whatever her name is.”
“Cassandra, mother. As you very well know, it’s Cassandra.”
Lady Mackenzie sighed. “American.” There was a long pause. “Lovely children though.” She faced Gemma once more. “I’ll organize it for you. Leave you time to do whatever it is you want to do here.” She waved her hand. “Paint, whatever you like. Leave the arrangements to me.”
Gemma looked up at Callum, her eyes pleading.
“We might, mother. Then again, we might not. Gemma and I need to discuss things first—but not tonight.”
His mother visibly stiffened and she sipped her wine delicately. “I see.” She glanced down at her plate for a few moments before pinning Callum with a look. “Darling, I need my glasses. I think they’re in the Orangerie. Would you be a dear and get them for me?”
Callum sighed. He knew it was a ruse. “I’ll have Maria get them.” Then he remembered he’d given Maria the evening off and there was no-one else close by. “Okay, I’ll go,” he shot his mother a warning look. “But I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”
“Thank you, darling.” His mother’s butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth look worried him more than any outright aggression. He shook his head in despair at his mother and left the room, determined to be as quick as possible.
Gemma watched Callum leave the room with a heavy heart. She felt exhausted and not up to playing cat and mouse with Lady Mackenzie. And a glance at Lady Mackenzie’s suddenly changed expression, only depressed her further.
“You’re not right for Callum, you know. He needs someone of his own class, someone who can help him with the estate. Not someone like you. How much money do you want?”
“What?” Gemma couldn’t believe the woman had the audacity to talk to her like that.
“How much money do you want to leave?”
Gemma shook her head, incredulous. “I’m not with Callum for money.”
“What then?”
“It’s about our child.”
“If you think you’ll be getting a father for your child from Callum, you’re mistaken. He’s focused on one thing only—his land. He’ll have no time for you or the child. You’ve chosen the wrong man in Callum. You don’t know him at all.”
Anger at Lady Mackenzie’s unjust comments both to her and Callum swept away her earlier intentions of saying as little as possible. Despite her personal grievances against Callum, the injustice of his mother’s remarks—whether truly believed or simply designed to make Gemma leave—shocked her.
“I reckon I know Callum better than you do by the sounds of things.”
“You know enough to get pregnant—that much is obvious.”
“Enough to know that he’ll do right by my—our—child. And,” her voice lowered, “enough to know he’s a good man.”
Lady Mackenzie stared angrily into her eyes. “There’s many a good man out there.” She whirled her hand in the air. “Why don’t you run along and find one more suited to you.”
“I’ve found one. Callum will do just nicely thank you.”
The heavy door swung closed behind them. In her anger she hadn’t been aware that Callum had entered the room. Nor had Lady Mackenzie, if the flash of annoyance that passed over her face was anything to go by.
Lady Mackenzie rose at once, elegant and poised, but Gemma could see that Callum’s entry was premature and unwelcome.
“Did you find them?”
“No, they weren’t there. As well you know.”
Callum was talking to his mother but his eyes were fixed on Gemma, searching her face as if looking for some kind of answer. What had he heard her say? His expression was uncharacteristically thoughtful.
“Gemma, are you okay? You look pale.”
Gemma nodded. She wasn’t the only one. Lady Mackenzie’s face was drained of color as she looked from one to the other of them and Gemma could see she was even less happy than before. Lady Mackenzie took her seat once more.
“This is my business as much as yours, Callum. And I can see you’re blinded by the girl. Just like a man. Just like your father.” Her voice trembled as she looked away.
“Just stop right there, mother. My marriage is my business, no matter what you care to think. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped insulting Gemma and you didn’t get involved in what doesn’t concern you.”
“Of course it concerns me.” She glanced from one to the other and then back to Callum. “You don’t even know the child is yours. Have you had a paternity test done?”
“Hang on a minute—”
Callum held up his hand to stop Gemma from rising from her seat. “I have no doubts that the baby’s mine and this is none of your business.”
“It most certainly is my business. I have a share in this land, if I may remind you, and this business.”
“We are to be married next month and we’re expecting the birth of our child in August. Those are the facts and you’re just going to have to deal with them.”
“So what are you getting out of this other than a bed-warmer and legitimizing a bastard?”
“None of your business.”
She rose, walked towards him and coolly examined his face.
“But I think it is, isn’t it Callum? It is business. There can be no other reason.” Lady Mackenzie narrowed her eyes assessingly. “It’s the land, isn’t it? You’ve sorted something out about the land.”
“It’s time you left for home. It’ll be dark soon and you know you don’t like being driven in the dark.”
She laughed and her face relaxed into a look of understanding that puzzled Gemma. “Well, well. A proper Faustian deal. Not so badly done after all, Callum.” She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek and left the room.
Lady Mackenzie closed the door with an eerie softness behind her and Gemma slumped back into her chair.
Callum strode across to the window and watched his mother impatiently await her car under the stone portico. It was only when the smooth purr of the Bentley moved away that he spoke.
“I must apologize for my mother—she’s, well,” he shrugged, “upset, I guess.”
“She’s upset! There can be no excuse for her behavior. She’s like some Valkyrie.”
“Yeah, well. She had a rough life with my father, but… you’re probably right. There’s no excuse for saying the things she did.” He paused, searching Gemma’s face for what, she didn’t know. “You look tired. You should go to bed.”
She rose slowly. “Damn it, Callum. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me when to go to bed. I don’t need to be told what to do, I don’t need to be controlled. I’m not a child.”
“I know.”
His quiet admission cut through her anger and robbed her of speech.
He walked over to her until he was so close that if she’d reached out, she’d have been able to touch him. “I know you’re not a child. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to make sure you do the right thing—from wanting to look after you.” He cleared his throat. “It�
�s a practical thing, you understand, not emotional. You mustn’t expect anything like that from me.”
She should have been inured to hurt by now, but apparently she wasn’t. She drew a deep breath.
“Don’t worry. My expectations are low on that score.”
“So we have an understanding?”
“Yes. But it’ll be easier to stick to it, if you and your mother stop throwing your first wife in my face. I get it that she was a paragon of virtue and I’m nowhere close, but I really don’t need to hear it again and again.”
“She wasn’t.”
Gemma waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. She sat back in her chair, puzzled. “Wasn’t what?”
“A paragon of virtue.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked outside once more. The house lights and those of the surrounding buildings formed a pool of brightness, around which the shadows of early twilight clung. “I’m not going to elaborate. Just wanted you to know you’ve nothing to live up to. I loved Claire but she had her problems, our life wasn’t straightforward.”
She hadn’t thought it would hurt so much to hear that he loved Claire. “So how did you go from love to emotional shutdown?”
“Jesus, Gemma, give it a break. I lost her.” He sucked in a difficult breath. “Okay. I’ll tell you. She was headstrong—it was one of the things I loved about her—but it led her to do things she shouldn’t. She was easily influenced. And I let her do what she wanted. I shouldn’t have. She died because of it.” The words were cold, clipped and business-like.
Instinctively Gemma reached out to comfort him. He stared intently at her hand resting lightly on his arm.
“Her death was my fault. And I fully intend to make sure that I don’t make the same mistake again. I will take care of my own.”
“Even if that means taking over someone’s life, Callum?”
He shrugged. “Whatever’s necessary.”
“You can’t take on everybody’s issues. You need to give them—you need to give me—space.”
“I need to keep you and our baby safe. That’s the bottom line, that’s the end of it.” He turned away abruptly.
The conversation was at an end. It had shifted out of his comfort zone into the world of emotion. And yet instinct made her want to bridge the gap between them, to take him in her arms and hold him so tight that he would feel her. But he’d just made himself perfectly clear—he had no interest in her, other than keeping her safe.
She left the room without a glance and closed the door. She walked through the softly lit house to her room, feeling the hurt in every cell of her body. Yes, he was considerate, as someone is about someone, or something, in their care. He’d made sure she had a good car to keep her safe, he’d tried to stick up for her against his mother’s verbal onslaught. But that was as far as it went.
She’d imagined he couldn’t love, couldn’t feel. But he did. Just not for her.
CHAPTER SIX
Doctor Cooper peered up at her over the half-rimmed glasses with a probing gaze.
“Keeping well?”
Another man of few words. What was it with these country men?
“Fine.” She crossed her legs and folded her arms. At least few words would mean they’d get through this more quickly. She glanced at Callum who stood by the open window, looking out across the glass-like stillness of Lake Tekapo, the mountains reflected in the pristine surface.
“Any conditions in the family we should take account of?”
“Like what?”
“Your mother’s pregnancy ran smoothly?”
She shrugged. “No idea.”
“Umm.” The doctor examined his papers. “And why is that?”
“She didn’t stay around long enough for me to find out.”
“Your father?”
Gemma noticed that Callum’s gaze had stopped sweeping the water and he’d become still, just like the trees and lake outside the window, calm and expectant. He obviously wasn’t as disinterested as he appeared.
She squared her shoulders. “Died. Look, doctor, I’m sure you mean well, but I’m fit, I’ve been working up until now. I’m just having a baby. Everything’s fine, everything’s normal.”
The doctor’s lips twitched, but there was no smile in his eyes. “I’m sure it is.” He sifted through her non-existent file. “Now, where can we find your old medical records? There may be information in them we need.”
She shrugged again. “London, I guess. I haven’t seen a doctor since I left home.”
“And when was that?”
She stood up, exasperated. No way was she going into her background with Callum standing by. “Thank you for your time, but I really don’t need any of this.”
“Miss Winters. You are of course, free to go any time—”
“No she’s not. She’s sick. Look at her.” Callum faced them for the first time, irritation showing through the usual impassive mask.
“A little anemic, I think. Not unusual with prolonged morning sickness. She’ll be fine after a few months, with rest and good food.”
“Can you guys stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here?”
“If you answered the doctor’s questions, we wouldn’t have to,” Callum snapped back.
She wanted to grab hold of those wide, strong shoulders and shake him. But she doubted she’d make any impact on him. It would take a disaster of biblical proportions to rattle him.
Doctor Cooper looked first at Gemma and then Callum. “Perhaps, Callum, you wouldn’t mind giving us a quarter of an hour on our own while I go through a few things with Miss Winters.”
It seemed that something other than brute force could move Callum—a doctor’s raised eyebrow.
“Fifteen minutes.” Callum looked from the doctor back to Gemma. “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated like some kind of warning.
Callum walked out of the doctor’s office and onto the road that led to the lake. What the hell was she playing at? Didn’t she care about the baby? Why all the secrecy around her childhood? She’d told him her parents had died. What else was she trying to hide?
It was mid morning and the small town was busy with locals and tourists going about their business. He nodded in greeting to the people he knew but didn’t stop to talk. He was rarely in the mood for talking, never more so than today.
He didn’t stop walking until he reached the lake. There were few people on the lake at this hour of a weekday. Weekends in summer it could be busy with water sports, but now he could enjoy the emptiness of the blue expanse, framed by swathes of pink and purple lupins, the canopy of beech trees that barely moved under the hot summer sun, and the mountains. The light was sharp and bright, but filtered under the trees. He moved out from under the trees and squinted up at the bright white of the sun-capped Alps that fringed the skyline. He didn’t shelter from anything. Faced it head on. Just like Gemma was going to have to do.
He didn’t want to marry, not after what happened with Claire. But he had no choice. He felt, at some deep, irrational level, it was a chance to replay history, to do what he should have done all those years ago, look after his wife and unborn child and make sure they lived. This time he’d do it right. Except this time it would be harder because he’d be marrying a secretive, diminutive, impractical redhead.
But he would acquire the land. That thought always sat at the front of his mind. It would mean he could regain the land his grandfather had lost in a card game, land that his great great grandfather had worked his butt off to buy. The Glencoe estate would be whole once more. He turned away from the peaceful lake scene. It was a solution to a long-term problem. Then why did it feel so wrong?
He glanced at his watch. The fifteen minutes was up. He swiftly retraced his steps, knocked at the door and waited impatiently for the doctor’s response before entering his office. He looked from the doctor to Gemma and narrowed his gaze. Something had happened. Gemma appeared almost relaxed.
“You’re in time for the
scan.” The doctor didn’t look up but continued to fiddle with the monitor.
“Is it necessary?” Callum suddenly felt uncomfortable as Gemma lifted her top to reveal her stomach and the doctor began applying gel.
The doctor nodded. “Not always, but in this case, definitely.”
Callum stood impatiently over them both.
“Sit down, Callum.”
Callum ignored the doctor’s instruction and remained standing. He’d leave. This was a waste of his time. Then the doctor wielded the scanner across Gemma’s stomach, which shone with lubricant, and Callum swallowed. He looked away, focusing on the small monitor, anything so as not to see the expanse of bare skin. His hands itched to replace the doctor’s scanner. He clenched them hard.
Then suddenly he saw something. He pointed to the screen, completely absorbed. “What the hell’s that?”
“That is your baby, Callum.”
“But, but—Jesus…”
The unmistakable form of a baby suddenly came into view. “Is that a—”
“No, it’s a leg.” The doctor moved the scanner around a few more times. “We can’t see the sex at the moment.”
“Way to go on anatomy, Callum.” Gemma’s smile was full of humor and relaxed for once. She was as struck by the image before them as he was.
Callum suddenly felt weak. He sat down beside her, pointing to the screen, ignoring her sarcasm. “Is everything okay? It looks a strange shape.”
“It’s all fine. It’s just the angle.” The doctor shifted the scanner slightly. “There, now you can see a little better.”
Callum didn’t know where the huge lump came from but it formed in his throat and no amount of swallowing would remove it. He glanced down and found he was gripping Gemma’s hand. He also saw that she was looking at him strangely, yet she’d made no effort to remove her hand from his and he didn’t withdraw it.