The Marriage Trap (Book 2, The Mackenzies)

by Diana Fraser

  “I feel good. Looking forward to the little one making an appearance, though.”

  “No names yet? You wanted Violet Rose, if I remember rightly.”

  She grinned. “And you wanted Joan. We never did have that discussion, did we?”

  “No.” There was a long pause. Words swam into Callum’s head only to float out again. He’d thought about what he should say for weeks, but now the words had vanished. Just looking at her here, so self-possessed, surrounded by friends, her red hair gleaming under the bright lights, her eyes shining and full of life, she was a stranger to him. Callum sucked in a deep breath and felt inside his jacket for the papers. But, before he could produce them there was a shout and Gemma was distracted.

  “Gemma! Over here. The photographers want a shot of you for one of the national papers.”

  Gemma looked at Callum questioningly.

  “You go.” The smile vanished from her face in an instant and Callum reached out to hold her back but his gesture was too late and Gemma was soon lost amidst a throng of art-lovers, locals and reporters. Callum took a step back out of the way. He wasn’t wanted here. Gemma was his wife in name only. Neither of them had made steps to formally separate but he could see she’d made a new life for herself and he wasn’t a part of it.

  He was happy for her. He was. He turned around and walked out of the café.

  It was ridiculous, but it hurt him to see her so happy surrounded by people he didn’t even know. She’d moved away from him. There was nothing more he could give her. He had to face the hurt that he’d tried to protect himself from for so long.

  Out by the lake, the cool air was misting above the grass. He tugged open his collar, wanting the crisp air on his skin, wanting to feel something other than the pain of watching the woman he loved move further and further away from him.

  He looked out across to the mountains until his eyes burned with the brightness of their snow-capped peaks capturing the last of the sunlight. Eventually he had to look away and he rubbed his watering eyes.

  “Callum?”

  He stood stock still. He was hearing things now. He sighed and shook his head, trying to rid it of the lingering image and sounds of Gemma.

  “Callum.” He closed his eyes at her light touch and then swung round to face her.

  Gemma was out of breath. It wasn’t just the exercise—although God knew, she’d done little enough over the past few months except paint at her easel in Rebecca’s cottage—it was also fear. She’d barely turned her back on Callum before he’d gone. “You disappeared in a rush. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Callum looked down at his feet and then away, over her shoulder. It seemed he didn’t want to face her. “You were busy, so I thought it best if I leave.”

  Gemma swallowed her fears. “So… you just came out of politeness, then.”

  He shrugged noncommittally. “You invited me. I had nothing else on tonight.”

  She nodded and kept on nodding like some crazy nodding toy. It was her turn to look away. She sighed sharply. “Right. Well. Don’t let me keep you. I guess things have changed over the past few months.” I guess you don’t want me any more. That was what she wanted to say but it would be too humiliating to hear him agree.

  “Yes.”

  “For me, too.” She chewed her lip. She waited but he didn’t go. She lifted her chin defiantly. She wouldn’t be the first one to leave this time. “The exhibition… did you like it?”

  “You’re a good artist.”

  She shrugged and managed a brief smile. “Thanks. It’s strange putting my works out in the public for all to see. But…” she tailed off and shrugged nervously once more. “It seemed the right time to do it.”

  “Before the baby.”

  “Yes.” She held his blue gaze for the first time. “Before the baby.”

  “How have you been keeping?”

  Was it her imagination or was his gaze warmer now? “Fine. As I’m sure Dr Cooper’s told you.”

  Callum frowned. “He said that you’d told him it was okay to share information with me. I assumed…”

  “Yes, sure. That’s fine. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Her smiled faded. “Not any more, anyway.” Another pause. “So, what’s the news from Glencoe?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve bought Blackrock.”

  “I thought you would. You know, I never did understand the whole story about the caveat.”

  “Family feud, generations ago. My grandfather lost the land in a gambling game and Sarah’s ancestor was determined our family wouldn’t buy it back again in several lifetimes. Hence the caveat that the land could only be sold if there was no house on it.”

  “Why didn’t they renovate it, keep it going then?”

  He shrugged. “It was in the same hands for sixty years. The old lady had no interest in it.”

  “And now, it’s yours. Does that makes you happy? You’ve got the Glencoe estate whole again at last. Just as you always wanted it.” She frowned momentarily. “It was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

  He smiled but the light didn’t reach his eyes. “Was. Yes, it was what I’d always wanted.” He rummaged in his pocket. “But my reasons for wanting it have changed.” He extracted a sheaf of papers, tied together with a piece of rough string.

  “Really?” He handed her the papers. They were still warm from his body. “What are these?” She held them out to him, questioningly.

  “Deeds to Blackrock.”

  She narrowed her gaze but didn’t speak.

  “For you. It’s your home. You loved it. Build yourself another one there.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It’s yours.”

  “Why? You said yourself you’d been fighting in the courts for years to get the land. Why just throw it away now?”

  “I’m not throwing it away, I’m giving it to you. There’s only one thing I want now. And that’s for you to be happy. I’ve had plenty of time to think about what you said, and of course you’re right. I’m a controlling, stubborn bastard who has no idea how to handle precious things. I understand your reasons for living away from me. I do. But, the worst of it is, I can’t promise you anything different. I am who I am. I can’t change that, even for you. Even… if I wanted to.”

  Gemma was stunned. “I’ve never heard you say so much in one go.”

  Callum huffed a grim laugh.

  “I’m sorry, I’m being flippant, I—”

  “You’re right,” Callum interrupted. “I’m not given to speeches. And you’d probably have to wait a lifetime before you hear another one.”

  “A lifetime?” They gazed at each other. Neither moved, neither spoke. Eventually Callum looked away as if unable to face the silence any longer. But Gemma’s heart was too full to speak. “That’s a long time to wait.”

  “It’s too long, isn’t it? No-one has a right to ask a lifetime of someone else.”

  The tears pricked at the back of her eyes. “You can ask.”

  But her words were drowned by a shout from James that made Callum turn away. She saw the tension in his cheek, a slight tic as a muscle moved in his jaw. She’d never seen it before. He’d always been so strong, so sure. He turned to face her.

  “Anyway, Gemma, that’s all I came for. So…I’d better go.”

  He began to walk away. She suddenly remembered the papers. “Callum!”

  He looked back at her too quickly, expectantly waiting.

  “Thanks! Thanks so much for your gift.”

  He flashed a brief, joyless smile. “You’re welcome.”

  She watched him walk away to join James and Dallas, who’d just arrived for the holiday weekend. Neither of them noticed her, hidden under the wind-swept boughs of a towering pine tree.

  Stunned, Gemma couldn’t move, just stared at the papers in her hand. She knew how much Callum had wanted that land. After all, that was why he’d married her, wasn’t it? She tightened her fist around the papers until the crisp edges crumpled together.
She jumped at the sound of Dallas’s greeting to Callum. She watched the three brothers embrace each other. The yellow halo of a lamp surrounded all three of the Mackenzies. How could she have been so blind? The Mackenzie brothers were nothing like Paul and his men. Callum and his brothers would always be there for each other, but it wasn’t a sign of control, it was a sign of love. And she’d been too scared to see it. But now she could.

  She opened her fingers and let the papers unroll on her palm. He’d wanted the land and he’d just given it to her. She’d accused him of being controlling but giving her the gift of the land at Blackrock wasn’t controlling. It was handing control to her. He’d handed her the one thing he thought she wanted—the home she’d been wanting, the freedom she’d been yearning for all these years. And here it was. Hers. So why didn’t it feel good? She weighed the papers on her palm as if trying to judge their weight. They were papers. It was just land. It didn’t represent the home she’d been wanting—merely a place.

  There was only thing—one person—she wanted now.

  Throughout the evening Gemma kept an anxious eye on Callum. She was scared he’d disappear before she could finish her official duties as hostess of the evening. He’d kept apart from her, giving her the space to talk to the guests Liz, her friend who owned the café, had arranged but he hadn’t disappeared.

  Now, as people drifted away and the café staff began clearing up, Gemma made her way over to him. He was alone. Dallas had returned to Glencoe and James had disappeared. She’d almost reached Callum when she was stopped by someone. She made her excuses but when she’d turned around he was gone.

  She grabbed her warm coat and hat off the hook and rushed outside. Good. Callum’s car was still parked on the road. He hadn’t left yet. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  She shivered as she walked along the quiet street towards the lake. He must have gone towards the water. It would have been his instinct to leave the houses, to find his way to the quiet of the land. She came to the end of the road where a swathe of grass, dusted with snow, gleamed in front of the dark lake. He stood, hands thrust deep in his coat pockets, looking up at the snow clouds that periodically dimmed the slender crescent moon and the Milky Way that arced over their heads. She felt his despair as if it were her own.

  She pulled the coat tighter around her as she picked her way carefully across the uneven ground toward him. He didn’t hear her approach at first. Then his gaze lowered, across the lake towards the dark bulk of the mountains as if aware of someone’s presence. Slowly he turned round to face her. His coat was unbuttoned as if he didn’t feel the cold. He never had. She kept on walking until she reached him. She placed her hand on his stomach and she felt his muscles tense beneath her touch. Without speaking, she slid it round to his back, pressing it against the warmth of his skin under his jacket as she laid her cheek against his chest and her head against his shoulder.

  “Take me home, Callum.”

  His hand lightly brushed the small of her back. But it was too gentle to be a caress, more a shifting of his hand to accommodate her body. He hadn’t understood.

  “Home?” He repeated.

  “To Glencoe.”

  She didn’t move. Just listened to the quickened beat of his heart and felt her own increase to meet his rhythm, suddenly unsure. Perhaps she’d been wrong, perhaps he’d simply given her the land as a final goodbye. Had she misinterpreted the gift? She gasped and pulled away, looking up at him, trying to read his unreadable features.

  But his face, as strong and dear to her as the land around them, was close enough to kiss and soft enough to touch. She reached out and ran her finger down his strong cheekbone and across his chin.

  “I’m so sorry, Callum,” she gulped, trying in vain to hold back the tears. “I was wrong. I know what I want now.”

  His eyes searched her face questioningly.

  “You.” She gripped his jacket lapels into her fist and tugged them to her, until she could feel the heat of his body against hers. “Only you.” She pressed her trembling lips together. “I love you, you see.”

  Callum thrust his fingers into her hair, either side of her face, and pressed his lips to hers. Neither moved, neither breathed, just held their lips gently against each other’s. The heat of their mouths contrasted to the icy cold of the first flutter of snowflakes that drifted straight down from the never ending sky. Too soon, Callum pulled away and brushed a snowflake from her nose.

  “I love you, Gemma.”

  She shook her head, choking with tears and laughter. “Really?”

  “Of course. I love you. You won’t have to wait a lifetime to hear those words again. I’ll tell you every day, until you stop doubting me. I love you. I—”

  Whatever else he was going to say was lost as she pressed her mouth to his. The stars, the snow and the cold receded until the only reality was the warmth of his body against hers. It told her everything she needed to know to keep her going for a lifetime.

  Epilogue

  Gemma groaned uncomfortably and shifted as far as the monitor leads would allow her. The doctors had told her it was just a waiting game and she was prepared. She shifted once more to her side, trying to find a place where the pressure of the baby wasn't so painful and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the flowers that filled every available space. She gasped as a sharp pain pierced her body.

  “Painful?”

  She looked into Callum’s concerned face. He was more nervous than she was. “Not really,” she tried to reassure him. But as another contraction gripped her body she cried out.

  “I’ll get the doctor.”

  She lay back and exhaled noisily as the pain passed. “It’s okay. Really.”

  He flicked a lock of hair that was stuck to her damp face and smoothed it between his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, Gemma.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m in labor, my hair’s all over the place, I’m running a temperature and feel nauseous.”

  “Beautiful,” he repeated.

  She grimaced, breathed deeply of gas and air through a mouthpiece, picked up his hand, luxuriating in his strength and his rock steady love, and kissed it. She closed her eyes against the escalating pain, despite the pain relief, trying not to panic. She gripped his hand. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then,” she smiled as the panic and pain ebbed away once more, “you must promise me that you’ll forget everything you hear me say. There will be the use of swear words which you possibly have never heard before and you must forget I’ve ever said such things.”

  He kissed her hand in acceptance.

  “Then, I may need to bite on something or dig my nails into you if the going gets rough. That’s what you’re here for.”

  He kissed the inside of her elbow in acceptance.

  “Lastly, while I rant and rage, you must soothe me with massages, stroking, words—whatever you can.”

  He kissed her neck and brought his head close to hers, hesitating, unsure. His eyes lowered in a frown, searching her face.

  “You know I’m no good with words. I might need a trial run on that one.”

  She shifted again. “Just try. Tell me…anything.”

  “How about ‘I’m here for you, always.’ Would you find that soothing?”

  Tears sprung to her eyes. She sniffed and tried to ignore them. “Short,” she nodded, “but soothing. Anything else?”

  Callum blew out his cheeks. “Now you’re pushing it. I’ve just about exhausted my romantic repertoire.”

  The tears rolled down her face. By the look of panic on his face, he must have mistaken her tears for sadness. “Gemma,” he gripped her hands tightly. “I can’t put what I feel for you in words. You know that. I’m too useless with words and, it—how I feel for you—is just too big. It’s all of me, it’s my life.” He paused, his eyes searching around the hospital room, as if for inspiration. But he didn’t need it. When he looked back at her, she could see he knew
exactly what to say. “You’re my life. It’s that simple.”

  Gemma eased herself up on her elbows and smiled. She couldn’t say anything, her heart was too full.

  Callum swallowed. “Say something, Gemma. You’re good with words.”

  “Not as good as you.” She shook her head. “I can only think of three. I love you, Callum Mackenzie.”

  “That’s five.”

  Gemma’s laughter turned into a cry as another contraction took hold. But through the shroud of pain she could have sworn she heard the words, “I love you, too”, whispered against her ear.

  “It’s a girl,” Callum breathed.

  Gemma sighed, a bone deep sigh, and brushed the back of her finger along the fine, golden down of her daughter’s hair. “Violet Rose.”

  Callum didn’t bat an eyelid. He brought the tightly wrapped bundle to his lips and kissed the top of her head. “Violet Rose, welcome home.”

  Suddenly the doors flew open and Dallas, Cassandra, Lily and James burst in with balloons and shouts. James popped open a bottle of champagne and Lily, clothed entirely in pink, shrieked when told she had a girl cousin. Dallas kissed Gemma, and Cassandra tried to contain Lily’s enthusiasm for her new cousin.

  James leaned against the wall, sipped his champagne, and watched a tear that Callum hadn’t been able to control, slip down his face. He’d never seen Callum cry before. A baby could make you do that, he guessed. He watched as Callum held his daughter so carefully, cradling her in his arms as if she were the most precious thing in the world. James looked up at the clinical ceiling—white paint, bare strip lighting—willing the swell of sadness to leave him. He swallowed, glanced briefly at his brothers surrounded by children and the women they loved, and quietly left the room.

  The End

  James’s Book—Book 3 of The Mackenzie series—coming soon.

  You can sign up for Diana’s newsletter here for information on book releases, or via her website.