The Pregnancy Promise

by Barbara McMahon

  At night she dreamed of a future with a small baby crying for cuddling, Tray hanging over her shoulder as she nursed their child. It was the getting-to-that-point that she glossed over. But anticipation built, alternating with delight and dread. One night before too long she and Tray would make love.

  That thought scared her to death.

  Late Tuesday afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Traynor Elliott headed east to the beach. The ceremony had been brief, and rather perfunctory, Lianne mused as Tray’s car sped along. The judge who married them had read the words from a book and seemed bored by the process. The witnesses were his secretary and law clerk. No one from Lianne’s family was there. Tray had no one to attend.

  Lianne glanced at her left hand. The plain gold band Tray had placed there gleamed in the sunshine. Because the marriage was to be secret she hadn’t thought about rings. She wouldn’t wear it after today. Not in the office, not at home. She clenched her hand into a fist as if to hold on tight. For today, however, anyone they met could know they were married. Her heart warmed slightly at the sight of the gold band.

  “Do we need to stop for groceries?” he asked after a long silent spell.

  “Unless you want to eat out every meal. There are only canned and packaged goods at the cottage. We never know if the power has gone out, so don’t keep perishables unless someone’s in residence. I cleared out the fridge when I left last time,” Lianne said. “Practically speaking, it would be better to eat in. Going to the local restaurants could give rise to gossip that would get back to my family.”

  “Tell me the best place to stop,” he replied with a quick, enigmatic look at her.

  “Steubensville would be a good place. Not too far from Baden that cold foods would get warm, but not so close we’d likely run into anyone who knows me.”

  Being in a clandestine marriage would take some getting used to. Lianne wasn’t used to subterfuge. Every time she had an attack of conscience, she remembered the possibility of not being able to have a baby. She wasn’t sure she could stand the well-meaning sympathy of others if that turned out to be the situation. Better to protect herself from future pity.

  The cottage was cold when they entered. Lianne quickly fired up the wall heater while Tray brought in their bags and the sacks of groceries.

  “It’s only four o’clock. Too early to start dinner. Why don’t we change and take a walk along the beach,” she suggested. Even though the house was huge by most standards, she felt it shrink with Tray in the room. She’d pointed out one of her brothers’ rooms as a place Tray could use for the night.

  “Good idea. You can tell me all about growing up spending summers here,” he said.

  The beach had held Lianne’s heart since she’d been a little girl. She had always loved the timelessness of the breakers, the soothing calmness being here brought her. Today her nerves were stretched tight. She was counting on the ocean to work its magic with her to help her relax.

  Tray looked more masculine than ever when he joined her a short time later. She’d put on warm jeans and a sweatshirt. Her jacket was lightweight but should help if it was windy. He’d donned dark pants and a black sweater, which defined his wide shoulders and broad chest to perfection and made him look slightly mysterious. Lianne realized she didn’t know this man she’d married as well as she thought. Maybe in business, but his personal life was a complete unknown. She felt her heart kick up another notch. It was going to be a long evening.

  “Did you ever go to the beach as a child?” she asked when they headed out.

  “Uncle Hal took us for a week every couple of years when I was younger. We went to Virginia Beach. Always in the summertime and it was always crowded. This is different. We’re the only people on the beach.”

  “It’s crowded here in the summer months, but only the year-round people in town use the beach this time of year—and a few crazies like me. I think I prefer winter to summer. Though I do like to swim.”

  “Ever do any sailing?”

  “From time to time. One of my brothers loves it. He has a boat he keeps up at Annapolis. We all go out on it at least once each season. I think he’d live on it if he could. Do you sail?”

  “I have. I like it, but owning a boat is a big commitment and so is Protective, Inc. That’s where my focus lies at the moment.”

  “How did you get into this business, I mean actually start up a company that provides protection to high-profile people?” she asked.

  “Saw the need and stepped in. I had training in the Rangers, which prepared me for strategic planning of protective measures. The rest is learning as we go, seeing what works, what can be improved, tapping into the brains of the people who work with me. Keeping abreast of new technologies.”

  “What do you see changing if you become a father?” she asked.

  “When I become a father. Spending more time at home. Learning how to take care of a child.” He glanced at her again. “I’ll be there for the kid.”

  She tried to imagine him holding an infant, but she could more readily picture him fighting terrorists.

  When they returned to the cottage, it was time to begin preparing dinner. Lianne was glad of the task—it kept her from dwelling on this odd arrangement. She’d known and admired Tray for a long time, yet felt awkward and uncertain around him with the changed circumstances.

  “Need help?” he asked, walking into the spacious kitchen.

  “Since we planned on spaghetti, you have your choice of fixing the garlic bread, the salad or pasta. I’m good on the sauce.”

  “I’ll start on the bread,” he said.

  A few moments later they were companionably working side by side at the counter.

  “I thought your cooking was limited to omelets and ordering pizza,” she said, watching him expertly slice the bread and smear it with a garlic-butter spread they had purchased.

  “This is hardly gourmet cooking. Uncle Hal made sure I knew how to do things, I choose not to. This is different. Any idiot can prepare garlic bread.”

  “My brother Sean can’t.” She thought about it for a moment. “Or maybe he just pretends he can’t to get out of helping. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Sean, older or younger?”

  “He’s older by two years, and another one of twins. Declan is his. You’d think my mother would have caught on after they were born, but nope, she then had me and Annalise.”

  “Four kids, a houseful,” he said.

  Lianne laughed softly. “Actually I have ten brothers and sisters, there are eleven of us.”

  “Good grief.” Tray stopped work to stare at her.

  “Unexpected in an only child raised by an uncle, I expect,” she said with a smile. “Actually it does shock most people in this day and age. Large families just aren’t in vogue anymore. But Mom and Dad love us all and I can’t imagine not having so many brothers and sisters around.”

  “No wonder this place is so large,” he said glancing around.

  “It still gets crowded in summer.”

  “Had things been different, did you want a large family?” Tray asked, wrapping the bread in aluminum foil and turning to check if the oven had been turned on.

  “I knew I always wanted children, but to me, getting my career underway was paramount. Then I thought I’d marry and have kids. But that was vague and general. Now it looks as if I’ll be lucky to have even one.”

  “Maybe you’ll have twins.”

  “Maybe. Start the water for the pasta, would you?” As preparations continued, Lianne began to grow more at ease.

  Tray hunted in the cupboard where the pans were coming up with a deep one. While he filled it, Lianne asked, “So did you want a large family?”

  “I never thought about it. One day I figured I’d get married and have the average 2.5 children. Uncle Hal was forever after me to get started, he had a fear I’d end up like him—a bachelor all his life.”

  “Today changed that,” she murmured. It seemed surreal. She was a married woma
n and still felt as uncertain as any employee entertaining the boss. She studied the glint of gold on her finger for a moment.

  Lianne set their places on a small table in the living room feeling it would be more intimate than the large kitchen table. If things went well, she’d like to have a nice memory of her wedding night.

  Talk inevitably turned to work. They discussed upcoming visits by various dignitaries and businessmen they had been hired to help. Strategies to keep them from the public eye, how to let them do all they wanted in Washington without putting any in jeopardy with fanatical groups. And the recent request to accompany a Congressional member’s family when they toured a Middle East country.

  They talked long past ten. When Lianne realized the time, she jumped up.

  “I’ll do these dishes and let you get to bed.”

  Tray leaned back lazily and watched her. “Efficient as ever. But I rarely go to bed this early. Do you?”

  Lianne nodded. “I get up really early to run, so I usually go to bed around ten.”

  “I’m a runner,” he said. “I imagine the beach is great for that.”

  “If I don’t get out almost before dawn in the summer, it’s too hot. But the packed sand is the best surface to run on and I love it this time of year. Join me tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” He rose and carried the rest of the items from the table to the kitchen.

  When Lianne bid him good-night a few moments later, she didn’t know if she should offer a kiss on the cheek or not. She’d have to touch him sometime. Before many more days passed they’d be doing a lot more than touching.

  “Wake me if I’m not up when you are ready to run,” Tray said, taking the decision from her.

  Sometime later, Lianne lay in bed, the pretty nightgown she’d bought still folded in her suitcase. She’d donned her comfy sweats, warm enough for the old house in winter. Not exactly a fashion statement, she thought as she drifted to sleep. She bet Suzanne never wore sweats a day in her life.

  Lianne awoke suddenly. She looked into the darkness, wondering why she was awake. Peering at the clock, she saw it was only a bit after midnight. She hadn’t slept for long. Straining to hear anything unusual, she only heard the soft rhythm of the sea kissing the shore.

  Turning, she caught a glimmer of light. Was Tray up?

  Throwing back the comforter, she rose and found socks to put on her feet. Softly she padded into the living room. Tray sat on the sofa his laptop open on his legs. He looked up when she entered.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so. What are you doing? Have you been to bed?”

  “Not yet. Just catching up on reports. This is the best time to do that—no interruptions.”

  “Mmm.” She sat beside him on the sofa and looked at the screen. “Agent reports?”

  “Yes. This is Steve Carrington’s assessment. It’ll be on your desk when we get back for further analysis.”

  She leaned a bit closer, reading the terse words. “He sounds worried…not like Steve. Do you think it’ll become critical?” Lianne could feel Tray’s warmth. She tried to focus on the report, but her hormones must be acting up. She noticed Tray wore the same dark pants he’d had on earlier. But he’d taken off his shoes and socks. She wondered if his feet were cold. They were large, and sexy.

  She blinked and stared at the screen, not seeing a thing. Sexy feet? She had five brothers whose feet she’d seen all her life. Feet weren’t sexy.

  Except on Tray. Was she losing her mind?

  He pointed to a line on the screen and his arm brushed against her. She almost caught her breath at the sudden spark of excitement that hit. What would it be like if he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Turned her face for a kiss.

  The light was dim in the living room, the brightest point the laptop screen—plenty illumination to see him clearly; the faint lines radiating from his eyes, the growth of beard on his jaw.

  He turned to look at her. “What do you think?”

  Yes, was all she wanted to say. But he was talking about a report, not how she was thinking.

  “It would take some analysis, but I think his instincts count a lot.”

  “I agree. I want you to get on it first thing.”

  “Sure.” She swallowed and looked back at the laptop. The words I want you echoed. She almost missed the second part of the sentence. She was going crazy.

  The chirping of Tray’s cell sounded loud in the silent night. He reached out to the table and picked it up.

  “Elliott,” he said.

  Lianne watched his expression. He gave so little away, but she noted the slight tightening around his eyes and the way his jaw clenched.

  “Calm down,” he said.

  She wondered who was calling so late and what was going on that he had to try to calm the caller.

  “Where’s Peterson?”

  Jim Peterson and Shelley Harris were on assignment together—shepherding around some college-aged daughters of a United Nations diplomat who was visiting Washington. Shelley was new, but she got the assignment as the only female agent available. Something had obviously happened to have her calling Tray in the middle of the night.

  “I’m not home. It’ll take me a couple of hours to get there. I’ll head out now. Get Peterson and find those girls!” He clicked off the phone and powered down the laptop as he explained to Lianne, “Shelley’s assignments ditched her. They have been hitting bars and clubs all night, and every time things got out of line, Shelley or Jim stepped in, to the dismay of those spoiled young women. Finally they claimed they had to use the ladies’ and never returned. Jim’s contacting cab companies to see if any picked them up at that club, Shelley has searched high and low throughout the club and local neighborhood and can’t find them. I have to get back to Washington.”

  “I’ll be ready in a second. I can wear these if you’ll drop me at home once we get back.”

  Quickly packing, and getting the perishables from the refrigerator and putting them in a bag with ice, Lianne was ready to depart in less than five minutes. Tray had been ready in three.

  He maneuvered through the empty streets of Baden in no time and soon had them speeding on the highway for Washington.

  Slowly Lianne eased the ring from her finger and held it in her palm for a moment. Opening her purse, she slipped it into her change compartment. They were in full work mode, no time for might-have-beens. She was not disappointed—or only a little.

  It was after three when they reached Lianne’s apartment building. Tray insisted on going up with her. He waited until she opened the door, then put her bag and the food just inside.

  “I’ll take a rain check on that run,” he said.

  She nodded. “Go, they need you.”

  “It wasn’t the wedding day I know you expected. If you get pregnant, we can do it over with all your family.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS unexpected. It was glorious. It was as if she had never been kissed before. Her toes curled, her knees threatened to give way. His arms held her pressed against him. She could feel every muscle in that solid chest. But her mind could accept little beyond the pure pleasure of his mouth, his lips moving against hers, his tongue pressing the seam. When he deepened the kiss, she knew she wanted it more than anything she’d ever craved before. Locking her arms around his neck, she held on, giving back as good as she got, feeling the flare of awareness that threatened to burst out of control. If they stayed this way forever it would end too soon for her.

  But end it did, when Tray reluctantly pulled her arms down, sliding his hands down to grip hers. “I’ve got to go.”

  She nodded, wishing he’d done this when they first reached the cottage. How differently the night might have turned out.

  Raising her gaze to his, she found her voice. “I know. Go find those girls and charge the parents extra for no
t raising them right.”

  Amusement lit his eyes. “That’s one tactic I’ve not tried. Does it work?”

  She shrugged, her hands clinging to his. Forcing herself to release his grip, she pulled back. “I’ll be at work on time.”

  “Good.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers lightly, then turned and hurried off.

  “Good grief,” Lianne said as she closed the door, leaned against it and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She felt more alive than at any time in her life. She could move mountains! She wanted to call her sister and ask if this was the feeling she had when her husband kissed her. She suspected it was. Oh, wow, when could they do it again?

  Maybe there’d be more to this marriage gig than she expected.

  Only—she had to watch things. To Tray she was a means to an end. As he was for her.

  The kiss changed all that. Now she wanted more. Wanted to learn every single thing about the man. Was it too late to change the parameters of their agreement? Tell the world, live together and pray a baby came before it was too late?

  Spying the bag of groceries, starting to look damp with melting ice, Lianne scrambled up and took the food to the kitchen. Practicality was called for, not daydreams. She had to be at work early; she had better get some sleep.

  Having been up most of the night, she thought she’d fall asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, but not so. Instead she relived every heart-stopping second of that kiss. Savoring every remembered touch, feeling, delight.

  Lianne found it more difficult than she’d expected to walk into work the next morning as if nothing had changed in her life—or rocked her world. She checked with Emily to see if Tray was in, but he wasn’t. Emily reported there’d been a crisis in the night and he was in the field. Lianne didn’t reveal she knew the situation, merely asked if she could have some time with him when he returned to the office.

  It was difficult to get back into the swing of the routine, but by midmorning, the memory of the kiss had been pushed aside as she updated her information on the situation in Eastern Europe that looked like it was about to explode. Twice she called the Steve Carrington, but couldn’t reach him. Had things gone from bad to worse in the meantime?