For Pleasure...Or Marriage?

by Julia James

  No! He wasn’t thinking about that—not yet. Not until he had found out the truth.

  The truth he did not want. But which he knew he had to discover.

  He got out of the car, shutting the door and immobilising the engine. Like an automaton he walked up to the front doo, rapped the knocker and waited.

  After an indeterminate moment he lifted his hand to rap again, but even as he did so the door opened to him.

  She stood there, staring at him. He saw the colour drain from her face. Saw the door start to close again.

  He pushed forward, putting his foot over the threshold to stop her shutting him out.

  ‘I have to talk to you.’

  His voice was low, tense.

  For a second she did not answer, then she spoke. Her voice was tight.

  ‘You did enough talking the last time. I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t need to hear any more. Leave me alone.’

  The sound of her voice scraped right over that raw, bleeding spot inside him, but he could not take any notice of that now.

  ‘I have to talk to you,’ he said again. ‘I have to know—’

  ‘No!’ Her voice was sharp. ‘No, you don’t. You don’t have to know anything—not a name, or an address, or anything. I don’t care who you think I ran off with. I don’t care squat what you—’

  ‘It’s not like that!’

  His words cut across hers, urgent, imperative. His shoulders heaved.

  ‘I have to talk to you. Vanessa—for God’s sake. I have to know!’

  He moved past her. He had to get inside. This was not a conversation he could have on the steps of her house. Carefully, as if she were made of red-hot metal, he stepped into the entrance hall. She lurched away from him as if he were equally red-hot, or contaminated with some deadly virus.

  The movement away from him jabbed at something inside him. But he could not afford to feel it. Could not afford to do anything at all except get inside her flat and find out the truth, once and for all.

  ‘One question. That’s all I have to ask.’ He said it as much to himself as to her.

  Silently she let him walk into her flat, following him with her differently balanced gait. He turned to look at her, taking her in. Taking in the swell of her abdomen, its secret hidden within.

  Something moved in him, so overpowering that it threatened to sweep away everything else. An urge so overwhelming that all he wanted to do was rush to her, wrap his arms around her. Hold her close, as close as he could, hold her and keep her and have her for ever…

  ‘Well?’

  Her voice was cold and distant. She stood looking at him, arms hanging loosely by her sides. She was not dressed in anything he recognised. And she looked, he registered, much as she had done the first time he had set eyes on her: with a natural beauty that took his breath away, unadorned by make-up or designer clothes or jewels.

  Just Vanessa. Just herself.

  And the child she carried…

  Emotion knifed through him, but he would not let himself feel it. He was cauterised. He had to be.

  He took a deep breath. Right down to the bottom of his lungs. It seared like a pyroclastic inhalation, scorching him.

  ‘Is it mine?’

  The words fell from him starkly, without volition. Brief and to the point.

  She didn’t move. Not a muscle, not a finger. Nothing.

  ‘Is what yours?’ she said.

  His face flashed. How could she stonewall him at such a time?

  ‘The baby,’ he ground out. ‘A simple yes or no will suffice.’

  Her eyes were resting on him, but he could not read them. They were expressionless.

  Something in them still hurt him, though.

  Finally she spoke.

  ‘The baby is mine, Markos. If that’s what you came all this way to ask, you have your answer. Now, please go. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want you turning up here again. It’s over.’

  ‘Am I the father?’

  He saw her mouth press tight. ‘I told you—the baby is mine. You’re off the hook. Every man in the world is off the hook.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody facetious!’

  Anger flashed in her face. But even as she opened her mouth to bite back at him he rolled in, not letting her.

  ‘No, Vanessa—don’t do this! Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made those accusations. I understand why you let me think it was another man’s. You thought I was getting married to someone else. But I’m not. I made that clear enough the last time I was here! So there’s no need to pretend any more. Just tell me if the baby is mine. That’s all I need to know. Though why—’

  He ran his hands through his hair. ‘God, I don’t understand any of this! I asked you outright if you were pregnant—and that was before that manipulative bitch Constantia Dimistris did her number on you! When I asked, you didn’t have any idea in your head about my getting married—and still you told me categorically that you weren’t pregnant. Were you lying? Or didn’t you know? Or wasn’t it even true at that stage?’ He was thinking out loud. ‘Because if you weren’t pregnant then, it can’t be mine—whatever Leo’s damned wife says. But Anna insists that if you look pregnant now, then you must have been pregnant when you were with me—’

  ‘Anna? Leo’s wife? Anna Delane married Leo? Your cousin Leo? I don’t believe it. She couldn’t stand him!’

  ‘Well, he obviously changed her mind for her,’ said Markos impatiently. ‘I’m not interested. There is only one thing I’m interested in, and that’s if you are carrying my child.’ His teeth gritted. ‘So, are you or aren’t you? Anna told me to ask you your due date.’

  ‘Oh, did she?’ Anger sharpened in her voice. ‘Well, please inform her that my pregnancy is my business, and mine alone. And that includes my due date! Markos—go away. This has nothing whatsoever to do with you. I’ll sign any papers you want. I’ll certify to any child maintenance judge in the land that you are not the father of my baby. Will that damn well do? Get your lawyers, draw up whatever you want me to sign, and I’ll sign it! But just get out of here and leave me alone!’

  He just looked at her.

  ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Not if the child is mine.’

  For one long, level moment she returned his gaze. Finally she said, ‘Why not?’

  It was said in such an offhand manner. As if it were a matter of supreme indifference to her.

  His brows snapped together. ‘Why not? You can stand there and say. Why not?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, tight-lipped. ‘I can. I’ve told you—this baby is my baby. No one else’s. Mine.’

  Disbelief swelled through him. Disbelief, frustration, incredulity.

  ‘Don’t be absurd! Every child has a father! And if the child you are carrying is mine, then I damn well want to know!’

  ‘Why?’

  Anger exploded through him at her obduracy. ‘Because if the child is mine there is only one thing to be done!’ He glared at her, fulminating. ‘We’ll get married.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  FOR A MOMENT there was silence. Complete and absolute. She could do and say nothing. Then, into the silence, Vanessa spoke.

  ‘Married?’ Her voice echoed blankly.

  ‘Of course married! What else did you think would happen?’

  ‘But you said you would never marry.’

  He gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. ‘Well, obviously I have no choice now, do I? If I’ve got you pregnant I’ll marry you. End of story.’

  Vanessa closed her eyes, then opened them again. Then, without a word, she walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on to boil. Markos followed her, talking to her back.

  ‘I’ll need to have DNA tests done. I understand these days they can do them before birth. And as soon as paternity is confirmed we’ll get married. How many weeks pregnant are you, and when is the baby due?’

  Vanessa did not answer, busying herself with spooning instant coffee into two mugs and fetching milk from the

fridge. The mundane physical activity helped to keep her calm. And it was very important that she stay calm. Very important.

  ‘It’s only instant, I’m afraid,’ she said, as she poured hot water onto the granules, stirring the contents and topping hers with milk and his with cold water from the tap. Then she took her mug and sat down on the sofa by the little Victorian fireplace, its grate filled with a dried flower arrangement.

  Markos had followed her out of the kitchen, ignoring the coffee she’d made him. She set hers down on the stone hearth and looked up at him.

  ‘You can relax, Markos. I’m not going to marry you.’ Her voice was very steady, her gaze level.

  His eyes shot to hers.

  ‘What the hell do you mean?’

  ‘It’s very simple. I am not going to marry you. You’ve made your views on marriage exceptionally clear—’

  A hand slashed through the air. ‘Christos, that was before I knew about the baby!’

  ‘How does that change anything? You spelled it out to me that last morning that I’d better not get pregnant—’

  ‘But I was too late, wasn’t I?’ He turned on her. ‘You were already pregnant, and either you didn’t know or you deliberately lied to me when I asked you! Which was it?’

  ‘I lied,’ she answered calmly, not in the least troubled by the admission. ‘I’d just discovered it myself and I was trying to come to terms with it. I was worried about how you would take the news. I found out pretty quickly,’ she added bleakly.

  ‘I thought I was just warning you off. I didn’t realise it was already too late. How could you lie to me, Vanessa?’ he demanded.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Very easily. You didn’t exactly look overjoyed at the prospect of my being pregnant.’

  ‘Well, why the hell should I have?’ he retorted, glowering down at her.

  ‘No, why should you?’ she agreed placidly, as if what she was saying was so obvious that it didn’t even need to be said. ‘And you’re not overjoyed now, are you? The last thing in the world you want is to marry me and be a father to my baby. So I’m not going to let you.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd!’ he said shortly. ‘I’m prepared to marry you, and that’s that.’

  She reached for her coffee and took a sip, replacing it carefully on the hearth.

  ‘No, Markos, that isn’t that. Do you really think I would marry you? Whatever for?’

  ‘Financial security?’ he jibed. His eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘If the baby is mine, how do you come to be living here, in this house? Who’s paying your bills?’ The accusation and suspicion were back in his voice.

  Vanessa’s lips pressed together. There was a bite in her voice as she answered. ‘For your information, I bought this house with the proceeds of the sale of my grandparents’ house, which I inherited from them. They also had some investments. Not much by your standards, but quite enough for me to live on in comfort, together with the rental I’ll get from the holiday flat upstairs, and maybe some modelling work now and then. I don’t need any “financial security” from you or any other rich man—and therefore I have absolutely no need to marry you.’

  Her calm precision seemed to infuriate him. She saw his eyes darken. With absolute self-control she kept her emotions tightly tied down. Losing it would only upset her—and her baby.

  ‘This isn’t about you, Vanessa! This is about my child! And, God help me, I won’t have any child of mine born a bas—’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Don’t even say that word! You say it, Markos, and I’ll hit you! There is absolutely no problem these days in being an unmarried mother, or in a child being illegitimate. But, my God, there’d be a hell of a lot of problems for a child with you for a father!’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ he ground out. ‘Any child of mine would have everything it wanted!’

  Her eyes flashed with contempt.

  It stung him. Stung him through the layers of anger and the rest of the vicious, seething cocktail of emotions inside him.

  ‘You mean money. That’s all you can think about, isn’t it, Markos? You and your precious money! Warning me off scheming to get you to marry me! Thinking I’d swan off to another rich man at the drop of a hat! Calling me your mistress like I was some kind of courtesan! Gritting your teeth while you arrogantly inform me that now I’m carrying your child you’ll do me the supreme honour of marrying me and legitimising my baby—and making it crystal-clear that the very last thing you want to do is either! Well, thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need that, and neither does my child. We’ll do a lot better without you. So go, Markos. You’re upsetting me, and I won’t have that—not any more. Just go.’

  His expression was unreadable, and she didn’t waste any time trying to read it. Weariness and depression weighed down on her.

  ‘I don’t need you, Markos, and I don’t want you. Neither does my baby. I never intended you to know about it. I don’t know how you found out, but I wish you hadn’t.’

  Each word that fell from her was as heavy as lead. Yet when they were gone from her she felt no lightness. None at all.

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have modelled maternity wear, should you?’ he said tightly.

  She looked at him, seeing him but not seeing him. Refusing to let herself see him. Refusing to let her eyes drink him in the way they used to…

  She must not let herself do that. That Vanessa was gone for ever.

  ‘Is that how you tracked me down? I wouldn’t have thought you’d have seen the photos. Not exactly your usual reading material, maternity magazines.’

  ‘It was in an in-flight magazine. And—’ His gaze hardened. ‘Can you imagine how I felt when I saw those photos? Or don’t you care?’

  ‘Why should I?’ she returned, in that same dispassionate, tight voice. ‘What possible reason would I have for thinking you’d take the slightest bit of notice—not after what you’d made so crystal-clear to me that last day?’

  ‘I said those things to stop you getting pregnant! God, Vanessa, is that what this is about? Getting your own back on me because I said I would never marry you?’ He inhaled sharply. ‘Look, I can see why you were sore at me for saying that when that damn Dimistris woman fed you her garbage about me marrying Apollonia, but now you know that isn’t true—was never true, just some ludicrous fantasy dreamed up by her and my father! So why are you still so angry?’ He gazed down at her, brow furrowing. ‘What’s happened to you, Vanessa? I thought you’d be glad to marry me!’

  The weight inside her was crushing her.

  ‘Glad to marry you?’ she echoed. Her lips pressed together. ‘Don’t you mean grateful? Because that’s what a mistress should be when her protector offers marriage, respectability, his family name, lifelong financial security. She should be grateful. In fact—’ there was an edge to her voice now, like the sharp facet of a jewel, diamond bright and very, very hard ‘—she should be grateful just to be your mistress, let alone anything more. And you know what, Markos? I was grateful. I couldn’t believe you’d chosen me, me, out of all the beautiful women you could have picked! But you’d chosen me—and I was overjoyed, overwhelmed, overcome. Grateful,’ she repeated, and it was as if the weight of the word might break her.

  She looked at him, and her amber eyes were bright and hard.

  ‘So grateful, Markos, that I did everything you wanted—rejoiced in the immense privilege of being the woman you wanted. And I never even imagined that all I was to you was a mistress!’

  The jaggedness in her throat was scraping at her.

  ‘Thee mou, you’re obsessed by that word!’

  Markos’s face was drawn, as if his skin was too tight for the bones beneath, but as he spoke his tone was angry.

  Fire flashed in Vanessa’s eyes.

  ‘No, you’re obsessed by it! You hung that horrible label around my neck and strangled me with it! No! Don’t even try and excuse it! Or yourself!’ Anger was coursing through her now, released like a long-dammed tide. She should have let it out long ago, the moment he had first used the word. But she had been too much of a coward—too besotted, too devoted and adoring. She hadn’t wanted to think Markos meant it, and then she hadn’t wanted to face up to its impact on what she’d thought was between them—which had been so very different from what he had thought there was.

  ‘To you I was just your mistress! A pampered bed-warmer that you took around so I’d be handy for whenever you wanted me!’

  ‘That’s not true!’ he retorted hotly. ‘I treated you with consideration, respect—’

  ‘So much so you warned me off scheming to get you to marry me! You thought I might get pregnant to trap you! Well, I never asked you to marry me. I never asked for anything. Not the clothes or the jewels. I just wanted you, Markos. Only you.’ There was a catch in her voice beneath the bitterness. ‘Just to be with you.’

  His cheekbones whitened, but she gave him no time to speak.

  ‘I drifted along in some kind of fantastical dream, a fairytale come true. Doing whatever you wanted, abjectly grateful for the chance. Until you woke me from that dream—and it’s as well I did wake up, Markos. Because otherwise I could have spent my life like that, being grateful to you.’

  She rested her eyes on him. They were no longer hard or bright. They were very clear, and quite expressionless.

  ‘But that’s over now, Markos. It has to be. Because now the only person I must think about is my baby. I didn’t intend to conceive it—from what the doctor has told me, the reason I got pregnant is because the antibiotics I took just after Christmas must have interfered with the Pill—but it’s too late for regrets. Mine or yours. The only person in this entire situation who counts at all is the baby. And it’s for the baby’s sake that I won’t marry you.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’ he bit out. There was incomprehension and frustration in his voice.

  ‘Because it’s not necessary. I don’t need to marry you. I’ve dealt with the situation. I’ve walked out of an…an affair—if I can even call it that. I certainly can’t call it a relationship, can I? Men don’t have relationships with their mistresses. I’ve got my life sorted. I’ve got a good place to live, to bring up my child, with the seaside and clean air and good schools, and I’ve got enough money to do so. I’m making a new life for myself—a fresh start. I’ve joined a pre-natal mother-and-baby group, I’m meeting other people, making friends. I’m settling in and settling down. Me and my baby are going to be fine. I’ve got everything covered. Which means you’re off the hook. You can go with a clear conscience. I’m not going to make any demands on you—none whatsoever—and I don’t require any sacrifices from you, let alone marriage! I don’t need you and neither does my baby.

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