by Anne Mather
Rachel sighed. They were in the bedroom they’d shared for the first three years of their marriage. In the middle of George’s attempt to defend himself against Karen’s accusations Mrs Grady had returned—on foot—and Rachel, for one, had been grateful for the reprieve.
‘How could I expect you to believe me when I’d been so unwilling to believe you?’ she asked simply now, standing at the window, her back to the room. ‘Dear God, Jack, there had been so many misunderstandings between us. I just wanted to put Karen and the past behind us.’
‘But she could have killed you,’ muttered Jack hoarsely, moving to stand behind her. He laid possessive hands on her shoulders. ‘What am I saying? She did almost kill you. If that man hadn’t been walking his dog—’
‘Don’t.’ Rachel trembled. ‘I’ve had nightmares for weeks. Ever since it happened, actually. I just want to forget all about it.’
‘I won’t forget,’ said Jack thickly, tipping the straps of her vest off her shoulders and bending to bestow a lingering kiss on her soft skin. ‘You’re the most precious thing in the world to me. When I think that I could have lost you because of that woman’s—’
‘It’s over, Jack.’ Rachel turned now, shaking her arms free of the fallen straps and putting them round his neck. ‘We’re together again. And nothing and no one can drive us apart.’
‘You’d better believe it.’
Jack’s lips turned against the side of her neck, his tongue tracing a sensuous path from the erratic pulse that beat below her ear to the creamy slopes of her breasts. Nudging the silk vest lower, he captured one rosy nipple through her bra, rolling it against his tongue and tugging gently with his teeth.
Rachel’s senses swam. Her bra was wet now, and clinging to her hot skin, and although Jack was being gentle, she sensed the urgency he was trying so hard to control. She guessed he thought she was still in a state of shock, fragile, liable to break into a thousand pieces if he was too rough with her.
How wrong he was!
‘I want you,’ she breathed, unclipping her bra and allowing her swollen breasts to spill into his hands. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
Jack expelled an unsteady breath. His own head was swimming, but it was a good feeling. Nothing like the dizziness he’d suffered before. Just being with Rachel again, knowing that she still loved him after everything that had happened, gave him an incredible feeling of satisfaction. He loved her so much, and for so long he’d been sure he’d lost her.
‘And what if Mrs Grady comes to see if we want supper?’ he asked huskily as Rachel allowed her bra and vest to fall to the floor in a delicious heap of apricot silk and lace.
‘She won’t,’ said Rachel confidently, kicking off her shorts and revealing herself in only a skimpy pair of bikini briefs. She hooked a nail into the waistband of his jeans. ‘Don’t you think you’re a little overdressed?’
Jack needed no further encouragement. Stripping off his tee shirt and jeans, he revealed exactly how aroused he was. Meanwhile, Rachel scrambled onto the bed, spreading her arms and legs for his delectation.
‘Hey, now who’s overdressed?’ Jack protested, crawling onto the bed beside her, and Rachel drew up one leg in knowing provocation.
‘I thought you might like to do it,’ she murmured, and Jack knelt beside her, sweeping his hand down over her breasts and the slight mound of her stomach to the elasticated waist of her briefs.
‘My pleasure,’ he breathed, lowering his head and using his teeth to pull the satin fabric down over her hips. ‘Mmm, that’s much better,’ he approved, burying his face in the moist curls at the top of her legs. He breathed deeply. ‘You know, I could get off on just the scent of you.’
Rachel quivered. ‘My God, Jack, please—’
‘Please what?’ he asked, spreading her legs and slipping two fingers inside her. ‘Don’t you like this?’ He felt the gush of heat that wet his hand and smiled. ‘I thought I was pleasing you. You’re certainly pleasing me.’
‘Jack—’
Her balled fists beat the mattress at either side of his bent head and he gave a low, triumphant laugh. ‘Okay,’ he chided her softly. ‘I know what you want.’ He moved to kneel between her legs, teasing the entrance to her vagina with the tip of his erection. ‘You want to play.’
‘No,’ she groaned, reaching for him imploringly. ‘I want you.’ Her eyes begged him not to waste any more time, and with a sigh of submission he slid sleekly into her sheath.
‘Better?’ he whispered against her mouth, and she trembled violently beneath him.
‘Much—much better,’ she answered, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. ‘Just—just do it, Jack. Please…’
He made love to her with all the pent-up emotion they’d both suffered these past weeks. Fast and furious at first, but then slowly, sensuously, drawing out each moment until she was desperate and clinging to him again.
He silenced the ecstatic cries she made with his mouth, reluctant to draw back from her even for a second. They were together again; they were whole. And for the first time since that morning at St. Michaels pool, Jack felt as if the future was something he could face without fear or recrimination…
EPILOGUE
SIX months later, Jack was heading for the hospital again. But not because of his own health.
The night before, his wife had given birth to their first child, and, although he’d been with her every step of the way, eventually he’d been advised to go home and give his wife and son time to rest.
Jack had been reluctant to leave, but he’d known he had matters to attend to. Not least calling his mother and father and giving them the good news. And letting Mrs Grady know, of course. But, as she’d been there when Rachel had gone into labour, she wouldn’t be quite so surprised.
For his part, Jack still found it hard to believe that he was a father at last. As soon as he and Rachel had got back together again he’d insisted on using protection when they made love. He hadn’t wanted her to suffer another miscarriage. But, unknown to either of them, it had already been too late.
All those stomach upsets Rachel had had while she was staying with Lucy, the sickness that she’d put down to nerves and apprehension in the aftermath of Karen’s violence, had had an entirely different cause. But it hadn’t been until they were enjoying their second honeymoon in the Caribbean that a doctor, treating her for suspected heatstroke, had diagnosed her condition.
By then Rachel had been estimated to be at least fifteen weeks into term—well beyond the point at which she’d miscarried in the past. According to Dr Lopez, there would be no reason to worry. Rachel was in good health and the baby’s heartbeat was strong. So long as she didn’t do anything too outrageous, there was no reason why she shouldn’t have a healthy child.
Of course Jack had been both anxious and elated. Anxious that Rachel might blame him if anything went wrong, yet elated at the prospect of them becoming parents at last.
He needn’t have worried. Rachel had been delighted and optimistic. Dr Lopez had given her the confidence to believe in herself again.
And there’d been no hitches—no problems other than the normal ones of unusual cravings and late-night feasts. Not only that, Rachel had felt so well during her pregnancy that she’d continued to work right up until the last few days.
Then, last night, baby James Riordan had been born—all of eight pounds in weight and robustly healthy. Rachel had been tired afterwards, of course, but she’d been immensely proud of her achievement. And such a beautiful mother, thought Jack happily. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
Well, except when he’d held his son, he admitted honestly. Baby James looked amazingly like him, and, although he’d been too modest to comment on it, Rachel had pointed it out with a dimple of pride.
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t break as many hearts as his father,’ she’d whispered teasingly, when Jack had laid the baby back in her arms. ‘But he is handsome, isn’t he, Jack?’ She’d looked up at him. ‘
I’ve always thought you were a beautiful man.’
Jack had wanted to kiss her then, but he’d contented himself with a tender stroke of her cheek. ‘I’ll remind you of that when you get home,’ he’d said softly, mindful of the nurse’s watching eyes. ‘I’ll be back soon. Get some sleep.’
Jack’s parents had been delighted and eager to meet the new arrival. They’d promised to fly over at the end of the week, after Rachel had had a few days to recover her strength. Then, a couple of months after that, Jack, Rachel, and the baby would be relocating to Ireland for six months. Taking his father’s advice, Jack had been renovating the old Ryan House, and although it wasn’t exactly as he wanted it yet, he’d have plenty of time to make the final changes while they were living there.
There was a new arrangement at Fox Construction, too. Not without some regret, Jack had had to find himself a new manager, and David Coleman would be in charge of the company while Jack was away. He was hoping to spend half the year in England and half in Ireland from now on, keeping in touch with the office when he needed to through online conferencing and email.
The really sad thing as far as Jack was concerned was that George’s wife was divorcing him. Learning he’d had an affair had shocked and hurt her, but finding out about Karen’s imminent confinement had destroyed all trust between them. The last thing he and Rachel had heard was that George, Karen, and their new baby daughter were now living in London. George’s wife had contacted a solicitor, and his three teenage daughters were refusing to speak to their father at present.
For his part, Jack’s health had never been better. He’d had a comprehensive check-up a few weeks ago, and according to Dr Moore his arrhythmia had corrected itself. So long as he took more care of himself—something Rachel insisted she’d attend to from now on—he should have no more worries.
The change of lifestyle had definitely helped. That, and knowing that his and Rachel’s love for one another was stronger than ever. Having the baby was the fulfillment of all their hopes, and they were a real family at last.
It had been agreed that they’d employ a nanny before they left for Ireland. Rachel wanted to go on working, and happily there was a summer house in the garden of the house in Ballyryan that Jack had taken great pleasure in redesigning as a studio for his wife.
Their only concern had been that Mrs Grady might find the upheaval in her life too much to handle. Having to move between homes on a regular basis for the foreseeable future might daunt her, and they’d be devastated to lose her.
However, Mrs Grady had been excited at the prospect of living in Ballyryan. She’d never been to Ireland, she’d said, and it was a country she very much wanted to visit. Besides, she’d added incorrigibly, who else was going to keep the nanny in order when Rachel was working?
The gates of St. Luke’s Hospital loomed ahead, and Jack drove between them. Then, after finding himself a parking space, he gathered up a huge bouquet of flowers, bags of clothes for both Rachel and the baby, and the car-friendly carrycot which his son would occupy for the journey back to Market Abbas, and headed for the entrance.
The maternity ward was on the top floor, and he contained his patience and took the lift like any responsible adult. His inclination was to vault up the stairs, but recent experience had taught him to be wary. At least for the present.
He encountered the ward sister at the nursing station, and she escorted him to his wife’s room. ‘Mrs Riordan has had a decent night’s sleep and she can’t wait to go home,’ she said with a cheerful smile. ‘Do you think you can cope?’
‘Go home? Today?’
Jack’s apprehension must have shown, because the nurse gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, as they reached Rachel’s door. ‘Babies aren’t half as fragile as they appear.’ She opened the door, assured herself that her patient was awake, and then ushered him into the room.
Rachel was reclining against the pillows, but she was wearing the turquoise silk dressing gown she’d brought in with her and Jack realised she’d already been out of bed. Baby James was asleep in his cot beside the bed. Although Rachel had been lying studying her son, at Jack’s entrance she immediately sat up and held out her arms to him.
‘Hey,’ he said huskily, setting down the things he’d brought up from the car and coming to perch on the side of the bed. ‘How are you? Both?’
‘We’re fine,’ Rachel answered softly, slipping her arms about his neck. ‘Did you hear? We can come home today.’
‘Yeah. I heard.’ Jack returned the kiss she bestowed on his parted lips with interest. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’
‘Mmm.’ Rachel nodded, the lapels of her robe parting as she leant towards him. She glanced down at herself and then up at him rather shyly. ‘James had his first feed this morning. From me, I mean.’ She took an uneven breath. ‘It was—awesome!’
Jack’s eyes darkened. ‘I’m jealous.’
‘You don’t have to be.’ She was delightful in her eagerness to reassure him. ‘I love James. Of course I do. But I love his father more than I can ever say.’
‘Try,’ said Jack gruffly, unable to resist burying his face in the soft hollow of her neck. ‘God, you smell good.’ He nipped her with his teeth. ‘And taste good, too.’
Rachel dimpled and looked beyond him. ‘Are those for me?’ She indicated the flowers. ‘They’re beautiful, but we’ll have to take them home again.’
‘The ward sister can have them,’ said Jack, cupping her face in his hands and staring at her hungrily. ‘I’ll get you some more. After we get home.’
Rachel nodded. ‘All right.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘By the way, Lucy rang this morning.’
‘Oh, did she?’ Relations between Rachel and her friend had been tense ever since his wife had learned that Lucy had suspected George Thomas hadn’t made the call to Ireland. But he refused to let the other woman spoil his mood.
‘Yes.’ Rachel touched his mouth with her finger. ‘Apparently she’d rung the house to tell me she’s leaving for London next week. Mrs Grady had to tell her where I was and—well, she congratulated us. You don’t mind, do you?’
Jack grimaced. ‘I guess not.’
‘Good.’ Rachel didn’t want to talk about Lucy either, but something had to be said. ‘I mean, I know you two never hit it off, but she was there for me when I needed her. I don’t think we’ll ever be friends again, but I’m glad she’s making a success of her career.’
‘You’re a very generous woman,’ said Jack gently, smoothing his thumbs over her eyebrows. ‘And I love you so very much. I’m never going to let you go.’
‘That’s good. Because I feel the same,’ she said, pressing herself against him. ‘And now, because our son is stirring and I have to get dressed, would you like to pick him up?’
ISBN: 978-1-5525-4543-0
JACK RIORDAN’S BABY
First North American Publication 2006.
Copyright © 2006 by Anne Mather.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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All about the author…
Anne Mather
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. For years I wrote only for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested that I ought to send one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, more than 150 books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what happened.
I had written all through my childhood and into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid Gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! The trouble was, I never used to finish any of the stories, and Caroline, my first published book, was the first book I’d actually completed. I was newly married then, and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can see, but that’s the way it was.
I now have two grown-up children, a son and daughter, and two adorable grandchildren, Abigail and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my readers.
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