Night of the Cotillion: Georgia (The Americana Series Book 10)

by Janet Dailey

  “Why didn't you tell me you were ill?” he demanded, eliminating the distance between them in one stride and sweeping her up into his arms to carry her into the bedroom.

  “I ... I didn't w-want to worry you,” Amanda stammered.

  “From now on,” he growled as he placed her on the bed, “I'll make the decision as to whether you're going to worry me or not. Stay here and I'll go tell Hannah to fetch you some hot tea."

  Her mouth opened to call him back, but her voice refused to cooperate until the door was closing behind him. By that time it was too late. Turning her head into the pillow, she began to cry, using the softness of the pillow to muffle her sobs. Several minutes later Hannah walked into the room carrying a cup of hot tea, not saying a word, but the look in her eye was speaking very eloquently as Amanda avoided her gaze to mumble a thank-you.

  The teacup was drained and she was about to leave the warm luxury of the bed when she heard voices in the hall. Her gaze darted anxiously toward the door just as it opened and Jarod walked in followed by a tall, thin man. Her heart did a somersault of fear. Only a man of Jarod Colby's wealth and status could arrange for a doctor to make a house call, and the man was undoubtedly a doctor, as was confirmed a second later.

  “This is Dr. Simon—my wife,” Jarod introduced them.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Colby. Your husband tells me you aren't feeling well today.” The doctor walked briskly forward, but Amanda paid no attention to him.

  “I don't need a doctor,” she protested quickly. “It's nothing."

  “We'll let Dr. Simon be the judge of that.” Jarod's dark brows were drawn together in an uncompromising line.

  The doctor started to reach for her wrist, but Amanda drew her hand away. “Please, Jarod, I have to talk to you,” she demanded.

  “After the doctor has completed his examination."

  “Let me take your pulse, Mrs. Colby."

  “No! Please, I'm not ill. I mean, not really.” She glanced anxiously from the doctor to Jarod standing at the foot of the bed.

  “You gave an excellent impression of being sick,” he said as he motioned to the doctor to continue.

  “Jarod, please, I want to talk to you—alone. I don't need a doctor."

  “Will you stop behaving like a child?” he snapped.

  “Very well.” Amanda took a deep breath, then let her eyes seek his in a silent apology before she continued in a calmer and quieter voice. “I'm not acting like a child. I'm acting like a woman with child."

  The silence after her announcement threatened to continue as Jarod stared at her in angry disbelief. Fortunately the doctor spoke up.

  “Have you seen a doctor yet, Mrs. Colby?"

  “Yes.” Amanda nodded, not taking her pleading eyes from her husband's face. “My parents’ doctor. It's all been confirmed."

  “Congratulations, then,” he said hesitantly. “I'll, er, leave you two alone."

  Chapter Eleven

  AT THE SOFT CLICK of the closing door, Amanda rushed to explain. “I tried to tell you several times, Jarod, honestly. I never wanted you to find out this way. I'm sorry."

  “You're sorry!” he jeered, his lip curled to let her know how ineffectual her apology was. “My God! I never thought you would resort to this kind of trickery in an effort to hold me!"

  “No. No!” The second exclamation was more vehement in her denial of his accusation. “That wasn't my intention at all!"

  “It wasn't? Then why were you keeping it from me?” An explosive kind of sarcasm was written in his face.

  “Because I knew you'd told me you didn't want children. That's why I was afraid to tell you. I never dreamed you would think....” Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “Jarod, I want this baby. I know I'll never be able to have you, but the baby will be part of you and it will be mine. Part of you will be mine. Don't you see?"

  His head moved to the side in a gesture of wry cynicism. “Yes, I can see how your romantic heart could reach such an absurd conclusion. Do you expect my help in bringing up this child?"

  “I expect nothing from you, Jarod,” she answered quietly. “If you want, when we're divorced, I'll change my name and the baby's back to Bennett. I'll bring up our child with all the love and tenderness that's in me."

  “For a while,” he said dryly. “Then he'll get in your way. You'll find another man who won't be very willing to take on the responsibilities of another man's child. What will you do then? Ship him off to a bunch of boarding schools to get him out of your hair? Conveniently forget the child exists except at holidays when you remember to send him a present?"

  “No, his childhood won't be like yours. That I promise you."

  “What do you know of my childhood?” he snapped.

  “Only the bits and pieces I've picked up from Hannah.” Amanda couldn't meet the coldness of his gaze and tilted her chin downward. It would be of little use to tell him how many comparisons she had noticed between Jarod's childhood and Tobe's.

  “Spare me your pity, because I don't need it,” Jarod snarled savagely. “My lesson in the reality of life came early. I was never blinded by things that didn't exist. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and love, they're all a farce, perpetuated by people without the guts to look life in the face. I never wore rose-colored glasses and I've never been sorry I didn't."

  His words were like a thousand tiny paper cuts, setting her nerve ends raw with pain. “If you never dream, then you'll never have a dream come true,” she whispered.

  “You may have a point there.” The sarcasm returned to his voice. “Because you've certainly had one of your dreams come true."

  “What do you mean?” she gasped half-afraid of his answer.

  “I mean we'll be staying together until after the baby is born."

  Jarod pivoted sharply to leave and Amanda sprang from the bed to place a restraining hand on his arm. “No! I don't want to stay under those conditions,” she protested.

  She hadn't expected his reaction to be so swift. He spun her around, a hand closing over her throat as if he wanted to strangle her. Black fury raged in his face.

  “Do you think you damned Johnny Rebs have cornered the market on honor and pride? I'm not the kind of man to get a girl pregnant and then throw her out. The one spark of decency that remains won't let me."

  “Jarod.” It was difficult to talk with his hand choking her throat. “I want to stay because you want me. Do you still want me?"

  The hard diamond sharpness of his gaze raked her face in cold assessment. He could feel the throbbing of her pulse beneath his fingers and see in her brown eyes the pleading question that silently demanded his honest answer. His hand slid from her throat to the back of her neck as he pulled her roughly against the solidness of his chest.

  “You're going to stay with me until the baby is born,” he said hoarsely.

  “I haven't strength to leave unless you push me away,” she admitted in an aching whisper. The hard contact of his body was evoking that seemingly never-ending desire for his possession of her. “I have to know if you still want me."

  There was no answer except the bruising crush of his mouth against hers, grinding her lips against her teeth while his hands moved in punishing caress over her body, fighting the material of her thin cotton gown. The pain was sweet agony as he swept Amanda off her feet and carried her to the bed.

  Her fingers curled into the thickness of his raven hair and he buried his mouth in her neck and muttered, “Yes, yes, I do want you.” For once Amanda was grateful for his brutal honesty, because she knew he spoke the truth.

  * * * *

  IN THE MONTHS that followed, Jarod avoided any mention of the baby, even when her stomach thickened to a proportion that couldn't be ignored. More of his evenings were spent away from the house, drawing questioning comments and looks from the housekeeper. Amanda couldn't bring herself to ask if he still wanted her. His answer was all too obvious in his actions. But there was comfort in the life kicking vigorously inside her, althoug
h it would never replace the blissful sensation of Jarod's arms around her, a feeling that wasn't enjoyed as her time grew nearer.

  The click of her knitting needles competed with the tick of the clock as Amanda wondered whether Jarod would be home for dinner or would call at the last minute to say he was detained and that she should eat without him. Her answer was in the opening and closing of the front door. Unwillingly her eyes strayed to the living-room archway, a gnawing hunger for the sight of him eating into her heart. Then he appeared, a closed, emotionless expression on his face as he ignored her greeting to walk to the bar and pour himself a drink.

  “How are you today?” His clipped question betrayed his lack of interest in her answer.

  “Fine,” she answered, swallowing the lump in her throat to concentrate on the partially completed green sweater. She could feel his brooding gaze watching her.

  “It isn't necessary for you to make clothes,” Jarod said suddenly. “If you need more money, ask for it."

  She closed her eyes briefly at the savageness in his voice before answering calmly, “I enjoy it. It gives me something to do.” An uneasy silence followed her statement. The baby kicked as if to remind Amanda of its presence. “I ... I've been thinking a ... about names for the baby,” she said hesitantly. “Michele if it's a girl and David if it's a boy."

  “What am I supposed to say?"

  “I thought you might ... want to make a suggestion,” she ended lamely, unable to counter the contempt in his voice.

  “Name it whatever you want,” he growled, rising from the leather stool at the bar.

  “Will you be eating here tonight?"

  His gaze flicked derisively over his shoulder at her. “I don't recall mentioning that I would be going out, so I must be eating here."

  “I didn't know.” Her shoulders moved in a defenseless shrug. “You've been so busy lately, I thought perhaps you'd be gone tonight, as well."

  “If you want to know if I'm seeing another woman, why don't you come right out and ask me?” His eyes blazed in anger at the flash of pain across her face.

  “I don't want to know,” she murmured, hating the weakness of her love, which allowed her to be the whipping boy.

  “Wouldn't you enjoy chastising me for my lack of fidelity?” he jeered.

  The knitting was thrust onto the couch as Amanda rose to her feet, trying to make a dignified escape from his stinging insults.

  “Damn!” he muttered savagely, easily covering the distance to her before she could reach the hall. “That was a vile thing for me to say, Amanda.” His hands closed over her shoulders, shaking with soundless sobs of torment. He pulled her against him, his mouth moving over the back of her head. “I'm sorry,” he murmured.

  “It's all right,” she whispered. It didn't seem necessary to add that she understood why he had sought the pleasures of another woman. Her shoulders felt the deep shuddering breath he drew.

  “I'll be leaving in the morning for Philadelphia,” Jarod said, his hands releasing her shoulders as he stepped away. “I'll be gone about a week. You can tell Hannah that while she's packing my clothes, she might as well move the rest of my things into the guest bedroom. I'll sleep there from now on."

  Her mouth opened to protest, but she closed it quickly, glad her back was still to him and he couldn't see the agony his announcement brought. She murmured a quick agreement, and this time he didn't try to stop her when she rushed from the room.

  * * * *

  “HELLO, MANDY DEAR, how are you feeling?"

  Amanda blinked her eyes open and stared into the beaming face of her mother. A small sigh of pleasure slipped from her throat.

  “Exhausted,” she murmured in return, levering herself into a sitting position in the hospital bed. “Have you seen the baby yet? Isn't he adorable?"

  “All seven pounds and two ounces of him,” her mother answered, nodding agreement.

  “He may be three weeks premature,” her father inserted, his speech still slightly slurred from his stroke, “but he has enough hair to pass out to the other three babies in the nursery."

  “And it's all coal black just like his father's.” Amanda commented and smiled contentedly.

  “We reached Jarod about an hour ago,” Mrs. Bennett said. “He'll be flying straight back from Philadelphia. I know you must be sorry he wasn't here with you when little David was born."

  “I don't mind.” Amanda lowered her gaze to the bed sheet so her parents wouldn't see the brief flicker of pain. “I can't exactly visualize Jarod pacing the floor in the waiting room, can you?"

  “No, I suppose not,” her mother laughed then let her hand reach out to her daughter's. “The nurse asked us not to stay long so you could get some rest. We'll be back to see you later today."

  Amanda's eyes fluttered shut almost the instant her parents left the room. It seemed as though only a few minutes had passed before she heard the gentle voice of a nurse telling her that they would be bringing her baby in to her.

  As the small bundle was placed in her arms, Amanda knew a joy that was beyond expression. A whole new world opened up at the sight of those tiny little hands wrapped in puny fists, flailing the air while the baby sucked vigorously on the nipple of his bottle.

  Once his hunger was satisfied, he slept contentedly in her arms while Amanda gently pushed the silky fine black hair that covered his head into a semblance of order.

  “My beautiful David,” she crooned softly, lightly touching the button nose of the still red face. “I will try to love you as much as I love your father.” An adoring smile beamed from her face. “I don't think it's going to be very difficult. I bet you're even going to have his beautiful dark eyes."

  A sound from the doorway drew her attention, a look of regret forming in her eyes in anticipation of the nurse who would soon be coming to take the infant back to the nursery, but it was Jarod standing there instead, tall, imposing, and vaguely withdrawn.

  Instinctively Amanda stretched out her hand to him. “Jarod!” Unbounded happiness shone in her voice. “I didn't think you would be here so soon."

  His supple strides brought him to the side of the bed as he impersonally took the hand she offered. “Are you all right, Amanda?” he asked blandly.

  “Yes.” She couldn't help smiling; she was much too happy. Liquid brown eyes were turned back to the baby sleeping in her arms. “Isn't David the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?” Her gaze slid back to Jarod, trying to gauge his reaction to his son in the black steel of his eyes.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Colby,” a nurse spoke quietly from the end of the bed. “It's time to return your son to the nursery."

  Jarod released Amanda's hand and stepped away as she reluctantly surrendered the infant to the nurse. She watched the woman walk from the room before her gaze was pulled back to her husband. He was staring at her with brooding thoroughness. Self-consciously her fingers went to the tousled crimson gold hair, not knowing the curling disarray was attractively complementing the ethereal pallor of her skin.

  “I must look terrible,” Amanda proclaimed with a smiling grimace. “My hair is a mess and I have no makeup on."

  But there was no affirmation from Jarod that he thought her beautiful. Her self-derogatory comment went completely unheeded.

  “Dr. Henderson told me you would be released on Tuesday. I'll make arrangements for a nurse to move into the house Monday so she'll be there when you and the baby arrive home."

  “No!” Alarm registered briefly in her face before she added firmly, “I'll take care of our son myself."

  “Very well,” he replied, clipping off the ends of his words bluntly. “Whenever you get tired of the role as little mother, you can hire a nanny yourself."

  A great deal of her happiness vanished at his cynical sneer. “There's something you don't understand, Jarod,” Amanda said tightly. “Our son isn't a toy and I'm not ever going to get tired of him."

  “As you wish.” There was a derisive move of his shoulders beneath the dar
k blue jacket. “I'll let you rest.” Without even a goodbye he walked from the room, leaving behind a black cloud to dim the sunshine of her spirits.

  * * * *

  DAVID'S WHIMPERING CRY woke Amanda instantly. It still amazed her how her ear was tuned to every sound coming from the crib, no matter how deeply she slept. Streaks of gold shimmered on the eastern horizon and the hands of the clock indicated half-past six, feeding time according to the hungry baby's tummy. Amanda slipped quickly from beneath the covers, tugging on her mud green robe as she hurried to the crib before David's stirring increased to a full wail of demand.

  “Here, little man,” she whispered, slipping a pacifier into his mouth, “I'll go and heat your bottle and be right back."

  Quietly Amanda shut the door behind her, glancing hesitantly at the closed door of Jarod's bedroom. She could never look at without realizing there was more than walls separating them; and that knowledge hurt. Not for the first time was she grateful for the arrival of their son, who had brought a new purpose into her life. And right now that little boy was hungry, she thought wryly to herself as she hurried silently down the hall to the kitchen.

  The water had just begun to boil in the pan holding the baby bottle when she heard the muted cry from her bedroom. The pacifier had evidently been lost.

  “Just a couple more minutes, David,” Amanda murmured aloud as she tested the formula and found it almost lukewarm.

  By the time the milk was warmed and she began hastily to retrace her path to the bedroom, the cries had stopped. Assuming that by some miracle David had retrieved his pacifier, she didn't give it a thought until she opened the bedroom door and saw Jarod holding him in his arms, gently rocking the baby and looking as if he had done it all his life.

  “I didn't mean to take so long,” said Amanda, recovering her surprise and looking at the impatient wriggling of the infant before Jarod's dark gaze could capture hers.