Playing the Dutiful WifeExpecting His Love-Child

by Carol Marinelli

  The Kolovskys’ attempt at low key made her swoon in wonder. Everything was cool white, from the floor-to-ceiling marble to the fluffy white robe and towels, and one wall entirely taken up with the biggest mirror Millie had ever seen—it was like stepping into a movie set. She wanted to fill the bath with bubbles and sink into it. But worried her hair would frizz, she pulled on a cap and settled for a quick shower instead. After that she pulled on her very new, very expensive, not particularly comfortable underwear—but the effect was surely worth it, Millie thought. She picked up her dress and pulled the raw silk over her head, the luxurious material hugging the curves of her body as she stepped back to check herself in the mirror.

  Pregnancy was certainly starting to wreak its changes on her body. Her breasts, which had always bordered on generous, were like two ripe peaches now—and just as bruisable. The tender nipples were like two thistles sticking out under her dress, and nothing was going to slim down the curve of her buttocks to the supermodel proportions he was no doubt used to.

  And yet…

  …she felt beautiful.

  The strange, slightly angular jut of her stomach as she stood side on fascinated her.

  Pressing her hand against the dress, Millie closed her eyes. Instead of a soft, doughy mound of tummy, she was greeted instead with a hard wedge of flesh.

  ‘Does it move?’

  He made her jump, but Millie gave a resigned sigh—since when would a closed bathroom door stop a man like Levander?

  ‘The baby, I mean,’ Levander elaborated when Millie failed to answer, a touch embarrassed that he had caught her staring at herself.

  ‘It was jumping around like anything on the scan.’ Millie smiled at the memory. ‘But I don’t think I can feel it yet. The doctor said not for a few more weeks.’

  ‘You don’t think you can feel it?’

  ‘Sometimes…’ Millie gave a rueful smile at her own imagination. ‘Sometimes I think I feel a little flutter, but the doctor said it was probably just—’ She chose not to go on. She didn’t really want to discuss her digestive system with him. But it was nice that he was so interested—nice that he wasn’t angry, or mocking, or any of the other hateful things he could so often be. ‘Do you want to feel?’ Beneath her foundation she was blushing to her roots, but comfortable with her decision all the same. Sex was utterly off her agenda till this entire mess was sorted, but this wasn’t about that. ‘I mean, there’s nothing to actually feel, but…’

  ‘I would love to.’

  His hand through her dress was thankfully more intimate than sexy. Even if her bump wasn’t exactly spectacular, he ran a fascinated hand over her and it was his moment to keep. His hand moved up and cupped the soft jut of her stomach so tentatively that Millie gave a soft laugh.

  ‘You won’t feel anything like that; here—’ She pressed his hand in harder, pushing his index finger in between her pubic bone and her tummy button, just enough so that he could feel the firm ridge of her uterus, and she stared down at their entwined hands. The glitter of the diamond on her finger caught her eye. It was a diamond given for the wrong reasons, but somehow it felt right that it was there. And she knew from the way he held her, from the intent concentration and wonder on his face, that come what may her baby would always have a father, that whatever transpired between them Levander would be in this child’s life for ever.

  ‘I would like our baby to be happy.’ Levander smiled at her confusion at his unexpected statement. ‘I was thinking about what you asked, and I guess if our baby is happy we will have done a good job.’

  She’d meant would he want a boy or a girl—had thought surely he had understood that—yet the answer he gave was exactly the right one. Strange that it brought tears to her eyes…

  * * *

  ‘Everything is local produce.’

  A waiter was ladling barramundi onto her plate. The tangy citrus of lime reached her nostrils, and tiny, heavily buttered baby potatoes tossed through caramelised shallots soaked up the fragrant juices. She felt the strategically lit fire warming her bare shoulders as the smoke drifted down-wind.

  ‘It looks fabulous.’

  It tasted it too, and under any other circumstances Millie would have closed her eyes and relished the cocktail of taste on her tongue. Under any other circumstances perhaps she would then have opened them and gazed in awe at her dining partner…

  …just not this one.

  As the waiter melted into the shadows Millie chanced a peek from under her curled and blackened eyelashes and rued the promise of make-up.

  Truly impeccable features could only ever be enhanced by nature—and the low half-moon hanging like a strategic lantern in the navy sky did the job perfectly, shadowing his jawline, the jut of his exquisite cheekbones slicing through his face, over the dark, suspicious eyes that watched her.

  ‘Do they have to be here?’

  ‘Who?’ Levander frowned.

  ‘The staff,’ Millie attempted, leaning forward, speaking in a low whisper, afraid that the waiter might hear what she was saying. ‘I just don’t feel we can really talk…’

  ‘They are not listening to us.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Millie retorted. ‘I’ve been a waitress, remember—your waitress—and look where we ended up.’

  ‘I can dismiss them for tonight, if it makes you more comfortable. If you are not happy with the service, I will tell them to be more discreet, to—’

  ‘The service is fabulous…fabulous,’ Millie said, her urgent whisper drifting across the table. ‘But we might as well be sitting in a restaurant in Melbourne, or London, or anywhere on the globe…’

  ‘I don’t get you, Millie—I tell you I am taking you away, somewhere we will not be disturbed, you disappear for three hours, come back with your hair done and a whole new wardrobe. You are no sooner here than you moan there will be no room service…’

  ‘I was being—’ Millie attempted, but Levander spoke over her.

  ‘You put on a gold dress for dinner, and use a trowel for your make-up, and now you complain that you want low-key.’

  God, he could be so brutal at times!

  ‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to be with you, Levander,’ she returned, salty, glitter-filled tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘I know myself is the obvious answer, but since you came along I don’t know who I am any more. I just hoped it would be the two of us.’

  He didn’t say anything. Just stood up from the table and headed over to the waiter, speaking in low tones Millie couldn’t hear before rejoining her.

  ‘They are leaving. There are enough provisions in the cupboards and freezers; I do not have staff when I am here by myself. I just wasn’t sure what you would want.’

  ‘Touché.’ Millie sniffed, then managed a watery smile. ‘You could have at least waited till they’d cleared up after dinner. I’m joking,’ she added, in case he thought she was being precious.

  ‘We met when you were clearing tables—and if you had any idea of the effect you have on me, you’d know how delighted I am to farewell the staff.’

  It was dark enough that he couldn’t see her blush, but it was a dangerous hint of a flirt and it worried her. Till they’d sorted out this mess, he’d jolly well better forget about any of that.

  As the staff packed up and headed to the speedboat, as its engine faded into the distance, Millie felt a shiver—not of excitement, but of nervousness. Nowhere on earth could they be more isolated—now it really was just the two of them, with no distractions or duties to cloud the issue, no background chatter or waiters hovering.

  Stuck on a desert island with the man she loved—the same man who’d told her outright that he’d never love her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EVEN WITHOUT THE intrusion of staff—even though they were quite literally, quite unbelievably, on a desert island and the purpose of their trip here was to talk—it couldn’t just happen on demand.

  Despite all her best efforts to relax, on the first morning Millie was impo
ssibly awkward—up early, she slathered herself in sunblock, then dressed in a bikini, shorts, T-shirt and sandals. She banged into Levander at every turn in the vast kitchen as she fixed breakfast, trying to avert her eyes as he wandered around in a very low-slung towel, even more impossibly gorgeous than usual, yawning and stretching and drinking milk straight from the carton as she rigidly chopped fruit.

  ‘Do you want fruit salad?’

  ‘No.’ He leant over and took a slab of watermelon, his lazy eyes taking in her clothes, before smiling at her pursed lips. ‘Can you get a newspaper from the shop when you go?’

  ‘What shop?’ Millie asked, then instantly regretted it. She realised he was teasing her for being so overdressed and gritted her teeth, slicing faster.

  ‘I’m going for a swim—coming?’

  ‘No.’ He was walking out through the door…the door that led to the beach, not the bedroom…and yet she was just so appalled at the prospect that she couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand it a second longer. She was terrified he’d expect them to run around naked, like in some awful nudist colony…

  ‘Levander—’

  ‘Whoops—’

  The two words were said at the same time.

  Levander turned slow and lazy towards her, giving her a very nice smile. ‘I nearly forgot to get my bathers.’

  ‘Pig,’ Millie mouthed at the gorgeous sight of his departing back, reeling at the change in him. Without his family, without the press, he was like the man she had fallen head over heels for on their very first night—better even than the man she had met on their very first night. But she was still furious with him for his hateful manner in Melbourne. Furious with him for the game he was playing. Furious with him for teasing. Furious with herself for still wanting him so.

  * * *

  Sitting scowling and burning on the beach, watching Levander churning the surf with impossibly strong strokes, wasn’t going to help matters. When he was far enough out she took off her T-shirt and sandals, telling herself it was silly to be so shy. But she couldn’t even contemplate taking the top of her bikini off and going for an even tan. After all they’d done he’d already seen everything, but she’d never felt fatter or paler or more exposed, sitting on a vast beach in a tiny red bikini and watching him rise like some sexy Greek god from the water. And he was definitely sexy when wet, Millie thought, watching from behind her sunglasses as he walked over and proceeded to shake himself like a shaggy dog, dripping water all over her.

  ‘The water is nice.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You should go in.’

  ‘I might mess up my make up,’ she spat back—even though she wasn’t wearing any.

  ‘I’m sorry for what I said…’ He smiled at her petulance. ‘You actually looked very beautiful last night.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me now!’

  ‘I have learnt to fight dirty…’ His admission halted her a fraction. ‘I had to in order to survive—not just with my family, but before. I will try not to do it to you again.’ He lowered himself down beside her. He didn’t bother with a towel or anything, just laid his wet body on the sand and stared, squinting, up at the sun. ‘You don’t fight dirty—do you?’

  She stared down at him as he asked, and it was easier somehow to look at him, to answer him, with her sunglasses on. ‘I’ve never had to.’

  ‘I’ve spent all this time thinking you are like them—like the others—but I realise now that you’re nothing like them at all…’

  ‘Why does this have to be a fight, Levander?’ She frowned in bemusement, working hard to understand him. ‘Why—when surely we both want the same thing for our child.’

  ‘A family?’ he asked, and behind her glasses she screwed her eyes closed, unable to answer his impassioned plea. ‘That is what I want.’

  It was Levander who broke the impossible silence. ‘How did your family take the news?’

  ‘They were shocked.’ Millie gulped. ‘Stunned, really. It was just the last thing they expected. I’ve always been so…’

  ‘Cautious?’ Levander offered, thinking of his own family’s perpetual warnings.

  ‘Not cautious.’ Millie frowned. ‘More—driven, I guess. Since high school, art’s been my passion. My trip to Australia took months to arrange. The only dream I’ve ever really had is painting. Unlike most parents, when they waved me off the possibility of their daughter coming home pregnant was the furthest thing from their minds.’

  ‘When did you tell them?’

  ‘About a month ago.’ Millie let out a long, shaky breath, then opened her mouth to carry on, and found that she couldn’t just yet. But Levander didn’t push. Instead, in his most surprising move since he’d grabbed her into that first fierce embrace at the airport, he wrapped his hand around hers, held it gently for a moment or two. It helped—really helped. Drawing from his quiet support, she was ready to continue.

  ‘When I got back from Australia, after a couple of weeks I plucked up the courage and went to a clinic—you know, to get checked…’

  ‘There was no need,’ Levander said. ‘It was a first for me too, without…’

  She couldn’t really tell with her glasses on, but Millie could have sworn he was blushing a touch—and she was too, just recalling the mortification she’d felt, sitting waiting for her unlucky number to be called.

  ‘Well, I didn’t know that at the time,’ Millie said with a tight smile. ‘But, yes, the only test I failed was the pregnancy one. I didn’t know how to tell them at first, and even when I did I didn’t tell them it was a…’ She swallowed hard before saying it. ‘A one-night stand. I sort of let them think—well, that we cared.’

  ‘We do.’ It was perhaps the single nicest thing he’d said to her. ‘What else did you tell them?’

  ‘I said that…’ Blushing, cringing, she could hardly bring herself to say it.

  ‘You’d better tell me.’ He smiled over at her embarrassment. ‘If I am going to meet them, perhaps I should know.’

  ‘I said that your family owned a shop near Anton’s gallery.’

  ‘A shop?’

  ‘A little shop.’ Millie cringed again.

  ‘So they think I am the local greengrocer’s son?’ He was joking, but seeing her anguished expression he realised she wasn’t. ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘Well, not a greengrocer’s. I said that they ran a clothes shop. Obviously they know the truth now.’

  ‘But why would you not tell them in the first place? Surely it could only have made things easier…’

  ‘Or scarier for them.’

  He stilled beside her.

  ‘This is their grandchild, Levander. Knowing who you are, how powerful you could be…well, I guess they’ll be scared for the same reasons I am.’

  ‘I don’t want to fight you, Millie.’

  ‘Then don’t.’ Regretting the warning note in her voice, she sought diversion. She didn’t want to push things to another ugly head—here was their chance to find each other. ‘Let’s paddle.’

  ‘Paddle?’ Levander frowned. ‘The boats are…’

  ‘Paddle.’ Millie laughed. ‘With our feet.’

  He had no idea what she was talking about, Millie realised, taking him by the hand towards the lapping foreshore—had no idea what it was to stand in the surf and just enjoy the heavy pull of salt water as it gushed around your ankles.

  A playboy who didn’t know how to play.

  But he learnt quickly.

  She’d braved Brighton in an English summer, so it was really nothing to throw off her inhibitions, take his hand and run screaming into the warm Pacific Ocean. Just one bemused frown from Levander, as she skidded a fistful of water in his direction, then he quickly caught on and skidded one back. They played in the water like carefree children, Levander spluttering with laughter as she dived underneath and caught his ankles. She held her breath as he had his revenge, ducking her under, and then his strong thighs caught around her and pulled her up to the surface. She gulpe
d in air—until his mouth caught hers, kissing her so hard, so fiercely her head swam. Not from lack of oxygen but from the sheer intensity of his kiss.

  ‘This we do well…’

  ‘We do…’ She hated that she was so weak, so lily-livered with him—hated how her body screamed for him. And yet somehow she revelled in it, revelled in the new dimension he had brought to her existence.

  ‘And it is better than fighting…’ He was kissing her neck, kissing it so deeply surely he was bruising her, and bruising her mind as well… His voice was a plea as he tried so hard just to talk to her. ‘Millie, I can’t do that without this…’

  He carried her to the water’s edge and laid her down. It had been pointless her wearing a bikini top, because it was now halfway around her neck. Then it was completely tossed aside, and Millie watched with a fleeting smile as the ocean claimed an hour of shopping.

  She could feel the wet sand on her back as her body curved in—could feel the cool weightlessness of the water contrasting with his warm, heavy body as he lay on top of her. Hands that had once been tentative were brave now as she slid his bathers down, her nails dragging into his firm buttocks as the ocean claimed its second gift. She savoured the taste of the salt water on his skin as his shoulders enveloped her, one strong arm lifting her head above the water as his other hand wrestled with the flimsy straps of her bikini bottom. His erection was stronger than the ocean as it pressed against her—his need, his want for her all-encompassing, as hers was for him.

  The blissful stab as he entered her, swelling deep within, made her whole body arch into his. He rocked deep within her, defying the waves, each rush of water up her body a contrast as he pulled his gift back. Every time she attempted to catch her breath as the pounding waves receded he filled her further, refusing her even a second to regroup. Her calves locked behind him as Levander surged inside her, where he had lived in her restless, aching dreams every night since first they’d been together. With each deep thrust she welcomed him back, and as measured as the ocean an orgasm so intensely fierce she felt as if she was going under claimed her again.