His Inconvenient Wife

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Open the door, Emily,’ he commanded.

  She retched again and turned on the tap.

  ‘I…I won’t be long,’ she gasped.

  ‘Open the damn door!’

  She grabbed a towel with one hand and unsnibbed the door with the other.

  ‘Am I to be allowed no privacy?’ she flared at him. ‘I don’t need an audience right now.’

  He stepped into the bathroom, his height and breadth instantly shrinking the room. ‘You shouldn’t lock yourself in here. You could faint, or something, and injure yourself.’

  ‘And why should you care?’ she sniped at him. ‘All your problems would be over then, wouldn’t they?’

  His mouth set into a tight line as he looked down at her pale features, taking in her shadowed eyes and trembling bottom lip, which she was trying to disguise by biting down on it with her straight white teeth.

  ‘Emily…’ He touched her on the shoulder but she flinched away.

  ‘Excuse me…’ She bent over the basin again and he winced at the wretched sounds of her being sick.

  ‘Oh, Emily.’ His hand on the curve of her back was gentle as he stroked her.

  ‘I’ll be…I’ll be fine in a minute.’

  She rinsed her mouth and washed her face. He handed her a towel and she buried her face in it.

  ‘Perhaps I should take you to a doctor.’

  ‘No.’ She put the towel in the washing hamper. ‘I just need some dry toast or something. It’ll pass in a few minutes.’

  ‘Go back to bed and I’ll bring some up,’ he offered.

  Emily went back to the bed and lay down to wait for his return. She felt a rush of warmth at his gentle handling of her, as if he cared for her in some small way. But then, she reminded herself, he was just doing what any normal person would do for someone who was suffering.

  Damien came back with tea and toast on a tray and set it down across her knees. ‘Here you go—breakfast in bed.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She tentatively nibbled at a piece of wholewheat toast, conscious of his watchful gaze.

  ‘I thought we might go out somewhere today,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘That is, if you’re feeling better.’

  Emily swallowed the mouthful of toast and asked, ‘Where were you thinking of going?’

  ‘What about lunch at one of the Bondi Beach cafés, followed by a leisurely walk around to Bronte? We could take our bathers and have a swim. It would do you good to get some fresh air.’

  Emily wondered if Bondi was such a good idea. She didn’t want to run into Danny, certainly not while she was with Damien.

  ‘I’m not very good at beach swimming,’ she prevaricated. ‘I got swamped by a wave a few years ago. I only dip my toes in now.’

  ‘I’ll be with you,’ he assured her. ‘There’s only a small swell today. I just heard the surf report on the radio.’

  She knew he was making a huge effort to make peace with her and found it hard to resist his easygoing charm. It was a side of him she hadn’t experienced and she wanted more of it.

  ‘All right.’ She picked up the second quarter of toast. ‘I’ll come.’

  The crescent of Bondi Beach was a riot of colour and activity, crowds of people either sunning themselves on the golden arc of sand or swimming in the deep blue of the gently rolling swell.

  They sat at one of the pavement cafés and Emily sipped at a freshly squeezed orange juice while waiting for the sandwiches Damien had ordered. An easy silence had fallen between them. Emily was trying to relax more in his company, feeling she too had to make some sort of effort as well.

  ‘You’re looking a little better already,’ Damien observed as he reached for his latte.

  ‘It’s a heck of a way to start the day,’ she said ruefully. ‘But I’ve heard it only lasts a few weeks.’

  ‘I hope so, otherwise you’ll fade away to a shadow. There’s not much of you now.’

  ‘There’ll soon be a whole lot more of me.’ She twirled the straw in her glass reflectively.

  ‘Emily—’ He shifted in his chair slightly. ‘I think we need to discuss our future.’

  Emily’s heart sank. She felt certain this was the part where he would inform her of his intention to release her from their marriage. The deal was off. He’d got what he wanted—the book was never going to be written now. There was no real point in continuing, especially now he was convinced she was carrying his brother’s child. Was it too late to tell him the truth? All she had to do was open her mouth and say the words. But somehow she couldn’t. She didn’t want to tie him to her because of their child. She wanted him to love her just for her, nothing else.

  She looked across at him, her fingers around the glass tightening to stop the slight tremble of her hand.

  ‘We don’t need to continue this arrangement,’ he said. ‘It’s not appropriate under the circumstances.’

  ‘I understand.’ She lowered her eyes to the glass in her hand.

  ‘I forced you into it, and it’s not fair to expect you to carry it through.’

  ‘When…’ She cleared her throat delicately. ‘When would you like me to leave?’

  ‘What?’

  She raised her eyes to his but his expression was puzzled, his brow creased in a heavy frown.

  ‘I can go back to my apartment. Or, if the tenants don’t want to vacate it just yet, I can always rent something else.’

  ‘Emily, I’m not following you. What’s this about leaving?’

  Now it was her turn to look puzzled.

  ‘Isn’t that what you want?’ she asked. ‘For us to dissolve this marriage—or arrangement, as you put it.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about ending our marriage.’

  ‘You…you weren’t?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I was referring to our six-week deal. I’m calling it off.’

  She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Off?’

  ‘Things are different now,’ he said. ‘You’ll need support over the next few months.’

  ‘You want me to stay?’ She stared at him. ‘For how long?’

  He shrugged. ‘For as long as it takes. It’s not easy bringing up a child alone. I think we should at least make an effort to provide a stable home for him or her.’

  Emily ignored the sandwiches that had arrived and focused on the tiny pearl of an orange seed in the bottom of her glass while she tried to unscramble the disorder of her brain. He wanted to stay married to her?

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, looking up again. ‘After all, you accused me of setting a trap. Why should you help tie the noose about your own neck?’

  He gave her a long look. ‘As you said last night, why punish the only innocent party? This child has nothing to do with the machinations that brought about our marriage. And for that reason the marriage will continue in order to protect and nurture it.’

  ‘Do I get a choice?’

  ‘You’ve already made your choice. You chose to marry me, now I’m going to hold you to it.’

  ‘By force?’

  ‘No,’ he said implacably. ‘By insisting you face up to responsibility.’

  ‘I can’t see what you hope to gain by staying tied to me. Your opinion of me is hardly conducive to a happy union, especially in the long term,’ she argued.

  ‘Perhaps not, but the sex is good.’

  Emily flushed and reached for a sandwich to cover her embarrassment. She bit into it and chewed slowly and purposefully so she didn’t have to respond.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased. After all, isn’t this what you planned in the first place?’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t plan anything.’

  He gave an embittered laugh.

  ‘I’m finding this conversation very unpalatable,’ she bit out.

  ‘Of course you would. But it’s about time we faced the implications of both our actions.’

  ‘You’re hardly innocent yourself,’ she pointed out. ‘Have you considered this baby might act
ually be yours?’

  He gave her another one of the long studied looks she found so disquieting.

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind, but I immediately dismissed it. Why else would you have consented to marrying me unless you had a desperate need to do so, and in a hurry?’

  ‘Being a single parent these days is hardly the stigma it used to be,’ she pointed out.

  ‘But it’s a whole lot easier with money behind you to back you up,’ he replied with a touch of cynicism. ‘And that’s one thing Danny is short of right now—money.’

  Emily found even the mention of Danny’s name sent sparks of tension and guilt all through her, especially since their chance meeting—was it only yesterday?

  ‘Have you seen him lately?’ Damien asked unexpectedly.

  ‘No,’ she lied. ‘I’m sure he’s very busy with his fiancée Louise.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s all off,’ Damien announced dispassionately. ‘It seems Louise got wind of the details of Danny’s financial situation. He’s never really been all that good with money.’

  ‘So he comes to you for advice?’

  ‘He comes to me for money, not advice.’

  ‘Do you give it to him?’

  ‘Not always,’ he said, and then, changing the subject abruptly, asked, ‘Are you going to contact your family about your pregnancy?’

  ‘No.’

  He gave her another of his penetrating looks. ‘You’re very isolationist. Is that wise?’

  ‘I like to be independent. There’s less hurt that way.’

  ‘Who hurt you? Your parents?’

  Emily scrunched up her napkin and got to her feet.

  ‘I feel like that walk now,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’

  Damien watched her make her way through the knot of tables to stand watching the cool blue of the ocean in the distance. He sighed and, collecting the bill, made his way to the counter to pay for the lunch Emily had barely touched and he’d had little appetite for.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEY walked in silence along the foreshore leading to Bronte Beach. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak, content to simply enjoy the view and light sea breeze that was taking the stinging heat out of the unusually warm spring day.

  At one stage of the walk Damien reached for Emily’s hand as she stumbled over an irregularity in the pavement. She didn’t resist, but allowed his hand to swallow hers as they walked on. To others walking past them she imagined it would be easy to assume they were a devoted couple, enthusiastically planning their future together. There was no outward indication of the underlying tension simmering between them, but Emily was aching inside at the assumptions he’d made about her. It didn’t seem possible to change his mind about her.

  ‘Do you fancy a swim?’ he asked as they made their way past Tamarama Bay to Bronte Beach.

  Emily flicked the sticky hair out of her face and looked out across the bay. ‘It’s sounding more and more appealing.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ He handed her the bathers and towel he’d been carrying in his backpack. ‘Go and get changed and I’ll meet you here in five minutes.’

  Emily made her way to the changing-rooms and slipped into her slim-fitting black bikini. She looked down at her still flat stomach and wondered how long it would be until she began to show. It didn’t seem possible that inside her right now a tiny baby was beginning to grow. She thought there should be more of an outward sign, a certain glow in her features, an aura of delight clearly visible to others. But all she had was uncertainty, fear and hopelessness that the child’s father thought so poorly of her.

  Of course, much of it was her own fault. She’d been little less than a virago the whole time she’d been with him, fighting him at every turn. How ironic now to realise how much she loved him when there was nothing she could do to convince him of her change of heart. He’d cynically assume it was another one of her ploys to ensnare him, to get him to provide a home and security for herself and her child.

  She met him outside the changing-rooms with her clothes bundled under her arm. His eyes swept over her in an appreciative male manner, lingering momentarily on the gentle curves of her breasts. He reached for her clothes and put them along with his in the backpack. Emily feasted her eyes on his long lean body, the muscles of his stomach and chest rippling as he placed her things on top of his.

  ‘Come on.’ He reached for her hand once more. ‘Let’s get wet.’

  She followed him down to the lapping surf, her hand still in his. She hesitated once the water foamed around her ankles and he stopped and turned to her encouragingly.

  ‘Come on, I’ll hold on to you. I won’t let you go.’

  Emily allowed him to lead her further into the surf, wishing with all her heart that he would never let her go. She wanted to be by his side for ever, facing everything in life together—most particularly the birth of their child.

  The water was now around her waist and she squealed as the cool waves lapped at her.

  ‘That’s enough,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to go in any deeper.’

  ‘Where’s that fighting spirit of yours?’ he teased, pulling her in deeper. ‘Here comes a nice wave. Turn your back and jump.’

  She did as he directed and laughed when the wall of water broke over her hips, splashing her right up to her breasts.

  ‘It’s cold!’ she squealed again.

  ‘Here’s another one—watch out!’

  Emily turned and the wave hit her full on. She felt the rush of water drag at her legs but Damien’s hand was still tightly holding hers. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and smiled up at him.

  ‘We’ll dive under the next one.’ He smiled back at her. ‘Once we get out a bit it’s a whole lot calmer.’

  ‘I’m not going out there!’ Emily stared at the rolling breakers in front of them.

  ‘It’s just here that it’s rough, where the breakers are spilling. Look out beyond that last wave—nothing, just still water.’

  She clung to his hand and allowed him to lead her out. After one or two big waves caught her she realised he was not going to let her go. She suddenly found herself enjoying it. A wave would roll towards them and he’d instruct her to turn her back and jump over it, and, just like a roller coaster ride, her body would be lifted up and then put down once the wall of water had passed. It wasn’t long before they were beyond the breakers, where the water was calm, the waves gently forming and rolling towards the shore, lifting their bodies from time to time before carrying on towards the sand, gathering momentum as they went.

  ‘I’ve never been out this far before,’ she said excitedly as she trod water beside him. ‘I’ve always been too scared.’

  Damien smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re starting to trust me.’

  Emily waited until the next roll of water lifted them both before replying. ‘But you don’t trust me. That hardly seems fair, don’t you think?’

  He pulled her against him when a larger wave rolled towards them. Emily found her legs entwined with his, her breasts pushed up against his chest as the wave carried them forwards slightly until it went on without them to crash thunderously against the shell-encrusted shore.

  He released her once the wave had gone and trod water beside her, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

  ‘Trust is a bit like respect; you have to earn it.’

  ‘It’s very hard to earn someone’s trust when they have a deep-seated bias against you,’ she said, pushing a piece of floating seaweed away from her.

  ‘You worked very hard to construct that bias, so I’m afraid you’ll have to work even harder to remove it,’ he said.

  ‘So it’s all up to me, then, is it?’ she asked, blinking the sting of salt water out of her eyes.

  ‘It’s up to both of us. We each have to make an effort, otherwise there’d be no point in pursuing this at all.’

  She wanted to tell him there was no point. Certainly not while he had such misunderstanding
s about her. But just then a larger than normal wave began building behind them and he reached for her hand once more.

  ‘Come on, let’s see if we can catch this one to the shore.’

  She followed his instructions and let the wave carry her with an exhilarating rush towards the beach. The wave spat her out in the shallows and she got to her feet, her long hair like a mermaid’s around her shoulders, her eyes shining with triumph.

  ‘I did it!’

  He came towards her, his tall lean body glistening in the sun, his strongly muscled thighs cutting through the swirling water like a hot knife through butter. His eyes ran over her lightly.

  ‘So you did. Well done, and you kept your top on too. That’s some achievement.’

  Emily had to smile. Her bikini top was full of sand and bits of seaweed and she’d had to clutch at her bikini bottoms before she’d stood up to cover herself respectably.

  ‘Only just.’ She picked out a piece of sea lettuce from between her breasts and threw it back into the water. She looked back up at him, still smiling. ‘Thanks for taking me out there. I would never have done it by myself.’

  He lifted his hand and removed another piece of seaweed from her hair, his body so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his flesh. She could see the crystals of salt water clinging to his dark eyelashes. His dark hair was pushed back off his forehead, the tense lines about his mouth nowhere to be seen. She lowered her eyes to the smooth muscles of his chest, where droplets of sea water were trickling, making her ache to reach out and lick them away with her tongue…

  A small child ran past them in the shallows and then toppled over as his little legs tripped in a gutter of sand underneath the foamy shallows. He came up screaming and Emily rushed to him, helping him up and reassuring him. The child’s mother hurried over, carrying another small child of about a year old on one hip.

  ‘Oh, thank you!’ she said gratefully to Emily. ‘He’s such a tearaway at times. I only turned my back for a second and he was back in the water.’

  ‘That’s OK.’ She stroked the little boy on the head. ‘He’s gorgeous. How old is he?’