The Child Between Them

by Helen Lacey

  Is that your way of punishing her for leaving you…

  Marshall couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as angry.

  Damn Holly and her button-pushing, inappropriate, unfiltered words.

  As he half-listened to Allen talk about the farm and all the things that needed doing, he became so wound up he could barely respond. When he finally headed inside, he found Holly and his housekeeper in the kitchen, chatting as though they had been acquainted forever and clearly enjoying one another’s company. It irked him. She was intruding on his home and his life and he resented her for it.

  Liar…

  You resent her because she hit a nerve.

  Lynette’s garden. Her pride and joy. The one place where she was her happiest. The place where she was content with her own company, amongst the flowers and shrubs and the one place where he had stupidly felt excluded from her life. It was her go-to spot. Her Zen place. Even on her last day, when she’d looked so tired and had been suffering from a headache all morning, she’d insisted on going to her garden. Marshall had begged her to leave it alone, to rest, but Lynette needed her garden like she needed air to breath.

  So, yeah, maybe he had subconsciously allowed the garden to fall into disrepair. Maybe he had instructed Allen not to waste time on the flower beds. So, damned what? It was his house, his garden, his life. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

  Deidre—who had known him for a decade—must have sensed his mood, because she quickly ushered her husband out of the kitchen and said they’d be back later to prepare lunch. Once they were both through the house and out the door, Marshall turned his attention to Holly.

  She was sitting at the table, elbows resting on the top, glaring at him, one brow up, as though she knew exactly what was coming. And didn’t give a damn.

  “This was a bad idea. I’m going to take you back.”

  “You’re so freakin’ predictable, Marshall.”

  “What does that mean?” he demanded.

  “It means exactly that,” she said and got to her feet.

  She moved around the table, hands on hips, swaying as she walked. Her chest rose up and down and it took all his resolve not to stare at her breasts. She was in front of him and attraction, hot and heavy, coursed through his blood like a wildfire and he cursed the weakness that was his desire. Only Holly could do that to him. Only Holly with her flaming hair and seductive curves. He hated her for her, resented her in a way he’d never resented anyone before.

  “I don’t want you here,” he said, sucking in a breath.

  “I know,” she flipped back. “I know that everything you do with me, you do against your will.”

  Can she see right through me?

  For years, he’d believed that Lynette knew him better than anyone…that they could read one another because they were soul mates. But with Holly…it was a different kind of awareness. A different level. Just…different. And it scared the hell out of him.

  “But I stand by what I said,” she said quietly, chest still heaving. “You should be ashamed of yourself for letting her beautiful garden get into such a state.”

  “You don’t know anything about it,” he replied, irritation snaking up his spine. “And it’s not any of your—”

  “Are you that selfish?”

  He rocked back on his feet. “It’s just a garden.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not. Look, I didn’t even know your wife, but I can tell that whatever she had going on, this house and the garden, they were important to her. You should have taken better care of things.”

  He stared at her, saw the passion in her expression, realized she was speaking from her heart. Because that was Holly. Honest and forthright and damned infuriating. And she made him think. She made him feel. Maybe more than anyone else ever had. Even Lynette. Because he’d certainly never experienced the bone aching inner conflict with his wife like he did when he was around Holly.

  It was that same conflict that made him avoid her when they’d first met. The same conflict that made him steer well clear of her after they’d slept together. Conflict amplified by guilt. Guilt borne out of the realization that his desire for Holly was stronger than any he’d had before.

  And without thinking, he reached for her, taking her into his arms.

  Then he kissed her, hotly, harder than he would usually take possession. He wanted to punish her for churning him up inside. But then something happened. Her arms came around him. And she kissed him back!

  It was like planets aligning as their mouths moved together. Her tongue was in his mouth. Her hands were on his back. She was moaning, pressing against him. Marshall couldn’t remember ever being as turned on in his life. He rested one hand at her nape, cradling her head, and then he changed the kiss, pulling back, moving his mouth over hers slowly. Achingly slow. And she sighed, her sweet breath mingling with his. Marshall’s insides tightened and he held her close, loving the feel of her curves pressed against him. Never in his life had he met a woman with such divine curves. Her tongue was sliding with his, her sighs were amplifying every ounce of desire he possessed.

  “Holly,” he whispered against her lips. “Tell me to stop.”

  Her fingers dug into his back. “I can’t.”

  He sucked in a breath and kissed her again. And again. Changing angles so he could go deeper and hotter into her mouth. She felt so good in his arms. Like she’d been made for them. For him. Like they were destined for this moment. And for all the other moments they’d had. From that first glance. That first kiss. The first time they’d tumbled into bed together. And like nothing could have stopped it from happening.

  Not even his wife…

  Shame, lightning fast and with bone-chilling accuracy, pierced through to his very core and Marshall quickly pulled back, wrenching his mouth from hers, suddenly holding her at arms-length, and then he released her, dragging air into his lungs in sharp and ragged breaths.

  “I didn’t bring you here for this,” he said stiffly and stepped back.

  She shuddered, her lips red from his kiss, her eyes glittering. “I know.”

  “I just can’t…” His ragged words trailed off. “Sometimes I can’t control this thing I have for you.”

  “It goes both ways,” she admitted.

  Marshall took another step backwards and put some decent space between them. “I don’t want to be at the mercy of this, Holly. I don’t want to feel like it controls me. I need to keep clear in my head what we are.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Soon-to-be parents. Friends. Except friends don’t kiss like that, Holly.”

  Her brows shot up. “Then don’t kiss me, simple.”

  “Don’t let me kiss you,” he shot back quickly.

  She laughed and the sound reverberated in his chest. “God, sometimes you can be such a macho jerk. Do you actually believe the crapola that come out of your own mouth?” She walked around him and headed for the door, turning when she stood beneath the threshold. “Keep your hands, your mouth, and every other part of your anatomy to yourself and we won’t have a problem. And for the record,” she said, her cheeks blotched with color. “We’re not friends. We’re nothing.”

  Then she left the room.

  Chapter Seven

  Fool.

  Holly was still cursing her own stupidity on her third lap around the house. The two old dogs were following her. Reggie was running around and sniffing everything. And even a couple of chickens had kept up for a while. But the walking helped clear her head and harden her resolve.

  Marshall was an ass.

  Conceited. Arrogant. Full of self-importance.

  If she had any sense she’d demand he take her home.

  She was just coming around the front of the porch for another circumnavigation when she saw him sitting on the seat by the front door, legs outstretched and feet crossed at the ankles, hat on and tilted at a rakish angle.

  She stopped by his boots and huffed.

 
“Sorry,” he said quietly and looked up. “On reflection I think I might have come across as a self-centered idiot before.”

  “You only think?” she queried, brows up.

  He pulled in his legs. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “I know. I was a jerk.” He patted the seat beside him. “Please?”

  Holly resisted for a moment and then sat down. “Start talking.”

  He crossed his arms and let out a long breath. “You were right about the garden. I should have kept it maintained.”

  She wanted more. “And?”

  He shrugged. “No excuses. I was…angry.”

  At last, she thought, some admittance of emotion. “Understandable. You loved her.”

  “I love her,” he corrected.

  She glanced at his left hand. “That’s why you still wear your wedding ring?”

  He shrugged again. “I guess. And habit. She was a part of my life for a long time…I’m just not ready to say goodbye.”

  Holly’s chest tightened. “Who says you have to?”

  “People,” he replied and sighed. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I get told that I need to move on. That I need to get past my grief and start living again.”

  Holly swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and instinctively, she grabbed his hand. And then ever so gently, placed it on her belly. “Well, I have proof that you’ve made a few tiny steps in that direction.”

  He met her gaze and his eyes had never seemed darker. “I’m not…unhappy about the baby, you know,” he said a little unevenly. “I mean, I know it might have seemed that way in the beginning. But…” His words trailed off for a moment. “I was in shock. I’ve spent all of my adult life imagining that I would never have the opportunity to be a father. And honestly, I was okay with that.” His palm seemed to tighten against her stomach. “But…now I feel very grateful for the chance to have a child. I just wish…”

  Holly’s heart ached. Because she knew exactly what he wished for. That he was having a child with the wife he had loved and lost. She almost wished he would say it…to get the words out between them…to make it so her foolish heart would once and for all stand up and take notice and realize that she was wishing for the moon when she dared allow herself to imagine that Marshall had feelings for her beyond some kind of lingering desire and now, obligation. But he didn’t. She knew it. He’d just told her he still loved his wife.

  She looked down to where his hand lay against her belly. It was impossibly intimate. The closest they’d been—other than the wild kiss in the kitchen—for months. And she felt his nearness acutely.

  Then, abruptly, he pulled his hand away and got to his feet.

  “We’ve got visitors,” he said, looking toward the road, and into the distance to the vehicle that was turning into the driveway.

  Holly stood and stared in the same direction. “Who’s that?”

  “My in-laws.”

  His voice was flat. Annoyed. And he clearly wasn’t happy. “Oh, I see.”

  “Go inside,” he said and opened the front door. “I’ll send them on their way.”

  “Did you tell them you were coming back for the weekend?”

  “No,” he replied quietly, motioning to the open door. “They live next door, I’m guessing they spotted my truck driving past and assumed I was here.”

  Holly nodded and went to head back into the house, but then stalled. “You want me to hide in the attic?”

  “Huh?”

  “You look like you want me to disappear. Pretend I don’t exist, hide in the attic, that kind of thing.”

  “Of course not,” he said and scowled. “It’s just that they…” His words trailed off and he shrugged. “It’s fine Holly. Stay. We’ll clear this up.”

  Holly wasn’t sure she wanted to be something that was cleared up.

  The car circled around the driveway and then pulled up. The passenger door opened, followed by the driver’s side. An older couple, perhaps in their mid-sixties, got out and the woman waved. Marshall waved back and then headed down the steps and across the yard and Holly watched as he greeted the couple, hugging the woman affectionately and shaking the man’s hand. A sharp sensation pierced her chest and she experienced an acute sense of exclusion. These people clearly loved him and the feeling was obviously reciprocated. They had history and shared love for the woman they had all lost.

  Holly had never considered herself the jealous type. But in that moment, she was, bone-achingly so. She fought the instinct to flee, to hide herself away inside and wait for them to leave. But she had more gumption than that. Instead, she rolled back her shoulders and took a long breath, watching as the woman looked toward the house and gave her an odd kind of acknowledgment.

  They were by the steps in a few moments and Marshall made the introductions, casually referring to her as a friend to Dawn and Tom Willows. But Holly knew they didn’t buy it. Particularly his mother-in-law.

  They were soon inside and Holly stayed silent as they were all ushered into the living room. It took about two minutes for Dawn to ask the obvious question.

  “So, are you Marshall’s girlfriend?”

  She gasped and was about to deny the inference when Marshall spoke.

  “Holly and I are dating,” he said quietly and moved up beside her.

  The older woman’s mouth thinned. “I see. I wasn’t aware that you were ready to see anyone yet.”

  Yet.

  Holly couldn’t miss the inference. They were questioning his judgement. His commitment to the wife he’d loved so much. And the daughter they clearly still grieved. Discomfiture snaked up her spine and then morphed into a deep-rooted hurt she didn’t want to analyze. Thinking about being hurt, and about why, added to the idea that she was the biggest fool of all time.

  “We only recently got together,” he said casually. Too casually. Holly saw the way the pulse in his jaw throbbed. He was as wound up as a spring, but he’d never let anyone know it.

  He made a comment about making coffee and grasped Holly’s elbow, ushering her from the room before she could protest. By the time they reached the kitchen she was ready to scream.

  “Dating?” she demanded and turned on her heels the moment they were alone. “Really?”

  He shrugged and grabbed mugs from one of the overhead cupboards, suddenly looking infuriatingly calm and self-composed and not caring that she had just endured scrutiny from his in-laws. “It’s the best thing to say, considering the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?” she asked, hands propped on hips.

  His gaze dropped to her belly. “At some point you’re going to start showing. I’d rather avoid speculation. If we say we’re dating, then tongues won’t wag when it becomes apparent that there’s a baby on the way.”

  Holly glared at him. “I don’t care what people think and I didn’t think you did. I’m not ashamed of this baby and I won’t—”

  He shushed her, cutting her off. “Don’t overreact, Holly. I’m not ashamed either. But Dawn and Tom have old fashioned ideas about some things and I don’t see the point in upsetting them unnecessarily.”

  “You think they’ll be upset?’ she shot back. “By me?”

  He sighed heavily. “I don’t know what they’ll think.”

  “I think that’s pretty clear, Marshall. She didn’t look happy when you said we were dating. I don’t imagine she’s going to be happy to hear we’re having a baby.”

  “When the time comes, I’ll talk to them,” he assured her, his voice little more than a whisper. “Until then, let’s try and get through the next hour or so without too much drama, okay?”

  Holly made an agreeable sound, waited while he made coffee and herbal tea for her and then followed him back to the living room. After that, she endured close to forty minutes of questions. About her family. Her job. Her plans. About how they had met. She replied as vaguely, but as politely as she could, and was grateful for the way Marshall endeavored to steer the conversation onto more neutral subjects.
But his mother-in-law was quietly relentless.

  “Holly works for my friend Sam Beckett,” he said, a little sterner than she suspected he intended. “That’s how we met. And it’s only been a few weeks.”

  Dawn’s brows rose sharply. “Are you planning on staying permanently in Mulhany Crossing?”

  “I’m not sure. Time will tell I suppose.”

  Dawn nodded. “I don’t imagine there’s much to do for someone as young as yourself. Not a lot of nightlife other than a few pubs and restaurants.”

  Holly didn’t miss the dig about her age. “I’m not much for partying. More of the stay-at-home type with a good book and a cup of tea.”

  The two older people shared a look that had Holly fidgeting in her seat. When they finally left, she remained in the living room, happy for Marshall to wave them off. The room was nice, tastefully furnished with timber and leather and there was a brocade loveseat by the window. A picture took its pride of place above the fireplace—of Lynette and Marshall on their wedding day. He looked so young, and nothing like the often somber and serious man he had become. And Lynette Harris looked carefree and pretty and clearly in love with her handsome husband. Envy, green and exhausting, wove a relentless path through her blood and her bones and she took a long and painful breath.

  She got to her feet and walked around the room and instinctively lay a hand on her belly. Whatever happened, all that mattered was that her child was safe and loved by both his or her parents. And she knew Marshall could do that.

  He might never be able to love me…but I know he’ll love our baby.

  He returned close to ten minutes later, having clearly had some kind of heart-to-heart with his in-laws. And it didn’t take a genius to figure that she was the central topic of conversation.

  “Well, that was about as much fun as a tooth extraction without anesthetic,” she said and dropped into the loveseat by the window.

  “They can be hard work,” he said and came around to the sofa. “I’m sorry if they made you feel uncomfortable. They’re good people, but they miss their daughter and think—”

  “You should be a monk for the rest of your life?” she queried, cutting him off.