‘Until me.’
He smiled. ‘Until you.’
The waiter arrived then, with their starters. ‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said.
Looking at her beautifully arranged plate of food, Merry could understand why some people took pictures of their meals. ‘This looks lovely.’
But her appetite was wavering. He’d as good as told her that she was different. That she mattered. Although was it her? Or was it just the baby that changed everything? She hoped not. A small part of her—maybe even a large part—wanted to feel that she was the one making him change his beliefs. That they had something special.
The scallops were exquisite. Rich in flavour and perfect with the smooth and slightly sweet parsnip purée. And the pickled figs added the perfect sharpness to her palate.
‘You don’t feel like you’ve missed out?’ she asked.
‘What have I missed?’
‘Camaraderie? Closeness? Intimacy?’
‘I’ve experienced all of those.’
‘Just not with the same person?’
‘No.’
She sighed, not sure why this bothered her. Was it because he had no track record by which she could judge his ability to sustain a relationship? If he’d never had a committed relationship before, how could she tell how he would be? Would he get bored by the commitment after a few months, once the excitement of a new baby had worn off and the sleepless nights and the stinky nappies and the crying took its toll?
Maybe this was his big fault?
This was what was wrong with him?
She’d found it. His Achilles’ heel.
‘So you don’t do commitment at all? You can see how this might bother me...what with you wanting to be an involved father and everything.’
‘I’ve never been in a committed romantic relationship. But I was committed to my education and my training to be a doctor. I’m committed to my place of work. I’m committed to The Elf Foundation and have been for years. I’m committed to my friends. I can do commitment, Merry.’ He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. ‘Can you?’
‘Me?’ Surely he didn’t have a problem with her evidence of commitment? ‘I got married!’
‘Which, for very obvious reasons, didn’t last. That wasn’t your fault, but have you committed to anything since then? You’re considering leaving your job, leaving your country...’
‘That’s what you want me to do!’
‘I’m just saying...’ He smiled, as if he had proved his point.
Kristjan really was the most infuriating man she had ever met. ‘You’ve asked me to consider doing those things and I’m being open and considerate because of our situation.’
‘Because at the moment you don’t have a choice. The roads are impassable.’
‘For cars. I’m sure I could use your snow sled to get down the mountain.’
His eyes darkened. ‘It’s too dangerous. Tell me you would never do that.’
She stared at him, then relented. ‘Fine. I’d never do that.’
‘Thank you. Look, I’m sorry I implied you weren’t committed, but you did the same thing to me. I think we’re both very tense because of what’s happening. We both want to get this right and we’re both committed in our own ways. Can we agree on that?’
She shrugged. ‘We can’t get this wrong, Kristjan. This is too important just to feel our way through and hope for the best. We have to be sure we know what we’re doing.’
‘I’m not sure parenting is like that. Have you ever met any parent who’s totally in control of the situation?’
No, she hadn’t. The parents she met in hospital, when their child was sick or injured, were most often out of their heads with worrying and fear. And her own adoptive mother had felt totally powerless as her disease had taken more and more away from her.
‘We just have to do our best and work together—not against each other,’ he said.
‘And your first request is that I consider staying in Iceland permanently?’
‘I would like you to consider it, yes. Can you see yourself giving up your job and your home in England?’
‘I have thought about it.’
‘And?’
‘And I don’t know. I really don’t. I would so much love the fairy tale! The happy family. Mum and dad in one house...a happy child. The white picket fence. Maybe a dog or something. But is that realistic?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting the fairy tale.’
‘But I can’t have it. Because I don’t want to get involved romantically ever again and you said you don’t either. Do you think we could share a house but live independent lives?’ She smiled sadly. ‘Do you think I’d want our child to see you bringing home random women?’
‘That wouldn’t happen.’
‘No? Have you seen you? Women notice you, Kristjan. You’re pretty hard to miss.’
‘My focus would be on my son or daughter.’
The words he was saying were great—but they weren’t realistic, were they? He was a big, virile man and he would have needs. Did he think they could live together and every so often he would go out and meet someone, hook up with them at their place before coming home to her and the baby? That would make her feel...
What? Jealous? Because that was how the idea made her feel right now. Jealous and angry and upset and...
Disturbed by the emotion, she put her knife and fork together on her plate, indicating that she was finished with her first course.
She was feeling a bit sick. ‘Excuse me. I just need to use the bathroom...’
* * *
He watched her go, frustrated with the turn of their conversation. He’d hoped to clear the air of a few things, but instead they’d just muddied the waters somehow. The conversation should have remained light and breezy, but it had got serious quite quickly.
They both had desires here—and he wasn’t talking sexually, though that did complicate matters too. Because no matter how much he tried to ignore the feelings he had for Merry, they kept creeping back to the surface, and the fact that she was carrying his baby was making him feel all caveman-like and protective of her, too.
He’d never felt this way about a woman before. Perhaps that was why he’d been a little prickly this evening? Biting back when she’d accused him of never being committed to anything...
Because he was committed! To their baby. He was committed to providing that baby with the best life, and with two parents who would love it very much!
I’ll apologise when she comes back.
They could start the conversation over. Start afresh. They were friends—that would be easy enough. He didn’t like how it had made him feel to upset her. It was wrong. She was the mother of his child, and if they couldn’t agree right now, how would it be when the baby was here and they had to make other decisions?
When she came back to the table he stood up and watched her settle into her chair, before sitting down once more across from her. She looked a little flushed in the candlelight.
‘Are you all right?’
He needed to know that she was. They’d both had a difficult time lately, what with the scare and the whole change in circumstances for both of them. It was a lot to absorb.
She nodded, smiling.
‘I’m sorry, Merry. I didn’t mean to respond the way I did. I guess I’m just nervous.’
‘Of the situation?’
‘And of you.’
‘Me?’
‘I’ve never had someone important in my life since my parents, and yet here you are, carrying the most precious cargo. My child. And I know that you could leave at any minute. Get on a plane and disappear from my life.’ He reached out and took her hand across the table. Squeezed it. ‘You’ve become special and I never expected that.’
‘Because of the baby?’
‘Yes.’
She nodded, squeezed his hand back, then reclaimed it to pick up her glass and sip at her drink. She looked a little annoyed, not meeting his eye, and he wasn’t sure why. Hadn’t he just told her what she wanted to hear? He was being honest with her. As far as he could be, anyway.
The waiter came and took their plates and disappeared once again.
He looked at Merry. She was so beautiful tonight. In that little black dress that showed the smooth curve of her shoulders and bare neck. The twinkle of her earrings drawing the eye to her soft skin. Of course she always looked beautiful. Every man in this place probably thought the same thing.
He was stepping out into new and unfamiliar territory here—caring for a woman in the way he knew he was starting to care for Merry. He’d told her it was simply because of the baby, but he’d been holding something back. He didn’t want her to be confused about how he felt, but how could he tell her when he couldn’t admit it out loud?
I guess I’m just going to have to try to be genuine and take it day by day.
‘I want you to stay, but I know that you have a home and a life elsewhere. So I’ll take the reindeer by the horns and trust you completely. If you say you’re considering staying here, then that’s good enough for now. We’ll take each day as it comes.’
She nodded. ‘We will.’
* * *
The main course was fabulous, but even better was the succulent dessert of kleinur—a pastry similar to a doughnut, filled with rhubarb curd and dusted in icing sugar.
After the slightly sticky start to their conversation, they’d veered onto safer topics, and now it was late and time for them to go home.
Merry yawned, beginning to feel the effects of the long day on a body that was already working overtime growing another person.
‘Tired?’ asked Kristjan.
‘Ready for bed.’
She didn’t see the way his pupils dilated briefly as she was putting on her coat, but she heard him thank the maître d’ and then they stepped outside into the cold, dark night.
A frost was settling, making the snow crunchy underfoot. He escorted her safely across the ice and took her hand to help her onto the sled once more for the short trip back. He went to grab the blanket and put it over her lap again, but she remembered how it had felt to have him do that before, and she was still smarting from the fact that he’d told her this was all because of the baby and not her at all.
Kristjan studied her. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concern filling his face.
Her heart was pounding, her legs like jelly. ‘Yes, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.’
‘Let’s get you home.’
She held on to him tightly as they drove back, laying her head gently against his back as he drove at a slow speed through the snow. Merry tried to absorb what it felt like to lay herself against him, how fabulous it was, how wonderfully solid and safe he made her feel, but all it did was bring tears to her eyes that she had to wipe away surreptitiously.
At the house, he escorted her in. She peeled off her heels, wincing, and settled onto the couch.
‘Remind me never to wear heels again. My ankles are the size of beachballs.’
She propped herself up and tried to focus on rotating her sore ankles, rather than on the rest of her, but all the tingling and anticipation she’d felt as she’d lain against him, and the sense that she might lose him after all, and all the wanting, was hard to ignore.
‘Okay, let’s have a proper look at these, shall we?’ he said, and he gently lifted her feet onto his lap.
* * *
She had such dainty feet. Pixie feet. Her toenails were painted a soft rose colour. He began to massage her skin, gently manipulating her ankles with smooth, steady strokes in the hope that it would feel good. The friction caused by his hands upon her warmed his touch, and soon his massaging strokes were not just encompassing her ankles, but her feet too, and her lower legs.
It was as if he felt hypnotised, drawn to touching her. To being in contact with her. As if he couldn’t let go.
He wondered what would happen if his hands moved up her leg... Past her knee... Beyond the hemline of that little black dress that so beautifully showed off her shoulders and slim arms. There was a zip down the side...it would come off in one easy movement...
He brought his thoughts back to her feet, taming them, trying to throw cold water on them, but it was impossible! Touching her, holding her, was too much for his senses to handle. His blood was racing round his body and he needed to cool down before he made a terrible mistake.
With a growl, he got up, moving her feet to the couch, and stalked away from her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘There’s something. Talk to me.’
He turned to look at her, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and take her to his bed. ‘The truth?’
She nodded. ‘The truth.’
‘If I’d kept my hands upon you I wouldn’t have wanted to stop.’
Her eyes widened at his statement and her lips parted. ‘Oh.’
‘And I don’t think that would be wise for either of us right now, would it?’ he said, annoyed with his reaction to her.
‘I guess not...no.’
‘So, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed. Alone.’
‘All right.’
‘Do you need anything?’
‘Um... I don’t think so. I’d like a glass of water, though, if that’s not too much trouble?’
Water. He could do that. It was practical and it was safe and it had nothing to do with caressing her body and making her his. Unless he poured that glass of ice-cold water over her naked body... Would it make her nipples peak? Strain outward, ready for his warm mouth to envelop them? Would he be able to follow the rivulets of water with his tongue? He could take a cube of ice and run it down her...
Stop it!
He gritted his teeth as he got a glass of water and took it to her room, placing it down upon her table. He tried not to imagine her in the bed. Tried not to wonder if she slept naked or not. Tried not to inhale the scent of her perfume that lingered in the room.
He headed back out and walked around the edge of the living room without looking at her, not sure if his resolve would hold if he did. ‘Goodnight, Merry.’
‘Goodnight, Kristjan.’
He closed the door to his bedroom and leaned back on it, wishing it had a lock, before pulling his shirt free from his trousers and slowly getting undressed.
If he had any more cold showers he’d be totally made of ice.
* * *
Kristjan woke in the early hours and, being totally unable to get back to sleep, decided to go for a swim in Snowy Peak’s geothermal outdoor community pool. What he needed was to work off some of the pent-up energy that had been simmering in him since last night. It was the kind of energy that he usually worked off in a much more satisfying way, but swimming, powering through a few lengths, would have to do.
When he arrived the surface of the water was as still as a millpond, and once he was stripped to his shorts he dived in and felt the heat of the thermal waters embrace him. At that early hour there was no one else there and he had the pool to himself. As he swam, his thoughts continued to rampage in his head.
Merry. The baby. How all this was going to work itself out.
If she stayed, would she buy her own place? Would it be here, in Snowy Peak? Or would she prefer to be in Reykjavik, where there were more people? What if they had a huge falling out? Would she leave? Would she hold the threat of leaving over him for ever? And if she did leave would he follow? This community, these people, meant so much to him. His parents were buried here. He had history here. Roots.
But...
He couldn’t imagine not being in his child’s life.
The powerlessness, the uncertainty of it all, was immensely frustrating to him—a man who was used to being in control of everything. Perhaps that was why he’d wanted Merry last night—because he’d felt that if he could at least possess her, then she would be his? At least for a short time?
He didn’t want a full-time relationship with her, did he?
Did he?
He took a deep breath and swam underwater for as long as he could, before finally breaking the surface and gasping for air, swimming in a front crawl towards the edge in powerful strokes, turning at the poolside and swimming out again, determined to exhaust himself before he returned home.
Because he liked the way she looked in the morning. The ruffled bed hair, the way she yawned, how gorgeous she was when she was all sleepy and tired... And then the transformation of this sleepy woman, who disappeared into her bedroom wearing pyjamas and emerged half an hour later perfectly groomed and smelling amazing!
He enjoyed the chats they would have as they walked to work...the way she’d wrap her hands around a take-out coffee cup...the way her lips would purse as she blew on her drink to cool it...
So many things were getting into his system, making him want to enjoy them more, and—dammit—he didn’t know how he wanted to feel about that. This was just meant to be about the baby, but his thoughts were becoming about her, too.
He’d never been in a romantic relationship. Not one that had lasted for more than one night, anyway. He knew about attraction. He was a master of desire. But was he any good at doing more than that?
Spent, he pulled himself from the water, the heat rising in steam from his body, and grabbed a towel and headed inside to the changing rooms. His arms and legs hurt in a pleasant way. He’d got his blood moving. He’d had the workout he needed.
Well, the one he would allow himself to have.
Time to go back and face temptation all over again.
* * *
‘You’re up?’
Kristjan had come through the front door just as she was getting on her coat, ready for work.
The Icelandic Doc's Baby Surprise Page 10