The Bride Ran Away (The Calvert Cousins 2) Page 5

  He’d lost all his options the day Sophie’s pregnancy test came up positive. Now he had to live with the consequences—and maybe make something good out of them. Maybe make a real family and a real home for his child.

  “When do you want to move?” He stripped his tone to the bare words—no emotion. That was safer.

  “As soon as I transfer my practice to another doctor. While I’m arranging that, you can pack up in Chicago—or put things in storage in case we don’t make it. Whatever you want to do.”

  Her expression was innocent even as she suggested their marriage remained a trial relationship. He left the bait where she’d cast it. Time would prove him honest.

  “We’ll pack you up first,” he said. “I don’t want you doing all that work on your own.”

  “I know what I’m capable of physically.” She took two sliding steps down the counter, movements she was obviously repeating from the past. She lifted the lid on a round, plastic container and stared, struck dumb, at a rich chocolate cake. “That looks—” her throat worked as she swallowed “—good.”

  He wanted badly to laugh, and he envied that cake her besotted admiration. She pushed it away with the tips of her fingers. He crossed to the counter and pulled it back. “Take some.” When Sophie gave in to temptation, she gave all and then some. She was irresistible.

  “I wish I could say no, but I’ll eat my fair share.” Flashing a pained smile, she took down two plates and served cake on both. But she denied herself even a bite of the moist chocolate while she poured a glass of milk and a cup of coffee.

  He watched, seduced. It was all part of the dance. She wanted the cake. It was in reach, but she controlled her appetites. He lifted his mug, determined to remind her of other days and other delicacies. “No more champagne?”

  Her blush looked like sunburn. They’d sipped champagne from the hollows of each other’s bodies. “No more,” she said, her voice liquid. “Until we learn how to talk to each other with our mouths.”

  He stared at hers, remembering the silky touch of those full lips, the delicious taste of her. “I like the way you use words already.”

  She picked up his mug and her glass, leaving a splash of milk that betrayed her trembling hand. He tore a paper towel from a fat roll and wiped up the spill behind her.

  “You’re the one who said we did everything backward.” She set both drinks on the table. “This time we’ll learn about each other. We can’t go on having sex until we suddenly wake up and can’t stand being in the same room.”

  He frowned, understanding she wasn’t just declaring a moratorium on champagne. “Being more conventional won’t keep us from making more mistakes, and I didn’t say I hated the—”

  “Sex? I want more than just sex, Ian.” She pulled back a hard wooden chair and sat, staking territory. “If you can’t live with waiting until we’re both sure we want to be married, we’d better both call lawyers.”

  Anger rolled over him again, but it was about time he learned to control his emotions around Sophie. “Go softly. I know you think I tricked you into this marriage, but playing house won’t help us. I want a wife for myself and a mother for my son.”

  “Or daughter,” she said. “And I have to know we can be more than lovers.”

  “I tried to hide cold feet because I was afraid I’m the worst thing that could happen to you.” Maybe she’d heard all the evidence she needed, but her low opinion of him still hurt. “You meant more to me than the time we spent in bed, but at least it was a connection.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t trust the way we felt.”

  It was useless to argue. “How long do you see us living as housemates?”

  “I’m trying to be your wife.” She lifted her chin. “Because you cared enough to quit your job. And… I didn’t…” She stopped, her gaze wavering with doubt, but then she seemed to gather strength. “I didn’t think about our baby when I left you.” She breathed as hard as if she’d run a couple of marathons. “My mom never seemed to realize I was as important as her dates, and I always thought if I had children, I’d put them first.”

  “You aren’t your mother. You aren’t anyone but you.”

  “Don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t need comfort. I only want to hear the promises you can keep.”

  She sounded as if he’d lied to her all along, instead of making one nearly catastrophic slip. “Why’d you agree to marry me in the first place? Don’t you respect me at all?”

  “This isn’t a matter of respect.” She finally speared a bite of cake, but her lust for chocolate had lost its effect on him. “You say you want to be with me, but you could meet someone you really care for. I want to know where I stand with you at all times.”

  His wife had funny ideas about marriage. “Why would I marry you and keep my options open for another woman?”

  She stared until all he could see was the open, earnest expression that had rendered him stupid in her grandfather’s apple orchard last fall. “I don’t seem to make sense anymore.” She opened her mouth. The fork and the piece of cake slid between her moist red lips.

  Ian gripped the sides of his chair, his muscles shaking with his effort at control. He wanted to pull her onto this table and touch her until she turned back into the woman he’d known.

  At last she swallowed her bite. “I told you what I need. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  “I’m not crazy about rules, but I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I argue.”

  “You’re afraid you’ll lose the baby.”

  A mixture of temper and frustration with her absolute blindness pushed him. “If that’s the way you want it. Would you have married me if you weren’t pregnant?”

  Her game face cracked, and she shook her head from side to side, pain bruising her eyes. Her blond hair tangled in messy strands over her shoulders.

  “I believed we’d make it work until I heard you tell Jock you had no choice about marrying me.” She flattened her hands on either side of her plate. “Who wants to hear on her wedding day that she was an entry in the groom’s to-do list?”

  Anguish threaded her voice and drew him to his knees at her side. He wrapped his arms around her, elbowing the plate out of his way. “I never meant what you heard. I was afraid I’d hurt you, but if I could take it back, I would.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in her sexy, clean scent, sliding his mouth over her lustrous hair. “I don’t talk like this. I’ve never let anyone mean so much to me that I can’t walk away, but, Sophie, I’m trying to walk toward you, if you’ll just let me.”

  She dashed tears from her eyes and pried her damp hair away from her cheeks. She looked weary down to the fine bones of her strained face.

  He finally understood her fear. She was trying to protect herself and their child, and she believed he’d betrayed her.

  “You’re worth whatever I have to do,” he said.

  Her mouth was straight and thin, and the loss of joy she’d worn back in that orchard wounded him. “I’ve never trusted anyone who lied to me the first time.”

  He stroked her shoulder and then passed her the glass of milk. “I won’t hide anything from you again.”

  “Good.” She looked into the glass as if she was reading a murky crystal ball and then set it down. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Immediately he rose, his hands clenched. He hated feeling helpless. “What can I do?”

  “Wait here and don’t bust into the bathroom to help.”

  He nodded as she stood, growing paler by the second. All the life in this small house seemed to follow her when she left the kitchen.

  Mindful of his promise to stay out, he washed their dishes. He was drying the last fork when Ethan Calvert knocked briefly and entered the house.

  “Soph?”

  “Back there.” Ian assumed she didn’t want her father’s help either. “You should probably wait.”

  Ethan searched him suspiciously. “What’d you do now?”

&n
bsp; He couldn’t blame the man. “She’s in the bathroom. Morning sickness.”

  Ethan grabbed the back of the nearest chair. “Let me promise again I will kill you if you hurt my daughter. And if you get yourself killed and leave her stranded with a child, I’m still coming after you.”

  Ian tried not to laugh. Ethan was serious, and Sophie would be better off if he and her father got along. “I was trying to take care of her when I married her.”

  “I wouldn’t say that too loudly.” Ethan glanced over his shoulder. “She’s pissed off with you for doing right by her.”

  “I know.”

  “Doing the right thing isn’t enough.” Ethan released the chair. Out of habit, Ian kept an eye on his restless, angry hands. “My daughter deserves better.”

  “I know.” And he’d begged forgiveness in every humiliating way he could think of. Ian wanted to ask Ethan what made Sophie so unwilling to offer a second chance. Just in time, he remembered Sophie was his wife, not a subject who’d hired him to protect her. Grilling her father about her personality wasn’t permissible. “I’m serious about our marriage and this baby.”

  “I remember what her mother’s and my divorce did to her, and I don’t want her to feel responsible for creating a long-distance relationship between her child and you if she cared enough to marry you in the first place.” Ethan came around the table, taking the dish towel from Ian’s hand. “But I’ll be watching you, and I’m not forgiving like Sophie.”

  Forgiving? Sophie? Not even her father knew her. “You have nothing to worry about, sir.”

  “Why are you worried, Dad?”

  Ian turned, and Ethan jumped guiltily.

  “Dad, were you threatening my husband?”

  “Absolutely,” Ethan said.

  She rolled her eyes. Her smile trembled in a pale face, but she met Ian’s gaze with a hint of her old joy. “He’s probably serious.”

  “I assume he is.”

  She went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “I’ve held enough of a grudge for both of us, Dad.”

  Ethan moved past Ian to put his arm around her. “Take the time to figure out what you feel for him.”

  She wrenched the cap off the bottle and stared at Ian as she sipped. He felt like a patient she suspected of malingering. Turning, she rubbed her hand across her belly, provoking a surge of possessiveness that startled him. “Anger is no tool for starting a family.”

  Ian bit the inside of his cheek. He could have pointed out her mistaken assumptions about his motives. But with both Calverts staring at him as if he’d stolen a family heirloom, it seemed smarter to just shut up.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A MONTH LATER Sophie waited while Gran unlocked the small cabin she and Ian were to share on the grounds of The Mom’s Place. A less anxious woman might have called the cabin her home, but Sophie felt like running every time she looked at the moving van they’d rented. Their stuff intermingled in there as if they were any normal married couple.

  And Gran was no help with her delight in the show. “Your husband’s no coward.”

  With a sense of foreboding, Sophie followed her glance along the gravel driveway, which was overrun by unruly weeds. Ian carried a box bulging with dishes around the van just in time to meet a throng of pregnant women laughing together on their morning stroll up Bardill’s Ridge. As they parted to walk around him, their voices floated on the light breeze, and Ian froze. He’d never wavered since that day at her father’s house, but the women, with their rounded bellies, surging hormones and burgeoning life, turned him to stone.

  “You have to give him points for courage,” Gran said.

  “Because he’s terrified?” A deep flood of relief actually thinned Sophie’s voice. Ian’s postreconciliation conviction had begun to rub her the wrong way, as if she was slacking because she couldn’t stop worrying about their future.

  “Because he agreed to take this cabin, anyway. Living up here is scary stuff for an anxious father-to-be.”

  Sophie could afford to laugh since Ian’s look of near panic made her feel less alone. “Gran, he makes his living walking in front of bullets.”

  “He’s never had to raise any of those bullets to be responsible citizens.” Gran unlocked the door and ushered her inside. “How did this happen to you, anyway? I assume you know about the birds and the bees?”

  As far as Sophie could tell, they’d been rough with a condom in their haste. Gran wouldn’t want to hear about that, and it wasn’t information she felt comfortable sharing. “A mistake,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t need this place for a guest?”

  “Let me think…reserve a cabin for a possible guest, or give it to my new partner, who’s willing to live on site with our patients—or patrons, as the accountant calls them.” Gran switched on a light in the cabin’s entrance. “I say welcome home.”

  Behind them, Ian stumbled over the threshold. Sophie caught the sides of the box to steady him.

  “Everyone in this place is…” He broke off, looking from her to Gran as if one of them might call on her dad and his power tools.

  “Pregnant?” Sophie said. “That’s the point. It’s a retreat for women whose husbands have gone away or women who need a break.”

  “Or want to be pampered,” Gran said. “Or for the girls who have no other place to go.”

  “I saw a group of teenage girls collecting leaves down by the bridge. I couldn’t believe they were old enough to date, much less have children.” Ian hoisted the box higher. “And I’d like a few minutes with the guys who dumped them.”

  Sophie admired his righteous anger until she remembered he’d married her out of the same sense of duty. She couldn’t afford to dwell on doubts that made her feel as if she was doing the wrong thing, so she forced them from her mind. “It’s not just the guys,” she said. “Those girls have parents, too. Parents who decided not to take care of them. Thank God they have Gran.” She hugged her grandmother and then turned her husband toward the back of the cabin. “I think the kitchen is that way, Ian.” She pointed down the hall. “Can we take a look at the bedrooms, Gran?”

  “I’ll bring up the beds next,” Ian said. “You could use a nap.”

  She intended to do no such thing, but her gran’s approving nod kept her from arguing. She smiled at both of them as car doors slamming outside made them all turn toward the yard. A line of men trooped up the hill.

  “Zach and Dad and Grandpa.” Wouldn’t you know? Their first day, and already the menfolk had to make sure Ian was treating her right. Sophie almost touched him for comfort, but stopped just before her fingers reached his forearm. He might not understand her family well enough to know he was on probation. All the better for him if she left him in the dark. She curled her hand into a loose fist and tapped the box. “They’ll help you unload. Grandpa loves to direct traffic.”

  “Another pushy Calvert.” Ian crooked a smile at Gran. “Sorry. I was trying to tease Sophie.”

  Gran patted his shoulder with a wicked grin. “You’ll say a lot worse by the time my husband moves you in to his satisfaction.”

  Ian’s startled gaze made Sophie laugh again. He turned to her with a glance that reminded her of before—back when they were only having fun. Like a creature of habit, she considered pulling the box of dishes out of his hands so she could throw herself into his arms. Fortunately, the baby nudged her, just at belly button level, and she remembered her new, sober resolutions. She climbed the stairs to safety.

  On the landing three doors opened off a narrow hall. She peered into each one. Two bedrooms and a bathroom. Sophie slid her hand beneath her hair and pulled it away from her nape. Two bedrooms. They needed three. At least they would after the baby came.

  She couldn’t remember which cabins up here had three bedrooms. She glanced down the stairs. How could she complain? The house came rent free from her grandmother and the resort’s board. They’d cleaned it for her and Ian. The gold hardwood floors smelled of polish. The walls reeke
d of fresh paint.

  Her heart beat faster as she crossed the master bedroom and opened the closet door. A walk-in might be large enough to turn into a nursery. But not this one, built in the late fifties. It was dark and small and, thank heavens, smelled of paint, rather than the musty scent of long disuse.

  She backed out, hearing Gran climb the stairs. By the time the baby came in another thirteen weeks, she and Ian might be sharing a room, anyway, so the shortage of bedrooms wouldn’t matter.

  The mere suggestion of trusting him that much nearly choked her. It might be wiser to make sure they had another room if they needed it. She hurried back to the hall to meet her new boss. “Where’s the third bedroom?”

  Confusion clouded Gran’s eyes. “There are only two.”

  “We need three.”

  “Three?” Gran cocked her head and hurtled to the right conclusion. “One for you, one for Ian and one for the baby.”

  “Yes.” She flicked a panicked glance toward the empty stairs, feeling guilty for exposing the true state of their marriage.

  “Now I’m really curious.” Gran also lowered her voice, closing the distance between them. “You don’t sleep with your husband?”

  “Sophie, can’t you advertise our sleeping arrangements in the local paper?”

  She jumped. Bodyguards should clatter around the house like normal people. Instead, Ian startled her again, stepping partway out of the shadows the sun cast through the round window above him on the landing.

  “I’m sorry.” His body was striped in dark and light. He probably knew she couldn’t see his face. “I’m a little desperate.” She rubbed her stomach in a reflex action. “Besides, Gran can keep a secret.”

  Her grandmother stared at Sophie’s belly. “Who’d believe me, anyway?” She looked up, a thoughtful, sad expression in her eyes. “You two have bigger problems than I thought.”

  Ian grunted in disgust. “Sophie, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer we work on our marriage privately. And I hope you won’t be insulted, Greta, but I’m including you as a person who has no say about what happens in this house.”