The Pregnant Bride Read online

  “And you, my dear, are exquisite. Pregnancy suits you.”

  “I hope,” she said, glancing around nervously, “that you aren’t planning to make that public knowledge, too!”

  He eyed her waistline speculatively. “We can hold off for now, but it’s becoming pretty self-evident. You’re beginning to show, sweet pea. You’ll be in maternity clothes in another week.”

  The observation didn’t do a whole lot for her composure, particularly not with her family showing up en masse before he’d finished speaking.

  “Oh dear,” she said, clutching his arm a little tighter.

  He followed her gaze and muttered, “Oh dear, indeed! I take it the gentleman with the designer haircut is your brother and the petulant young thing bringing up the rear, your sister?”

  She almost laughed at his appalled expression. “Right on both counts.”

  If impressing her parents had been part of his plan, he succeeded in spectacular fashion. “Well, I had no idea!” her mother gushed, returning from a thorough inspection of the premises after they’d gone through the obligatory introductions. “Why didn’t you say you were so…?”

  “Comfortably situated?” Edmund supplied. “Mrs. Sinclair, I had no idea you cared!”

  Maintaining a straight face with difficulty, Jenna said, “Perhaps now’s a good time to make the announcement. I can’t keep hiding my left hand indefinitely.”

  “Right.” He signaled the bartenders to distribute the champagne and when everyone was served, led her into the middle of the room, raised his glass and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to propose a toast. To my lovely wife, Jenna Delaney!”

  Feeling rather like a prize heifer in a show ring, Jenna did her best to look slim and composed. The silk jersey dress and matching jacket she wore camouflaged her expanding middle to any but the most observant eye, but finding herself the sole object of everyone’s unwavering attention made her feel horribly self-conscious.

  “Smile, sweet pea,” Edmund murmured in her ear. “You’re supposed to look radiant, not hunted.”

  “I can’t help it. My mother’s making a beeline for us, with outraged curiosity written all over her face!”

  “Leave everything to me.” He shot his cuffs and squared his shoulders. “I’ll deal with her.”

  The last guests left around ten-thirty. Jenna had been visibly wilting for at least an hour before that, so he sent her off to bed while the catering staff cleaned up. Once they were done and had driven off, he removed his jacket and tie, poured himself a cognac, turned off all but one of the lights, and went outside.

  It had been clear earlier, but clouds had moved in from the west and the atmosphere hung heavy with the sort of stillness which usually signified a summer storm. It couldn’t be any worse than the one he’d stirred up that evening, though!

  Valerie Sinclair had wasted no time before wading in for the attack. “I cannot believe what I just heard, Jenna! In fact, I’d go so far as to say I find your actions unnaturally secretive.”

  “‘Private’ is the word I’d choose,” he’d said, angling himself so that Jenna was shielded from the worst of the onslaught. “And that’s the way we both wanted it to be.”

  “Well, I feel cheated! Every mother lives for the day she sees her daughter walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. You took away my right to give her the kind of wedding she—”

  “Missed out on the last time,” the sullen looking other daughter supplied spitefully. “But I guess that’s why you wanted to elope, isn’t it, Jenna? So that no one would know if the bridegroom took a hike again?”

  “Watch your mouth, young lady!” he’d snapped. “I won’t tolerate that kind of talk about my wife.”

  She sniffed and flung back her hair, the gesture so affected that he was pretty sure she’d spent hours practicing in front of a mirror. “Whatever!”

  “We chose to get married quietly because a fancy wedding would have been inappropriate, especially coming so soon after May’s disaster,” Jenna said, trying to smooth things over.

  Obviously deciding there wasn’t much she could do but accept what she couldn’t do anything to change, her mother pasted on a saintly expression. “Well, it’s your life and I hope you don’t live to regret acting so hastily.” She held out a scrawny paw. “Welcome to the family, Edmund.”

  The brother, Glen, who’d been busily casing the room along with every other part of the house and garden when he wasn’t leaning on the bar, shoehorned his way into the conversation. “Mom tells me you run your own business. From the looks of it, you must be doing all right because my sister doesn’t have the kind of cash needed to buy and furnish a place like this.”

  “I get by.”

  “Pretty handsomely, I’d say.” He eyed the rugs, the painting above the fireplace, the sterling candlesticks on the rosewood table—did everything but pick up a plate in his manicured hands and turn it over to see what brand of china they owned. “Jenna’s done all right for herself. Maybe we won’t miss Mark as much as we thought.”

  “I work hard for my money,” Edmund had replied, having a pretty clear idea where the conversation was leading.

  Glen aspires to big things but unfortunately lacks the drive to achieve them himself, Jenna had warned him. Mark had promised him a position in his company which involved great rewards in return for very little effort, and he’s still mourning the lost opportunity.

  That he was actively seeking another sucker to fill the absent Mark’s shoes became immediately apparent. “If you need any help,” he said, his attempt to sound casual sadly undercut by the avarice gleaming in his eyes, “I’d be glad to give you the benefit of my experience and take some of the load off your shoulders.”

  “Are you asking me for a job?” Edmund asked him levelly.

  “I could make myself available, given the right circumstances.”

  Tiring of the game and figuring he might as well start out the way he intended to go on, Edmund had put the bombastic little twerp out of his misery. “Fine. Be at my South-East Marine Drive outlet at seven tomorrow.”

  “In the morning?”

  “I might be a hard taskmaster, Glen, but I don’t expect my people to work nights.”

  “Well, I guess not! But seven’s a bit early to open an office, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Who said anything about an office? You’ll be working in the warehouse, unloading stock and pulling inventory as it’s needed. Wear safety boots and jeans. The foreman will issue you coveralls and a hard hat when you get there.”

  “Warehouse?” Valerie Sinclair screeched, clutching a flabbergasted hand to her bony chest. “Hard hat? Young man, you can’t be serious! My Glen doesn’t do manual labor!”

  “Then I guess he’d better look elsewhere for a handout,” Edmund advised her shortly, “because that’s my best offer. And now, if you’ll excuse us, my parents are waiting to meet my bride.”

  “You wicked thing!” Jenna had exclaimed under her breath as he led her away. “Don’t you know you’ve just dealt poor Glen’s ambitions a death blow?”

  “Poor Glen needs a boot in the rear! Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem inclined to let me administer it.”

  Thank God Jenna had made a better impression on his folks! “We’re surprised, of course,” his father had said, shaking his hand, “but it’s the kind of surprise we can handle. We’re delighted for both of you.”

  His mother had kissed him and gone all misty-eyed. “You have wonderful taste,” she whispered. “Jenna’s lovely, Edmund. Congratulations and very best wishes to both of you. And please come for dinner soon so that we can get to know our new daughter better.”

  Too bad his in-laws hadn’t seen fit to be as gracious!

  Thoughtfully, he sipped his cognac. Funny how much a man’s life could take a different turn in the space of a heartbeat. Three months ago, his whole world had threatened to come crashing down with the news of Molly’s accident. He’d undergone some of the darkest hours of his l
ife, waiting to hear if she was going to live.

  Yet, at unexpected moments during the bleak days that followed, memories of Jenna had slipped into his mind. He’d found himself wondering how she was coping, and wishing he’d had the chance to explain to her why he’d disappeared so abruptly. He’d vowed that if—when Molly was out of danger, he’d look up the woman who’d succeeded where others had failed, and touched his heart with her fragility and need. He’d let her know that if she needed a friend, she could count on him.

  Had it been because he’d felt so alone in his sorrow for his daughter? Was that what prompted him, when life grew bearable again, to follow up on his promise, and so find himself where he was today?

  Marriage, another child…they’d been the last things on his mind when he’d knocked on her door that night, less than four weeks ago. Yet here they were now, and damned if it didn’t look to be the smartest move he’d ever made.

  With any luck, Molly would be living with them before Christmas. God willing, they’d have a healthy baby in the new year. And tonight, he had a wife waiting in bed for him, and a familiar hunger stirring in his blood.

  Not that it was all violins and roses! The party had been a gamble and Jenna had been pretty ticked with him about it, but she’d come around and in the end, it had paid off. They’d crossed another hurdle and launched themselves as a married couple.

  Yeah, for a loveless arrangement, things were working out pretty well!

  Satisfied, he drained his glass and turned back to the house just as the first distant thunder rolled across the sea.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AT SEVENTEEN minutes after five the next morning, Jenna awoke to a haunting apprehension that made no sense at all.

  Early sunshine flooded the room. A light sea breeze lifted the filmy drapes at the open window and brought the scent of flowers and damp earth into the room. Birdsong filled the air.

  Last night, she and Edmund had made love. After, she had fallen asleep in his arms, a happy, fulfilled woman. He sprawled beside her now, his breathing deep and regular.

  Everything was wholesomely, reassuringly normal. So what had awakened her so suddenly, and at such an unearthly hour?

  Then it came again, a slow deadly cramping in her lower abdomen that advanced and receded like waves creeping up the shore. And even though she’d had no previous experience with pregnancy, she recognized the metallic taste in her mouth as fear, and knew instinctively that her baby was in trouble.

  “Edmund!” she whispered, too terrified to move.

  He muttered inaudibly and rolled over so that his back was toward her. Inching herself to a sitting position, she shook his shoulder. “Edmund, wake up, please!”

  Groaning, he lifted his head, looked at the clock on his side of the bed, and fell back against the pillows. “It’s too early to get up,” he said, his words slurred with sleep.

  And over five months too soon for her to be in labor!

  But the cramping, she realized with enormous relief, was easing, and she wondered if she’d panicked for nothing. Maybe she’d just been lying in one position for too long, or she needed to spend a penny. According to all the books, frequent urination was symptomatic of pregnancy, especially first thing in the morning.

  Gingerly, she pushed aside the covers, climbed out of bed, and stole into the bathroom. Closing the door, she leaned against it and prayed, making desperate bargains with God to let her be mistaken, to keep her baby safe, no matter what the cost.

  On the wall opposite, the mirrored shower enclosure flung back her reflection haloed in sunshine. Her hair gleamed, her skin glowed. Except for the thickness at her waist, she was slender and fit, the very picture of pregnant health, and any notion that she might miscarry preposterous. Yet, even as she admonished herself for overreacting, another cramp, so exactly fitting the description of contractions, built to a crescendo.

  Her wail of distress brought Edmund fully awake and shoving open the door. “Jenna, are you okay?”

  “I’m hurting,” she whimpered, hunching over the vanity as the wave of pain washed over her.

  “Where? Did you slip and fall? Damn these marble floors, anyway! They’re an accident waiting to happ—!”

  And then he saw the way she was holding herself, and realization dawned. The blood drained out of his face. “Oh, honey!” he exclaimed in hushed tones, reaching for her. “Oh, jeez! When did this start?”

  “I don’t know,” she moaned, fighting tears. “Edmund, I think I’m losing my baby….”

  “No, you’re not!” he said fiercely, swinging her up into his arms and striding back to the bedroom. “I won’t allow it, do you hear? You’re going to be fine and so is the baby. I won’t have it any other way!”

  He found her silk robe and helped her put it on, stuffed her feet into a pair of sandals, and carried her out to the garage. “I’ll phone the hospital and let them know to expect us,” he told her, carefully settling her in the front seat of the Navigator. “Don’t worry about a thing, sweet pea. I’ve got everything under control.”

  All except the pain, and that was something only she could manage. And she was doing so very poorly; was helpless to stem the tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Edmund,” she sobbed, doubling over as another cramp took hold.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned on the four-way flashers and sped toward the Peace Arch Hospital, fire in his eye as he punched in numbers on the car phone, and fury in his voice as he muttered, “Where the devil are the police when you need them?”

  She was whisked into an examining room as soon as they arrived. “You stay put,” the desk clerk ordered, when Edmund tried to follow. “I need some information from you before you go racing off. Your wife’s in excellent hands and you’ll only be in the way in there, so just cool your jets and have a seat.”

  From her cubicle down the hall, Jenna could hear him objecting. She suspected just about everyone in the hospital could. Under any other circumstances, she’d have found it amusing.

  But there was nothing remotely funny about the dull ache which never quite went away.

  “Are you going to be able to save my baby?” she asked the doctor in charge, when he’d concluded his preliminary examination.

  “I’d better, if I value my right to practice medicine,” he said wryly. “That husband of yours is loaded for bear!”

  He made a few notes and issued instructions to a waiting nurse, then said, “I’m sending you for an ultrasound. In the meantime, I’m giving you something which should stop the cramping. It’ll mean hooking you up to an IV, so you’ll be here at least several hours and possibly longer. But the fetal heartbeat is strong and I’m pretty confident you won’t miscarry. However, consider today’s incident a warning, Mrs. Delaney, and start taking better care of yourself.”

  “Do you think it could happen again?”

  “Hopefully not. But I want you on bed rest for the next few days, just to be on safe side. You’re only fourteen weeks along and a baby’s survival chances are zero this early in the game.”

  “What about working? I run a day-care center for preschoolers and it involves a certain amount of lifting.”

  The privacy curtain swished aside to reveal a wild-eyed Edmund. “Not any longer it doesn’t!” he declared, coming to the foot of the bed. “As of now, you’re off the job.”

  “I have to agree,” the doctor said. “I don’t know what you’ve been up to lately, Jenna, but it’s my guess this whole scare could have been avoided if you hadn’t taken on more than you could comfortably handle.” He directed a telling glance at Edmund. “Maybe you both need to be made more aware of that fact. Stress isn’t good for any of us. It’s particularly bad for expectant mothers.”

  A technician came by just then, and set up the IV. Shortly after, another who introduced herself as Lisa took Jenna for the sonogram. Edmund stayed by her side the entire time, his hand clasping hers and his eyes tracking the images on the monitor as the examination proceede
d.

  Pointing to the tiny pulsing spot on the screen, Lisa said, “There’s the heart…and that’s the spine.”

  Tense with anxiety, Jenna said “Do you see anything…?”

  Lisa covered her with the sheet and prepared to leave.

  “Everything looks fine to me, but the doctor will take a look and give you the final word.”

  “This is all my fault,” Edmund said, while they waited. “I’ve been pressuring you for days, and this last week’s been a killer. Why didn’t you make me back off?”

  I tried to, and you wouldn’t listen, she could have told him. But he looked so abjectly miserable that she hadn’t the heart to come out and say so.

  “If you’d lost the baby…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “You’d have married me for nothing,” she teased, trying to lighten his mood.

  If anything, her remark had the opposite effect. “Don’t even think that! You’re more to me than a baby machine, for God’s sake!”

  “How much more?” Appalled, she realized that, this time, she had voiced her thoughts aloud. Good grief, what had come over her? They never talked about their feelings—at least, not as they pertained to each other. Theirs was a marriage of utter convenience fortuitously made sweeter by sublime sex. Period!

  Edmund looked equally shocked. “Well…enough,” he blustered. “Enough that I…don’t like seeing you with needles stuck in your arm and strangers poking around all over your body! What kind of question is that, anyway?”

  The kind a woman asks when she realizes she’s falling in love with a man who, when they’re in bed, tells her she’s beautiful and that he wants her, and that he misses her when they’re not together, but who never allows himself to forget that the only reason they’re married is for the sake of his children!