Just One Last Night Part 6

'It's not a lie.' She drew in a shuddering breath.

'Oh, yes, it is.' He stood up and crossed the s.p.a.ce between them, taking her stiff, unyielding body into his arms. 'Life doesn't come in neat, sanitised packages, Nell. People die in accidents, of diseases, of old age, in-in miscarriages and stillbirths and a whole host of other medical issues. It isn't nice and it isn't fair but it happens. You weren't to blame for Matthew's death. I don't know why it happened and I have to confess I've shouted and railed at G.o.d ever since because of it, but I do know you weren't to blame. You've got to get that into your head.'

'I can't.' She pulled away, stepping back from him. 'And I've got to protect this baby, Forde. If you take it and I stay out of your lives it will be all right.'

Her white face and haunted eyes warned Forde that he had pushed her to the limit of her endurance. His mind now working rapidly, he kept his voice steady and low. 'It goes without saying I'll take our baby, Nell. But I think you owe it one thing. I want you to go and talk over how you feel with someone who is completely unbiased and who has experience in the type of grief you're feeling. Will you do that for it? And me?'

She'd taken another step backwards. 'A doctor, you mean? You think I'm crazy?'

'Not in a million years.' He wouldn't let her retreat further, covering the distance between them in one stride and taking her cold hands in his. 'But I know someone, a friend, who's trained in this type of counselling. She offered to talk to you months ago in a professional role, just you and her and everything confidential between the two of you, OK? You'd like Miriam, Nell. I promise.'

She extracted her hands from his. 'I don't know.'

'Then trust me to know. Will you do that? And what have you got to lose? I love you, Nell. I'll always love you. If you won't do this for yourself, do it for me.'

He saw the confusion in her eyes and, acting on instinct, he reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was soft like raw silk and as warm as liquid honey. Leaning closer, he bent his head and kissed her, a gentle, undemanding kiss, before drawing her against him.

They stood together in the quiet room, Forde nuzzling the top of her head and Melanie resting against his chest without speaking. Her hair smelt of the apple shampoo she favoured and there was the faintest scent of vanilla from her perfume. Why two such fairly innocuous fragrances should make his blood pulse with desire he didn't know, but then Melanie had always had that effect on him. He wanted her so badly he ached with it, but he steeled himself against betraying it, knowing at this moment she wanted nothing more than to be held and comforted.

After a minute or two, he murmured, 'I'll ring Miriam tomorrow and ask her to see you. She's a busy lady but we go way back and I know she'll find time.'

Melanie was quiet for a moment, then her voice came faintly m.u.f.fled from his chest. 'Way back? What does that mean?'

He caught the tinge of jealousy she was trying to conceal and almost smiled. 'She's the mother of a close friend, grandmother of six and has been happily married for forty years.' Miriam was also much sought after and at the top of her field professionally, but he wasn't about to mention that.

'Forde, it won't change anything. You know that, don't you?' She raised swimming eyes to his. 'You have to face the inevitable. I have.'

'Go and see her, that's all I'm asking,' he said softly. He kissed her again, and in spite of telling himself to go carefully it deepened into something more than comfort. A restless urgency surfaced and he knew she felt it too by the way she clung to him in a hungry response that took the last of his control. His hands roamed over her body, touching her with sensual, intimate caresses, and then he scooped her up in his arms as he murmured against her lips, 'I want you. Tonight. But if you want me to leave now, I'll go.'

Her answer was to kiss him with a desire that was unmistakable, and with a small growl Forde carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and in frantic haste and without speaking they tore off their clothes and then he lay down beside her, cupping her face in his palms and kissing her deeply and pa.s.sionately.

She had always been a lover who gave as much as she got and now her hands and mouth explored him as hungrily as his did her, twisting and turning with him as they moaned their pleasure. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt fuller in his hands and as he took one rosy nipple in his mouth she arched with a little cry.

'They-they're more sensitive now,' she gasped against what he was doing to her, and as his mouth returned to hers he swept his tongue inside and then pulled back and bit her bottom lip gently.

'You're so beautiful, my love,' he murmured shakily. 'I don't think I can wait much longer.'

'Then don't.'

She was wet and warm for him when he entered her. She hooked her legs round him and raised her hips and they moved together in perfect unison towards a release that had them both calling out as they tipped over the edge into white pleasure. Then he circled her in his arms, one thigh lying over hers as she opened drugged eyes. 'You don't know how many cold showers I've taken in the middle of the night recently,' he murmured wryly.

She half smiled, but he could see she was thinking again. 'Forde, we shouldn't have-'

'Yes, we should.' He brushed back a strand of hair from her face. 'I wanted you and you wanted me. It was that simple. Don't try to complicate it.'

'But it doesn't-'

'Change anything,' he finished for her. 'Yes, I know. Don't worry. Go to sleep.' He pulled the duvet over them.

Her expression was one of total confusion and remorse. 'It's not fair to you,' she whispered.

'Nell, believe me, I can live with this sort of unfairness,' he said drily.

She smiled again but a proper smile this time and he grinned back at her. 'Go to sleep,' he said again, kissing the tip of her nose and then her mouth. 'Everything's OK.'

She was asleep within moments, snuggled close to him, but Forde lay and watched her for a long, long time. Everything's OK. What a stupid thing to say, he thought ruefully. His wife had told him she was going to hand over their baby to him at birth and then disappear out of their lives, and he'd said everything was OK. But he had no intention of letting her do that, not for a second, so maybe everything was, if not OK, then clearer than it had been for a good while.

With a feather-light touch he reached out his fingers and ran them across her belly. It might be his imagination but already he thought he could feel a slight swell. His child was alive in there, tiny now but each day gaining strength.

Tears p.r.i.c.ked at the backs of his eyes. It had been a long, hard road since they'd lost Matthew, and they still weren't at the end of it yet, not by a long chalk, but against all the odds a miracle had happened and Melanie was pregnant. That one night of loving had produced this baby and no matter what he had to do to achieve it, they were going to be a family. If he had to kidnap Melanie and take her and their baby to some remote place in the back of beyond until she accepted that, he'd do it.

She stirred in her sleep, murmuring his name before breathing steadily and quietly once more.

It was a tiny thing, but it cheered him. She was his. End of story, he thought fiercely. And promptly fell asleep.

CHAPTER NINE.

MELANIE woke first the next morning, aware she was wonderfully warm and cosy and sleepy. Then her eyes snapped open. Forde. He was curled into her back, one male arm resting possessively across her stomach.

Very, very carefully she eased his arm off her and then turned to face him. He was fast asleep, the duvet down to his waist revealing his wide, muscled shoulders and the black curly body hair covering his chest. She drank him in for some moments and then slid silently out of bed. She didn't intend to sneak away like the time before, she wouldn't do that to him again, but neither did she want to pretend they were like any other couple waking up together.

Gathering her clothes in her arms, she padded through to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. When she emerged, fully clothed and coiffured, she glanced through the open bedroom door. Forde was sitting up in bed, his hands behind his head, and her heart raced like a runaway horse. He looked like every woman's fantasy of what she'd like to find in her Christmas stocking.

'Hi, sweetheart,' he said lazily. 'All finished in there?'

She nodded jerkily. And then found she couldn't tear her eyes away as he flung back the duvet and stood up. She had seen him naked many times but she didn't think she would ever grow tired of looking at him. The flagrant maleness was intoxicating and he moved as beautifully as one of the big cats, his muscles sleek and honed and not an ounce of fat on his hard frame. He had almost reached her before she pulled herself together, but as she went to disappear down the stairs he turned her round with his hand on her arm. His kiss was firm and sweet but he didn't prolong the embrace, although as he turned away and strolled into the bathroom Melanie noticed a certain part of his anatomy was betraying his desire for her in the age-old way.

Heat slammed into her cheeks as she scurried downstairs, but then the faint feeling of sickness that would gather steam throughout the day before dispersing round seven or eight o'clock in the evening made itself felt. It was the one thing about pregnancy she truly hated, she told herself, forcing down a couple of dry biscuits once she reached the kitchen. Before she had become pregnant with Matthew she had always imagined morning sickness was just that-you woke up, you vomited, and then you got on with the rest of the day as right as rain. Instead this horrible nausea and the overall feeling of being unwell dogged her all day, but if this baby followed the same pattern as Matthew it would only be another two or three weeks before she felt better.

Melanie plugged in the coffee machine and then stood with her hands on her stomach, the wonder that a little life was growing inside her engulfing all her worries and fears and doubts for a few moments. 'You'll be told about your brother, little one, as soon as you're old enough to understand,' she whispered. 'He was our first child and greatly loved, but that doesn't mean you won't be loved too, for who and what you are.'

Would this baby understand that she had to leave it for its own good, though? Could any child take that on board? It might hate her. But would that matter so much if it was safe and protected and having a good life? The turmoil came in again on a great flood of anguish. She was doing the right thing, wasn't she? Yes, yes, she was. She couldn't doubt herself. And there must be no more nights like last night. This separation had to stand. And that meant she mustn't see Forde any more, because if he was there, in front of her, then all her resolve went out of the window. She wasn't strong enough where he was concerned.

'What's wrong?' said Forde sharply from behind her.

Melanie swung round, her hands springing away from her belly. 'Nothing, nothing's wrong.'

'You were standing there like that and for a minute I thought you were in pain,' he said thickly, his eyes searching her face as though he still wasn't quite sure if she was telling him the truth.

'I'm fine.' She took a deep breath. She had never voluntarily mentioned Matthew or what had happened, Forde had always been the one to broach the subject and more often than not then she had refused to discuss it, knowing she would break down if she did, but now she said quietly, 'I was thinking of Matthew, that's all. I-I don't want him forgotten. I want this baby to know it had a brother.'

'Of course.' His voice was soft but with a note in it that made her want to cry. 'That's taken as read, Nell.'

'Forde, if I agree to go and see Miriam, to talk to her, I want-' she took a deep breath '-I want you to promise you won't come here again. That's the deal. I mean it.'

She saw him take a physical step backwards as though she had slapped him across the face.

'We can't keep-' She shook her head. There was no kind way to say it. 'I don't want you here. It complicates everything and it will just make the final parting all the harder. I can cope on my own.'

'And if I can't? Cope, that is?' he said grimly. 'What then? Or is this all about you to the exclusion of anything else?'

Now she felt as though he had slapped her.

'You're carrying my child,' he said with deliberate control. 'That gives me certain rights, surely? You can't shut me out as though I don't exist.'

'I'm not trying to shut you out, not from the baby.'

'Oh, I see.' He raised dark brows. 'So I promise to stay away for the next nine months-'

'Six. I'm already three months pregnant.'

'Six months,' he continued as though she hadn't interrupted, 'and then what? I get a phone call saying the baby's born and I can come and pick it up? Is that what you've got planned?'

She stared at him. He had a right to be angry but now she was angry too. 'I didn't have to tell you I was pregnant,' she said stiffly. 'Not so early on anyway.'

'As I recall, it was me turning up at the doctor's that forced you to reveal it. Right? Whether you would have told me if you'd had time to think about it, I'm not so sure.'

Probably because he had touched on something she had been questioning herself about for the last twenty-four hours, Melanie was incensed. 'I'm not discussing this further, but I'd like you to remember that this is my house and I have a perfect right to say who comes over the threshold.' She glared at him, hands on hips and her eyes flashing.

'If you weren't pregnant I'd try shaking some sense into you,' he ground out between clenched teeth.

She knew he didn't mean it. Forde would never touch a woman in anger. Nevertheless her small chin rose a notch. 'You could try,' she said bitingly, 'but don't forget what I do for a living. I'm stronger than I look.'

'Actually, I've never doubted how strong you are,' he said tersely. 'It's your best and your worst attribute. It got you through the first twenty-five years of your life until you met me but now it's in danger of ruining the rest of your life. You need to let me in, Nell. You don't have to fight alone. Don't you realise that's what marriage is all about? I'm in your corner, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health. I love you. You. The kind of love that will last for ever. I'm not going to give up on you whatever you say or do so get that through your head.'

'And you get through your head that I can't be what you want me to be. I'm not good for you, Forde. I'm not good for anyone.'

'You are the best thing that ever happened to me,' he said from the heart. 'The very best. Now you can try to tell yourself different if you like, but I know what I feel.'

She stared at him. 'I can't do this,' she said flatly, the tone carrying more weight than any show of emotion. 'I want you to go, Forde. Now. I mean it.'

She did. He could see it in every fibre of her being. But he had one last thing to say. 'Even before the accident, you were expecting the bubble to burst, Nell. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy and you are the only one who can change that. I don't think I can do or say any more but I hope you have the courage to dig deep and face what you need to face, for the sake of our child as much as us.'

Her chin was up and her voice was tight and thin when she said, 'Have you finished?'

He gave her one last long look and then walked into the dining room, where his jacket was still hanging over the back of a chair, shrugging it on and leaving the house without another word.

Melanie heard the front door slam behind him but she didn't move for a full minute simply because she couldn't. She felt sick and ill and wretchedly unhappy, but she told herself she'd done what had to be done.

After a while she poured herself a coffee because if ever she had needed one it was now, walking into the sitting room and sinking down on one of the sofas. She sat for some time. It had started to rain outside, big drops splattering against the window, and she shivered. The weather was changing at last. Winter was round the corner.

It was the following evening when her phone rang just as she was finishing dinner. She hadn't felt like a meal, but had forced herself to cook a cheese omelette after she'd had her bath and changed into her pyjamas, conscious that she had to eat healthily now. To that end she'd had a gla.s.s of milk with the omelette and finished with an apple crumble and custard. Shop-bought but tasty nonetheless.

Her heart thudded as she picked up the phone but it wasn't Forde. Instead a woman's voice said, 'Can I speak to Mrs Masterson, please?'

'Speaking.' This had to be the woman Forde had mentioned.

'This is Miriam Cotton. Forde asked me to give you a ring.'

'Oh, yes.' Melanie suddenly felt ridiculously nervous. She didn't want to go and see a stranger and talk about her innermost feelings, but she had made a bargain with Forde that he'd leave her alone if she did so. 'I-I need to make an appointment, Mrs Cotton. I'm sure you're very busy so I quite understand it might not be for a while.'

It was another minute or two before she put down the phone and her head was spinning. She was going to see Miriam Cotton after work the next day. She didn't doubt that Forde had pulled strings to make it happen; 'strike while the iron was hot' was his style.

She sat and brooded for a good hour, looking at the address and telephone number Miriam had given her and wondering whether to call her back and cancel the appointment. It would mean she would have to take a change of clothes to work and get ready before she left Forde's mother's house, but that wasn't really the issue.

She was frightened. Scared stiff.

As the thought hit she realised her hands were clenched into fists in her lap and she concentrated on relaxing her fingers slowly. Forde had said she would have to find the courage to dig deep. Why should she put herself through that? What if it did no good? What if it made her feel even worse?

Panic rose, hot and strong, and then she remembered something else Forde had said, something she'd tried to put out of her mind, but which had only been relegated to the subconscious, waiting to jump out the minute she let it. He'd said she'd been expecting the bubble of their marriage to burst all along, that it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy and she was the only one who could change that. It had made her so mad she could have cheerfully strangled him, and she'd told herself at the time that was because it was untrue and terribly unfair.

She shut her eyes tightly. But it wasn't.

Opening her eyes, she stood up. She was exhausted; she couldn't think of this any more. She was going to bed and in the morning she would decide what she was going to do. But even as she thought it she knew her decision had already been made. Because something else Forde had said had cut deep. She had to do this for the sake of the baby. She had to try. It might be a lot of pain and anguish for nothing, and in digging up the past she might open a can of worms that was best left closed, but if she didn't try she would never know, would she?

She didn't even bother to brush her teeth before getting into bed, so physically and emotionally tired her limbs felt like dead weights, but in the split second before she fell asleep she acknowledged it wasn't just for the baby she was going to see Miriam tomorrow. It was for Forde too.

Miriam Cotton wasn't at all what Melanie had expected. For one thing her consulting room was part of her home, a cosy, friendly extension to the original Edwardian terrace overlooking the narrow walled garden consisting of a neat lawn and flowerbeds with an enormous cherry tree in the centre of it. And Miriam herself was something of a revelation, her thick white hair trimmed into an urchin cut with vivid red highlights and her slim figure clothed in jeans and a loose blue shirt. She had a wide smile, big blue eyes and lines where you would expect lines for someone of her age on her clear complexion. Altogether she gave the impression of someone who was at peace with herself. Melanie liked her immediately.

Once sitting in a plump armchair next to the glowing fire-artificial, Miriam informed her cheerfully, but the most realistic Melanie had ever seen-and with no consulting couch, which she had been preparing herself for all day and dreading, Melanie began to relax a little. There was something about Forde's friend's mother that inspired trust.

Miriam smiled at her from the other armchair. 'Before we go any further I must make one thing perfectly clear. Anything we talk about, anything you tell me is strictly between the two of us. Forde is a dear man but he will not be party to anything which is said in this room, not unless you wish to confide in him, of course. You have my absolute word on that.'

'Thank you.' Melanie nodded and relaxed a little more. She didn't want to have any secrets from Forde, it wasn't that, but knowing she still retained some control was nonetheless rea.s.suring. It made her feel safe.

'Forde tells me you're expecting another baby?' Miriam said quietly.

Melanie nodded again. She was glad Miriam had said 'another' and not pretended Matthew hadn't been born. 'Yes, in the spring.' She hesitated. 'I suppose that's the main reason- No.' She paused, shaking her head. 'That's not right. It's one of the reasons I'm here. I guess falling for another baby has brought everything to a head.'

'Everything?' Miriam said even more quietly.

Melanie looked into the gentle face opposite her. There were family photographs covering one wall of the room and she had noticed one little girl was in a wheelchair. This woman knew about trouble and heartache, she thought, biting her lower lip. She would have known that even without the photographs. It was in Miriam's eyes. 'Shall-shall I start at the beginning?' she asked. 'My childhood, I mean.'

'That would be good,' Miriam said softly. 'And take your time. You can come to see me here as often as you like, every evening if you wish, until you feel ready to stop. Forde has been a wonderful friend to my son and you take priority right now. All right?'

Melanie left the house at seven o'clock feeling like a wet rag. She, who prided herself on not wearing her heart on her sleeve, had wept and wailed through the last two hours in a manner that horrified her now she thought about it.

She climbed into the pickup, which she'd parked a few metres from Miriam's front door. It looked somewhat incongruous in the line of mostly expensive cars the well-to-do street held, but Melanie didn't notice.

She took several deep breaths before she started the engine. She was far from convinced all this was a good idea, she told herself grimly. She felt worse, much worse if anything, after all the emotion of the last hours. Admittedly Miriam had seemed to guess how she was feeling and had a.s.sured her it was the same for everyone initially. She had to persevere to come out of the other end of the dark tunnel, according to Miriam. But what if she got stuck in the tunnel? What then?

She drew out of the parking s.p.a.ce into the road, a deep weariness making her limbs feel heavy.