A Daring Proposition (8 page)

“Tell me,” he suggested. She lifted her eyes, suddenly aware of how close his face was to hers. She was conscious of the smooth texture of his mouth and his emotive black eyes, the sensual smell of him, the power she felt in his thighs beneath hers. A stark burst of sheer sexuality flamed inside her, immediately accompanied by a quelling panic. She tried to get up from his lap, and his arms encircled her like iron. “Just tell me first,” he said.

“It’s all so foolish,” she admitted unhappily, staring at the damp folds of his shirt where she had cried so easily. Confused, she confessed to him all that had been happening: She couldn’t get anything done because she was so tired during the day; she was tired during the day because she was ill at night; she couldn’t keep any food down; she had no energy, and she had always had so much energy; and she cried for no reason at all…and she never cried. “I don’t have any reason to cry. I’ve never been so happy, Brian, and everything is perfectly wonderful. None of it makes any sense.”

“Of course it does, sweetheart. You’re pregnant,” Brian said gently. “Now will you be all right if I leave you for a few minutes?” Still he cradled her in his arms as he got up, and then propped the pillow against the headboard and laid her head on it. Startled, she watched his right hand as if it were some strange independent being, the fingers tugged down the nightgown that had ridden to her thighs, pulled the sheet back up to her waist and folded it just under her breasts. His palm rested momentarily on her ribs, warm and firm, then slid down her stomach, hovered a moment on her covered thigh. “I’ll be right back.” His black eyes seared hers. “Anything wrong, Red?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, unwilling to reveal how much his touch disturbed her. A few minutes later, Brian returned with a tray. She almost laughed when she saw it. Ginger ale and soda crackers. “I couldn’t, Brian, honestly. Really, you don’t have to bother anymore. I’m all right now.”

He brought back the second pillow from the bathroom and, placing it next to hers on the double bed, settled himself down beside her. It was crazy. He was still dressed in his suit pants and his white and now thoroughly rumpled shirt; she wore a long cream-colored flannel nightgown…together, next to each other on the bed. She closed her eyes, willing her childish panic to evaporate. It just wasn’t that kind of moment; the scene he’d just witnessed could not possibly evoke desire. She was safe with him, had felt safe for a month.

“It is rather wicked, isn’t it?” he said devilishly, and when her eyes widened he said calmly, “Eating crackers in bed. You’ll probably toss on crumbs for the rest of the night.”

She chuckled. The crackers tasted absolutely delicious. The sense of weakness passed with each bite. “Robert tattled, didn’t he?” she asked sharply.

“Why didn’t
you
tell me?”

“Obviously because I didn’t want you to know,” she said frankly. “The pregnancy isn’t your problem, Brian. I mean, our arrangement’s been going very well, don’t you think? I have no intention of bothering you again—I’m not normally that sick.”

“It bothers the devil out of you to have to admit you might actually need someone, doesn’t it? It bothers you so much that you
won’t
admit it, even now!”

“I don’t need anyone,” Leigh said stiffly. “I told you I was perfectly capable of coping on my own.”

“The hell you are! Sleeping on the bathroom floor, overextending yourself with massive projects like painting rooms, gorging yourself one minute and starving the next! You’ve been coping just splendidly!” His arms folded behind his head in a relaxed manner, Brian managed to convey amusement as well as sternness. “Lady, you’re about to be taken in hand.”

He was deliberately confusing her. She was outraged that he should even imply that he had a right to influence her lifestyle, and amazed that he would want to. Although her pregnancy hadn’t been going well, she had at least thought their marriage had been—that their relationship suited him as well as it did her. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand and I never will,” she snapped furiously. “And I don’t know what you’re thinking of, Brian, but you can’t very well stay home nights. Whatever women you’re seeing are hardly going to just sit at home doing needlework while you babysit a pregnant wife!”

“My horde of mistresses you comfort yourself with?” he asked dryly. “Would you like a legal pad full of names, Leigh? Would that make you feel nice and safe?”

His candor shocked her. He had never raised his voice in her presence, yet she understood, in a moment, the difference between the kid-gloves quiet he had treated her with over the past month and the dangerous quiet he was capable of in other circumstances. It was all more than she could handle just now, and she pulled back the comforter to get out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the kitchen,” she answered flatly. “I’m starving.”

“No, you’re not.” But he had not moved, and she ignored him. Where was her robe? She usually put it on the chair next to her bed, but it wasn’t there and it didn’t seem to be in the closet. There, it had been buried in the fallen spread on the floor.

“Button up,” he said shortly.

Startled, she looked at Brian and then followed the direction of his eyes. The cream-colored flannel nightgown was figure-concealing—when it was all buttoned up. She had no idea when the buttons had slipped loose, but one ripe, swollen breast was all but pouting at him, and an insanely long expanse of soft white skin was exposed nearly to the navel. Her long hair swirled around her flaming cheeks as her fingers fumbled at the buttons. “Oh…I…” Good Lord, how long had she been exposed like that?

“A long time, Leigh.” Brian read her thoughts. “I waited to tell you because I wanted to make a point.”

“Which is?” she demanded frostily.

“That the mere sight of a woman’s breast is not an automatic stimulus to rape.” His words sank in slowly and brought a renewed flush to Leigh’s cheeks. Had her fears really been so transparent? “Now, if you put that robe back on, I’m going to take it off. You are
not
going to the kitchen for a midnight meal. The idea is to never let your stomach get too empty—
or
too full—or haven’t you had the sense to speak to the doctor yet?”

“Of course I have! Stop talking to me as if I were two years old!” Defiantly, she slipped into the robe, taking a very long time with the buttons and sash.

“Take it off,” he ordered ominously.

“You’re right. I won’t go down to the kitchen,” she acceded quickly. But the robe was suddenly protection against a chill that was almost making her tremble. She could no more have stepped a foot closer to the bed with Brian lying there than she could have flown. Everything, suddenly, was very different than it had been a half hour before.

“Take it off and get back into bed,” he repeated.

“Look,”
she started furiously, but one glance at his stony face silenced her. She took off the robe and awkwardly dove under the covers, staying so close to the edge of the bed that she practically fell off. “You’re frightening me,” she accused him pleadingly.

“I’ve had quite enough of that, too, Red,” he said with annoyance. He stood up, and with hands on hips studied her. “Don’t lay a guilt trip on me, because I won’t accept it. I have no intention of vanishing into thin air just because you claim you’re frightened. As I said,” he repeated, striding around to her side of the bed, “it’s time you were taken in hand.” He reached out, ignoring her cringing, and quietly smoothed the covers under her chin, tucking them around her like the most efficient of nursemaids. “Good night,” he said curtly, and left her.

The next morning brought the first snowfall of the year. Leigh did not make it downstairs until past nine o’clock, a thoroughly unusual occurrence. When she finally did wander into the kitchen, she was startled to find Brian sitting with Robert over coffee at the breakfast table, and a pile of envelopes at the place where Leigh always sat.

“What’s going on?” she asked warily. To her knowledge, Brian never left the house later than seven in the morning. “And what’s this?” She pointed to the stack of envelopes.

“Invitations,” Brian answered absently. “I think it’s time you got out of this house, Leigh. Pick no more than two a week, and let me know the dates and times.”

“But what are they for?” Robert placed a small bowl of cereal and a plate of toast in front of her, and that was even more bewildering. “And what do you think you’re doing, waiting on me?” she scolded him.

“I don’t want to go to any of these shindigs,” Brian continued bluntly. “I happen to like the drawing board rather than the bar side of business, and Taylor and Mike are usually pretty good about keeping the social load off my back. But they can’t do all of the partying with the holidays coming on. I’ve been to a few of these affairs alone, not wanting to add to your burdens, but people think it’s pretty damn peculiar for a newly married man to show up solo.”

He actually made it sound as if she’d been remiss in her “wifely” duties. Robert was looking at her chidingly. “Brian,” she said crisply, “I thought we discussed this after our marriage was announced in all the gossip columns. We agreed that except for a few celebrations with close friends, and the trip to your mother’s at Christmas, we weren’t going to alter our respective social lives.” It was difficult to speak openly with Robert right there. “Now, if my presence at certain functions is required for business reasons, that’s one thing. But I didn’t expect you’d try to turn me into some kind of social butterfly.”

“Do you turn into a leper when you step outside the house?” Brian’s eyebrows arched in innocent curiosity.

“I thought you preferred
other
company for social outings,” she hissed pointedly.

“What on earth does she mean by that, Robert?”

Robert was obligingly mystified. “I haven’t the least idea. She’s very good at entertaining, you know. The house used to be filled with people seven days a week when her mother was alive, and Mr. Hines. Everyone always said that Leigh had the gift of making people comfortable.”

“Robert, I am
not
looking for brownie points from you this morning!” And then Leigh glared at Brian. His social and sex lives were separate from their home life, by his choice as well as hers. Not that she would mind attending an occasional business dinner or cocktail party, but… “I really haven’t any clothes for that sort of thing.”

“If you’re done with your breakfast, we’re about to take care of that,” Brian said imperturbably. He finished his coffee, set the cup on the counter and leaned an arm against the doorjamb, plainly waiting.

She shook her head in bewilderment. “What about your work?”

“The place won’t crumble if I skip out a few hours. I’ve already called to say I’ll be in late today.”

“But what if I get ill?”

“We’ll cope with that, Red,” he said patiently. “You had a moderate breakfast and you’re not going to get worn out—I’ll see to that. The fresh air should do you good.”

“All right.” Her lips tightened. “I’ll go shopping then. But there’s no need for you to go with me. In fact, I can’t think of anything more ridiculous than you in a women’s clothing store, sitting there patiently while I try on dresses.”

“I can’t either,” he admitted dryly. “I can’t think of anything worse.”

“Well, then?”

“You have an eye for color, Red, but not for style,” he said critically. “If a dress doesn’t choke you at the neck with buttons, it’s got an extra yard of material there, or else you just don’t own it.” Robert chortled with suppressed laughter.

“I buy what I like.”

“Which is why you’re not buying anything.
I
am. Now say goodbye to Robert, Leigh. And put the spoon down. There hasn’t been anything in that cereal bowl for at least five minutes.”

Leigh said goodbye to a beaming Robert, with every intention of exploding over Brian’s patronizing attitude the moment they were alone. But she did not argue with him once they got in the car. The fresh snow made the roads hazardously slippery, and driving obviously required his full concentration. While they rode in silence, she all but forgot the morning’s incident as she covertly studied Brian’s impassive, strong-featured profile next to her.

If there had been no David Hines in her life, she might have wanted very much to pierce through Brian’s layers of cool to the man she knew was beneath. Sometimes, when he was near her, the fear was blended with other emotions—an excitement within, an awareness of his physical strength and elemental maleness.

“Brooding, Leigh?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she said quickly, temporizing, “I was thinking about my father.”

“Were you close?”

She smiled. “Dad’s whole world was his business. He loved finding a piece of property somewhere that no one wanted and turning it into a profitable venture. He died when I was ten, but I can still remember him. He wanted a son, I always knew that, and he was busy and didn’t go in much for coddling. But he was there when I needed him.” She hesitated. “When I was little, it seemed both of my parents had so many expectations. There was no possible way to live up to all of them, particularly when they each wanted different things for me. But before I ever got to the point of worrying, Dad would snatch me up, take me off somewhere for a day or even a week, just the two of us, and it was extra nice because I knew that I came first with him, before his business or anything else.”

“Did you like your stepfather?”

It was impossible not to stiffen, and Brian was too perceptive not to notice.

“No,” she answered shortly. They rode the rest of the way into Chicago in silence, Brian thoughtful and Leigh deliberately making her mind a blank.

When they arrived at the fashionable boutique Brian had chosen, he promptly told the saleswoman who greeted them that his wife was pregnant and required a chair. Then he went off with the woman and returned a while later laden with garments over his arms.

“Are you out of your mind?” Leigh whispered frantically. “I thought you meant for one or two dinners, and that you wanted to specify what sort of thing was appropriate.”

“We need an office,” Brian told the saleswoman, ignoring Leigh.

“We have dressing rooms…”

The owner of the shop had a pink-and-gilt office, complete with side bathroom and a powder-pink velvet loveseat. Apologizing for the disorder of her desk, she left with a smile. “I was pregnant myself once. Just make yourselves at home.”

“Brian,” Leigh said when the door was closed and every chair in sight piled high with garments, “you just don’t do this. No one marches into a store and demands—”

He settled gingerly on the delicate loveseat, drew a folded newspaper from his pocket and motioned her impatiently to the bathroom. “You mean taking over the owner’s office? Why not?” There was a hint of a brusque smile when she rolled her eyes helplessly to the ceiling. “Leigh, the saleswomen would have been hovering over you like vultures, telling you what to buy. This way, if you get tired, you can sit down. Just pick out a dozen or so and—”

“A
dozen?
One! Maybe two.
Maybe.
”

He refolded the newspaper, set one foot carefully on the coffee table and managed to look bored. “To begin with, I don’t want to have to go through all this again. And I hate to have to tell you, Red, but your present wardrobe isn’t quite what you think it is. Those bulky tops you wear, for instance—you’ve even got a few that are getting outright tight. I don’t see any sign of a tummy yet, but…” He grinned suddenly. “You’d better use the bathroom. God knows I’ve never seen a woman’s body before.”

“Oh…you…”

The insane thing was that she almost felt livid enough to strip in front of him. Almost. She took a handful of dresses and bolted for the bathroom, snapping on the light and momentarily staring at her face in the mirror. The panic of intimacy… Damn it, she wasn’t some Victorian prude, some shy adolescent; he didn’t understand. And how she
hated
that bland neutrality he put into his voice whenever he disapproved of something.

She shuffled rapidly through the garments, mindlessly choosing dresses she would never have chosen herself, with halter tops and V-necks. It seemed that Brian had already considered her pregnancy; many of the gowns were empire style or fitted only subtly at the waist. For some reason, that made her all the more furious, and her hands reached unerringly for the first time in years to colors that accented her vibrant hair, her creamy skin, and to clinging fabrics that left little to the imagination.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she had a pile of garments on her arm designed specifically to break his bank, and her exasperation with him had not lessened. He took the clothes from her, giving only a moment’s glance to her selections. “Good girl,” he approved, with a speculative look at her flashing eyes, as if he would never have believed she had the taste to know what suited her.

With a sigh, she bit back the comment she would have liked to make, the explanation she—almost—wanted to give him. It startled her that even for a moment she could entertain the idea of actually confiding in him. She brushed the thought from her mind, knowing it would never be.

***

The shopping expedition marked a new era in their marriage. From then on, Brian came home from work every night. Most evenings, he retired into the library with his work, yet occasionally he would join Leigh in the living room with a book, sharing the opposite chair by the fire she inevitably made on these cold evenings.

She was no longer ill. She refused to be ill. The nausea was still part of her days, but the more carefully she moderated what she ate and drank, the better she felt.

She had finally come to the point where she talked easily to and felt comfortable with her husband—but only in front of Robert, and only when they discussed the sort of topics that made for light dinner conversation. She looked forward to these dinners, but was uneasy about Brian spending evening after evening with her. Leigh had the guilty feeling that he regarded her as an annoying responsibility, that he’d decided to take care of her because he thought she was too foolish to take care of herself. And yet he gave her no evidence to back up this suspicion. In fact, he seemed quite content with his newfound domesticity and even eager to show her off at the occasional party or dinner they attended. Leigh wondered what arrangements he had made with Joan and the other women in his life; perhaps he was now taking long lunch breaks at work to make time for his trysts. She wasn’t about to ask, but she couldn’t help thinking about it. And she couldn’t help wondering nervously what other new directions their marriage might take.