The Marriage Merger (20 page)

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The sound was so
soft she thought he must not have heard it. He didn’t break his
concentration from his driving. At the speed they were travelling
it would have been a foolish move. But he turned his head slightly
to speak to her.

“I phoned an old friend of mine, Ian Barclay.
He’s a doctor with his own surgery at home. We’ll be there soon.”
He risked a swift glance at her. In the glare from the motorway
lights he saw the blue tinge around her mouth. His foot flattened
on the accelerator.

Jenna closed her eyes and tried to suppress
the next bout of coughing, but it broke through in a harsh jarring
burst that left her chest sore. The dizziness was worse now and she
didn’t notice when they swung off onto the motorway exit and spun
crazily through a maze of streets before braking outside a modern
brick house.

She felt Braden’s arms gather her close to
his body and he was almost running up the path to where a man stood
silhouetted in an open doorway. She wanted to hold Braden close,
tell him she loved him, but her arms didn’t have the strength and
she had no voice to express the words.

She had never felt so fragile, so frightened.
She buried her head against his neck and sobbed, a wheezing rasp of
sound. The masculine scent of his skin was suddenly replaced by an
astringent antiseptic smell as he laid her on a examining couch and
she closed her eyes against a glaring light.

She felt cool hands swiftly assess her, then
the sharp sting of a needle. She heard the murmur of voices as the
doctor explained to Braden what to expect.

It felt like an eternity but she knew it
wasn’t long before the humming eased and the swelling started to
subside. Then the reaction to the adrenaline set in. Her heart
started to pound and her breathing quickened. Nerves seemed to
twitch all over her body.

She realised Braden was holding her hand. She
opened her eyes. Her body was caught up in a medication
roller-coaster; tears trickled down her cheeks. Braden took out a
handkerchief and tenderly wiped them away.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Ian said you’ll be
all right.”

The look of relief in his eyes and the gentle
endearment sent fresh waves of tears spilling down her cheeks. He
felt sorry for her! She wanted his love and she’d ended up with his
sympathy, his pity. She closed her eyes as misery engulfed her.

“Just lie here a while until you feel
better,” Braden said. “I just want to talk with Ian.”

She heard them walk into an adjoining room.
She opened her eyes. A typical doctor’s surgery - she’d seen enough
of them. Although the mural on the ceiling was a nice touch,
something to keep the patient’s attention occupied while the doctor
carried out examinations and minor procedures. A tropical jungle
scene, with half hidden snakes, crocodiles, birds and other
creatures. Especially good for diverting a child from what the
doctor was doing, she thought.

Snatches of conversation wafted in through
the half-open door. She concentrated on the ceiling and tried to
blank out the sound of the voices.

By the time the two men returned to the room
she had identified four species of snakes, seven birds, and was
mentally adding a tree kangaroo to the list of animals. She pulled
herself up to a sitting position, and Braden’s arm was around her
shoulders instantly as she swayed unsteadily.

There was a wealth of tenderness in his eyes,
and it broke her heart to see it. If only that’s what she had seen
the night before, she would have gone back to his arms after
comforting Caitlin. She would have given anything not to have seen
the shock and horror that had been only too obvious.

The tenderness was there now, but it was too
late. She had seen him with Caitlin and Alicia, knew how kind he
was, how compassionate and supportive to those in need, knew that
what she was seeing now was his sympathy for her, not his love.

She caught sight of herself in a mirror. Her
hair was wild and unruly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes puffy and
bloodshot. How humiliating. She had set out to make an impression,
show Braden and Veronica that she was impervious to the pain they
had inflicted on her, and instead she had had to be carted away
like a Cinderella who didn’t really belong at the ball.

She slipped off the couch, shrugging away
Braden’s steadying hand.

Ian Barclay was an average man in height and
build, with light brown hair thinning at the temples, but a
cherubic face that beamed goodwill like a 100 watt bulb. Jenna
offered her hand, tried to thank him, but her voice was gone
completely. She knew it would be many hours before it started to
return, and then days before the hoarseness disappeared.

Ian took her hand in his.

“Have a warm drink when you get home, get
some rest, and let Braden look after you.” His smile beamed with
even greater brilliance at his last few words.

Jenna groaned inwardly. All she wanted was to
be left alone, to get away from Braden as fast as she could. It was
too cruel to be with him, knowing that he should be with Veronica,
wanted to be with Veronica. The sexual attraction he felt for Jenna
was obviously something he was prepared to ignore in order to have
the marriage he had planned.

The drive back to the penthouse was silent.
Jenna couldn’t speak and Braden apparently didn’t want to. Jenna
looked out the window most of the time, only twice surreptitiously
moving her head to sneak a glimpse at him. The first time he looked
angry. The second even angrier. She didn’t look again.

Caitlin and the nanny were watching
television when they walked in. At Caitlin’s worried look, Braden
quickly explained that Jenna had been sick and had lost her voice
but that she would be all right in the morning. To their dismay
Caitlin started to cry and ran off to Jenna’s room, but she quickly
returned with Jenna’s tablets.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. They felled out when I
dropped your purse. I found them after you'd gone,” she cried,
flinging herself at Jenna.

Jenna hugged her tightly, whispering that it
was all right, all right, not to worry, everything was fine.

Braden turned to the nanny. "Could you put
Caitlin to bed now, please?”

Jenna kissed the girl and handed her to the
other woman. Then Braden’s hand was on her elbow.

“You’re going to bed, Jenna. No objections.”
He propelled her gently up the hallway to her room. She turned to
protest. She wasn’t an invalid and he wasn’t going to treat her
like one.

“Now. I’ll bring you in a cup of tea.”

The determined set of his jaw and the
formidable look on his face stopped her protest. It was hopeless -
how could she argue with him when she could barely even
whisper.

She closed the door on him, unzipped her
dress and let it fall to the floor, pulled a nightgown over her
head, and dived into the bed. She was tired, she had to admit.
Tired, washed out, exhausted. And heart-broken.

There was a knock at the door, then Braden
came in with a tray in his hands. He placed it on the bedside chest
of drawers, then sat on the edge of the bed. He had taken his
jacket and tie off and his shirt was unbuttoned three holes. The
crisp white fabric accentuated the tan of his skin and her gaze was
drawn like a magnet to the dark chest hairs. Memories of how they
felt beneath her breasts taunted her and she pulled the bedcovers
higher as her nipples swelled in response.

Braden still sat there, watching her, and
Jenna realised he intended to sit there until she drank the tea.
His eyes were tired smudges of grey, and there was a weary slump to
his shoulders she had never seen before. But he was smiling, a
gentle, caring smile. And her heart longed for him.

Sighing, she pushed herself up into a sitting
position, pulling the covers with her, and reached for the cup.
There was a piece of thick, buttered toast on a plate as well.

“You haven’t eaten. I cut the crusts off - I
thought your throat might be sore,” he said gruffly.

It was so thoughtful, so caring, that tears
stung her eyes and crept out the corners. She grabbed a tissue and
blew her nose. She wanted to bawl her eyes out, sob, kick the bed.
She loved him so much and he was being so kind to her when she’d
ruined his evening and all she wanted now was to fall into his arms
and kiss him and make wild passionate love with him.

Instead she chewed the toast and forced it
down over the lump in her throat that had nothing to do with the
allergic reaction. She finished the tea, whispered thank you and
sank down onto the pillow.

He continued to sit there, looking at her.
Finally he stood.

“I said we’d talk, Jenna, and the temptation
to do so while you’re not able to argue with me is almost
irresistible.” A corner of his mouth raised in a quirky little
smile that made her longing for him even more acute. “But you’re
too exhausted right now. It can wait until tomorrow.”

Before she realised his intention, he dropped
a light but lingering kiss on her lips. She drank in the taste of
him. Her arms half rose in an instinctive need to embrace him, then
dropped back to the bed. How could she be so weak - he was going to
marry Veronica. But she loved and needed him so much that sanity
disappeared when his flesh touched hers. His fingers gently touched
her cheek. Then he walked swiftly from the room.

She didn’t want to get out of bed. In her
teenage years before her body had started reacting to alcohol,
particularly white wine, in such a disastrous manner, she had had
one or two hangovers. But this was worse.

There were lead weights attached to her
brain, lead boots on her feet, and razor blades in her throat. She
was sure that if she moved the weights would ricochet around inside
her skull and pulverize her brain. The thought was painful, but
also tempting. Anything to put her out of her misery.

A gentle tap on her door flicked her eyelids
open. Braden. Light blue short sleeved shirt tucked into dark grey
trousers, casual leather shoes - not dressed for the office. How
could he look so wonderful when she felt so hideous! He placed a
tray on the bedside chest of drawers. A compote of fruit and tea
and toast. Why did he have to be so kind when she wanted him to be
awful so she could hate him. She knew she felt like a petulant brat
but she couldn’t help it.

Had he gone back to the party last night? She
wanted to ask him but was afraid of the answer. If he had then his
engagement would have been announced. To Veronica. Her heart cried
out that he didn’t need Veronica, he needed her. She would love him
like he needed to be loved, so that all the hurt and pain his
mother had inflicted would be healed by the sheer depth and
unselfishness of her love.

“I’ve brought you some breakfast. I want you
to take it easy today. Caitlin’s playing in her bedroom so don’t
get up until you feel like it.”

“Thank you,” she croaked. He frowned at the
raw sound, and vexation blazed fleetingly in the grey eyes. Oh, she
must really have wrecked last night for him. If she’d felt bad
yesterday morning it was nothing compared to how she felt now. At
least then she thought there was a chance he might come to love
her. Now she knew that he was determined to marry Veronica. Jenna
doubted she would have the strength to stay and watch Veronica
gloat. The sooner she was able to leave the better.

Six days. Could she survive? Could she bear
the pain of seeing him every day, wanting him, loving him, while he
went ahead making marriage plans with Veronica? Even the thought
was agony. She blinked back the tears that threatened.

He gently cupped her cheek in one strong
hand.

“I have to go out.” His lips twisted in a wry
smile. “I have to make my peace with someone.”

Jenna knew who that someone was. So he
mustn’t have gone back to the party last night. A wicked hope
taunted her. Perhaps Veronica would call off the marriage. Then she
remembered Veronica’s viciousness. No, Veronica was determined to
have Braden and nothing and no-one would stand in her way. She had
almost caused Jenna’s death because of her drive to achieve that
goal.

Braden walked to the doorway, then paused.
“I’ll probably be a couple of hours. We’ll talk when I get
back.”

Then he was gone.

Jenna had showered, dressed and was tidying
up her room when the intercom buzzer sounded. Caitlin shot out of
her bedroom and down the hall. By the time Jenna followed her, she
had answered the call.

“It’s Mum! It’s Mum!” Happiness bubbled up in
her big eyes and she pulled open the front door and waited
impatiently as the elevator made its swift ascent. The elevator
door had barely opened when she launched herself at her mother.
Alicia laughed and gathered her daughter into her arms.

Jenna turned away, her eyes filmed with
tears. Tears of happiness, tears of envy, tears of misery. Alicia
followed Jenna into the lounge room. She wore white slacks and a
red and white striped top and looked healthy and confident.

“I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing
here, Jenna?”

Jenna nodded. She didn’t trust herself to
speak. Her feelings were so fragile, so brittle, this morning that
she was sure if she spoke the tears she had repressed all night
would break through.

“I’ve been released. I’ve made such
remarkable progress that the doctors have agreed that I’m fit
enough to return and look after Caitlin. And it’s all thanks to
you, Jenna.”

“Jinx’s been sick. Her throat’s all sore.”
Caitlin chipped in, taking Jenna’s hand and leading both women to
the lounge and sitting them down on either side of her. Jenna had
to smile. Caitlin looked so happy, so pleased with the way her life
was going.

“I’ll make some tea, you must be thirsty
after the drive,” she said to Alicia. She saw the sympathy in the
other woman’s eyes at the hoarseness of her voice.