Marriage On Demand (25 page)

God knows why, but she thought he was worth saving. It didn't matter what he told her about his past or how much he unintentionally hurt her. She continued to believe he had a heart of gold. Today he'd seen that damn light back in her eyes when he'd taken David on a few rides. Why did she have to make a big deal about it? The kid had been alone. Anyone would have done the same thing. Besides, he'd had time to kill until Rebecca was done with her volunteering.

But she didn't see it that way at all. She'd looked up at him, her eyes glowing with pride, her heart on her sleeve. He'd felt like slime. The sharp pain in his chest had been one part joy, two parts fear. Because it was too easy. It was just a matter of time until this whole thing blew up in his face. The second he started to need her and depend on her, he would lose her.

The problem was, he admitted to himself, it was already too late. Even though they slept apart, he couldn't imagine the place without her. The whisper of her perfume kept him awake long after she'd fallen asleep. The sound of her laughter echoed in his lab, taunting him throughout the day. Needing her would make him vulnerable. Not needing her would snuff out the light in her eyes.

With a certainty that crawled over him like the cool, smooth belly of a snake, he knew he had to let her go. Let her go, or hold on for all he was worth. And he couldn't do that. Ever. Holding on, caring,
meant
exposing himself. Once his dark secret came to light, he would crumple and blow away on the wind. Then she would know the truth. That inside there was nothing worth loving. The black hole of his soul sucked in all the light and let none escape.

But his arms ached to hold her close. Not just to make love, but to be near her, touching her, being touched by her. All afternoon she'd been next to him, brushing against his body, resting her hand on his arm. Little touches. They'd been a balm to his wounds. He'd horded the memories storing them to feed on in the long winter to come.

He would let her go because it was the ultimate act of kindness. To bind her to him was unconscionable. A woman like her shouldn't be tied to a bastard like himself.

She hummed under her breath. The sweet sound called to him. He glanced at
 
her face, at her slender body, at her still flat stomach, and knew he had to let her go before it was too late. Once their child was born, he would never be able to survive losing her.

His gaze returned to her face. Their eyes met. Rebecca studied him as if she knew exactly what he'd been thinking and didn't like it one bit. Before he could turn away, she slid the pan off the flame, turned off the stove and walked over to him.

"I don't think so," she said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Whatever you're planning. You've already made enough rules without my input. I suppose it's my own fault for letting you. I should have spoken up right away. After all, we're partners in this marriage. Don't you agree,
Austin
?"

There was a light in her eyes he'd never seen before. The strength he'd always admired seemed to steel her spine as she got closer.

"Yeah, right," he mumbled, not sure what she was talking about. He reached for the remote and punched off the TV.

"They've been your rules, put in place for your convenience. That's about to change." She knelt on the soft next to him, then slid one knee over his thighs so that she was straddling him. Raising her hands high, she unfastened her braid. When her hair was loose, she brought her forehead down to touch his. The dark, curly strands provided a curtain of privacy.

"It's time for new rules. My rules." She shifted her weight from knee to knee, then sank onto his lap. Her panties rested against his crotch, her hands touched his shoulders. "Rule number one. More touching." She pressed her breasts against his chest. "Lots more touching."

He told himself to pull away. He knew this was a mistake. One of them was bound to get hurt. But he couldn't move. Her slim arms were like bands of steel. Or maybe he just wanted them to be. Maybe he was tired of pushing her away and hiding from the things she made him feel.

She bent closer and brushed his lips with hers. Instantly fire flared between them. Heat rolled through his body, settling in his groin. By the time she'd leaned forward and nibbled on his ear, he was already hard.

"Oh,
Austin
, I'm your wife," she whispered, dragging her mouth back to his. "Don't keep shutting me out."

The second kiss wasn't quite as fleeting. She pressed against him, moving slightly. The soft pressure taunted him. Of their own accord, his hands slid up her calves to her thighs. He slipped under her full skirt and touched her warm, bare skin. She shivered against him.

"Don't resist me," she said softly, then swept her tongue across his lips.

He moaned low in his throat. His mouth opened. Slowly, so slowly he thought he might go mad, she pushed her tongue inside. Tentatively tasting, savoring each moment as if it was precious.

He brought his hands up her legs, feeling her muscles tense and release as he held her hips, then slipped back to cup her rear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed his name, then angled her head and plunged into his mouth again. Her kiss changed from searching to demanding. When he responded, she bit down lightly.

"Stop being a jerk," she said, pulling back and glaring at him. "I mean it. We didn't get married under the best of circumstances. I'll admit that. But so what? We can still make it work between us. But we both have to try." Her brown eyes searched his. "I can't do it by myself. You have to let me in. Just a little. I know you don't want to expose your feelings. That's okay. But you have to give me something to work with."

His hands stilled on her body. "I don't know if I can."

"Try. Today at the hospital when we saw Elizabeth and Travis's baby, I knew we weren't pretending anymore. This is very real. We have to be ready to provide a home for our child."

Or end it now, he thought grimly, knowing he didn't have a hope in hell of letting her walk out that door tonight. It wasn't just because he was hard and ready and the dampness of her panties told him she was just as willing. It was because if he pushed her away he would hurt her, and right now he wasn't strong enough to face that. And, a small voice reminded him, if he sent her away, there would be no one to hold him and care for him…

"I know you have secrets," she said. He stared at her, wondering when she'd learned to read his mind. She went on as if she hadn't noticed. "You don't have to share them with me. What's more important is that we make this marriage work. That we respect each other. That we work on building a bond between us."

He touched her face, then ran his fingers through her long hair. The bond she spoke about was already in place. He could feel the silken ties wrapping around his heart and squeezing. She didn't know what she was asking. It was too late. It had been too late for years. Didn't she know that anything he loved or tried to love had been destroyed?

He'd desperately loved his mother and she'd returned those feelings with abandonment and betrayal. He'd wanted to know his father, but the old man had threatened to put him in prison if he ever approached him again. Even when he was just fifteen and he'd loved this town and his friends more than anything in his life, he'd managed to screw it all up by stealing a car. Just because he knew it wasn't going to last. Rather than wait for the pain, he'd created it himself so he could meet it on his own terms.

He didn't want to mess up with Rebecca, but it was inevitable. Somehow, sometime, he would say the unforgivable, lash out in fear and destroy the bond she sought to weave between them.

"
Austin
," she said, cupping his face in her hands, "it's not supposed to hurt that much. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. You matter to me. Very much." She traced his nose, his mouth,
then
the line of his jaw. Last of all, she touched his earring and smiled. The tenderness in her gaze made him flinch. "I don't need you to love me back," she said softly. "Just let me in enough to love you."

Desire to believe battled with panic and fear. Panic and fear won. He gripped her waist and lifted her away from him. When he was free, he sprang to his feet and retreated to the far side of the room.

"Don't," he said hoarsely. "Don't love me." His muscles were tight, his arms rigid at his sides. His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. "I'll save you the effort of even trying. It won't work, you know. I'm not worth the trouble. Never have been. Now get the hell out of here."

Chapter 12

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R
ebecca rose to her feet slowly, fearful that if she moved too quickly he would bolt. He stood alone on the far side of the room, fighting his feelings. Their eyes met. His anguish was so deep, so gut-wrenching, she thought she might break in two just watching him. She raised her hand, as if she could touch him from across the distance of the room.

"No," he growled, and turned away.

He stared out the window at the twilight as if it held the answers to his suffering. He stood in the same place he did each time she left the loft. He always watched her go. Sometimes, when she reached the grove of trees that separated the barn and garage from the main house, she turned back and saw him staring down at her. The sadness in his expression was what had made her come back night after night, even knowing he had shut her out of his bed and his heart.

"I'm not worth the trouble," he said.

He'd spoken the words with the certainty of someone who had heard them a thousand times before. No doubt he had his mother to thank for that. A woman who would dump her child on relatives, then abandon him in a children's home, would easily express her displeasure by telling her son he wasn't worth the trouble.

Often during the busy workday at the home, harried adults would discuss whether or not a child was worth saving. Should they bother to solicit for adoption, knowing most couples wouldn't want to take on that kind of responsibility? She constantly warned her staff that the children overheard more than everyone thought, that they remembered and passed on the bitter judgments. How many times had
Austin
heard himself discussed? She knew enough about his past to guess the phrases they would have used. Troublemaker. Bully. Antisocial. Unredeemable.

Words tossed around by professionals who sometimes forgot words could be the harshest blows of all. Like the children now in her care, he had been cast aside, unwanted.

He'd proved them all wrong. His accomplishments and generous spirit had long since convinced her of that. He'd fought his way out, forged a new path and stood as a testament to the power of determination. Despite the odds against him, despite his lack of emotional support, despite the deepest, most tragic scar of all. The belief that he wasn't worth the trouble.

She studied the breadth of his shoulders, the strong musculature of his back. Jeans hugged narrow hips and outlined powerful thighs. He wasn't a child anymore. He'd long ago left that part of him behind.
 
He was a man, with a man's sensibilities. She'd been a fool to think she could heal him with a couple of pats on the arm. She might never be able to heal him.

But he was her husband; she had to try.

She'd asked him to open up enough to let her love him. As with the children she provided for, she couldn't make him an empty promise. Not if she wanted him to learn to trust her. She would only get one chance, if that. She couldn't make a mistake.

She shook her head at her earlier belief that she'd found her way in by figuring out he hungered for physical contact. So what? Of course he did. Most victims of abuse did. It wasn't the key; it was a symptom. She would have to risk everything to get through to him.

She studied the set of his head, so proud. Her gaze dropped to her left hand and the diamond ring that proclaimed her as his wife. From the very first moment she'd stood dripping on
Austin
's garage floor several weeks ago, he'd come through for her. Offering her refuge from the storm, giving his house to the children, warning her away from him, even when she'd wanted nothing more than to have him make love to her.

Later, when he'd given the playground equipment to the children and then married her because she was pregnant, he'd been supportive, giving, generous and kind. He was her husband. She hoped she would be able to give back as much to him.

She took a step closer to him. He stiffened, but didn't move. Another step, then another, until she stood directly behind him. Not touching, not doing anything to send him running, she breathed in the scent of him and searched for the right words.

"I still remember the first time we met," she said softly. "I don't remember anything about what committee meeting it was, but I can see the room." She closed her eyes.

"You were wearing a white shirt, rolled up to your elbows, and boots. I was new in town. I walked in and you were the first person I saw.
 
I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe. When the lady at the desk asked me my name, I didn't answer her. I felt like I was thirteen and meeting a star."