A Whirlwind Marriage

He looked at her as he caught the note, a long look, and then he took a hard pull of air as he said, ‘I don’t trust that one day you won’t see me as I see myself.’

‘And how’s that?’

‘Unlovable.’

Oh, Zeke. Oh, my darling… She didn’t say a word, and she tried, really hard, to keep her face from revealing what she felt, but she obviously failed because he said, his voice harsh, ‘And don’t feel sorry for me, Marianne, because that will be the last straw. I’ve made a life for myself and a damn good one; the Buchanan name is both feared and respected.’

His remark about his name triggered a thought, and she forced herself to sit back in her chair and take a sip of wine before she said calmly, ‘Is Buchanan your mother’s name or your father’s?’

‘My mother’s, before she married.’ He took a long swallow of wine himself before he added, with no expression at all, ‘I told you; she led a pretty wild lifestyle. I gather my father could have been any one of a number of bozos who got lucky. Certainly no one was willing to claim paternity, and who can blame them?’

You, for a start. ‘Has your mother contacted you since you were older?’ she asked quietly.

‘When I became wealthy, you mean?’ His lips tightened and then he breathed out slowly from his nose. ‘I’m sure she would have done; she was a mercenary little—’ He stropped abruptly, finishing the glass of wine in one gulp. ‘She died,’ he said blankly. ‘Fell off a friend’s yacht when she was drunk at a party and drowned.’

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Her eyes widened slightly with shock. He had never spoken about his mother except once, when he had told her, on their second or third date, that his mother had given him away as a baby. But she was dead; his mother was dead. That meant there was no chance of any reconciliation or possibility of a reunion.

It was a silly question in the circumstances, but she’d said it before she’d thought. ‘Are you sure?’

His features were as flint-hard as his eyes when he said coolly, ‘Quite sure, Marianne. I spoke to her husband some years ago and he filled me in on all the gory details of her life. He didn’t spare my feelings,’ he added drily. ‘I was left with the impression they’d deserved each other.’

‘I’m so sorry, Zeke.’

He shrugged. ‘Don’t be.’ And then, as he glanced over her shoulder, ‘Ah, here comes the food.’

He regretted telling her everything; she could tell. She stared at him as the waiter placed their meals in front of them. But she wasn’t going to stop battering at that wall he had built between them.

‘What if we’d had a baby, Zeke? What then?’ she asked quietly once they were alone again.

‘A baby?’ There was just the tiniest inflexion in his studiously flat voice that made her look at him more intently. He wanted a child, she realised suddenly. He had always wanted a child, perhaps even more than she did. And she could understand why now. A tiny little being that was no threat, that wouldn’t turn away from him or fall out of love with him, that would be linked to him through the blood as well as the heart.

And he would be a devoted father. He would lavish love and tenderness on the flesh of his flesh, knowing he could do so without appearing weak or vulnerable. He didn’t have to trust a baby not to leave him, and whatever happened he would still be its father.

‘It didn’t happen, did it?’ he said with smooth control. ‘Which is probably just as well in the circumstances.’

‘I agree.’

As his eyes shot to meet hers she saw it was not what he had expected her to say.

‘We weren’t ready to have a child, Zeke,’ she said softly but clearly. ‘We still had too much growing up to do ourselves.’

‘Is that a dig at me?’ he bit tightly, his skin stretching over the rugged lines of his face.

‘No, I said both of us and I meant both of us,’ she said firmly. ‘You called me honest a while back, so you can’t have it all ways. I believe that every child should have the right to be conceived through love and born into a loving and trusting relationship. There might be some people who would disagree with that, but I can’t see it any other way. Trust, love, tenderness, commitment—they should see all that mirrored in their home, Zeke. I’ve grown up a great deal in the last two years and I’ve had to sort out what I want and what I believe, not what my parents or society or anyone else tells me.’

‘And all this growing up told you to leave me.’

‘It told me we couldn’t go on as we were,’ she said sharply. His voice had been dry and cynical. ‘I’m a person in my own right, Zeke, with dreams and aspirations, but that doesn’t lessen my love for you an iota. I don’t have to be just a wife, or a wife and mother and nothing else, don’t you see? You can only benefit if I’m happy and fulfilled.’

‘And being my wife wasn’t fulfilment enough,’ he said tightly.

‘No, it wasn’t.’ Her hands were trembling with the enormity of their differences, and she linked her fingers together to stop their shaking. ‘Like being my husband isn’t enough for you. You have your work, which consumes you at times. Admit it.’

‘That’s different,’ he said harshly.

‘Why? Because you’re a man?’ she challenged swiftly. ‘What rubbish, Zeke. You know as well as I do that a woman can be just as dedicated as a man to her work.’