The Price of a Wife

'Will love you as I do; I promise you that. She is not a monster, merely an Italian mamma with much of the old culture in her.'

'And you're half-Italian,' she sobbed as a fresh rush of tears blinded her. 'Oh, Luke, see it how it is. Look at it clearly.'

'I am. For the first time in my life I can see things crystal-clear. Being the man I am, I don't want second-test, so if I can't have you, if you walk away from me, I'll never have anyone.' He pulled her tight against him as he spoke, his arms crushing her against his chest.

'I mean it, Josie. We can adopt children, foster— whatever. We can do all sorts of things if we're together, but alone—' He pushed her slightly from him his face damp. 'I don't want to be alone any more, my love; the world isn't anything without you. The thought of you living and breathing without me, or you perhaps being in the same city as me and not knowing…' He shook his head. 'Perhaps even loving someone else…'

'I wouldn't.' Second-best. He had said anyone else would be second-best, but she was that. Wasn't she? 'But you might see things differently in a few years. You could have any woman you wanted, children of your own—'

'I don't want children of my own,' he said quietly. 'I want our children or none at all. And that means if we adopt, if we take on the responsibility of parenthood, we'll be in it together, whatever it holds. The children would be ours, yours and mine.'

'Luke—'

'Don't refuse me, Josie,' he said unsteadily as he gazed down into her eyes, which were swimming with tears. 'You are my only chance. Don't refuse me. I love you so much you have to love me back.'

'I do.' She had said it, but neither of them could believe it. 'I do love you, so much.' And then he was smothering her face in kisses, his voice husky and broken as he whispered words of love against her lips until their passion rose in time with their heartbeat.

'Luke, are you sure? Sure you've thought about what this means?'

It was too fast, it had all happened too fast, and as he drew back and looked down into her face he read the doubt and uncertainty lingering there along with the desire. 'I'm sure,' he said softly. 'I actually felt relief when I found out what was really wrong, that it wasn't another man. Can you believe that? It's a terrible thing to admit when what happened affected you so badly, but the thought of another man holding you, kissing you was unthinkable. Your past is your past, and dead and gone, but a lover here in the present—'

'There has never been a lover—not ever.' And then she told him all of it—about Peter, the aftermath of the accident, the decisions she had made. And he listened without speaking and watched her face, his own tender and compassionate and rent with grief for her.

'I would have liked to kill this man.' The silver eyes narrowed as he spoke. 'In my mother's country a man who treated an innocent young girl that way would have walked from the court knowing he had to look over his shoulder until the day she was avenged. It is good he is dead.'

'It doesn't matter any more.' And it didn't. For the first time she could say it and mean it. 'He can't hurt me now.'

'No one will hurt you any more.' He gathered her to him and kissed her gently on the mouth. 'You believe me, trust me on this? You are everything I have ever hoped for in a woman, my love—everything,' he emphasised as she lowered her eyes and shook her head. 'This baby thing has warped the way you see yourself, how you value what you are. The gift you are giving me—of yourself—is enough for me. I know it but I have to make you know it too, and if it takes the rest of my life I will do it. And we will have children— as many as you want. We will fill our houses with them, our gardens—'

'Dogs too?' She was laughing now through her tears as for the first time she dared to allow herself to believe.

'One for each child.' He touched her face with his hand, his expression suddenly serious. 'And each child will be loved and cherished for what it is—a special gift for us. The biological part means nothing, Josie, not really. You only have to look at all the misery in natural families to see that. What counts is the bit between being born and dying. The giving, the sharing, the joys and sorrows, and most of all the love.'

'When I thought I wasn't going to be able to get through to you, that you were never going to let me in, and later, when you told me there was someone else—' He stopped abruptly and breathed hard, the paid in his eyes visible and fierce. 'That was the most terrifying time of my life. I thought I'd go mad, insane. I can't manage without you. I can't hold it all together if you aren't there by my side. You have to believe that, really believe it.'

'No one else matters but you. It is us at the beginning and it will be us at the end, and if in the time between our family brings us pleasure then that's wonderful, but that is all it is. It isn't life-sustaining. You are. Do you believe me?'

'I'm trying.' She smiled, but the tears had started again.

'You will believe it.' He pulled her into him as his mouth sought hers, his need fierce and raw. 'I will make you. I don't care how long it takes—I will make you. You are my perfect love, my perfect, perfect love…'

EPILOGUE

'Luke, what if—?'

'No 'what ifs'.' He moved swiftly across the room and took her in his arms, his face tender. 'It will be all right; trust me.'

'I'm frightened.' She looked up at him, her fist pressed against her mouth.

'You have every right to be frightened,' he said calmly. 'We're waiting to give birth and I'm petrified, but there are no hard and fast guarantees, my love—not in a biological birth and not in this one. Things can go wrong—that's life— but I'm here for you and you're here for me. Everything else takes second place. OK?'

She nodded limply as she relaxed against him, her body tiny against his bulk. 'I love you.'

'I know.' There was immense satisfaction in the deep male voice. 'I love you too.'

And as she raised her head for his mouth she felt as she always felt in his arms—loved, secure and, yes, perfect. She was enough for him. It constantly amazed her, but over the last two years since they had been married she had come to accept it as reality. His love was strong and real and its burning passion had consumed the doubts and fears that had haunted her in the early days of their marriage. Nothing could separate them, they were two halves of one mould, and in the shadowed intimacy of their big bed he had restored her faith in herself as a beautiful, desirable woman, complete and perfect in the eyes of the man she loved.

And then the telephone rang and she froze against him for one moment before he lifted his mouth from hers, his face tender and calm as his eyes searched hers. 'OK, Mrs Hawkton?' he asked softly. 'Just remember, whatever is said, I love you.'