Martinez's Pregnant Wife

She stirred against the warmth of his body and hers leapt to life once more. The hungry longing within her for him was far from sated. Last night’s lovemaking had only intensified it. As the lateness of Christmas Eve had slipped into the early hours of Christmas Day they had alternated between making love and sleeping. Now the grey light of a winter’s morning seeped around the edges of the thick curtains Max had drawn across the small window of the cottage late last night.

It was Christmas morning and she’d never expected to be waking up in Max’s arms or in such a wonderfully festive cottage. Suddenly her excitement couldn’t be contained any longer. Fate had brought them together and he’d given her the kind of Christmas she’d always longed for and she wasn’t going to ruin it now by dwelling on what was or wasn’t between them, trying to give it a name. She turned and faced Max in the bed, the covers sliding from her as she did so.

‘Happy Christmas.’ His eyes opened as she whispered the words.

‘Now I know what would have been missing from my Christmas morning.’ His dark eyes held the promise of more passion as he pulled her closer to his naked body. ‘You.’

‘But you don’t like Christmas,’ she whispered as memories ofhow this time last year, he had suggested they delay their honeymoon several weeks to avoid the festivities, convincing her that he wanted only to be with her. Instantly she regretted saying anything as the shutters of steel came down over his eyes, suffocating the passion she’d seen brewing there again.

‘I was simply referring to the fact that Christmas morning isn’t the same in Spain. We traditionally give gifts, but on Fiesta de Los Tres Reyes early in January. Twelfth Night here.’ She knew he was hiding something, holding back on her as he’d always done. Everything he’d just said was a cover for what he was really feeling—or not.

‘So why have you done all this?’ She looked around the room, at the subtle decorations that left her in no doubt she was in a cottage decked out for Christmas. She’d thought he’d done it to bring them together—and it had achieved that in the most spectacularly passionate way—but not in the way she really wanted. Perhaps she should do as she’d thought last night and accept that the man whose child she carried wasn’t capable of emotions and that nothing would change that, just as he’d told her when he first walked out on their new marriage.

He hadn’t wanted her to say what she felt, hadn’t wanted to hear those words spoken aloud.

‘Because it would make you happy, because even though I can’t say what you want me to say, I care about you.’

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now, but she certainly wasn’t going to spoil Christmas Day. Not when the things he’d done, the way he’d been last night, gave her hope.

* * *

Max could almost hear a pin drop in the room as Lisa listened then thankfully accepted what he’d said. He got up, enjoying the way her gaze lingered on his body, which still wanted her despite their night of passion.

He pulled on some jeans and a sweater. ‘The surprises aren’t over yet.’

‘They aren’t?’

‘No, I have arranged for us to have Christmas dinner at a nearby hotel, where, I’m reliably informed, we can relax afterward in comfort in front of a large open fire.’

She smiled at him, a smile full of genuine warmth and pleasure. Finally he was uncovering the real Lisa, breaking down her barriers. She’d tried to do the same to him, but over the years he’d made his defence impenetrable. Would she tell him what it was that had happened in her past to have made Christmas a bad time for her and her family?

‘What happened?’ he asked, knowing full well he was taking advantage of the unspoken truce between them, but if they stood any chance of building some kind of future together for their child he had to know.

‘Happened? When?’ She stood by the bed, wrapped in the faux-fur throw from the end, looking deliciously sexy but also very scared. He was intrigued and now he had to know.

‘When you were a child? To make you miss out on Christmas?’

‘I think that is a question I should be asking you.’ She smiled at him, but he could see the defence barrier beginning to slip into place again. ‘You are the one who doesn’t like this time of year. I’ve just never experienced it like this.’

She was right. He was also well aware that if he wanted to find out what it was she was hiding from him, keeping locked away, then he too would have to reveal who he really was.

‘I have a very good reason for not liking this time of the year.’ How had this been turned around to be about him?