Читать книгу The Pregnant Bride - Crystal Green, Crystal Green - Страница 13

N ick rested his hands on his lean hips, obviously amused with Meg’s motel-bed shock. “It’s not going to swallow you up.”

But it sure consumed the room, thought Meg. It was king-size, robed with a quilted gingham pattern. The Bates Motel furnishings gave Meg a shiver: two Spartan nightstands, a dreary lamp, a tiny TV that required you to switch channels by hand dial and a dresser capped by a long, bleary mirror… And, wouldn’t you know, the mirror reflected the entire length of the bed. She didn’t even turn around to look at the shower for fear of fainting right on the spot.

“Of course it won’t swallow me.” She cleared her throat as she turned her back on said furniture. She tried to laugh off the nervousness, but what came out of her lungs was far more terrifying than the room. A near cackle. A genuine, Witchy Poo, yikes-I’m-being-chased-by-the-devil cry for help. She clamped her lips together before subjecting them both to more terror.

Now that she’d gotten both Nick and the bed out of the same line of sight, she felt more comfortable. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

Silence. No need for words. Nick merely crossed his muscled arms over his chest and rested his back against the wall.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “The truth of it is, I’m still not sure what to tell you about marriage.”

He nodded. A muscle flexed in one of his arms, a quick, jerky motion, almost as if he’d blocked an incoming fist to the gut.

Could this man be a father to her child? Could he forget that Chad Spencer had taken a pretty active part in creating him or her? Meg held back another nervous laugh. It didn’t get tenser than this. “I’ve thought of so many reasons not to say yes to you.”

“I heard them the other night,” he said, his voice low, as skin-tingling as fingernails lightly scratching down her back.

She thought of how nice it’d be to have someone like Nick around every night, someone who actually warmed her heart, her body. Somebody who—maybe someday—could care about her. Aunt Valentine would never come back again. Her parents would never welcome her into their arms. All bets were off on Chad becoming a part of her family. Meg had no doubt Nick cared, but would he be a real family to her?

Then again, how many men wanted to marry a woman who was about to give birth to an illegitimate child? Maybe Nick was the closest she’d ever get to having a family again. Even if, every time she peeked over at him leaning against the wall, she saw the reflection of foster home abandonment in the way he crossed his arms, the way he kept his silence.

What secrets did this man hide from her? Did she really want to know?

All she was certain of was that she’d always have secrets of her own. Especially the one about her family and why they’d never, ever, allow her into their home again. It was a secret that, if revealed, could turn Nick against her. One that could give Chad supreme power if he decided to engage her in a custody battle for her baby.

This marriage could even the playing field with Chad. And that was it, the answer she’d been searching for. It was too bad she couldn’t enter this marriage because of love, but love was a luxury she couldn’t afford after all the mistakes she’d made with her life.

Somewhere in her brain, Chad was laughing at her. It was the same laugh she’d heard the night after they’d made love—or whatever it was called. It’d certainly had nothing to do with love. Fear had driven her, fear of being alone for the rest of her life.

Nick’s gravely voice shoved Chad’s laughter out of her perception. “Have I lost you, Meggie?”

Her heart jumped, then she smiled. He was referring to her woolgathering, nothing else. If she turned down his proposal, it wouldn’t tear him apart. Nick had no emotional stake in this.

“You haven’t lost me.” Not yet. “I still don’t understand why you’d offer to do this. I guess I need to know before this goes any further.”

His arms remained crossed. “You’re right, I haven’t explained anything.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was expecting you to say when you don’t realize where I’m coming from.”

He motioned toward the bed, a grin hiding in his eyes. “It’s the only seat in the house, Meggie, and I know it can’t be comfortable standing on your feet for too long.”

She reluctantly edged onto the bed, sighing as the weight was taken off her legs. Maybe Nick would be a good husband—thoughtful, fantasy-inducing… She wiped her mind clean of wicked thoughts and waited for him to explain.

“I guess I should make it clear that our marriage would be in name only. That should soothe your thoughts a little.”

Something in her heart took a dive. “But—marriage?”

“Yeah, I know it’s a big step.” He looked her straight in the eyes, a soul-searing request for faith. “I wasn’t the one who set off the bomb in Chaney’s Drugstore, and I mean to correct the misconception.”

Meg felt her eyebrows pulling together. He was kidding, right? “Nick, the bombing happened sixteen years ago. You’re still obsessing over it?”

Wrong thing to say. He stood a little taller, stiffer, his arms tightening over his broad chest, his strong shoulders lifting as if counteracting another burden that had been hefted onto them. “The Reno family was the closest thing I ever had to a normal life. It’s something worth fighting for. When Spencer set off that bomb, he didn’t just destroy a building, he blew up their confidence in me. My parents never talked to me again. Same with my brother, Sam.”

Meg hadn’t realized the depth of his hatred until now. She wondered anew why he wanted to be a father to Chad’s child.

Nick continued. “I can’t get my parents back. And Sam might not even want to look me in the eye again. But I’m sure as hell going to make sure Chad Spencer never hurts anyone in this town, and that includes you, Meggie. You and your baby.”

Her throat burned from emotion. It’d been a long time since someone had cared this much about her. Aunt Valentine would’ve gone out on a limb for Meg, and now Nick was here to take her place. She could actually have a family again.

The only drawback was this raging anger that emanated from Nick’s every word. It frightened her, yet his knight-in-shining-armor attitude all but overshadowed that fear. His gesture of marriage touched her, made her feel like a person again. It had been ages since she’d felt like more than a whipping boy for the Kane’s Crossing’s gossip committee, even if she did deserve every harsh word as punishment for what she’d done in San Diego all those years ago.

Yet, she couldn’t help thinking that it was this same sort of anger that had driven her parents to kick her out of her home, the same anger that had basically orphaned her, cut off any hope of ever seeing her parents again. If she were to marry Nick, she’d have to live with anger. Could she do it?

She raised her gaze to his. What she saw startled her. A flash of pale lightning in his blue eyes, zinging her, making her go weak. His desire to protect her baby was a gift she couldn’t turn down.

Yes, she could do it.

She tried to smile. “How soon can we make arrangements?”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, but nothing else changed. Meg tried not to let that be a bad omen.

“I’ll make an appointment with the county clerk today. Remember—” he moved away from the wall to stand in front of her, to rest his hand on her shoulder as a best friend would “—you’ve got no worries now. I’ll take care of Spencer.”

Meg wished this were true, but she knew she’d exchanged one set of worries for another. Her new concerns had more to do with holes in faded jeans and eyes the shade of wishes gone by.

Days later, Nick adjusted his necktie for the last time. He hated wearing these things because it felt like—what else?—a noose. Even more so today, his wedding day.

He looked around the small, flower-laden room of the county courthouse, wishing he and Meggie could just get a certificate and be done with the whole process. But, in spite of his discomfort, he knew that Meggie would want some sort of special touch. A woman wasn’t a bride every day, so he’d arranged for the county clerk to marry them in a civil ceremony.

So, here he was, waiting for Deacon Chaney, of all people, to walk his blushing bride down the narrow aisle. Nick was a great fan of irony, so he could appreciate having Chaney, the man whose building he’d been accused of bombing, on hand to give away Meggie. But the second witness Meggie had selected at the last moment was too much.

Ashlyn Spencer stood beside him, bouncing up and down in time to the recorded harp-music wedding march. A Spencer, at his own wedding. Life didn’t get more hilarious than this.

He’d watched Meggie with admiration as she’d calmly handled every stumbling block. First, Rachel Shane, Meggie’s best friend, had been called to the county hospital on an emergency, leaving them without a witness to their nuptials. Always the quick thinker, Meggie had hijacked Deacon Chaney, her lone customer, before closing the bakery early. Then, as Nick had driven past the general store on the edge of town, Meggie had realized that a second witness would be to their advantage.

Ashlyn had been rocking in a dilapidated porch swing, smoking a cigar with the old men, cracking jokes and generally acting un-Spencer-like. With a gleam in her eye, Meggie had hopped out of the pickup, growing belly and all, and escorted Ashlyn to join Deacon in the back of the vehicle.

In spite of the wedding party, Nick had a feeling that his life was about to change for the better.

Meggie appeared, with Deacon hanging off her arm as a dazed father figure. Nick’s heart clenched when he saw her flushed skin, her genuine smile. She carried a modest bouquet of yellow-and-purple wildflowers that Ashlyn had gathered while they’d waited for the couples ahead of them to tie the knot. Some of the star-shaped petals had made it to her hair, lingering in the red curls, making her look like a flower child from the sixties. Even her clothes were slightly off kilter, reminiscent of the Gypsy girl she used to resemble. She wore a long-sleeved, shimmery, soft-pink dress that bagged at the waist and fell in a rainfall of material to her ankles. The texture reminded him of a dragonfly’s wings—luminous, catching the glow of her skin like the blush of a sunrise. A pearl choker encircled her neck, so Nick suddenly didn’t feel so persecuted at having to wear a tie.

He’d decided to dress for the occasion, as well, having traveled out of the county to avoid shopping at the Spencers’ stores in Kane’s Crossing. He hadn’t dressed to the nines—not even when he was in a casket would he ever let anyone bind him in a suit—but he seemed a decent enough groom with his creased, blue Docker-style pants and white button-down shirt. With the damned tie, of course.

As the wedding march ended, Deacon deposited Meggie at Nick’s side. Then the ceremony was just a blur of diamond rings, dragonfly wings, flowers, I-dos and Meggie’s soft lips. He’d shaved today, closely, thoroughly, knowing that the symbolic sealing of their union was inevitable. He’d even been looking forward to feeling Meggie’s lips beneath his; he’d always wondered how soft they’d be in their rose-red fullness. However, this would be a chaste kiss, a veritable handshake to close their casual deal.