Beyond Desire

“Easy there.” He guided her to a chair and sat her down.

“Where do you keep the glasses?” But even as he asked, he’d found them and was at the sink getting a glass of cold water.

“Drink a little. It will help steady you.” Amanda sipped while Luke waited for her to empty the glass. He’s got a low, gentle voice, she thought, but you wouldn’t dare disobey it.

“Thanks. That’s the first time that’s happened. I thought that once I got over the morning sickness, that would be it for the day.” She didn’t mean it as a complaint, just an observation.

“When are you expecting the baby, Amanda?”

Her lashes swept up quickly. Marcus hadn’t bothered to ask. “November seventh. The doctor was certain, because there’s only been that one time.” She could see that her remark had made him curious, though he tried to appear casually interested. She was thirty-nine years old, after all; any man would wonder about that statement.

“What do you mean, ‘that one time’?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this. But there’s so much I don’t understand. I never discussed anything personal with my father and I’m an only child, so there wasn’t a brother to talk with. And Marcus hasn’t invited any intimacies between us. I feel closer to you than I do to him, but there are things that I could ask him that I don’t think I should be discussing with you.” When Luke glanced toward the kitchen door, she realized he didn’t want to offend his brother, but that he wanted to help her if he could.

“What are you talking about, Amanda?”

She laced her fingers and looked first to the ceiling and then to the floor, before settling her gaze on the refrigerator. “I thought the baby’s father cared for me like I cared for him. But it seems I was just a challenge. He’d made a bet with his buddies, and he won it. He wasn’t nice to me, Luke, although he must have known…he had to know that he was hurting me and he wouldn’t stop. I had to go to the emergency room. He had courted me persistently for six months, but after that night he never called or wrote, and I never saw him again. I had been lonely after my aunt Meredith died, and I didn’t know much about men. I have nightmares about it sometimes. Luke, isn’t there any gentleness in men? If there is, I have never experienced it, not in my father, my baby’s father, nor my coworkers. And so far, not much in my husband.”

Luke bit back an explosive expletive. “I always thought that most men are gentle with women, Amanda. Are you telling me that Marcus mistreats you? I can’t believe he’d lay a finger on you. He’s not that type of man.”

Amanda stood and began to set the table. “Of course not. I know he’s a gentleman, Luke. It’s just…well, if I do anything for him…This morning, I fixed him a good breakfast, but that made him uncomfortable, and anytime he finds himself being nice to me, he quickly withdraws. It’s like he’s trying to make me pay for something I didn’t do.” Luke rested a hand lightly on her shoulder.

“He had a hard time with Amy’s mother, but he’s softening. You can help him, and he can help you. In fact, if the two of you were ever to communicate, really communicate, you’d see that you need each other.”

His words failed to placate her. She had realized earlier that evening that she was vulnerable to Marcus, that she was attracted to him, and it frightened her. She walked to the back door, pretending to look for something on the porch, while she restrained the tears. She didn’t want Luke’s pity or anyone else’s, but her feelings about Marcus, her situation and their relationship troubled her. She stepped back inside and closed the door and, with her back to the kitchen, looked into the darkness. She spoke to him quietly, resigned. “I’m going to pay for that one night for the rest of my life.”

Luke shook his head. “You don’t have to go through with it, you know.”

“Yes I do. Anyway, I don’t have anyone now. At least I’ll have someone to love and to love me. But Marcus says that the baby’s grandfather might try and take the child from me, if he learns about it.”

Luke had heard Marcus walking toward the kitchen, but didn’t look in his direction; it wouldn’t hurt Marcus to know what his wife had experienced and what she feared.

“Who is he?”

“Pearce Lamont, Sr. He lives in Portsmouth.”

“I know him and I know where he lives.” He walked around to face her and handed her his business card: Lieutenant Luke Stuart Hickson, Detective; Portsmouth Police Department. “Don’t worry about Lamont. If he gives you any trouble, let me know.” He acknowledged her thanks with a nod, thinking that she had a lovely smile. But her smile faltered and, glancing around, he frowned in concern. Had she stopped smiling because she’d seen Marcus?

“Where’s this dinner you were promising?” She glanced at Marcus and then smiled when his relaxed manner indicated that the three of them would spend an enjoyable evening. She had wondered what Marcus was doing alone in the living room, whether he was brooding about Amy. She took pleasure in having controlled her urge to go to him, suspecting that he had needed to be alone in order to recoup from the trauma of their long wait for the doctors’ verdict.

Amanda asked Marcus to say grace, explaining that her aunt Meredith had always said that, in a civilized home, the head of the house always says grace before meals. Marcus looked as if he wasn’t sure he was head of that house, but a smirking Luke bowed his head and waited. Marcus said the grace. Amanda wouldn’t have admitted that she had set out to impress Luke with her cooking, but that was the effect she got. He had as big an appetite as his brother, and as he swallowed his fifth biscuit, he told her, “If you feed Marcus like this every night, you’ll never get rid of him.” In a reflexive action, she reached over and gently wiped the scowl from Marcus’ face and got an embarrassed grin for her effort. Her innocent gesture seemed to surprise and please Luke, and she was happier than she’d been at any time since her marriage. She felt that she had a friend and ally in her brother-in-law, and her instinct told her that, in the months to come, she would need his support.

Innocently desiring to communicate to Marcus the feeling that Luke gave her, she told her husband, “I like your brother, Marcus.”

Marcus fingered his emerging beard and shrugged his left shoulder. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Liking Luke is something women just seem to do automatically.”

Rather taken aback, she responded honestly. “Oh, I can see that Luke is very handsome, Marcus, but not more so than you. Perhaps even less. Do you have any more brothers?” Marcus stopped eating and looked at his wife.

“No. You really think I’m better looking than Luke? You’re pulling my leg. You’ve got to be. Luke’s on the stud list of every matchmaking matron in Portsmouth. If a celebrity beauty comes to town, he’s the man they ask to escort her. He once squired Miss America around Portsmouth. Tell her how many tuxedos you’ve got, Luke.”

Luke’s gruff response reflected his discomfort and belied his commanding presence. “He’s overstating it, Amanda. They all know that I’m a widower, and they take advantage of it.” Amanda postponed commiserating with Luke over his status as widower and turned to her husband. First things first.

“Luke is nice, Marcus, but you’ve got the most bewitching eyes I’ve ever looked into in my life.” She plowed on; make hay while the sun’s shining, Aunt Meredith had always said. “Have you been wearing dark glasses, or are the women in Portsmouth all blind?” Marcus actually blushed, and Luke clearly delighted in it. The exchange gave Amanda food for thought: The brothers enjoyed each other’s company; they loved each other. So this was what she had missed in not having a sibling.

“What’s so funny?” Marcus blustered, but both his wife and his brother could see his delight in Amanda’s compliment.

Luke watched Marcus clear the table, scrape the dishes and put them in the dishwasher while Amanda made coffee and got the dessert. What interested him most was that they did it without uttering a word. Teamwork, he thought. Don’t they know that they would make a great team if they tried? He’d never seen Helena and Marcus cooperate on any level; they had always seemed to be at cross-purposes.

When Amanda served the deep-dish apple pie à la mode, Luke threw his head back and roared with laughter. Marcus knew from his brother’s cheshire grin that Luke was delighted at his discomfort. He scowled. Sure, Amanda was catering to his passion for apple pie. Well, let her. Nobody could blame her for trying. Beside, she made the best apple pie that he’d ever eaten. He didn’t miss her smothered smile.

“The hell with both of you,” he told them amiably, as he gave himself another serving. “You grin and I’ll eat.”

A few minutes later, walking through the hall toward the living room feeling as if she had progressed in her effort to make friends with her husband, Amanda glanced toward him, saw that he had just called the hospital and waited for him to give her news of Amy. He hung up, turned and went to the kitchen apparently to give Luke the information. Sorely disappointed that he hadn’t told her how Amy was progressing, she waited at the bottom of the stairs in the hope that he would realize her concern and rectify the oversight. But he remained in the kitchen and, convinced after a long wait that he didn’t think it necessary to tell her, she pondered what to do. Fighting a growing annoyance, she walked back to the kitchen, interrupted the conversation and asked him if he’d planned to tell her.

“Look, I…she’s…doing fine.”

“But you weren’t going to tell me. Didn’t you think I cared?”

“I’m sorry, but…well…I’m so used to talking with Luke about this…” Realizing his error, he added as an explanation, “He’s her uncle.”

“And I’m nothing to her, right?” He grimaced, but she didn’t care that she’d made him uncomfortable.

“Amanda, please be reasonable. This situation is difficult enough without…”

She didn’t wait to hear the rest of it, but fled to her room, tears stinging her eyes.

“Proud of yourself, Marcus?” Luke asked him. “Are you touched in the head, man? You don’t recognize a good, honest woman when you see one. How could you do that to her, when you know how badly she’s been hurt?”

Marcus braced his elbow against the wall and supported his head with his hand. “Lay off, man.” He shook his head, perplexed. “No, I’m not proud of myself. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for me to behave naturally with Amanda. I do know that I can’t let her establish any contact with Amy. If Amy starts to like her, she’ll be hurt when we go our separate ways—as you and I both know we will—and she’s already suffered too much. Having her mother reject her is enough.”

“You go right ahead and fool yourself. Where do you keep the bedding? I’m going to turn in. Good night…Oh, Marcus.”

“What?”

“If you’d just try to be your normal self, this would be a peaceful, maybe even a happy home. Amanda is a terrific woman.”

In the quiet house, only the wind could be heard bending the trees as the storm moved off the coast and out to the ocean. Marcus leaned his big muscular frame against the banister at the bottom step and looked up the stairs. How could he have done it, he asked himself. He felt protective toward her, had from the very first. Yet he’d deliberately hurt her when she was only expressing concern. You go right ahead and fool yourself, Luke had said. He wasn’t fooling himself, he argued to himself, he was protecting his child. And he didn’t want any involvement with Amanda or any other woman. He had taken care of Amy by himself since she was two years old, and he would continue to take care of her. “I should have asked him how he knew Amanda was a terrific woman after a mere half-hour conversation with her. Oh, hell. I know she probably is, and that’s the trouble,” he murmured, as he forced himself to climb the stairs.

He saw the light shining beneath her door and paused. She’d been up there nearly three hours, he estimated, and was still awake. What had he done to her? Marcus struggled against his deeply ingrained ethics and lost the battle. He raised his hand, uncertain of his move and, for the first time, knocked on Amanda’s bedroom door. He did it not knowing what he would say. After he knocked several times, she opened it and looked up at him, her wide black eyes reddened by hours of tears. Marcus stared at her, the epitome of femininity in a lacy peach peignoir that covered her from her neck to her bare toes. He wanted her. And the knowledge shook him. He stood there speechless as desire washed through him with such stunning force that he would have left if she hadn’t spoken.

“Marcus…” It was barely more than a sigh, falling off her tongue as if pulled by the force of gravity. His hypnotic gaze bore into her like a sharp drill. He exuded pure magnetism, and the female in her responded to his maleness. She gasped, remembering what she’d felt when she’d caught him watching her right after he and Luke walked in the house, and wrapped her arms around herself for protection as she shivered, rooted to the spot.

“My God!” he muttered, stepping into the room and opening his arms to her. She went into them without a second of hesitation. Her thoughts centered on her need to be held, and when he pulled her to him and cradled her head against his broad shoulder, she moved into him. She relished the comfort of his hand roaming her back, shoulders and arms, caressing her. Zombie-like, she tiled her head back in order to look at him, and he lowered his head. He’s going to kiss me, she thought, and knew that she wanted it. Wanted him. But he stopped and drew back, shaking his head as if in wonder. At her puzzled expression, he pulled her closer and hugged her, then stepped back.

Marcus took her hand and walked into her sitting room, away from that enticing bed. He hadn’t meant to make a move on Amanda, not then, not ever. But his body hadn’t taken his intentions into account. One look at her, red-eyed and miserable, her brown face open and unadorned, and he had wanted her at a gut-searing level. He sat there with both of her hands in his big one, not talking, hardly breathing. Recovering his equilibrium. That had been close.

“I know it isn’t enough to say I’m sorry. We both know you didn’t deserve what I did. I…I hope you won’t hold it against me and that you’ll be able to forget it. I don’t ever remember being so unnecessarily unkind to anyone. It’s been a rough day, and that may account for it; I don’t know. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I regret being rude to you.”

“But you meant it, Marcus. Maybe not so harshly, but you meant it.” He spread his legs, let his elbows rest on his knees and clasped his hands. He knew his response was important to her. But if he told the truth…he had to; he hated lying and liars.

“Yes, I meant it. But I didn’t mean to appear vicious. I know you’re concerned about Amy, but we’ll separate, and that’s it. So I don’t want her to become attached to you.”

Amanda let her hands fall into her lap. As an apology, it was one of the poorest she had ever witnessed.

“And your telling me about her condition would attach her to me?” She was pushing him, but she didn’t care; he deserved it.

“No. Hell, I don’t know. Talking it over with you seemed like the beginning of something that I don’t want.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, and she was tempted to tell him so, but Aunt Meredith had always said that you got more flies with honey than with vinegar.

“It seemed like such a natural thing for you to do,” she said, softly, although she didn’t feel that she should apologize. Oh, the devil with sweetness, she decided, as her anger surfaced. “Any person who knew what that child went through today would be concerned, and you’re old enough to know that. I’m not going to apologize for showing an interest in her. You’re just paranoid, and it wouldn’t hurt you to take a good look at yourself. I was being friendly, Marcus, because I really want us to be friends, but I won’t give my blood for it.”

She got up to dismiss him, then surprised herself by asking, “What happened to make you so wary of people?” That marriage, she thought, and sat back down. “Marcus, what was your wife like?”

“You don’t want to know, believe me.”

“Oh, yes I do.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? You don’t believe in giving a man one bit of privacy, do you?”

Amanda wasn’t going to be put off. “She must have been exceptional to have driven you to such bitterness. Did you love her so much?”

“I loved her.” He gave her the bare facts.

“Is she beautiful?” Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted to know, because she thought herself plain, but she couldn’t force herself not to ask.

She stared at him in amazement when he laughed, harshly. Nastily. “Beautiful? Helena? Oh, yes, she’s that, all right. Not many women can claim to be the top fashion model on two continents. Oh, yes. Not one processed, glossy strand is ever out of place. Why, the very thought of me seeing her without her famous face made up to perfection annoyed the hell out of her. I still wonder what made her disfigure herself enough to have Amy, and why it came as a surprise to me when she decided that she wasn’t doing it again, no matter how I felt, made certain of that and damned the consequences.” Amanda couldn’t hide her shock, nor her sadness at the obvious strength of his bitterness.

She looked at him then, but spoke mostly to herself. “If I had been in her place, I would have cherished what I had. Some people have all the luck, blessings or whatever you want to call it. And how do they treat it? They practically laugh in God’s face.”

Marcus was sitting beside her, and he had to turn so that he could see her face fully. Her words had touched him more than any statement of intended sympathy ever could have, but when he saw her tears, he had a sense of unease. “Don’t cry for me, Amanda.”

She let the tears roll, as if she hadn’t heard him, but she looked him in the eye and told him, “I never realized that a person could find bitterness to be such a loving, congenial companion.” Then she left him sitting there and didn’t say good-night. But she couldn’t have gone far, he figured, maybe to the middle of her room, before she was back. He sat where she had left him, immobile, contemplating her parting words. The frown that he hoped would discourage further conversation brought another of her big smiles.

“Marcus, you could really use a sense of humor.” At that, he stood up, his imposing physique looming over her. She doesn’t give an inch, he thought, when her smile got broader.

“Why are you suddenly so happy?” he queried, his words tinged with gruffness.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling in a way that he hadn’t seen before. “Because the operation is over, and the doctors expect that she’ll be as good as new. And I’m happy about it, even if you are a grouch.”

“I’m not a grouch, and my sense of humor is as good as the next guy’s,” he informed her. “I’m just a troubled parent. Wait until you get to be a mother. You haven’t worried yet, believe me.”

Amanda regarded him steadily, her face still beaming. “If you’ve got any advice, I’ll gladly take it.” A softer, less defensive mood pervaded him, as he took in her smile, her guileless demeanor and her cheerful warmth. The woman wasn’t beautiful, but she was charismatic, and in that flowing peach gown and peignoir, she was the epitome of feminine softness. A man could get used to that kind of woman. If she wasn’t beautiful, she sure seemed like it. He felt a rush of blood and the swift tightening of his groin and ordered his libido under control. He wouldn’t let her do this to him, he told himself for the second time that night.

His self-control in working order, Marcus grazed her cheek lightly with the back of his left hand and admonished her, “Go to bed, Amanda, before you get into trouble.” She raised one eyebrow, and he watched her smile slowly evaporate as she examined his face. “You heard me.” He said it gently, but in such a way that she couldn’t mistake his meaning nor his sincerity. She went into her room and closed the door.

Amanda hung her peignoir in the closet, opened the window wider and went to bed. She had a sense of unease as she turned out the light on her night table. She might have undertaken more than she could handle. She sensed trouble if she didn’t watch her step with that sleeping giant across the hall. She didn’t doubt that he could be trusted, that he was a gentleman, but she had to admit that her feelings for Pearce Lamont never even approached what she’d felt for Marcus a few minutes earlier. If she had to live in that house with him for a year…She let the thought slide and, as though to banish it altogether turned over so quickly that the bed seemed to swirl around and she had to grasp the side of the mattress to steady herself.

Reminded that she hadn’t had any options before he agreed to their arrangement, she told herself to be thankful and not grumble; being susceptible to a man like Marcus only meant that she was female and human. Even so, her reaction to him had surprised her, and it was he who had stopped that almost kiss when she should have done it. But she had no intention of congratulating him on having such self-control; men had never found it impossible to withstand her charms. “I’m safe from him and from me, too,” she told herself unhappily just before she started counting sheep.

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