The Mother Of His Child. Sandra Field

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СКАЧАТЬ of copper.”

      The timbre of his voice, dusky as red wine, brought a flush to her cheeks. His eyes now looked more blue than gray and not at all like slate. She found herself gazing at his mouth, a generous mouth, cleanly sculpted, and wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. To kiss him back.

      He said levelly, “Don’t worry, I’m thinking exactly the same thing.”

      Kiss him? She must be out of her mind. Cal was the enemy, the man determined to keep her from her daughter. Marnie shrank back. “Stay away from me.”

      Thrusting his hands into his pockets again, Cal said in a raw voice, “What’s the matter? Not part of your game plan, Marnie?”

      He’d gone so fast from what she would’ve sworn was desire to what she knew was rage that she felt dizzy. Which emotion was real? Only the anger? Had the desire been merely a facade? She rested her palms flat on the table, needing the solidity of wood to give her some kind of balance, and said with as much dignity as she could muster, “You took me by surprise.”

      “You’ll forgive me, I’m sure,” he said with heavy irony, “if I don’t believe you. I think it would take a lot to surprise you. When I stationed myself on the street where Kit walks to school, I was telling myself I was every kind of a fool. You’d said you wouldn’t do anything to harm her— I assumed that meant you’d stay away from Burnham. Not risk her meeting you and seeing the resemblance between you. In other words, I trusted you.” He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You’re not to be trusted. This morning, you put yourself in a situation where you ended up twenty feet away from my daughter. I’d call that taking a risk, wouldn’t you?”

      Her own temper rose to meet his. “So we’re talking about trust, are we, Cal? Why didn’t you tell me you’re a widower?”

      Visibly, he flinched. “How did you find that out?”

      “I asked. At the gas station in Burnham last night.” She raised her chin. “I don’t like being ordered around.”

      “Not even when it’s for the good of your daughter?”

      “You have to allow me some part in that decision.”

      “I didn’t tell you I’m a widower for the very obvious reason that I wanted you out of town. Out of my life. Mine and Kit’s.”

      Marnie pushed her palms hard against the wooden table; his eyes were those of a man in torment, his jaw an unyielding line. How he must have loved his wife: a realization that filled her inexplicably with envy. She’d never known that kind of love and doubted she ever would. Forcing herself to continue, she asked, “Are you living with someone else? Or is Kit motherless?”

      “That’s got nothing to do with you.”

      “It’s got everything to do with me!”

      “You’re forgetting something. You gave up your rights to Kit when she was born.”

      Although her palms were sweating, the rest of Marnie felt ice-cold. Knowing she was fighting for her life, she said in a cracked voice, “I turned seventeen three months before Kit was born. Until this morning, I’d never even laid eyes on her.”

      “Unfortunately, some decisions we make in life are irrevocable. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

      “Are you really that hard, Cal?” she whispered. “Is there no room in you for human frailty?”

      He said flatly, “I’d guard Kit’s peace of mind with my very life.”

      Marnie pounced. “So is she happy? Tell me she’s totally happy with her life the way it is, and I’ll go away. I promise.”

      Abruptly, he swung away from her, gazing out to sea. The breeze toyed with his hair; his shoulders were rigid with tension.

      Swiftly, Marnie stood up, putting herself between him and the water. In unconscious pleading, she rested her hand on his bare arm and said, “I hate this, Cal…this feeling we’ve got to score off each other, that Kit is some kind of prize we’re fighting over, when surely what we both want is what’s best for her. Can’t we do this some other way?”

      “There’s no other woman in my house,” he said evenly. “Do you really think I’d live with someone else so soon after Jennifer died? It would be the worst thing in the world for Kit.”

      And for him, too? Was that what he meant?

      “Look at me, Cal.” As he reluctantly obeyed, Marnie said, “I’m sorry your wife died. I’m truly sorry.”

      Her turquoise eyes were wide with sincerity and her fingers still lay loosely on his arm. “You mean that, don’t you?”

      “Of course I do. She was so young. It must have been dreadful for you—and for Kit.”

      He said in a voice from which all emotion had been removed, “That’s why I can’t risk your meeting Kit. She changed after Jennifer died. She started questioning everything and bucking authority, and she’d spend hours in her room listening to music and refusing to talk to me. I didn’t know how to handle her. Still don’t. She’s not ready for another emotional upheaval, Marnie. You’ve got to believe me. She’s not.”

      With a huge effort, Marnie kept her voice even. “I do believe you.” She believed something else: that very likely Cal was also talking about himself.

      Quickly, Cal covered her fingers with his own. “What I just said—it hurt, didn’t it? Because it means you can’t see Kit again. God, this is such a mess….”

      “Just the same, I’m glad you told me about her.”

      Absently, he was playing with her hand. It was her left hand. “No rings?” he said. “But you must be married.”

      “Oh, no,” she said, and snatched her hand back. “I’ve never married. Never wanted to.”

      His eyes were suddenly appalled. “Surely to God you weren’t raped? That’s not how Kit—”

      “No! No, of course not. Her father’s a good man, always was. He didn’t even know about Kit until I told him five years ago. I never told him at the time.”

      “Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you marry him when she was born? If he was such a good man.”

      Marnie reached up and plucked a branch from the birch tree that brushed her arm, systematically starting to tear the buds apart with her nails. “Yesterday you virtually accused me of making up stories about how I lost Kit,” she said in a low voice. “Give me one good reason why should I tell you about it now.”

      He took the twig from her fingers and dropped it to the ground. “Let’s go down to the beach, sit on the rocks,” he said, and for the first time that morning smiled at her. “We both need a break.”

      His smile transformed him, investing him with a wholly masculine vitality to which Marnie couldn’t help but respond. As she gaped at him, he added quizzically, “Did I say something wrong?”

      It’s me that’s in the wrong, thought Marnie. Thirteen years СКАЧАТЬ