CHAPTER SEVEN
‘W
HAT was that, Niamh?’
The older woman smiled knowingly at the vacant, dreamy expression on the bride’s face. ‘I was asking if you’re still being sick?’
Jo gathered her drifting thoughts and smiled at Liam’s sister Her pregnancy, never a secret, now seemed to be the property of the world and his sister. She’d heard enough scare stories from mothers today to make her wonder why most of them had gone through this ordeal more than once in most cases.
I’m married, I’m
really
married It didn’t seem real somehow. She couldn’t dispel the impression that the entire day had actually been some elaborate surreal dream; any minute now she’d wake up.
‘It was terrible with Liam—it went on until I was seven months,’ the brunette confided ghoulishly. ‘Though it was better with Brendan.’
‘I’ve been fine the past few weeks, thank goodness. I’m a bit tired, though. Actually I thought I might just slip away and change. Do you think anyone will notice?’
‘I shouldn’t think this lot would notice an earthquake,’ Niamh observed, looking around the crowded marquee with an indulgent smile. She held up her wine glass. ‘And no wonder—every time I empty this some nice young man fills it up.’ She grinned with approval. ‘I think Liam’s already made a break for it. Are you two going away somewhere nice?’
‘Actually Liam’s got work commitments. This is all a
bit of a rush job.’ Jo wished she could stop sounding so defensive every time someone asked her about their non-existent honeymoon.
‘Rush!’ Niamh’s uninhibited laughter rang out; the Raffertys were an uninhibited sort of family. ‘Most people think you and Liam have been pretty slow getting to the point. Still it’s a shame about the honeymoon,’ she commiserated. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’ she asked as a towheaded four-year-old clambered onto her knee.
With a smile Jo made her escape as Niamh’s attention switched to her young son. The hem of her long gown gathered in one hand, she reached the covered walkway that had been constructed between the marquee and the house having only been stopped by well-wishers five times. She welcomed the coolness as the canopy above her head billowed and flapped in the breeze as she hurried along.
She hadn’t expected to enjoy the day but surprisingly she had. From the moment her father had woken her with a cup of tea she’d felt as if she were on the outside watching, and this sense of detachment still hadn’t diminished. It was some stranger who had calmly recited her vows and posed for the interminable photographs.
The jury was still out on whether she’d lost a friend to gain a lover, but one fact was unalterable: she’d definitely gained a husband. That realisation ought to have been enough to give substance to the day’s events, but it wasn’t.
The study door wasn’t closed as she passed, and hearing the sound of voices she automatically slowed down. Despite the fact a medium had once authoritatively told her all the females in her family were blessed, or cursed, with strong psychic ability, Jo didn’t feel even a prickle of precognition as she paused long enough to hear the sound of Pat Rafferty’s deep voice.
‘I’m not sure I expected it to go this far, son. I mean, I wasn’t thinking too straight when your mother was ill.’
‘There’s no need for you to feel guilty, Dad.’
At the sound of Liam’s voice Jo began to unashamedly eavesdrop. She let go of the banister and took a step backwards, straining to catch the rest of the conversation.
‘I connived with you to blackmail that girl into marrying you. I’d say that’s something to feel guilty about! Pass me one of those cigars and don’t tell your mother I’ve had one. She thinks I’ve quit.’
‘I doubt, Dad, that Mum thinks anything of the sort.’ Jo heard the clink of glasses. ‘Shouldn’t we call it a day, Dad? Too much of this stuff has a tendency to make you maudlin.’
‘True enough, your mother’s got eyes in the back of her head, but it’s a little game we play. She pretends she doesn’t know about my crafty drags and I pretend I don’t know she knows.’ Pat’s soft brogue thickened as his voice broke emotionally. ‘You traded on that girl’s love of this family, boy.’
‘Jo walked up the aisle today of her own free will.’ Liam’s deep, steady tone was confidently strong. ‘I’m not saying the fake engagement didn’t give her an opportunity to get used to the idea.’
‘I care about Jo, Liam. I agree it’s a bad thing when the law gives an unmarried father so little say in how his child is brought up. I understand your anger and concern.’
‘The scales are certainly weighted in favour of the mother,’ she heard Liam agree. ‘But, Dad, that’s—’
‘Of course I wanted you to marry Jo. Secretly I think your mother’s always hoped it would happen. . . ’
‘Possibly that’s why it never did. Mum’s not that subtle.’
‘That’s as maybe, but marriage is a pretty drastic step
to take just to ensure you have a legal say in your child’s future.’
‘Hold it there, Dad. . . ’
Her hands were clamped over her ears as she pressed her back to the wall for support. She couldn’t move until the waves of nausea and shock passed.
Part of Jo’s brain was furiously denying what she was hearing even as another part was meticulously weighing all the damning evidence that said it was the truth. All along Liam had made no secret of his repugnance at the idea of the man of her choice bringing up his child. If she thought about it logically, what other reason could explain his complete about-face on the subject of marriage? One minute he came out in a rash at the very suggestion and the next he’d embarked on a relentless campaign to get her up the aisle.
She knew he wasn’t in love with her, she’d told herself she could cope with that—but this? Was all this to gain legal, unarguable rights over this unborn child? All that talk of security and a stable environment had been a smokescreen for his real grand plan. She placed a protective hand over her belly. He’d been preparing the way for when they weren’t together.
There was something so cold and calculating about the way he’d set about achieving his goal, and
deceitful!
If nothing else, she had always implicitly believed in Liam’s honesty. The knowledge her trust had been terribly misplaced cut deeply. She felt betrayed and humiliated.
She’d thought they had a common aim—to make this marriage work. When in reality it was just a means to an end as far as he was concerned! Her dreams had been recklessly creative and until this moment she hadn’t known how strongly she’d come to believe that something stronger would grow from their warm friendship. Like an
idiot she’d staked everything on this foolish, irrational belief.
She wasn’t aware of the despairing cry that emerged from her throat as she picked up her skirts in both hands and ran up the stairs.
‘Jo!’
She ignored the sound of Liam’s voice and just concentrated on reaching the bedroom door. The thundering sound of her own blood pounded in her ears. She could hear the sound of his footsteps behind her getting closer and closer.
‘Stop it! What are you doing?’ Liam pushed his foot in the doorway as, panting, she tried to close the door in his face. He set his shoulder to the door and she felt herself being pushed steadily backwards. To resist him physically was pointless, she knew this, but obstinately she gritted her teeth and refused to give up. For some reason even her token resistance was important.
The door was wide open and Liam was in the room before she gave up. ‘Go away!’
‘Are you trying to kill yourself?’
‘Your concern is touching,’ she spat sarcastically.
She looked at him directly for the first time and Liam visibly recoiled from the animosity in her luminous eyes. ‘I don’t know what you heard. . . ’ he began cautiously.
‘How inconvenient.’
‘This is. . . I thought you’d realised.’ His fingers closed over a hank of his freshly trimmed hair and left it standing up spikily above his brow before he began to rub his chin against the palm of his hand. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react.’
‘Well, now you know.’ Hands on her hips, she faced him, her bosom straining at the ivory lace.
‘It was a shock?’ A grey tinge had spread over his
healthily tanned skin which pulled taut over his strong bones, making it look as though he’d suffered a shock himself.
‘Silly me, hey! For some strange reason I thought I meant more to you than a. . . a. . . walking incubator!’
His big body froze and his dark brows drew together abruptly in a straight line. ‘
What?
’
‘I told you I never intended denying you a full part in bringing up the baby. As far as I was concerned it was always going to be a fifty-fifty split—in those days I thought you were the sort of man who any child would benefit from having as a father.’ She gave a scornful laugh and swallowed a sob of self-pity that welled in her throat. ‘But my word was obviously not good enough for you. You wanted it all legal and binding and you didn’t care how you did it. Well, I swallowed it hook line and sinker. . . I actually thought you genuinely believed we could make a go of it.’
‘My God,
that
’
s
what you heard.’ Bizarrely he laughed.
‘You mean there was worse?’
‘I suspect that depends on your viewpoint,’ he said, his lips twisting into a thin smile full of self-mockery.
Jo didn’t understand his peculiar expression; she just knew she was hurting. If he looked a bit as if he’d been run over by a runaway truck, it was just because her discovery of his true motivation was an inconvenience—he’d already got what he wanted, she told herself bitterly!
‘It’s not what you think, Jo.’
‘Now why,’ she sneered sarcastically, ‘aren’t I surprised to hear you say that?’
A flicker of anger passed over his face. ‘How long do you intend indulging in this orgy of self-pity?’
Jo let out a startled squeak of outrage. ‘Don’t try and turn this around, Liam Rafferty. I’m not the one who—’
‘I am not trying to turn anything around,’ he interrupted in a harsh, impatient tone. ‘I’m just trying to get you to shut up and listen to me for one minute.’
‘Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ She’d done enough listening to Liam to last her several lifetimes. ‘Save your breath, Liam, nothing you can say can alter what you’ve done.’
‘What exactly have I done?’ There was deliberate provocation in his tight-lipped smile. The spark of anger in his eyes was beginning to show signs of smouldering.
‘You can ask that?’ she choked in disgust.
‘Quite the drama queen, aren’t we?’ His expression hardened. ‘I’m not about to act the guilty party for your benefit, Jo.’
‘I know what I heard,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Part
of a conversation. . . ’
‘Which only got worse, by your own admission.’
‘If you’d take that sneer off your face and let me get a word in you could be the judge of that.’
She shook her head dismissively. ‘I suppose you think a court would give you custody. How long did you give this marriage: three years? One? You’re so big on forward planning you’ve probably got the legal team picked out for the custody battle.’ And he’d have a battle! How naive she’d been to think Liam’s vows had been a long-term commitment.
‘Good God, woman, the child isn’t even born yet! But,’ he continued in a goaded voice, ‘if they could see the unbalanced way you’re acting now. . . ’
‘How dare you imply I’m an unfit mother?’
‘Motherhood has nothing to do with it, you’ve always been the most pigheaded female I’ve ever met. Totally incapable of seeing more than one side of any argument.’
‘This isn’t a debate.’
‘No, just a witch-hunt.’
‘Are you going to deny you couldn’t bear the idea of Justin bringing up your child?’
‘I’m not going to deny it—why should I? No man in his right mind would want that dummy as a role model for his offspring. But the personality, or lack of it, of your ex-lovers has nothing to do with this.’
‘No, it’s my future lovers you were worried about.’
‘There aren’t going to be any future lovers—you married me, remember.’
‘Well that,’ she snapped tugging the gold band from her finger, ‘can soon be remedied.’
He instinctively ducked and the ring flew over his head. ‘What are you suggesting? Divorce?’ he suggested sarcastically.
Standing there in his black jacket and pinstriped trousers with his tie pulled loose at the throat, his hair standing on end and a dark shadow already developing over his jaw-line, he looked just about the sexiest, most gorgeous male to ever draw breath. I even find his scorn seductive! Acknowledging this disastrous circumstance made her aggressively furious, and just a little desperate.
‘Fine!’
‘What did you say?’ he said in a quiet voice that she’d never heard before. Jo had thought she was familiar with every intonation in his repertoire.