The Baby Bargain (8 page)

"I'm not going to hurt you. No one's ever going to hurt you again." He murmured the words over and over again, his hands gentle on her, offering more comfort than restraint.

Whether the words finally got through or she had simply exhausted her thin store of strength, Dan didn't know. Whichever it was, she suddenly went lax against him.

"It's okay. I'll never let anyone hurt you again." He stroked her hair, using both touch and voice to reassure her. She shuddered convulsively and Dan tensed, wondering if the struggle was about to begin all over again. But the only struggle going on was an internal one.

The sob that burst from her seemed to have worked its way up from the very depth of her soul. Dan's arms tightened around her as the storm of emotion finally broke loose. Holding her, feeling the force of her sobbing, he wondered how long she'd been holding this inside. Months? Years?

He was helpless to do anything more than hold her, offering her what comfort he could. He stroked her hair, cradling her in his arms and whispering wordless sounds of comfort.

The very force of the outburst dictated that it be brief. The wild weeping subsided into quieter sobs and then at last stilled, except for an occasional shaky breath.

Kelly lay against Dan, her eyes closed. She hadn't cried like that even when her mother died. She felt limp and drained, tired deep in her soul. Beneath her cheek she could hear the steady beat of Dan's heart. There was something reassuring in the sound, something solid in the feel of him.

He had said he would never hurt her, that he'd never let anyone else hurt her. The words, only half heard during her wild weeping, came back to her now. They lay over her soul like a soothing balm. He'd meant it. And she had known it without him having to say the words. It was just that when Dan had come toward her, she'd seen her father's face distorted with a terrible rage, his fist raised.

It was the first time he'd struck her with his bare hand. She'd thought nothing could be more terrible than the beatings, nothing could be more frightening than the sound of his belt striking her skin. But this had been worse. Always before, she'd almost believed that he thought he was doing what was best for her immortal soul, that there was an element of caring—however twisted—behind his actions.

This time she'd had none of that feeling. He'd been driven by rage, pure and simple. What a fool she'd been to think that she could keep her pregnancy from him, even for a few days. In the tiny trailer, there was no way to hide the fact that she was ill in the mornings.

He hadn't known about Dan before. He'd thought that her New Year's Eve excursion hadn't gone beyond a drink and a little dancing. He'd beaten her for that and then made her pray for forgiveness until her knees ached.

But she hadn't been able to hide the morning sickness, and it hadn't taken her father long to put two and two together. He'd confronted her this morning and read the answer to his question in her eyes.

Kelly shivered, remembering his rage, the way he'd come at her as if crazed. She'd thought he would surely kill her, so terrible had been his anger.

"It's all right. You're safe now. I'll take care of you," Dan murmured in her ear. The nightmare images receded a bit. She was safe now. Dan wouldn't let anyone hurt her. He'd promised. He'd promised to take care of her.

His arms were gentle but strong about her. If she just kept her eyes closed and imagined that this was another time and place, she could feel protected. Loved But she had to remember that his concern wasn't for her. It was for the child she carried. If she let herself forget that, only disaster would follow.

But would it be so terrible just to pretend for a little while? She was so tired, so terribly tired. Would it really be wrong to just rest here and let him take care of her?

In the end, she didn't have to answer the question. Her exhausted body answered it for her. Dan felt the tension slowly draining out of her. Easing back until he could see her face, he realized that she'd fallen asleep, literally on her feet.

He lifted her and carried her to the bed she'd left so explosively a few minutes before. It was a struggle to get her out of the coat, which was too tight across the shoulders. It was a measure of Kelly's exhaustion that she showed no signs of waking during his maneuvering.

He had the urge to simply cut it from her, but for all he knew there might be some sentimental value in the garment. Though he couldn't really imagine being sentimental about a coat that must have been plug ugly when it was new and had only gotten worse with age.

Once he'd finally managed to peel it off, he tossed the coat in the direction of a chair. In contrast to the coat, the dull gray dress was too big. It hung on Kelly's thin frame like a sack. Kelly didn't stir as he lifted her to slip the dress over her head. It joined the coat.

The light fell with merciless clarity across the bed. Kelly lay there clad in only worn cotton panties and a bra that was so small her breasts threatened to spill out of the cups. She looked young and fragile and too thin.

Dan felt new anger spill through him. Her upper arms were bruised, obviously from someone grabbing her painfully hard—to shake her? There was an angry purple bruise on her ribs—had the bastard kicked her? Easing her onto her side, he swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat when he saw her back. The faded yellow of old bruises underlay the darker tint of more recent blows, making it clear that this wasn't the first time she'd been beaten.

He knelt by the bed, letting his hands fall against his thighs, his head lowered as he struggled to control the fury that swept over him. What kind of a man could do this to a woman?

She'd seemed nervous when he'd asked about her family and she had hurried away from their last meeting, saying she had to get home before her father found out she was gone. Had her father done this to her? And why?

He wasn't naive. He was well aware of the terrible things parents could do to their children. Even so, he found it impossible to imagine a father inflicting such a brutal beating on his daughter. His pregnant daughter. Had he known she was pregnant? Was that why he'd done this to her?

Dan rubbed one hand over his face, trying to wipe away the thought that he might be even partially responsible for this. There was nothing he could do about it now except try to make Kelly comfortable. He hoped he had done the right thing in bringing her here instead of taking her to a hospital.

She stirred when he put an ice pack against her swollen eye, her forehead pleating in discomfort, but she didn't wake. He kept the ice against the eye, hoping the chill would help take some of the swelling down. It was obvious from the state of her injuries that several hours had elapsed between the beating and her call to him. Had she been unconscious? Could she have a concussion?

Where the hell was Ben? Dan sat back on his heels, frowning down at Kelly's sleeping figure. Should he gather her up right now and take her to the hospital? She'd been so adamant about not wanting to go there. But she couldn't argue with him while she was unconscious.

His frown deepened. He had the feeling that very little attention had ever been paid to what Kelly wanted in her life. It would be almost like betraying a trust to sneak her to the hospital now. Where was Ben?

He did his best to clean up Kelly's injuries, but most of them were just going to need time to heal. The bruises would fade, the small cuts wouldn't even leave scars. Physically she was going to be all right. Heaven only knew what kind of emotional scars she must carry.

Dan left her sleeping and went into the kitchen. He poured water into a pot, set it on the stove to boil and then stood staring at it like a zombie, trying to keep his mind blank.

Seeing Kelly, seeing the bruises that marked her skin, brought back too many images from his past. Two years in a Central American prison had left him with more than a few scars of his own. Scars he could generally ignore. Tonight, however, they had all come rushing back.

The smell of the prison—unwashed bodies, fear, despair. The prisoners who were there at dusk and gone by morning and no one had dared to question what might have happened to them, lest they disappear the next night. He'd been luckier than some.

The sound of the water hissing against the sides of the pan brought him out of the past. He shook his head, dumping a healthy amount of instant coffee in a cup before pouring the boiling water over it. He carried the steaming cup to the table that sat in the alcove that was called, somewhat optimistically, the dining room.

He collapsed into a chair, putting his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands. He felt almost numb. The past couple of days had spun his life into a new pattern and he had the feeling that he was only seeing one edge of it

First, he'd found out he was going to be a father. No—first was that talk with Brittany. The realization that they'd somehow made the change from former lovers to friends, finding out that she was pregnant—that had been the beginning.

Then Kelly had shown up with the news that she was carrying his child. And suddenly he'd had something to build a future for. For two days he'd built plans around the child she carried, dreamed dreams for his son or daughter. He thought he'd forgotten how to dream but he hadn't The skills might be a little rusty but they were still there.

And now here was Kelly, lying in his bed, hurt and scared.

He felt responsible. She had told him nothing. Not who had beaten her or why. But it wasn't hard to guess that it had been her father. And if she had been beaten because of her pregnancy, then the responsibility was his.

Dan rubbed his hand over his face before picking up his coffee. The steaming liquid couldn't burn away the feeling of guilt. Through his own carelessness, Kelly's life had been thrown into turmoil. He'd had no business bringing her back here that night, no business getting so drunk that he hadn't been able to recognize her inexperience, her youth.

He'd seen her fear two days ago when she mentioned her father. He should have insisted on taking her home, should have seen for himself that she was all right. The fact that he'd been stunned by the news she'd given him was no excuse. If he had taken her home, met her father, maybe he'd have seen the man for what he was and he could have insisted on Kelly leaving with him.

Then again, maybe the man would have seemed perfectly civilized. Only a fool thought that abusive parents looked like what they were. Still, there must have been something he could have done to prevent this from happening.

He rubbed at the pain beginning to throb in his temples. He almost welcomed the headache. It seemed the least he deserved. He lifted his coffee cup and took another swallow, almost choking when a low cry came from the bedroom. Steaming coffee splashed onto his hand as he set the cup down too hard, already half out of the chair.

When he reached the bedroom, Kelly was tossing restlessly, frowning and whimpering. Dan felt his pulse slow to something approaching normal. She was having a nightmare. When he'd heard her cry out, he had thought it was a cry of pain. She muttered something indistinguishable, throwing one hand out as if warding off a blow.

He eased down onto the edge of the bed as Kelly twisted more frantically. He could imagine the terrible images that haunted her sleep. He'd had more than his share of nightmares since he'd gotten out of prison.

"It's all right, Kelly. You're safe." He pitched his voice low, hoping to penetrate her terror. He'd covered her when he left the room earlier but her tossing and turning had thrown most of the blankets off. Dragging the sheet loose from the foot of the bed, he lifted Kelly and wrapped her in it, lifting her so that she lay across his lap.

"No one's ever going to hurt you again. I swear it." He leaned back against the headboard, his arms holding her close against his chest, murmuring quiet reassurances to her. She whimpered once, stirring in his hold and then quieted. Her head rested on his shoulder, her body relaxing against his as the nightmare faded, chased away by the strength of his arms.

Dan continued to hold her long after she was sleeping peacefully again. It occurred to him that not only was he holding Kelly, he was holding his child—their child. It was a pleasant thought. His eyes drifted shut. He'd just he here until he was sure Kelly's nightmare wasn't going to return.

Outside, a full moon shone down as frost gathered on the winter-deadened lawns, proving that winter still had a bite. Inside the dim bedroom, Kelly slept, held safe in Dan's arms. Her head rested on his shoulder. One hand lay outside the sheet, resting on her still-flat stomach. Dan's palm spread over it as if protecting both her and the tiny life she carried.