Everything You Are (25 page)

“Yes, I do. I'm a mama's boy.” He was her favourite, he was very well aware of that. “That's why...” He sighed tiredly. “On Saturday, when we were visiting Bertha, our old housekeeper, I learned that my father was dating another girl when he got engaged to Mother.”

Her fingers touched her cheek. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Mother just told me that things were not what they seemed, and that the engagement was just a cover-up for Father's relationship with that girl. But then the girl died and they decided to go ahead with the marriage anyway. Mother told me she believed that they could build something on the foundation of friendship, but I think that they married because of me. I don't know if it was a night of reckless abandon, or maybe just a slip in a drunken night full of frustrations --” and he hadn’t wanted to ask “-- but the fact is that Mother got pregnant with Father, and marriage, in those times, with their surnames, was the best option for them. And for me.”

She wrapped her arm around his neck and snuggled closer.

“I wonder how things would have turned out if the girl hadn't died?”

Jane stood by the window looking over the small, well-groomed garden at the side of the Thornton villa. She had been led into the same bedroom she had used the last time she was here, even though she would have preferred to be staying in Ian's room. Actually, she would have preferred to stay at home, but with her weekend schedule empty, she hadn’t been able to refuse Amelia's invitation to join her at the estate.

A knock.

She turned around to face the door, leaning on the upholstered window seat. “Yes.”

The door opened. “Are you decent?” Ian stepped into the room.

“Shouldn't you ask that before you enter the room? And then wait for my answer?”

“I was hoping to catch you in an embarrassing position. Or maybe even butt naked.” He flashed her a teasing smile. “Come here.” He wiggled his finger.

“Yes, sir.” She strolled toward him, her hand on her hip, trying to seductively swing her hips, but it probably only looked clumsy. Not that Ian, judging by the hunger that flashed in his eyes as he watched her coming closer, cared. He always said that he loved her just the way she was and that he wouldn't change a thing about her.

When she stopped before him, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “You're such a breath of fresh air.”

“A fresh breath among these old, dusty walls.” Subtly, she scrutinised his face. He sounded normal and seemed to be in a good mood, but she could sense a shadow behind his smile. From what he had told her, he had seen his parents as this perfect couple who met, fell in love and lived happily ever after. Learning the truth behind his parents' marriage must have shattered that image and he seemed to be having trouble reconciling with that.

“Yes.” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“Maybe you should air out these dusty old walls more often.”

“Maybe we should.” He smiled down on her and his mouth kissed her forehead before his hand slid to her back. “Mother has organized a small tea party in your honour on the veranda. And we are expected to appear there in ten minutes.” He turned her around and guided her out the door and into the hallway.

“An event, in my honour?” Jane fixed her gaze on their destination, the staircase at the end of the hallway. “What did I do to earn that?”

“Being your charming self.” He leaned over her and kissed her cheek.

The landing of the staircase was well lit and she could already distinguish the beige flowers painted on the white surface. Her step slowed down and she embraced Ian's waist with her arm and curled her fingers around his belt. She had already walked these stairs once today. But she had been climbing up them, not coming down.

His hand soothingly stroked her back before he pulled her into a half-hug.

She looked up at him.

“It's just the staircase. And I'm here to catch you if you slip.”

“I know.” She fixed her gaze forward.

“Yet, you are so tense that I feel like I'm holding a log.”

“I'm not afraid of slipping.”

“No?”

They had almost reached the stairs, just a few steps separated them from them.

“You'll think I'm stupid and laugh at me.”

He stopped. “Why would I do that?”

“Because...” She bit the inside of her cheek for a short second. Should she tell him?

“What is it?”

“I know that it's probably just my imagination, but...”

“Yes?” He caressed her back. “You can tell me everything, you know that, right?”

“Before... Before I fell, I felt a hand on my back.”

“A hand on your back?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Do you mean to say that somebody pushed you?”

“Yes. No. I don't know. It felt like it, but... There was nobody on the stairs and you don't have any ghosts, do you?”

“No,” he said in a thick, strange voice. “No ghosts, just skeletons, hidden in the closet.”

She glanced at him, frowning at the darkness that flashed over his face. “Not in my room, I'm sure,” she said in a light, teasing voice, as if a joke could smooth out the creases in his forehead.

“No, not in your room,” he said, giving her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He turned them around and guided her past the door of her room.

“Where are we going?” Holding onto him, she rushed to keep up with him.

“To the elevator.” He stopped a few steps away from the door leading into his living room and pressed on the wooden panel. It moved aside and revealed an iron framework. He pushed the button beside the iron frame.

“You have elevators. I haven't noticed them.”

“We rarely use them. Mostly for going down to the underground level, where the pool is.”

“This house has an indoor pool?”

Silently, the cage lifted and with a small screech came to a halt at their level. The iron door opened.

“Yes.” He gestured her to get inside.

She stepped into the elevator. “I don't know why I'm surprised. What else do you have in the underground level?”

“A gym, and a small games room with billiard tables and dart games.” He followed her, pushed the iron door closed and pressed the key for the ground floor.

The panel slid back into its place, limiting the light to that which came from the lamp above them. The elevator moved.

“So if I get bored, I could go play some pool later?”

With a small bounce, the elevator froze and first the wooden panel behind the iron framework glided open and then the iron door, giving them access to the hallway.

“Yes, but I doubt that my family would allow you to get bored, not on this visit,” Ian said. His hand curled around hers, he pulled her out into the hallway with him. “While we are here, it would be good if you got used to using the elevator, not the stairs.”

“Especially going down.” She curled up her lips, expecting to see a smile on his face, but he was actually frowning. She shook off his hand and hooked her arm around his. “Ian?”

“Sorry.” He forced the corners of his mouth up. “I just remembered I need to discuss something with my father, so I'll leave you to my mother's company, just for a little while.”

“I think I'll survive,” she told him.

“Good.” This time, when he smiled, the smile reached his eyes. His arm went around her waist and they strode across the hallway. They stepped through the big salon that overlooked the back yard and went out through the French doors. The large table was set near the entrance to the hallway that led to the kitchen.

Her fingers followed the edge of the stone wall framing the veranda, her eyes on the rose bushes in large planters that lined up against the wall, their sweet scent perfuming the air. “It's nice here.”

“Yes, it is.” He drew her closer against her side. “Jane,” he said in the same thick strange voice that she had heard a few minutes ago. He slowed their pace.

“Yes.” She looked up at him to see his eyes staring down at her so seriously.

“Whatever happens...” His hand went to her cheek, he cupped it.

“Yes.” She leaned into his touch.

“I love you, so much.” His hand brushed down her cheek. “And I always will.”

“I love you too,” she said and smiled up at him before she glanced forward toward the table and the people that occupied the comfortable looking armchairs set around it. “All your family is here.”

“Yes, almost all.”

As soon as they reached them, Ian's mother stood up and sat Jane in the armchair between her chair and Izzy's, while she waved to the maid. “I prepared some food and drinks,” she said to Jane.

Jane gave Ian's mother a smile before she nodded greeting to Mrs. Cromwell, Mr. Thornton, Izzy and Izzy's husband.

Ian's hands curled over Jane's chair, he bent over and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “I'll be right back.”

She nodded and watched him as he walked to his father. A few moments later they walked across veranda and down the stairs onto the lawn.

“How are you?” Izzy asked.

“Well,” Jane said.

A girl brought a plate with sandwiches and bite-sized cakes and put it on the table. An older woman with red streaks in her hair followed her; she carried a teapot with steam coming from its spout and tea cups. The woman shooed the girl away and started to set the items on the table.

“And the baby?” Izzy's gaze fell to Jane's belly.

“Well.” Jane glanced down and her hand went over her belly, rubbing it. “It’s getting bigger and bigger so fast.”

“It doesn't look big at all. May I touch it?”

“The baby isn't moving yet. Or at least, I haven't felt him move yet.”

“Him? Ian is telling everybody it’s a she.”

A phone rang; it appeared to be Mrs. Cromwell’s. She apologized, moved away from the table and answered the phone.

Jane's eyes went to the meadow where Ian and his father stopped by the fence overlooking the tennis court. “He claims that what the obstetrician showed us is a baby's finger and he refuses to acknowledge that the baby isn't a she, but a he. He’s so set on a little girl.”

“He will adore the baby no matter the sex.”

“I know that.” Jane smiled at Izzy. “I'm not worried that he won't.”

“It’s good that you'll have a boy first. If it was a girl, he would have been too overprotective. But he can turn out to be overprotective anyway. I see how he keeps a close eye on you.”

“Does he?” Jane glanced at Ian again. He now half-sat, half-leaned on the stone wall, with a phone against his ear. Even from this distance she could distinguish a dark scowl on his face. “He's told me today that I should use the elevator not the stairs.”

“Because of your fall?”

Because she had told him that she felt as if somebody had pushed her. “I didn't even know you had elevators.” From the corner of her eye she saw Ian and his father returning.

“Thank you, Martha,” Amelia said to the older woman.

Martha nodded and moved away with an empty tray.

Mrs. Cromwell joined them at the table.

“They were installed when Sebastian's grandfather started to have problems with his knees and he couldn't use the stairs on his own anymore,” Amelia said. She offered a cup of tea to Jane.

Jane took the cup and, careful not to burn her tongue, took a sip. “It's good.”

“When is the due date?” Mrs. Cromwell asked.

“Late November,” Jane told Ian’s grandmother the date that her obstetrician had given her.

“Are you certain?” The older lady frowned.

Ian reached the table and leaned his hip on the armrest of Jane's chair and his arm on the back of the chair.

“Yes,” Jane said.

The lines around Mrs. Cromwell’s mouth deepened. “But according to that date, you conceived in March, but in March, Ian was in Norway.”

“I'm sure that you're mistaken.” Jane gave Mrs. Cromwell a small smile. The doctor had calculated the due date on the basis of the first day of her last period, while she knew the exact date when she had conceived, the day Ian arrived from Norway.

“No, I'm quite good at maths,” Ian’s grandmother said.

Jane felt heat crawl into her cheek. She had been a virgin when she slept with Ian and he was the only man that she had been with, and to have somebody implying that the child might not be his... Her eyes thinned into two slits and her nails scratched against the thin fabric of her linen pants. “If you have something to say, you don't have to beat around the bush, spit it out.”

Izzy gasped.

“I'm certain that my mother doesn't mean anything,” Ian's mother said.

“Is it true?” Ian asked.

“What?” Jane's head shot up and her eyes glowered at Ian. How could he even ask that?

“Excuse us.” Ian grabbed Jane's arm and dragged her up and away from the table.

“What are you doing?” Jane scowled at him. His family was looking at them, she could feel their gazes on her back. What were they thinking? What was
he
thinking?

He opened the first French door they encountered and hauled her with him across the small salon.

“Ian!”

He didn't say anything, not until they reached the large study. He shut the door behind them and faced her, his arms crossed and a blank mask over his face. “What's the meaning of this?”

“You tell me.” Jane crossed her arms too.

“Who were you with?”

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Jane, who were you with?”

“I don't know what's wrong with you, acting like that. You were there with me, you know perfectly well that the obstetrician calculated it on the basis --”

“Tell me, Jane, whose child is it?”

“I was just trying to explain to you and you interrupted me!”

“Whose is it?” His voice was hard and sharp like a slash of a whip.

With lines cutting into her forehead, she took a step forward. “Why don't you tell me?”

“How am I supposed to know with who you were --”