One Secret Too Many Read online

  ‘I’m fine.’ Alex licked her lips, avoided Emily’s intent gaze. This was not what she had expected, and she did not know what to make of it.

  ‘I want you to know—’ Emily’s voice broke off.

  ‘You want me to know—’ repeated Alex mechanically. ‘What?’

  ‘I—’ Emily pushed at her hair. Alex watched the rigid order of Emily’s hairstyle being knocked out of shape. ‘I admire you very much,’ said Emily finally, abruptly.

  Alex shook her head, not understanding. Surely Emily knew. ‘I’m going to have a baby, Mrs Derringer. I’m pregnant.’

  ‘I know.’ Emily picked up the teapot and poured the amber liquid into both cups, her hand trembling. ‘That’s what I’m talking about.’ She put the pot down, picked up a jug and added cream, stirring carefully. Amazingly, the woman as nervous. ‘I didn’t have the—the guts you had.’ Emily’s hand kept stirring as she said, ‘When I— It happened to me, Mary, but I didn’t have the courage to— My parents were well off and they arranged everything. I just let them. They sent me to a doctor they knew, down in Seattle. I—I’ve always wished I’d had the courage to say no, to keep that baby.’

  What had Sam said? Something about even Emily Derringer being human. ‘Mrs Derringer—’

  ‘Emily,’ said the woman. ‘I wish you would call me Emily.’ She finally set the spoon down and met Alex’s eyes. ‘I hear you’re calling yourself Alex these days?’ She sounded a bit like the woman Alex was used to, her voice slightly acid.

  Alex grinned. ‘It’s bit more appropriate than Mary, don’t you think?’ She glanced down at the waistline that had been disappearing over the last weeks and they laughed together.

  ‘Mary—Alex, if there’s anything I can do—’ Alex shook her head and Emily said, ‘If you need a loan—l know Dr Dempsey is a very good man, and he’s been taking you under his wing. He’s done a lot for the MacKenzie boy, too, and I was glad to see that. That boy badly needs a good man to look up to. I’ve been glad you had someone, too, but you want to have choices. If you need—’

  Alex found herself saying, ‘Sam’s the baby’s father,’ a little surprised to realise that Emily had not known that. So much for Emily knowing everything. ‘I love him,’ she added. Maybe Emily would tell everyone in town what she was hearing now, but somehow Alex didn’t think she would.

  I’ll tell him myself, she decided suddenly. Even if he can’t say it, I will. Sam, I love you. ‘I’d like you both to come to dinner one evening,’ said Emily. ‘You name the date. We’ll get one of Harry’s salmon out of the freezer and roast it.’ The Derringers always had good salmon. Harry was a fisherman and he liked to save a few of the choicest Sockeye for his own family. She wondered how Sam would like Harry Derringer.

  Then she was amazed to find herself confiding, ‘Emily, I’ve got a problem. No, not the baby. That secret is out. I guess everyone in town knows about it, but—well, I don’t quite know how to tell people about my other secret.’

  Emily’s eyes were lit with curiosity and Alex found herself grinning, enjoying being able to give this woman the first chance at something that might just surprise the parish more than the fact that Mary Houseman was pregnant and living with the new doctor.

  ‘It’s Holy Murder.’

  ‘Murder?’ Emily was bewildered. Alex laughed. ‘Yes, killing, but no, I’m not a ‘murderer. I wrote a book. A murder mystery. The first victim gets murdered in a church pew in the middle of the night.’

  Emily was nodding, not even looking surprised. ‘You always did have a lively imagination. I remember Mr Woller up at the high school saying you were very creative behind that quiet smile. If you’ve written a book, I’d like to read it. I like mysteries. Have you sent it anywhere yet? They say you’ve got to be persistent, keep sending it out and don’t give up no matter how many rejections you get.’

  She enjoyed giving the news that Holy Murder was going to press in February. Before the pot of tea was gone, she found Emily deep in a plan to approach the books hop and make sure there were plenty of copies ordered.

  ‘I wouldn’t have the nerve,’ said Alex nervously.

  ‘I would,’ said Emily. ‘I’d better read the book, if you don’t mind, so I can tell him how good it is, but of course you’ve got to have a ‘signing party there when it’s published.’ Emily was eagerly planning her new project. Two projects. Championing Alex’s two babies—the human one, and the one that was going to press.

  Sam’s car was warm inside from the sun. Alex sat in it for a moment before starting the engine, then she decided to make one more stop before she went home. She was going to buy a dress, something special for tonight.

  She hesitated on the threshold of the maternity-wear store, then went in. She had been putting this off, trying to stretch her clothes around a growing baby. The owner of the store was warm and enthusiastic, helping her to find something very special. The warm rust colours of the dress they chose together brought out unexpected gold highlights in her brown hair. The soft folds of the, rich fabric draped to emphasise the new fullness of her breasts in a way that she was breathlessly certain would be very hard for Sam to resist. Last night, there had been no doubt that Sam was very turned on by her pregnancy, by the fullness of her breasts and the hard curve of her belly.

  She would be back for more clothes the next day, but for today she just wanted the one, special dress. The store was very expensive, but she wanted to look her best for him. She bought new lingerie, too, and it was breathtakingly expensive for a few scraps of black lace. She wrote out the cheque and deliberately did not add up the new balance in her bank account.

  She had just enough time to go home and wash her hair before he came home, giving it a cream rinse to bring out even more of the highlights. First, though, she had better go back to the chemist and get the pills Dr Box had told her to take. She grinned, feeling smugly happy in the knowledge that Sam would be sure to ask about the pills; and at the same time nervously apprehensive about seeing him after the intimacy of last night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WHEN Mrs Bramley brought Alex’s scooter key to him, Sam decided nervously that maybe it was going to be all right. He had left Alex that morning, afraid to wake her and see regret in her eyes, but as soon as he had got to the hospital for his morning rounds he had started to worry.

  What if she woke and took his absence to mean—what? That he regretted making love to her? He remembered her arms around him, her lips soft on his face, her voice low and careful as she tried to get him to talk about what had happened up at the hospital. As if his pain was more important to her then her own fears. She must love him. How else could she have responded to him as she had last night?

  A sceptical voice in the back of his mind scoffed, insisting that it was only sex, physical attraction, hormones and healthy bodies. He had to remember who his love was. A minister’s daughter. She had been brought up with other people’s need. Of course she had wanted to reach out and comfort him. That was all it had been.

  But her eyes, dark and molten with everything she was giving him. He could not forget her eyes. And—

  No one had ever seen him cry before. He could not quite understand why that did not bother him more. There were few enough times that he had let himself lose control like that, and never with anyone else watching. She had always seemed able to do that to him, to slip through the barriers into the vulnerable child that he hid from the world.

  All day he swung from one emotional extreme to the other. The instinct to withdraw from the vulnerable intimacy of last night was always sharply overwhelmed by his terror that she might leave. Last night at dinner he had watched her, knowing that she was planning to leave him. What had changed now? Only him. He was even more dependent on this woman after last night, needed her even more desperately, yet was frightened of seeing rejection in her eyes.

  He had seen the time of her appointment in the book, and he had left the note with the receptionist, unable to face her here in fro
nt of other people. His pen had hovered as he wrote, almost writing the words ‘I love you’ before he signed his name. In the end, he had simply signed his name, then had spent the next hour not knowing if that was right.

  He hoped she would not be angry about his asking her to take his car. After last night, after Celia Mallory’s tragedy, he had had living nightmares every time he thought of Alex out in traffic on a flimsy scooter. He was almost convinced that she would not accept the offer of his car, afraid she would not. After all, what had she let him give her? The apartment, and only that with a fight, a ridiculous insistence that she pay.

  Roy came into his office shortly after four-thirty. ‘You OK?’ he asked gruffly.

  Sam pushed his hands through his hair and tried to feel calm and rational. It had been going around and around in his head all afternoon. She had taken his car. He’d looked out and saw it gone, and he had her scooter keys in his pocket. She would be there, waiting for him.

  But what was he going to say to her?

  Lord! He had never been so frightened in his life before! ‘No,’ he told Roy abruptly, somehow unable to lie. ‘I’m not OK.’ He closed his eyes. The old Sam had never confided feelings or uncertainties in anyone, but ever since the day he had met Alex his life had been turning around, upside down, and he knew he would never be the same man again.

  ‘Can I do anything?’ asked Roy.

  Sam shook his head. ‘I’m going to ask her to marry me again.’ He closed his eyes briefly and said, ‘At least, I think that’s what I’m going to say to her.’

  Roy shook his head and said, ‘Sam, why don’t you tell her that you love her. You’ve never told her that, have you? Do it and let the rest of it look after itself.’

  Sam tried to imagine himself saying those words and he couldn’t do it. ‘I’m scared,’ he admitted. He tried to laugh but it didn’t come off.

  ‘You’re stupid if you don’t,’ said Roy sharply. He put his hand on the door and said, ‘Get out of here. Go home and settle this.’

  ‘I’ve got patients to see,’ he said automatically, reaching for the chart on his desk. He realised that he was afraid to go, that six o’clock was going to come too soon and he would not be ready.

  ‘Mrs Olsen and her son cancelled,’ said Roy briskly. ‘The rest, I can cover for you. Get the hell out of here, Sam! Slip out the back way and go home. You’ve done enough for one day.’

  It took him almost half an hour to go a mile on Alex’s scooter—five minutes of driving and almost twenty to extricate himself from the RCMP officer who pursued him with his siren going.

  His car was there, parked where he always parked it. He rolled her scooter under the carport, taking his time about it, telling himself that he was not stalling. He was trying to practise words for her, but none of them were right. Please don’t go. Let me look after you. I. . . need you, his mind finished, but he could feel the panic of even thinking like that.

  What could he give her? How could he make her want to stay? What had a man like him to offer a warm, wonderful woman like Alex? Alex Diamond, fantasy lady, all heat and passion barely concealed under a smooth, reserved exterior.

  He went in because he could not stay outside forever.

  Inside his foyer he found the door to her rooms open and he went in, still trying frantically to form the right words, terribly afraid that there were no right words. She was not in her living room. He heard the sound of water and went on into her bedroom, stopping in the open door to her bathroom. He felt his heart pounding at the sight of her. For a second he was afraid that he would start trembling wildly with his need for her.

  She was dripping wet from the bath, little streams of water running down her breasts. She had a towel in one hand, reaching around to dry her back, stretching the white skin tight across the swelling of her fertility.

  She became very still when she saw him. He thought that she would pull the towel around to conceal herself from him, but she didn’t. She straightened, her lips parting slightly, her eyes staring at his. He was not sure what the message was in the deep brown of her gaze.

  He wanted desperately to reach out and touch the beautiful womanliness of her, but he was afraid to seem too grasping. Last night she had given herself to him again, but he must not assume that she was his to take at a whim. He took a deep, ragged breath and felt the stiffness of his arousal.

  ‘Alex,’ he whispered, finding himself moving closer, knowing he was going to lose this battle, that he must touch her. He licked his dry lips.

  Her voice was weak, just a whisper. ‘Sam, I was going to—’ She pushed back wet tendrils of hair. ‘I bought a new dress. I was going to—wanted to look nice for you.’

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ He took the towel and started to dry her, rubbing the full breasts through the terry. ‘You’re always beautiful.’

  She licked her lips and he had to bend down, to taste her sweetness. ‘Sam,’ she whispered, and she was in his arms, warm and wet and wonderful. He held her carefully, just feeling the warmth of her and trying to store it up for memories in case this was the last time. He tried to remember the words he had planned, but none of them was right.’

  ‘Darling.’ He felt her cheek under his lips and kissed gently, moving again to her mouth and feeling her arousal growing as he held her, as his tongue explored the warm darkness of her mouth.

  She whispered, ‘I was afraid this morning—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.’

  ‘Oh, lord!’ He groaned against her lips. He loved the feel of her, the tightness that was her growing womb, the swelling that was nature’s preparation of her breasts for motherhood. He wished he could tell her how much he loved her, but he could not get the words out and he took refuge instead in the sweetness of her body, lifting her and carrying her to the bed, looking down at her and marvelling that her eyes were warm and inviting, that her arms curled up around his shoulders and urged him closer.

  ‘We should close the doors,’ she whispered as his lips came against hers.

  He said raggedly, ‘I don’t know if I can walk straight,’ and her laughter was warm against his mouth, somehow giving him the courage to say, ‘And I’m afraid to let go of you. I’m terrified you’ll leave me.’

  She was very silent then, and he pulled away before he could see what was in her eyes. He closed the door that led into the foyer, and locked it. Then he came slowly back to the bedroom, remembering that other time when she had told him that she could not be his lover and still face the people of this town.

  She saw the uncertainty in his eyes as he came back. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that it was all right, but she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. Would it make him feel trapped? She didn’t want to do that. He closed the bedroom door as he came in, locking it. Then he leaned against the closed door and stared at her, not coming closer.

  ‘I’m not going to leave you,’ she managed to say. She tried to read his eyes, to know if he wanted to hear this, but his face was harsh and shuttered. She got up off the bed, picking up the robe and belting it around her. It didn’t fit as well as it had once, but she needed something to cover herself from his bleak gaze. He looked terrible, as if he were sick.

  She moved closer to him, touched his arm fleetingly and drew her hand back. ‘Sam, I’m not leaving unless you send me away.’ He didn’t say a word. She swallowed. ‘Sam, are you going to send me away?’

  ‘No.’ His voice was ragged. He gulped and said, ‘I think we should get married.’

  She bit her lip. Why was he saying that? She wished she could read what was in his eyes. If only she hadn’t sent him to close the doors. He had been close to her, touching her, his eyes telling her that he needed her. Now. . .

  ‘Why?’ She touched him, her fingers resting on his chest. She wanted to come closer, to flow up against him and make him need her again, as he had a moment ago. What was it? Was he regretting what he’d said? ‘Why do you think we should get married, Sam?’

&nbs
p; He shook his head. She wished he didn’t look so pale. Oh, lord! What was she doing? He was the man who couldn’t reach out, could not ask, who could only give; and here she was demanding reasons from him, asking for declarations when he could not give them.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said quickly, her fingers pressing against his chest, feeling a heavy heartbeat. ‘I—’

  ‘I’ve been having nightmares about you leaving me,’ he said raggedly. ‘I—’

  ‘Sam, you don’t need to say anything.’ She stepped closer and put her arms around him, felt his tension. ‘I’ll—’

  His lips smothered her words, his arms coming around her. ‘Darling, I’m having a very hard time with this.’ She pressed her lips against his and he kissed her, hard. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very good at this. I—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she insisted, her fingers flowing through his hair. It really didn’t matter if he said the words. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his arms trembling as they held her. ‘I love you, Sam.’

  She saw his eyes flash, felt the tension draining out of him. ‘Are you sure? You—’

  ‘I’m sure.’ She touched his hair, drew gentle fingers along the harsh contours of his face. ‘I’ve always known,’ she whispered. ‘The first time I saw you, I knew—it just took me a while to come to terms with it. I had some growing up to do.’

  He laughed, holding her close, his eyes seeming to light from inside. ‘You? What about me?’ He swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed and said in a low growl, ‘I don’t want you to think that I just want you for your body, but I’ve been dreaming about you all day—oh, darling! I’ve been dreaming about you from the first moment I saw you. I’ve—my life had turned upside down, as if—’ He leaned over her, his eyes dark, his hands touching her as if he knew that she was his, always and any time that he needed her. He said, slowly and with difficulty, ‘Alex, I’ve never been in love before.’