He nodded. “We are.”
“How long?”
He looked at his watch and she laughed.
“That long, huh?” She waggled her left hand and he saw the glint of light flashing off her diamond ring. “I take the plunge in October.”
He wished her luck and she went off to see to the other passengers in first class. He turned to look at Sam, who was curled in the seat next to him, deeply asleep. She slept small, her long arms and legs pulled in close to her slender body, as if she was afraid to take up too much space. During takeoff, she’d hung on to his hand as if it was a lifeline, and he’d wondered how she’d survive the four and a half hour trip to New Jersey where they were scheduled to change planes. Exhaustion, however, had overcome her fears and she fell asleep before they reached cruising altitude.
What was it about her that touched him so deeply that his heart ached from it? There was a deep core of loneliness in his new bride that matched the loneliness inside his own heart, but that did not explain the depth of feeling she brought out in him. He told himself it was enough they shared the same dreams for their unborn child and were willing to do what was necessary to give that child a happy life, but he knew that was only part of the puzzle.
There was her strength and her determination, the soft uncertainty that lurked behind the steel. The woman behind the mask. He knew he could love that woman with his heart and soul.
And he prayed to God he never would.
THEY LANDED at Newark around eight in the morning. Their connecting flight to Gatwick was delayed and so they spent an hour in the VIP lounge, sipping orange juice and trying to make conversation. Sam felt groggy and out of sorts. Her stomach was queasy and twice she had to excuse herself to visit the ladies’ room.
When she came back the second time, he was standing up with her overnight bag in his hand.
“The flight won’t be leaving until evening, lassie.”
Sam groaned. “You mean we’ll be spending the day here?”
“I found us a hotel room next door.”
“A room?” A faint alarm went through her. “I was only joking, Duncan. I can amuse myself here. I love airports.”
“You can’t sleep here.”
“Who needs to sleep? I napped on the plane from Vegas.”
“But I did not.”
Suddenly she took a good look at her new husband and saw the dark circles beneath his eyes and she felt instantly guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
He nodded but said nothing. In silence they made their way through the terminal, then hopped a shuttle bus for the adjacent hotel. How could she have missed the exhaustion on his face? It must be days since he’d had any sleep. The wonder was that he’d managed to make it this far without falling flat on his face.
They checked in at the front desk, then a bellman showed them to their room. Duncan reached into his pocket and pressed a bill into the man’s outstretched hand, and a moment later the door clicked shut behind him. Sam set both locks then added the chain for good measure.
The room was small with nothing but the basics. A nightstand. A chest of drawers. A bed.
It was the bed that held her attention.
“Well,” she said with false cheer, “why don’t you wash up while I wait?”
He shook his head. “I’ll wait,” he said. “You first, lassie.”
They hadn’t been married long but already she knew that tone of voice brooked no argument. She picked up her overnight bag and disappeared into the small, well-lighted bathroom.
She looked terrible. Her face was pale and drawn tight as a drum, making her eyes look enormous, like the eyes in one of those paintings people laughed about. Her hair was tangled and messy. And her clothes looked slept in which, indeed, they had been. She unbuttoned her skirt, sighing with relief to discover she could actually breathe again. At least now she knew why all her clothing seemed as if it had been made for someone else.
She hung her skirt over the shower rod then removed her blouse and draped it over the skirt. Quickly she washed off her makeup, then dried her face on one of the scratchy blue towels stacked over the commode. The sharp smell of detergent made her stomach lurch, and it took her a second to recover. She prayed her luck would hold for the rest of her pregnancy.
“Now what?” she mumbled. She didn’t have a nightgown with her, and she certainly couldn’t sleep in her clothes. Strutting around in just her bra and slip seemed strange, so she slipped her blouse back on then opened the bathroom door and stepped into the darkened bedroom. “Duncan, the bathroom’s yours—”
She stopped as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He was sprawled at an angle across the bed, his large frame claiming most of the queen-size mattress. Quietly she walked to the far side and stood near the edge of the bed, looking down at the man she’d married less than twelve hours ago.
He slept angrily. His brows were knotted in a scowl, creating furrows above the bridge of his nose. His hands were clenched at his sides, as if he was ready to leap up and do battle at a moment’s notice. Most people betrayed vulnerability in their sleep, but not Duncan Stewart. Suddenly the enormity of what she’d done hit her full force and she sank onto the mattress before her trembling legs gave way.
This stranger who lay sleeping next to her was her husband. From this moment on, whenever she turned over in bed, she would see him there. One day the sight of him asleep would become commonplace, the same as the sight of her own face in the mirror, but right now she
