Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers #4)(57)
Author: Christine Feehan

“It’s strange with you,” he said aloud. “When I’m with you, I feel like an ordinary man. Everything else falls away, and I can see how beautiful things around me really are. I’ve sat on this porch hundreds of times, and the night has never looked like this. I’ve stared into the forest, and I saw a million places to hide, to set up an ambush, to find food. I didn’t see the way the leaves look silver in the moonlight, or the way the trees seem to dance and lift up their branches to the stars. Why do you suppose that is?”

Briony swallowed hard and turned her tear-wet face up to him, her dark, liquid gaze searching his face.

Jack wiped the tears away with his fingertips, hands gentle, almost reverent. “It’s the truth, Briony. I see the world differently when you’re around me.”

“Don’t, Jack. I’m very susceptible to you, and right now I’m pregnant so it’s probably worse. Don’t say things like that to me.” Briony tried to look away from him, but he held her chin.

“I want you here,” he admitted gruffly.

“But you said… ”

“I know what I said. That doesn’t matter now. We’ll have plenty of time to sort it all out. I can feel your headache, and you aren’t making it any better by crying. Just listen to the night and relax, go to sleep. One of the reasons we chose to build up here is the quiet, the peace.”

Briony closed her eyes and fit her body more comfortably into his. As a rule she didn’t cry in front of anyone, and she was embarrassed that she was still sniffing. He held her like she mattered to him, and she didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

“Just over there, through those trees and down a little slope, is my shop. I thought I’d add onto it and give you a place to make your stained glass.”

“I didn’t bring my sketchbook.”

“I’ll get you a new one. You’ll have plenty of time to draw.”

Briony’s lashes lifted. He was looking down at her, and there was something in his eyes, something close to admiration, when she didn’t feel she was at all acting in an admirable way. Her heart responded in spite of her determination to remain at an emotional distance from him. She lifted her hand to his face, traced the hard lines with her fingertips. “I missed your face, Jack.”

He turned his head enough to brush kisses over her hand. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you that night. I know I hurt you.”

“You did hurt me. I knew you had to go, but you didn’t have to do it that way. Why did you?” The pads of her fingers smoothed over his lips.

“I have some things to sort out, Briony, but it isn’t about you-or the baby. It’s about me and my character and who and what I am. Never you.” He caught her hand and held it against his throat.

“I swear I was on birth control pills, Jack. I didn’t get pregnant on purpose. I wouldn’t do that to a man. And I’m capable of raising a child on my own. You won’t have to worry about me asking for money or anything. I need survival skills… ”

“Briony, stop,” Jack ordered. His hand curved around her neck, fingers working to massage the tension out of her. “It’s my child too. I want you here. I want the baby here. I’ll teach you the things you need, and after the baby is born, we’ll both protect him together.”

Her heart jumped, but she wasn’t ready to hope again. “Why do you think it’s a boy?”

“Because my heart couldn’t take a girl. Can you imagine some boy trying to date my daughter? I’d be sharpening my knives when he came calling.”

Briony’s soft laughter was muffled against his chest, but the sound played through his body with the strength of a tidal wave. He’d expected the rising, urgent need, but not the contentment, the joy. He didn’t know joy, didn’t understand it, was even wary of the emotion. It crept over him, stealing into his heart whether he wanted it or not-brought by a woman, by the sound of her laughter.

“You’re so silly, Jack.”

“I’ve never been called that before. I know it was difficult for you to come here.” He knew that was a mild way of putting it, but Briony always did what she thought was right-no matter the cost to her-and going to Jack had come with a high price tag.

The smile faded from her face. “I want this baby. I know we weren’t looking for it to happen, but the minute the doctor told me I was pregnant, I was happy. I’m really serious about being able to do it on my own.”

“I know you are. I’m really serious about being a part of your lives.”

Her smile lit her eyes. “Boy or girl, a child is such a miracle, don’t you think?”

She was the miracle. “Yes, it is,” he replied quietly. “Go to sleep, baby. I can feel how tired you are.” He stroked caresses through her hair. She was bone weary-more, she hadn’t felt safe in a long time. He wanted her to feel safe in his home-in his arms.

He rocked her gently, letting the night work its magic. So many times Ken and he had come home weary and wounded and sat on the porch listening to the night. Insects hummed, owls fluttered wings, bats dipped and whirled, and deer moved with grace through the surrounding forest, comforting them. His heat seeped into the cold of her body, warming her as her lashes drifted down and her body relaxed fully into his. Her breathing became soft and even, as she snuggled like a broken child in his arms, sheltered close to his heart.

Boy or girl, a child is such a miracle, don’t you think? Jack thought about her innocent statement for a long time. He sat in the dark with the moonlight spilling into the trees, listening to the sound of water running over the rocks and the night insects calling to one another while he rocked her to sleep. A child is such a miracle, don’t you think? Briony boiled everything down to such simplicity. Was a child a miracle to him or not? Did he want the child? Or only Briony? Was there room in his life for a baby? How did he feel?

There was no sound, but he was aware that he wasn’t alone long before a shadow fell across him. He looked up to see his brother standing, hands on hips, bare feet, dressed only in drawstring flannels. Scars covered his face, ran across his shoulders and down his arms, over his chest, and disappeared into the low waistband. Even now, the skin was raw and red, shiny and raised, an ugly mottled remembrance of falling into the hands of a madman. For one moment Jack felt the stirring of anguish. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t been protecting his brother’s back. Ken had been sent in his place. Jack should have been there, and he would carry that sin to his grave.