THE HONOR BOUND GROOM Read online

  And following him, a chirpy young woman in a navy pin-striped suit and flustered eyes jogged from the office after a fervent "Right, Mr. Fortune. You're absolutely right."

  That seemed to be the end of the "Mr. Fortune" kowtowing, because no further bodies emerged from the inner office after that. Kelly grabbed the satchel and peeked through the open door to see if he were really free. And he was—the office was empty except for her husband, standing with his back to her as he reached for his suit jacket.

  "Mac?"

  He pivoted around with a startled smile. "What a surprise, Tiny. I was just grabbing my coat to head out for our class."

  "I was so sure you couldn't make it that I stopped by to bring you dinner."

  "Well, it took moving some heaven and earth. I was positive I'd be late at best, but you know I promised I wouldn't miss any of your classes."

  She should have known telling him it was "okay" wouldn't make a difference. Mac never made a promise he didn't keep, and oh, God. Most of the time she was just fine with the relationship they'd settled into. He was patient with her hormonal moods; she was patient with his over-protectiveness. She got a hug before he left for work; they chronically argued about her pink couch; he invariably suggested a short walk after dinner, no matter what the weather—they'd both settled into the routine of living together with more humor and compatibility than she'd ever expected. Mac just didn't want her to be a real wife.

  She'd accepted that. She'd accepted that the baby had put their chosen lives on hold for a hiatus of time, and for as long as they were together, she just wanted to be good for Mac. Forget love. In front of her eyes, she could see he was loosening up, laughing more, balancing his responsibilities with more relaxing time. He was still way too hard on himself, but Kelly didn't expect to erode Gibraltar overnight. As long as she was good for him, she told herself it was enough.

  Only there were times, like now, when she'd get hit with a wave of love so huge and fragile that her heart ached. He pulled on his navy suit jacket, looking so handsome and self-assured. His white shirt showed off his ruddy skin, made his green eyes so startling and striking. "What's wrong?" he said, when he realized she was staring at him. "Don't tell me I have mustard on my chin from lunch?"

  Swiftly she hustled over to straighten his tie. "No mustard. But I was listening to the parade of people kowtowing to you—"

  His mouth was already curled in a crooked grin. "Yeah?"

  "—And thinking that you sure have them fooled that you're the big cheese. I'm the one who knows you can't even knot your own tie."

  "To think I had to get married to get insulted every day." He bent over to smack her nose—as a kiss it could have won land speed records. But it still sizzled her toes. Mac had taken a lot of training to instill the idea that he could volunteer an affectionate gesture. Of course, then he grabbed her arm in a more businesslike fashion. "We're going to be late if we don't hustle. I assume Benz is downstairs?"

  "No, I drove myself…" She waited until they were out of the office and he'd say goodbye to Ellen before continuing. "Don't give me that look, Mac. Benz had the sniffles. It was just dumb to drag him out on a cold night when it was just as easy to drive myself."

  "You know I'm going to worry about your driving alone until after the baby's born."

  In moments, they were winging out of the elevator and through the lobby. She tried to cut off his protective lecture before it started. "Come on, Mac. It's no big deal. I couldn't possibly feel safer. At home, there's the tall gates, the security system, the buzzers and pagers, Benz and Martha. And when I drove in, I had George walk me in from the parking lot."

  When Mac pushed open the lobby door for her, she stepped through—and almost bumped into a tall, heavy-set man in a dark wool coat. It was nothing. The man was simply walking fast, not looking where he was going no different than she was. But the sudden gust of frigid night air wasn't the only reason she shivered.

  Mac hooked an arm over her shoulder. "That's why." His voice was suddenly rougher than gravel.

  "That's why what?"

  "That's why I want Benz driving you. You haven't forgotten being attacked, and I'm not about to. If Benz is sick, all you have to do is call me or one of the Fortune drivers to have a car sent."

  "Mac, nothing's happened since that one time. I admit it was an awful experience. And I admit sometimes strangers still give me an attack of the willies. But I am careful, and I don't want to turn into some paranoid nitwit who sees shadows in every corner. And the more time passes, the more I think the guy who attacked me was just your average run-of-the-mill mugger, not a kidnapper."

  "So do I. If someone had been targeting you, something else would have happened by now. Nothing has. And nothing is going to," Mac said firmly, as he handed her into the passenger side of his car. Once he climbed in and started the engine, he continued, "Look, Kel, I know you think I'm overprotective. And you're probably right. But I'm still asking you to cater to me about not driving places alone—at least until after the baby is born."

  Well, for Pete's sake. He made it sound like a favor. And Mac knew perfectly well she wouldn't turn him down on something like that. "Have I told you recently that you're a pain in the keister to argue with?"

  "Not since this morning," he said dryly. "On the other hand, if you let me win this argument, I'll agree to get rid of the pink couch."

  "Yeah? You've said that three times. And I won all three times—but the couch is still there, looking like a pitiful eyesore compared to everything else in the house."

  "I like your couch."

  "You do not. You're just being nice." And the damn man was always distracting her when he wanted the subject changed. "Look, I heard you on the driving alone. And I'll agree to do it your way, but I want you to quit worrying about it, Mac. No one could have done more to protect me and the baby. Enough's enough. Put it off your mind."

  It wasn't off his mind, Kelly knew. The size of Mac's conscience was bigger than the sky, and his sense of honor was even worse. He shouldn't be feeling responsible for things that weren't his fault or responsibility, but those were touchy waters for a not-quite-wife to bring up with him. By then, the point was moot anyway. They'd reached the clinic and their minds were on the childbirth class.

  As they walked in with the others, Kelly noted that the other women all looked a couple of weeks fatter and were moving sludge-slower than last week. Her feminine ego always rose several notches around the other moms. She wasn't the only one doing the duck-walk or who had a hard time getting up and down from the floor mats. Mac eased down next to her. "We should have brought popcorn. We're doing the movie about labor tonight, right?"

  "Yeah. Which is partly why I really wouldn't have minded if you missed this one. Mrs. Riley warned us several times that it wasn't the sanitized-for-TV version."

  "Pretty graphic, huh? You afraid I'm gonna faint on you?"

  "Now, I know you're joking, but she said she lost two husbands in the last class…" Kelly stopped talking when the lights dimmed and the movie started.

  She scooched back a little, giving her a better vantage point to keep half an eye on Mac. Men being men, they always claimed to be tough, but sometimes the biggest ones couldn't stand the sight of blood. She didn't figure she needed to pay that close attention to the movie, anyway. Even if she hadn't seen a birth on TV years ago, every mom she knew had filled her in on the birth process. Guys just didn't talk the way women did. She couldn't imagine any educational surprises in the movie.

  There were no surprises. But ten minutes into the flick, her stomach started clenching and her throat went dry. Then came the nausea. Maybe she knew all this stuff. But it was an amazingly different thing, watching the labor process, knowing she was eight months along and this exact thing was going to happen to her in a matter of weeks.

  After the class was over, as soon as they got into the car, Mac opened the glove compartment and pulled out a container of saltines. "Maybe it'll help the queasiness," he
said gently.

  "I'm not going to throw up again," she muttered, but she munched. Several. "I just changed my mind about this whole thing. For the most part I've loved being pregnant. Except for crying at the drop of a hat like a ditsy wuss. And except for needing a bathroom every twenty minutes. But I can live with all that stuff. Indefinitely. I think I'll just grow the baby for another nine months. We don't have to hurry into this labor part of things. Either that or I want to change doctors."

  "I thought you loved Dr. Lynn."

  "Well, I do. But I already asked her about morphine. She said no."

  "Funny, but I could have sworn the last time we left the doctor's office you said specifically that you didn't want any drugs if at all possible."

  "That was before I saw the movie. A woman can always change her mind." She crunched down on another cracker. Hard.

  "I don't suppose seeing that movie may have changed your mind about wanting a labor coach? Back when we first talked about this. I realize you said no. But you know me better now. If you needed help, I hope you'd know I'd be there."

  She hesitated. Her first impulse was to reach over and violently hug Mac, but that was a bonkers thing to do when he was driving in the dark on snowy roads. And although he seemed much more accepting of her need to express affection, that didn't mean he necessarily wanted it. Not from her. So she said, "Listen, you. I appreciate your offering. And if I wanted anyone there, it would be you. But somehow I just feel strongly about doing this alone, Mac. Part of it's what I told you before … that I'm a coward. It's the truth. I'm a wuss. But when I've had to cope with something alone, then I do."

  It was Mac's turn to hesitate. "This isn't something where I'd want to argue, Tiny. I just want you to do whatever's right for you. But would you think about it? There's still lots of time to change your mind again."

  "Okay."

  "I'd be there."

  "I know you would."

  "And a month from now, this'll be over. We'll have our baby. When you start building up fears in your mind, maybe you want to remember that? Labor's just the bridge to get to the other side—the time when you'll be holding the baby in your arms, bringing it home to that new nursery."

  She heard the "our baby." And how Mac had somehow picked exactly the right words to reassure her. No hokey-hearty "attagirls" as if her fears of labor were nothing, just reminding her of the bottom line. The baby. The only thing that mattered. But he mattered, too, she thought fiercely. So many times now, Mac had been a stalwart brick for her, and the lack of balance in their relationship troubled her as it had from the beginning.

  He'd never leaned on her for anything. Kelly had had no chance to prove that she'd be there for him. And once, just once, she wished for some time, some chance, for her to be his brick.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Kelly stood in the nursery window. The view outside was downright ridiculous. It was Valentine's Day, for heaven's sake. Even the Minnesota weather gods should have figured out it was time to ease up on the raw winter business by now, but no. Even this early in the afternoon, the sky was blacker than gloom and snow was still coming down in fistfuls. The idiot blizzard had started two days before and showed no signs of letting up, the wind still balefully howling, the snow still piling into mountainous drifts. There was no getting out, she knew. Benz and Martha had left for Duluth to visit a grandchild three days before and still hadn't been able to make it back. Mac kept trying to plow them out, but temporarily it was a pointless effort. There was nowhere to go. The roads were all closed, the whole city shut down.

  Kelly kept thinking that the weather should be worrying her—particularly since she'd wakened that morning with a piercing backache. Yet Mother Nature seemed to have kicked in one of those strange, pregnancy moods. As if she were surrounded by a protective shell, she'd started the day with a feeling of calm serenity, and nothing seemed to dent it.

  She'd stolen up to the nursery for just a few minutes alone. Kneading the ache at the small of her back, she turned away from the window and wandered around the room. It was perfect, she thought. The teddy-bear lamp illuminated all the care and love that had gone into creating the baby's haven. The sheets were already tucked on the crib, blankets ready to snuggle a baby. Diapers waited on the dressing table. She touched the big white rocker, then the colorful mobile over the crib. Maybe the carpet was a mistake—the soft sunny yellow would show dirt?—but she loved it; it was so thick and plush it could surely cushion a crawling baby's knees or a rambunctious toddler's fall.

  Her fingers stroked a handmade blanket at the corner of the crib. The baby wasn't supposed to be due for two more weeks. And she'd been ready so far ahead that she figured she'd have to wash and clean everything all over again. But at least right now, she couldn't think of another thing that needed doing.

  "Kelly?"

  At the sound of Mac's voice below, she took a huge, bracing breath. "I'm up here in the nursery," she called out.

  As she could have expected, she immediately heard Mac bounding up the stairs. Even if the blizzard hadn't made them housebound, Kelly doubted Mac would have gone to work and left her alone. The last visit to the obstetrician, she figured he was lucky he didn't get examined right along with her, because he was sticking closer than glue.

  He showed up in the doorway, his gaze swooping her up in a single gulp. As soon as he caught her smile, saw she was waking around like normal, the tense muscles in his shoulders seemed to ease. "I saw the cookies cooling downstairs," he mentioned.

  "Heart-shaped for Valentine's Day. Pretty corny, huh?"

  "I thought they looked like a man's answer to midafternoon starvation. But they also looked so fancy I thought I'd better ask before testing them."

  "In other words, you already had—?"

  "Three. And God, were they good." That confession out of the way, he ambled into the room, touching things like she had. "I don't know how a baby could have a cooler nursery."

  "We did good, didn't we?"

  "You're the one who gets the credit, Mom. You planned it and did the tough screwdriver work I just filled in some of the riffraff brawn." Mac hunched down over the toy chest—his favorite thing. The chest was already brimming with soft things, shiny things, sound-making things—every nature of toy designed to delight someone brand-new to life. "You think it was a little too soon to buy the football?"

  "Maybe a teensy bit early—particularly if the baby turns out to be an Annie," she said wryly. "I'll let her play football, mind you, but I just have the feeling you're going to have such an overprotective streak with your daughter that you won't let her date until she's forty—much less play football."

  "Hey." Mac feigned a wounded look. "Besides, it could be a boy."

  "It could. In fact, I was just thinking that right now, this exact moment, is an ideal time to have a final fight on picking out a boy's name." She took another huge, bracing breath. The last pain had darn near sucked all the oxygen from her lungs.

  "We're not having another Mackenzie in the family, Tiny. I hate it when a kid gets stuck with a 'junior' tag."

  "But if we called him Aaron Mackenzie Fortune, we can kind of snuggle that name in the middle—so I could get my way—and we could call him by his first name so he wouldn't have that junior problem. We'd both win."

  "Yeah, but … hell. What's wrong?" When he noticed her expression suddenly change, he dropped the football and surged to his feet.

  It took a second before she could come up with a smile. "It's started. I would have told you earlier, but I wasn't sure. This morning I just thought I had a backache, and later I thought I was just getting more of those false-labor twinges. But as of the last hour—"

  "Oh, my God. You mean the baby? Oh my God—"

  "Now there's no hurry. Everyone says first babies take forever. And I'm not happy about the blizzard, but it's not like women haven't been giving birth since the beginning of time. I put a plastic sheet on my bed, got some linens together, but there's really nothing e
lse to do for a long time yet—"

  "You've got those skinny hips! There's no way you're having this baby at home! None! Hell—you just wait right here—" He galloped toward the door, then galloped back. "No, don't wait here. You need to be in bed, not standing. Why in hell are you standing?"

  "Mac, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay. Try and calm down." Kelly couldn't think of a time she'd said those words to him. It was always the other way around. Nothing flustered Mac. Nothing panicked him. He was an oak in a crisis. He never lost patience through all her fitful pregnancy moods, never lost his temper even the third time she'd crashed his computer. She'd never even heard him raise his voice—but his voice was cracking like a hoarse frog's now.

  "You're not having the baby at home. You're having the baby at the best birthing center in the country, with exactly the obstetrician and pediatrician we lined up, and I don't give a damn about the blizzard. We'll get you there. Don't worry about a thing. Just stay calm. Just stay easy—"

  When the next pain knifed through her, she sank into the white rocker, thinking my God, he was a basket case. He was off. Barreling downstairs with the grace of an elephant. The regular phones were out, but not cell service. He called doctors. He called ambulances. He called cops. In between those frantic, hoarse-yelped phone calls he raced back up to see how she was doing.

  She was doing fine—except for fearing Mac was going to have a heart attack. Some time past five, her water broke. Thankfully she was in the bathroom, because she'd have had a fit if she'd been in the nursery and ruined the baby's new carpet. Mac was bringing her ice chips from the kitchen and bellowed her name at ear-shattering volumes when he first couldn't locate her.

  "I'm in here. Mac, but I just need a minute alone—"

  Possibly he didn't hear that word "alone" because the bathroom door was making too much noise crashing against the opposite wall. Either that or the wild-eyed man barging in was way too panicked that she was in trouble to consider riffraff issues like respecting her modesty. For just an instant, Kelly froze … and he did, too.