Chapter Eleven
A WEEK LATER Greer was in Singapore, accompanying Conall on a business trip.
Negotiations on the investments he’d planned there were nearing completion. Over the last months Greer had put in almost as much work on the deal as he had.
She was working full-time again, though in the last week it had been mainly from his harbourside home. Despite the all-clear from her doctor, her husband was cautious about her not overdoing things.
Her husband. When it came to concern for her well-being, that was how Conall acted. Which made the way he respected her demand for space both admirable and frustrating.
She was glad he abided by her wishes, yet frustrated because her wishes were in direct conflict with each other. Intimacy with him again would be dangerous, because she craved a love he couldn’t give. Yet her craving for him undermined everything else.
Did he feel the strain of keeping his distance as she did? A week ago she’d have said he needed her as much as she did him, physically at least. But now he made it look easy, maintaining his distance.
Was his attraction to her fading? She shouldn’t be surprised, after she’d walked out on him then held him off. And yet…
Greer looked at her bare ring finger, remembering the golden wedding band she’d left in his penthouse. And the solitaire engagement ring with the most stunning sapphire she’d ever seen.
Conall had returned them to her in Sydney but they were still in their boxes. Putting them on again would be a statement of intent she wasn’t ready to make.
Much as she longed to resume their relationship fully, she wasn’t sure she could cope with the idea of being Mrs Abercrombie. Not when she knew she could have his body and his protection but not his heart.
She remembered too that he hadn’t been in a hurry to announce their wedding, saying that she needed time before the press attention began. He’d done everything possible to hide their marriage from the world.
But she’d been convinced, given his tension and his refusal to inform his family, that it was because she didn’t fit his rarefied world. That she wasn’t the sort of bride he’d choose.
Fed up with her maundering thoughts, she lifted her head and admired the vista from her spot on a garden bench.
Conall was playing golf with Mr Lee, the man with whom he was negotiating, so she had this afternoon to herself.
She’d elected to visit Singapore’s orchid gardens, hoping the fresh air would clear her circling thoughts.
The place was glorious, with meandering paths and exotic plants. Orchids rioted everywhere in a profusion of colour, and as if that weren’t enough, jewel-coloured butterflies drifted and hovered. Greer felt her spirits lift in the warm sunshine. Being somewhere new and vibrant helped.
She nodded as a woman pushing a pram took the other end of the long seat. Two children with the woman danced about, chasing a turquoise-and-black butterfly that flitted around a nearby bush. Their laughter filled the air and Greer smiled. Was there anything as joyful as a child’s laugh?
Greer was turning her head away when her gaze snagged on the pram.
A pair of serious dark eyes regarded her from a tiny face. The baby wore a lace headband with a yellow bow. Her lips were a perfect rosebud that widened into a gummy smile.
Greer’s heart cleaved in two. She snatched a breath, trying to quell the pleasure-pain that swamped her.
One little arm lifted, a tiny fist opening, starfish-like, to bat against the pram’s mattress. Chubby legs lifted, kicking, and the baby gurgled, seeing the movement and clearly delighted. Then she looked at Greer, laughing.
It felt like every intense emotion Greer had experienced during her pregnancy, the awe, love, and finally the grief, rose in an engulfing tsunami. Her throat closed. The back of her eyes and her nostrils prickled. Tears welled.
A soft voice said, ‘Excuse me, but are you all right?’
No, not right at all.
Greer gripped the seat so hard her fingers shook as she tried to pull herself together. Breaking down in front of strangers was not her style. She managed a crumpled smile. ‘I’m f…’
But the word fine just wouldn’t come. Instead she felt a hot tear spill and run down her cheek, then another and another. Where was her self-control?
It had disappeared with her child and her dreams for the future.
She dragged in a shuddering breath that felt like knives slicing her lungs and forced herself to speak. ‘I lost a baby.’ She blinked, hearing the unexpected words.
Greer tore her gaze from the chuckling baby to stare bleary-eyed at the two children running around the clearing.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you. It was a miscarriage.’ But the grief was still sharp enough to make her spill her woes to a stranger. ‘I don’t know why I’m blurting this out.’
‘I understand,’ said that gentle voice. ‘I lost two babies that way.’
Startled, Greer swung her head around to meet the other woman’s kind eyes. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been…’ She shook her head.
‘It was. I don’t think anyone understands how devastating it is to lose a child you’re nurturing in your own body unless it happens to them.
But my husband was wonderful. It drew us closer.
Talking to him kept me sane.’ She paused, reaching for the baby whose babbles grew louder. ‘I hope you have someone to talk with.’
Another sharp breath. ‘My…husband. But we haven’t really talked. I was too upset.’
‘Really?’ She saw and heard the other woman’s shock.
Slowly Greer nodded. Conall and she had barely talked about losing their child.
He’d been stymied by her amnesia. Before that, and after, she hadn’t wanted to watch him pretend to feel regret about the baby when the chances were he was relieved.
His concern for her was real, but for the baby?
She’d convinced herself he’d be a terrific dad once it was born but she’d never know now.
For him the baby had only been an obligation to plan for.
Do you know that for sure?
He didn’t want the baby initially but maybe his feelings changed. You never gave him a chance to say.
The idea slammed into Greer like a fist.
She knew he hadn’t wanted the baby. Yet hadn’t he deserved better from her?
You didn’t give him a chance.
How many times did you cut him off from talking about it? You pushed him away, actually ran away.
You convinced yourself you knew what he was thinking without even asking. How much did you assume?
Her lungs seized as a monstrous idea hit her.
She’d grown up knowing her father was dangerous, a man incapable of loving either his wife or child.
Had that translated into an instinctive mistrust of men?
A readiness to believe no man would ever love her or want to create a family with her?
Had her mother’s experience stunted her own relationships?
From her peripheral vision she saw the woman reach out as if to touch Greer’s arm then stop and pull her arm back. It jerked her from her whirling thoughts. She swallowed a tight tangle of emotion.
‘Thank you for your kindness. It was…good to talk about it a little.’
Which stunned her. There was pain of course, but also relief, a feeling of pressure releasing.
She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a grounding breath. When she opened them it was to see the other woman holding out her baby to her.
Startled, Greer turned to find those kind eyes smiling at her. ‘Please. Sometimes a cuddle helps.’
The woman trusted her with her baby? Did Greer even want to hold it? Inexplicable fear rose.
Then the baby’s babble drew her attention and innocent eyes met hers. Gingerly, Greer took her, drawn by a force greater than any she’d known. She cradled the bub so carefully she hardly dared move, feeling the warm weight against her breast.
The little girl said something incomprehensible and waved her arm.
Greer carefully lifted one hand to stroke the soft skin of the child’s hand. Instantly those splayed fingers curled around one of hers in a surprisingly strong grip. The baby gurgled then smiled, and Greer felt something shift inside, like a knot tugging loose.
Greer decided against putting her hair up for tonight’s party. She gave it a final brush, then surveyed herself in her bedroom’s full-length mirror.
She’d found the dress unworn and still in its plastic sheath amongst the other clothes in the dressing room of Conall’s Sydney mansion. She didn’t remember buying it—there were still some gaps in her memory—but one look had told her it would be perfect for a billionaire’s party.
A vivid scarlet, it shaped to her body before flaring a little around her knees, flirting around her legs as she walked.
The bodice was cut straight across the top of her breasts with a wide, square neckline and narrow shoulder straps.
Tiny scarlet beads sewn all across the fabric scintillated under the lights when she moved.
She almost hadn’t packed it. It was the sort of dress that drew attention, and back in Sydney that was the last thing she’d wanted. Yet impulsively she’d added it to her suitcase at the last minute.
Greer half turned and watched how the dress caressed her body. She looked confident and sexy.
The way she’d felt when she and Conall were simply lovers. Before her miscarriage. Before the accident that sapped her self-assurance. Before the doubts and second-guessing.
She pressed a hand to her stomach where butterflies the size of dragons swooped and dived. She might look ready to take on the world but she didn’t feel it. Not yet.
But she would, she assured herself.
Something had altered today. Pain still shadowed her and she had serious doubts about her relationship with Conall. But she was tired of hiding, for that was what she’d done. Tired too, of expecting the worst. It felt like she stepped out of the miasma engulfing her.