Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set by Debbie Macomber
“There’s nothing more to discuss,” she retorted. “You’ve already told me everything I need to know. I’m an encumbrance in your life. You don’t want to be married to me. Trust me, it doesn’t come as any shock. I didn’t want this marriage, either—you were the one who insisted. I don’t understand why. I never intended to drag you into this. I never even intended for you to know about the baby. You were the one…Why, Riley, why did you insist upon marrying me? I have a right to know that much.”
Her demand was met with stark, naked silence. She rubbed the heel of her hand down her face, wiping away evidence of her tears. She stared at him, damning him for being there that fateful night. How much simpler her life would have been if she’d called a cab. She’d been such a fool, and her stupidity was ruining three lives.
“Why did I insist upon marrying you?” he repeated hoarsely. “Because I didn’t want my son to grow up a bastard the way I did.”
Chapter Seven
A hard knot tightened Riley’s stomach as the color drained from Hannah’s pale features. He felt raw and angry; the pain of years past clawed at his nerves. “I was two years old before my mother got around to marrying Bill. He didn’t last long, though. None of my mother’s men friends ever did.”
Hannah’s gaze met his. Damn, but he wished she’d say something. Anything. Until she’d demanded to know why he’d insisted on marrying her, Riley hadn’t given the matter much thought. The answer was complicated by a multitude of other factors. Rather than stick his reasons under a microscope, Riley preferred not to think about them. Marriage was the best solution, or so it had seemed at the time. Riley wasn’t sure of that any longer.
Unshed tears glistened in Hannah’s dove-gray eyes. She’d never looked more frail, as though it was all she could do to remain upright. He noted how ragged her breathing was as she edged her way past him. Riley reached out to her, wanting with everything in him to ease her mind in some small way, but she flinched and snatched her arm from him before he could touch her.
He stood numb and empty. The power of her silence wounded him deeply. He was aware, too, of her pain; and knowing he was the one responsible cut unmercifully at his heart.
Riley watched her move down the hallway, her steps like those of a sleepwalker. As she opened the door to her room and walked inside, he experienced a weighty sadness. He was standing there trying to decide what to do, if anything, when the muted sounds of her sobs reached him. Riley wasn’t sure who she wept for—him or for herself. Perhaps her sorrow was for their unborn child.
Unable to listen to her anguish and do nothing, Riley reacted to his instincts. God as his witness, he’d never meant to hurt Hannah. Her door wasn’t locked, and for that much he was grateful. She was curled up in a tight ball on top of her bed, her soft dark hair cascading over her face and neck. Her shoulders were racked with sobs.
Led by impulse, Riley moved to her side and sat on the edge of the mattress. With gentle fingers, he brushed the hair from her face, fearing she’d pull away from him again. He couldn’t have borne it if she had. As strange as it seemed, he needed her at that moment as much as she needed him, although he was certain neither would be willing to admit as much.
Not knowing how to relieve her anxiety, or his own, he lay down beside her, resting his head on the same pillow as hers. For long moments he simply watched her, hoping his being there would lend her comfort. After a while her tears abated and she opened her eyes. They were round and weary, as if mirroring her soul. Her innocence and her beauty stirred him, and without examining the sudden, fierce need that flamed to life within him, he kissed her.
Riley intended for the kiss to be uncomplicated, a gesture of apology, a form of absolution for the hurt they’d inflicted upon each other. But once his mouth met hers, all was lost. Moaning, Hannah opened to him. He reached for her, entwining his fingers in her hair, dragging her closer to him. Deepening the kiss, he sought her tongue with his own.
When she shyly moved her tongue against his, Riley felt as though the bed had fallen out from under him. They kissed again, and it was slow and gentle, so damned gentle that it produced an overpowering ache. Not a physical ache, as Riley would have expected, but an emotional one, buried so deep that at first he couldn’t identify it. He felt close to Hannah, closer than he had in all the time they’d been married. The walls of misunderstanding and pride were down, broken, shattered by a newfound willingness to help each other.
His hands caressed her cheeks and tenderly brushed aside the stray tendrils of hair from her sweet face. Their gazes met in a rush of need and longing. The questions were there, as bold as ever, but they didn’t bother with words, didn’t bother with explanations.
Riley had never known a silence so blissful. A contented silence. The sweetest silence he’d ever known. Precious moments of tenderness unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
Shyly, Hannah leaned forward and kissed him, curling her tongue around his. Heat against heat. Hand against hand, fingers entwined. Their mouths dueled in a love-starved battle as though they had an eternity to do nothing but savor one another. Wherever his life would lead him, whatever happened between him and Hannah, Riley realized he would always treasure these few, precious moments with her.
Ending the kiss slowly, Riley buried his face in her shoulder and dragged several deep breaths through his chest. He dared not look at her when he spoke, afraid of what he would read in her eyes.
“Can you feel Junior move yet?”
“I…don’t know,” she whispered back, her smile evident. “Sometimes I’m sure I do, but then I convince myself it’s all part of my imagination. The doctor said I should feel him kick any time now.”
“Can I feel?”
She smiled and nodded. Taking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, holding it there. Her hand over his. His hand over her abdomen. Riley lifted his gaze until it met hers, waited for movement, then sadly shook his head. He was barely able to distinguish the slight thickening at her waist, and only then because she was so thin.
“There…are other changes,” she whispered.
Once more he raised questioning eyes to hers, not sure he understood.
“My breasts are fuller.”
Risking all, Riley gently cupped his hands over her glorious breasts, lifting them, allow them to fill his palms. Touching her so intimately had an immediate effect upon him. The hardness eloquently portrayed his plight. He wanted her. He needed her. It would be weeks before he’d be able to hold her and touch her again, and knowing that lent an urgency to his desire. For two weeks he’d been patient, doing nothing to pressure her, but he needed her now as he never had before. So much so that he was willing to broach the forbidden subject.
“I want to make love to you.” Riley had always been direct. He might have dressed up his desire with a bunch of fancy words, or drugged her with kisses until she willingly submitted. But he wasn’t willing to do either. When Hannah came to his bed, he wanted her to be fully aware of what she was doing and with whom.
A long moment passed, and he was encouraged by the indecision he felt in her. At least she was considering it, which was a giant step from the sharp rejection she’d given him the day of their wedding.
“Why?”
If she needed a little inducement, Riley was more than willing to supply it. “I’m going to be away six weeks. That’s a hell of a long time for a husband to be without his wife….”
“No,” she said flatly, and pushed herself free from his grasp. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, she brushed the hair away from her face, using both hands. He was surprised to realize she was trembling.
“Hannah, for the love of heaven, we’re married!”
“Six weeks without making love must be some sort of record for you. Your pressure tactics aren’t going to work with me.”
“Pressure tactics!” Riley exploded. He could have had her, could skillfully have brought her to the point of desperate physical need. Instead he’d taken a more d
She blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My breasts are fuller,” he mimicked in a high falsetto voice. “Sweetheart, you were asking for it.”
Hannah’s face went fire-engine red. “That’s ridiculous!”
Riley gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “What’s so wrong about us making love? I don’t know of any place where it’s a crime to sleep with one’s wife.”
Her gaze narrowed. “If I’m your wife why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? A…a stranger comes to my door and tells me my own husband will be gone for several weeks—a stranger, for the love of heaven.”
“I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“Spare me any more of your favors.”
Riley swore he’d never known a more unreasonable woman. What had he done that was so unforgivable? His crime had been to delay letting her know about the training cruise so she wouldn’t fret about him going. He was being kind. Thoughtful. Just as a husband should be. Instead, the whole thing had blown up in his face.
Riley was prepared to argue with her when the doorbell rang. For a split second he couldn’t decide if he should answer it or not. In the end he decided it wouldn’t do any good to talk sense to Hannah. She was bent on thinking ill of him, and he wasn’t likely to say or do anything that could change her mind.
* * *
The weekend passed in a haze for Hannah. Riley barely spoke to her, which was just as well since she worked equally hard to avoid any contact with him. The tension in the house was as thick as a London fog; thick enough to slice up and serve for dinner, although it would have made bitter fare.
Hannah spoke only when asked a direct question. Riley was constrained and silent. No unnecessary words passed between them. Nor looks, and certainly no touching. He camped in one area of the house and she in the other, and they both went overboard to be certain their paths didn’t cross.
Monday morning Hannah heard her husband rummaging through the house several hours earlier than normal. Realizing he was probably preparing to leave for the Atlantis, she lay in bed, trying to decide if she should make the effort to see him off properly.
Her preference was to leave matters as they were, but soon the decision was taken from her. Riley politely rapped against her bedroom door just loud enough to wake her if she were sleeping, but not enough to frighten her. She sat up, holding the blankets protectively against her breasts, although it was unnecessary since she wore a thick flannel nightgown and the possibility of him viewing any part of her anatomy was highly unlikely.
“Yes?” she called out, working hard to put a frosty tone in her voice.
He opened the door, and his six-foot frame was stiffly silhouetted against the light that spilled into the hallway from the kitchen. He didn’t move into the bedroom and continued to hold on to the door handle. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
She nodded, confident there was nothing she could add to the announcement.
“I left two phone numbers on the kitchen table for you. If a problem arises and you need anything, call either one of those numbers.” His words were heavily starched and devoid of emotion. He might have been discussing the weather, for all the feeling he displayed.
“All right.”
He dropped his hand away from the door and hesitated for a moment. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” she returned just as tautly.
He closed the door, and with willful determination, she laid her head back down on the pillow. Closing her eyes, Hannah stubbornly decided to go back to sleep and ignore her husband the way he’d ignored her. She supposed she should consider herself lucky he’d taken the trouble to bid her farewell.
An achy heaviness weighed down her chest, and Hannah realized she was on the verge of tears. She hated the wetness that rolled down the sides of her face, dampening the pillow. She hating Riley for making her feel so loathsome, as though she’d done something very wrong. It felt wrong to have him leave for six weeks of sea duty when so much remained unsaid between them.
Rolling onto her side, she was determined to ignore her husband, the Navy and her conscience. Closing her eyes, she waited for the void of sleep to willingly claim her once again. If there was ever a time in her life when she was looking for the escape of slumber, it was now. Instead, the painful weight pressing against her breast threatened to suffocate her with every breath she drew.
Tossing aside her covers, she sat on the edge of the bed, her pride battling her conscience. If she rushed out to him, what could she possibly say? Hannah didn’t know. That she was sorry? The words would have lacked conviction, and Riley would know immediately and would use it against her. She didn’t want him to leave like this, but she knew of no way to end the tension and keep her pride intact.
It was while she was debating with herself that she heard the front door close. Hurriedly shoving her feet into her slippers, Hannah rushed into the living room. She reached the front window and parted the drapes in time to watch Riley climb into his friend Burt’s battered blue pickup. Burt must have said something to Riley about seeing her at the window, because Riley’s gaze reluctantly returned to the house.
Her heart demanded that she do something. Raise her hand in a gesture of farewell. Press her fingers to her lips in an effort to let him know he’d be missed. Something.
Hannah, however, did none of those things. Unshed tears burned her eyes, and still she stood there, wanting to blame him, blame herself for ever having agreed to this farce of a marriage. No more than a few seconds passed before the pickup pulled away and the opportunity was lost.
* * *
Two weeks into the training cruise, Riley was convinced he was the biggest heel who’d ever walked the face of the earth. If he’d plotted the ruin of his marriage, he couldn’t have done it with any more expediency.
He’d wanted to talk over their problems with her before he shipped out, but a man has his pride. Everything he’d done or tried to do, she mistrusted. Okay, so he’d made a mistake by not telling her he had orders for the training cruise. Surely a man was allowed one small error in judgment. The least she could do was cut him some slack; he was new to this husband thing.
Not Hannah. Not his dear, sweet wife. She’d settle for nothing less than blood.
He’d made the mistake of viewing her as a timid soul. His wife, he soon learned, had more fight in her than some tigers. Misjudging her wasn’t a mistake he planned on making again.
Personally, he didn’t think withholding information from one’s spouse was grounds for placing him in front of a firing squad. Hell, Hannah might as well shoot him for all the good he was doing the Navy. Riley had never felt emotionally lower in his life. It showed in his attitude and in everything he did. If this was the way matters went, he didn’t know how the hell he was ever going to last….
* * *
Six weeks had never seemed so long to Hannah. Two of those weeks had slipped by with sluggish disregard for her remorse. Not an hour passed when she wasn’t thinking about Riley, regretting the way they’d spent their last few days together. They’d wasted those precious hours when so much could have been resolved. Instead she was left to wait day after day, week after week, for his return just so she could tell him how terribly sorry she was.
They were both so damned proud, so damned stubborn. Neither one of them had been willing to give an inch. Their stubborn pride was like a cancer that had eaten away at their better judgment. Both were at fault. Above everything else what was troubling her was the knowledge that if they continued to feed the mistrust and the doubts, in time it would destroy them. There was too much at stake to play such cruel games with each other: their child’s future, their future.
When two people are married, Hannah reasoned, no matter what the circumstances, they must learn to make concessions. She’d been so willin
* * *
Her. Riley openly acknowledged as much after a month of missing Hannah. Never again would he leave her behind with unsettled business between them. This time apart was pure torture because he’d been too damned stubborn to talk out his feelings. She accused him of not being a husband, and he’d found her lacking as a wife. Four long weeks had softened the tough hide of his arrogance, and he willingly admitted his mistake. He’d never been strong on relationships, preferring to live his life independent of others. Caring for another, putting her needs before his own was new to him, and he’d committed several blunders.
His damn pride was the crux of the problem. Hannah was carrying his child, and if she was a bit sensitive over some matters, the least he could do was to be a little more understanding.
His inexperience in dealing with the opposite sex posed other problems. Riley had never lived with a woman. He didn’t know what to expect or how to act toward her. They both needed time to adjust to each other, make allowances. This infernal need to look for the bad instead of the good in their marriage was destined to doom them.
They’d made mistakes aplenty, but that was to be expected. They were both new to this marriage business. For years Hannah had assumed she’d be marrying Jerry Sanders, a seminary student. It was little wonder she was having a difficult time adjusting to life with a beer-drinking, poker-playing sailor.
Despite all that, they were physically attracted to each other. The child Hannah carried was testimony of that. The desire he felt for Hannah hadn’t changed. Riley dreamed of the day she would willingly share his bed. Closing his eyes, he could almost smell the sweet scent of wildflowers that was hers alone. Dear sweet heaven, he missed her—more than he’d ever dreamed it was possible to miss anyone. He’d gotten impatient, wanting to make…
* * *
Love. Riley hadn’t been unreasonable that night. What he’d said about a husband and wife sharing a bed had struck a raw nerve with her. Waiting to make love until she was more comfortable with their relationship had seemed like a good idea to Hannah when she had first mentioned it. She’d since altered her opinion. Mingled with the other regrets she was suffering since his deployment was the fact she had never spent the night in his bed. Riley wasn’t a brute. He would never have forced her. His kisses were gentle and thorough, speaking more of commitment than passion. His touch, so warm and special, conveyed all the wonderful things a man and woman, a husband and wife, could expect in a loving, long-lasting relationship. He’d never pressured her or rushed her, and had been willing to grant her all the time she required. Her anger and pride had pushed him away, leaving her to brood six torturous weeks over what might have happened.