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Jemma looked into his eyes, saw the vulnerability in the shimmering depths and caught her breath. This was a Luke she had never seen before, and she watched him with an aching uncertainty and a wary hope—because she wanted to believe him but was afraid of getting hurt again. 'So when did this momentous realisation come to you?' she asked, using sarcasm to protect her inner feelings.
He smiled down into her eyes. 'I realised on the day we visited the house on Zante, lying on the bed in your aunt's bedroom, that I loved you,' he said huskily, and Jemma could scarcely breathe. 'Later on the beach I had to listen to you quite calmly say that I didn't believe in love, and I wanted to tell you then but I knew it was too soon.' His arms tightened around her and he looked deep into her eyes. 'You lied to me when you told me you didn't know your aunt's lover, and that hurt because it proved you didn't trust me.'
Jemma stiffened. 'You're guessing now,' she muttered, very flushed, and he smiled at her with knowing eyes.
'I've studied you minutely, but forget it; you don't need to tell me. I vowed then I would do everything in my power to earn your trust and hopefully your love.'
Jemma dared not believe it. Luke was such a smooth operator, so plausible and convincing, and yet held in his arms she almost did believe him. 'You said there was no such thing as love, that it was only another word for lust.' She looked frowningly up at him. 'You also said you were sick of me, so why should I believe your apparent change of heart now?' she asked.
'I said a damn sight too much,' Luke muttered, his mouth twisting. 'How can I make you understand? Any dumb idea I ever had about love went out of the window the moment I set eyes on you. You were the woman of my dreams, but it turned into a nightmare when you said you were married. I spent a year trying to forget you—a celibate year. Finally, in desperation, I dated Davina—and then I met you again, and I swear I've never touched Davina since. She paid a surprise visit to my office to wish me a happy birthday, but I made her leave before I spoke to you. Do you think I could speak like that, make love with another woman the way I do with you?' he demanded harshly. 'You are my love, my passion, my life.'
She remembered the passion, the gentleness, the myriad ways he had made love to her, and her heart squeezed in her breast. Was he telling the truth?
'When I forced you to marry me I told myself it didn't matter that you were still in love with Alan. I wanted you, I knew we were very sexually compatible, and I thought we could base a marriage on that. But I very quickly realised I was wrong. I loved you, and I wanted much, much more from you.' He put a hand under her chin and tilted her head right back. 'Look at me, Jemma,' he commanded, and she looked into his blazing silver eyes and wondered how she had ever thought they were cold. Because they were burning right now, with a need and a pain that made her heart stutter.
'I am a very possessive man, and it shames me to say it, but I was insanely jealous of your dead husband.'
'You broke my locket deliberately,' Jemma murmured.
'If he had been alive I would have broken his neck. That's how despicable I am,' he responded immediately.
Jemma's eyes widened to their fullest extent. Luke's face was haggard and drawn, as if he was suffering some mental torture. 'You don't mean that, Luke.'
'Maybe not. But when I dashed back from New York that last time I was determined to tell you how I truly felt, because after our intimate conversation I was convinced that I was finally getting somewhere with you—especially as you'd agreed to look for a house.'
'I thought you meant for us, but then afterwards I thought it was your way of telling me to leave,' Jemma interjected.
'You were right the first time.' Luke attempted a smile. 'But when I found you in tears in your old home something snapped inside me.' He closed his eyes for a moment in remembered anguish, then opened them again. 'God! Jemma, can you ever forgive me? I very nearly took you without your consent.'
'No!' Jemma cried. She couldn't bear to see the torment in his eyes. 'You didn't. You were angry at first, but I was with you all the way,' she said, blushing furiously, the hope in her heart growing by the minute.
'Thank you for that. But I realised then that I couldn't trust myself around you, that I had to leave.'
'But you said you were sick of me. I saw the disgust in your eyes,' Jemma couldn't help reminding him.
'I was disgusted at myself. I was never sick of you. I quoted Proverbs—"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick"—and that was how I felt. The sex was wonderful, but I was getting more and more desperate—hoping that you'd come to love me. I'm a selfish man and I wanted all of you. Body and soul. I wanted to be the centre of your universe. I'd tried everything I could to make you love me, and nothing had worked. My hopes were in shreds and I had to leave before I destroyed what little feeling you had left for me.' His hand fell from her chin. 'I'm not surprised you never told me you were pregnant; you're probably afraid of me.'
Jemma could not bear to hear her proud, indomitable Luke sounding so humble. 'Afraid of you, Luke…never,' she said with a smile. If she wanted him she had to let go of her fears and trust that he was telling her the truth.
'I hope you mean that, Jemma,' he said fiercely. 'Because I'm going to be around you and our baby for a very, very long time.'
He hadn't stayed humble for long, Jemma thought, smiling to herself. Sliding her hands up over his chest, she linked her fingers around his neck. Swaying into him as far as her bump would allow, she pulled his proud head down to hers, her pulse racing at her own audacity. 'That's fine by me,' she breathed. 'I like the idea of the man I love being around me and our child.' She saw the shock in his eyes, and then his mouth closed over hers in a hungry open-mouthed kiss that was incredibly tender, yet erotic.
'Tell me,' Luke pleaded, lifting his dark head, one hand winding through the soft strands of hair that tumbled down her back, the other hand curving around her nape. 'Tell me this is for real.' His cheekbones were flushed and his silver eyes gleamed with a feverish light. 'Tell me again you love me.'
She pulled back a little. 'I love you, Luke.' Her full lips parted in a beaming smile and her pulse raced even faster as she heard his groan of satisfaction. He kissed her with a deep, urgent desire that touched her soul. His hand moved from her nape to stroke over her breasts, and then down over the hard mound of her stomach.
'I shouldn't be doing this.' He groaned again. 'You're pregnant.'
'Yes, you should,' Jemma said, her breasts swelling beneath the soft fabric of her dress, warmth coursing through her veins and exciting every nerve in her body. 'But not here—upstairs,' she murmured, and he lifted her tenderly in his arms and carried her where she said. Then he slid her gently to her feet and stepped back a pace. He looked at her in silence for what seemed an age, his eyes darkening until they resembled the deepest slate, and suddenly Jemma was nervous.
'Do you like my bedroom?' she asked.
'You fill my eyes. You fill my heart. You fill my mind to the exclusion of all else.' He reached for her shoulders and his hands shook as his fingers caught the slender straps and eased them down her arms, the white muslin pooling at her feet. 'My God!' he exclaimed huskily, his gaze roaming over her altered figure. 'I thought you were perfect before—but now, ripe with my child, you are…' He swallowed hard, his eyes filling with moisture. 'You are exquisite beyond belief.'
'Luke…' she prompted hesitantly. She had never seen him so distressed.
'You are heartbreakingly beautiful,' he said, and moved a hand to the back of her head, holding her close against his shoulder, stroking her long hair, his face hidden from her view. 'I don't deserve you, Jemma, but I love you madly and I always will' She felt his chest heave and tilted her head back, her golden gaze meshing with his. All her doubts and fears vanished at the love and need that blazed from his silver eyes.
