Anne Mather - Jack Riordan's Baby

‘Like hell!’ Karen glared at her across the wide expanse of Persian carpet. ‘You can start by giving Jack a divorce. Or are you so selfish you’d deprive him of the chance of ever having a son of his own?’

Rachel had thought there was nothing the woman could say now that would hurt her more than she’d been hurt already. But she’d been wrong.

‘You must know he only married you to get control of your father’s business,’ Karen continued contemptuously. ‘Women like you make me sick. All your life people have protected you, looked after you, made absolutely sure the little princess didn’t get her hands dirty with anything remotely approaching work!’

‘That’s not true!’

Despite her determination not to get involved in an argument with this woman, Rachel had to defend herself. All right, when she’d married Jack she’d just left art college and she hadn’t been looking for a job. But she had already been putting out feelers to publishers, offering her work for consideration, and by the time she’d found she was pregnant she’d been working on her first attempt at illustration.

In any case, it didn’t matter, because Karen ignored her. ‘I don’t know why you married Jack,’ she went on in the same disparaging tone. ‘Or rather, I do. But, aside from the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous, you must have known he didn’t love you. I mean, he’s a real man. Not one of the pretty public schoolboys you’re used to.’ She gave a smug little smile. ‘Jack’s not like that. He’s not soft. And he needs a real woman. Me.’

‘Really?’

Somehow Rachel managed to sound bored by her submission, and was pleased when it aroused an entirely different expression on Karen’s face.

‘Yes, really,’ she snapped, her anger never far from the surface. ‘That’s why I’ve come to see you. Jack didn’t want to hurt you. He feels sorry for you, I suppose. But the situation can’t be allowed to continue. Not now that I’m going to have his baby.’

Rachel got to her feet. She still felt unsteady and strangely distant, as if this was some surreal happening she was just a witness to. But she couldn’t allow her to go on. Not if she wanted to retain any semblance of self-respect. This was her house—and Jack’s, but that was immaterial—and she couldn’t let the woman make a victim of her in her own home.

‘I think you’d better go, Miss Johnson,’ she said now, and even Karen looked taken aback at the apparent authority in her tone. She crossed the room, albeit on rather stiff legs, and rang the bell for the housekeeper. ‘Mrs Grady will show you out. Please don’t come here again.’

Karen took an aggressive step towards her. ‘You can’t treat me like this.’

‘Oh, I think I can.’ Rachel’s voice gained more confidence from her enemy’s agitation. ‘You’re not welcome here, Miss Johnson. Be thankful I’m not calling the police to throw you out.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Karen stared at her hard, as if trying to ascertain whether she meant what she said. Then she gave a scornful laugh. ‘Imagine what the gutter press would make of you hounding your husband’s mistress. No, you’re bluffing, Mrs Riordan. You’re probably wetting your pants for fear I might go to the papers myself.’

‘Get out!’ Rachel’s voice trembled as she spoke, but her determination didn’t falter. As she was taller than Karen, she used her height to make her point. ‘Get out before I throw you out,’ she snarled, her hands balling into fists at her sides. And, although Karen retained her air of defiance, she moved reluctantly towards the door.

‘You haven’t heard the last of me,’ she said provokingly, and Rachel wondered where Mrs Grady was when she needed her. ‘Wait until I tell Jack how you’ve treated me. You won’t be half so cocky then.’

‘Oh, I’m the one who’ll be telling Jack about your visit,’ retorted Rachel recklessly. ‘Yes, he’s going to be delighted when he hears your opinion of his character.’

‘What do you mean?’

Karen was wary, and Rachel gave her a mocking smile. ‘I can’t wait to tell him that you think he only married me to get control of the company. I mean, you’re virtually saying he couldn’t have made it on his own.’

‘You cow!’

‘Me?’ Rachel was actually starting to enjoy herself in a disreputable way. ‘What’s the matter, Miss Johnson? Are you beginning to realise you might have said too much?’

‘No.’ But Karen was agitated. ‘I don’t care what you say, I’m going to have Jack’s baby. You might earn a few points for effort, Mrs Riordan, but I’m holding the winning card.’

Rachel’s nails dug into her palms, but before she could stop herself she said, ‘One of them.’ And, as Karen turned incredulous eyes in her direction, she added unforgivably, ‘Didn’t he tell you? I’m having a baby, too.’

IT WAS LATE when Jack got back to Market Abbas.

The actual signing of the contract hadn’t taken long, but there’d been lunch with the Mayor, followed by a tour of the city, then drinks—something he always tried to avoid these days—before an early dinner with the architect, the surveyor, and other dignitaries. Jake knew they were only there for the ride, but he had to play along despite how he was feeling before he could reasonably take his leave.

It had all gone very well, and everyone had seemed satisfied with the deal. Jack felt he’d acquitted himself adequately considering he hadn’t been in the mood for any of it. Since he’d spoken to his doctor on Tuesday he’d been having a hard time making sense of his life, let alone anything else.

It was just as well he and Rachel spent so little time in each other’s company these days. In the early months of their marriage she’d have known instantly that something was wrong. These last few months had been hell. He was sleeping badly and his appetite was virtually non-existent. The pressure of work, of handling the continued expansion and the other responsibilities he had now that Rachel’s father was dead, was crippling. And now dealing with Karen Johnson as well had proved too much. Even Mrs Grady had noticed, but she knew better than to interfere.

Driving between the open gates of the house he’d built just after he and Rachel were married, Jack knew an overwhelming sense of relief. He was grateful for the darkness, too, to hide the weariness he knew must be evident in his face. After all, his home was over a hundred miles from Bristol, and, although he loved driving, he wished he’d let his driver take the wheel tonight.

But that would have meant Dan couldn’t have had a drink either, and that wouldn’t have been fair. And the last thing he wanted was for Dan to become suspicious of his health. He might feel it was his duty to inform Rachel. He had always been very fond of Jack’s wife.

There were lights on in the house, even though it was after eleven o’clock. Someone must still be up, and he guessed it was Mrs Grady. The days when Rachel had waited up for him were long gone. His expression shifted to one of regret. He missed those late-night conversations with his wife, the opportunities they’d given him to get the events of the day into perspective. They hardly discussed the company these days. And since her father had died two years ago, he’d had no one in the family to share his problems with.

So whose fault was that?

But Jack had no desire to get into such things tonight. He was too tired, too depressed, too sick of being the boss of Fox Construction first and Jack Riordan second.

He sighed, and after parking the Aston Martin to one side of the entrance he got out of the car. He couldn’t be bothered to put it in the garage. If it was stolen, so be it. He didn’t much care either way.