Loved Intensely (UNEDITED)

Chapter 7

She'd run into James twice more after he'd left
that last time, and both times he'd been on his way
up, to see Kylie or Kyriane or whatever her name
was. She'd had to endure listening to the
bedsprings from upstairs creak and wonder if it
had been James up there every time. Not even the
loudest heavy metal music could drown out the
creaking of those springs, and besides, people had
started banging on her walls when she'd turned it
up really loud.
Luc burst into the room, took one look at her
dishevelled state and the ruins of an apartment
around her, and immediately took her into his
arms. "Poor Emma," Luc murmured consolingly.
"You're not feeling well at all, are you?"
Emma shook her head piteously.
"Come on then. I'll make you a cup of tea and
something to eat, and you can tell me all about it."
He led the way into the kitchen and she followed.
One mug of hot tea and a sandwich later, Luc was
holding her hand while she sobbed her heart out.
"That's it," he was murmuring consolingly. "Just let
it all out."
"I don't know what to do," Emma was hiccupping.
"I've thought and thought and I just don't know! I
mean...I have a job, and some savings, but when
the baby's born I'll have to quit it, and then what
will I do? I can't afford not to have a job!"
"Maybe you should talk to James," Luc suggested
gently.
"Are you kidding? He doesn't want anything to do
with me. What would he care about a baby? He
cares nothing for me."
"Doesn't he?" Luc smiled. "I know he's been
storming around like a bear with a sore head for
the last couple of weeks. And I know why."
Emma's chin jutted out defiantly. "And even if he
wanted anything to do with me, I don't want
anything to do with him. He - he's shagging the
whore upstairs!"
Luc burst out laughing. "Shagging, Emma?" he
queried with brows raised. "Shagging?"
"Well, he's sleeping with her," she amended. "He
went straight from me to her!"
"Yes, but how do you know he's sleeping with her?
They might just be friends, or business
acquaintances or some such thing."
"Her apartment is directly above mine," Emma
replied dryly. "I can hear the bedsprings creak.
What do you suppose they're doing? Simply playing
'jumping castle'?"
"I suppose not," Luc said ruefully. "In any case,
you can't keep living like this. You've got to get
yourself together, Emma, if only for the baby's
sake. Come on, I'll take you out to dinner, and you
can get drunk one last time, and then we'll come
back and sleep on the floor one last time before I
get the crew in and clean up. Deal?"
"I don't get drunk," Emma informed him
indignantly. "And I've never slept on the floor in
my life! Besides, won't your wife object if you
spend the night with me?"
"Well, might as well get it out of your system," Luc
replied pragmatically. "Better now than when the
baby really starts to show. And my wife's not my
wife anymore. She did a runner on our honeymoon.
By the way, have you been eating? You seem to be
gaining weight."
"Wonderful, Luc," Emma said with mock sarcasm.
"Thanks for telling me I'm getting fat. That's sure
to cheer me up."
Luc shrugged. "Go freshen up, eh? Then we'll go."
* * *
They spent the night at a cheap bistro where she
could eat as much as she want and drink as much
as she want, without getting noticed, with the
result that by the time Luc got round to taking
her home she could barely stand without leaning on
something.
They staggered into the elevator together, Emma
laughing hysterically at something he'd said. "You
know, Luc," she giggled, her hand stroking her
stomach. "I think I'll survive after all." The
elevator doors opened. "I might actually look
forward to having this baby."
Emma stopped dead in her tracks, leaning heavily
on Luc. Luc's eyes widened and he said in a slightly
singsong voice, "Uh-oh."
"Hello, Emma," said James, with a dangerous smile.
"Did you enjoy yourself, children?"
"Goodbye, love," Luc said with a hiccup. "Afraid
you'll have to sleep on the floor by yourself
tonight. I'm not up to getting beat to a pulp. Not
even for you." So saying, he gave her a little push
and she stumbled toward James, then lurched back
into the elevator. The doors closed with a ping.
James caught her before she could bang into the
wall. "Whoops," she said cheerfully, leaning against
him. "Must find the keys!"
"Give me your bag," James said impatiently, then
rifled through it quickly. He couldn't seem to find
the damn things. "Where are they?"
"Hmm," Emma said thoughtfully. "Must be in my
pocket somewhere." She struggled, clumsily, to dig
into the pockets of the tight fitting jeans to no
avail.
"Here," said James, exasperated. "Lean on me.
Both hands." She did as ordered, then stood stock
still, shocked, as she felt his hands sliding into her
front pockets. "Not here," he announced grimly.
"Turn a bit." He slid his hands into her back
pockets. She gave a little gasp, feeling his fingers
curl and scoop out the keys. He didn't seem to
notice as he efficiently inserted the key into the
lock and turned the doorknob.
Emma had sobered up by now, realising, perhaps,
the seriousness of the situation. He knew - or at
least, he knew that she was pregnant. He didn't
know by whom.
James flicked the switch and the kitchen lit up. He
gazed, vaguely disgusted, at the mess of the
kitchen. Dishes cluttered up the sink, the bench
top. There was an opened, but untouched, bottle of
wine on the table. "Sit," he ordered, pulling out a
chair for her. Emma sat.
"Now," said James, remaining on his feet and
looking down at him. "Care to tell me just what the
hell Luc was doing here?"
Emma shrugged. "That's none of your business,"
she said, struggling to sound cool and composed.
"It damn well is my business!" James raged. "He
was here, with you. That makes it my business!"
She looked away. "I don't see how."
"When someone is running around with what belongs
to me behind my back," James said coldly, "I
generally make it my business."
She glowered. "What do you care? Its not as
though I mean anything to you."
"You mean everything to me!" James shouted.
"That's the damn point!" His tone softened. "And
what about the baby, Emma? When were you going
to tell me, Em?"
"I don't see why I should have."
His eyes widened, and she thought there was just
the tiniest hint of pain in them. "You don't think I
had a right to know about my own child?"
"It's not as though you wanted it, or as if you
cared." Quickly she realised her mistake and
amended, "It's not as though its yours."
His lip curled. "Nice try, sweetheart. Jordan's told
me everything. There's no point denying it. The
baby is mine. You're mine."
She looked up at him at last, her eyes flashing. "I
don't belong to anybody!"
"You belong to me, Emma. You carry my child
within you. You've been mine the moment I laid
eyes on you. Do you know how it killed me, having
to pretend for those entire months while you
believed you were Kit's fiance? How, during the
nights you'd lie in my arms and yet in the days
would not look twice at me? Your eyes were all for
Kit, and he didn't even know you were alive, half
the time! And then those months that I waited,
waited for you to recover and finally move on, so I,
at last, could court you. I've waited, Emma. I've
waited for longer than you could imagine. And now
I'm tired of waiting."
Her lips parted, her eyes bewildered.
"I'm not going to force you. I've had enough of
that. I've had enough of the uncertainty, the
constant terror that you're going to just
disappear. Choose, Emma. Choose. I can go, or I
can stay. Which is it to be?"
She shook her head, numbly.
"I love you, Emma."
Emma stared at him. "But - but you said - it was
just sex. And what about Kylie?" Her voice
hardened. "Or Kyriane. Whatever her name is from
upstairs with the noisy bed."
James smiled. "Jealous, darling?" he taunted
softly.
She looked away. "No," she denied.
He bent down to cup her face in her hands. "Liar."
Emma scowled. "What were you doing with her
anyway?"
He grinned. "You won't believe this - but she's my
cousin. Actually, she made me sit in the living room
while she serviced her boyfriends. It made for
bloody awkward conversation, I can tell you."
"What?" Emma was astonished. "You're related to
Kylie the Sex Kitten? And here I was, thinking the
Brandeworths were all high and mighty posh
types..."
"Good lord!" James laughed out loud. "Is that what
you call her? By the way, she's related to me on
my mother's side. Not a Brandeworth, you see!"
"Its what everyone calls her. She's famous in this
building."
"Hmm. I daresay Uncle George isn't going to be
pleased about that. He never has been, about her
chosen profession. But never mind. Well? What's
your answer?"
"I love you." Her eyes widened. The words had
slipped from her lips, involuntarily. She groaned,
closed her eyes for a moment then leapt to her
feet and ran for the bedroom, intending to lock
herself in. Startled, James remained frozen for a
moment, then bounded after her. He wedged his
foot into the crack just before the door slammed.
He winced when the door banged into his foot.
Pushing slowly, but inextricably, he managed to
open to door wide enough to get inside. He grabbed
both her arms, and held her against the wall.
"What did you say?" James demanded.
Emma flushed. "I - You - you heard."
"Say it, Emma."
"I love you."
James groaned, buried his face in her throat.
"God, I thought I'd never hear you say those sweet
words again. I was so stupid, sweetheart, forgive
me...Say it again."
"I love you."
"Do you belong to me? As I belong to you?"
"James...I love you. I'm yours. No matter what
happens, I will always be yours, even if you don't
love me anymore."
He shouted out exultantly. "And I love you. I'll
never stop loving you, sweetheart. And I'll never
stop belonging to you, either. And are you going to
marry me? And have my child? And many more as
well?"
She smiled shyly. "Do you really love me, James?"
"Little idiot," he kissed her, and she suddenly
found herself with a mouthful of tongue. "As if
anyone could not."
"I love you too," she whispered.
"Good," James said, satisfaction emanating from
every part of his body. His eyes gleamed with a
fierce possessiveness. "Now kiss me."
"Ok." She brushed her mouth against his.
"Not like that," he murmured against her lips.
"Like this." And then he was kissing her, hard,
fiercely, with an unrestrained joy and a hungry,
savage possessiveness. He picked her up, hefting
her over his shoulder rather like the proverbial
caveman claiming his woman.
Emma did not mind. In fact, she quite found that
she thoroughly enjoyed being loved...and loved
intensely.