"Oh, Blanche!" Felicity cried, flinging her arms around her friend and fighting back the tears that threatened. Joy for Blanche and the pain of her own personal agony warred for predominance. She concentrated on Blanche. "You can't be very far along," Felicity judged when she and Blanche parted.
Blanche shook her head. "I've missed one month and I'm late on the second."
"But you've only been married for six weeks," Felicity reminded her with a teasing smile.
Blanche shrugged her indifference. "We got an early start."
"Oh, Blanche! What a scandal you'll cause," Felicity chided happily.
"I know," Blanche replied with a twinkle. "Isn't it delicious? And at my age, too!" But her smile suddenly faded. "I was afraid maybe I was too old at alclass="underline" I'm almost thirty, you know."
"And how does Asa feel about having a little 'proof of affection'?" Felicity asked, using a popular euphemism.
"Well," Blanche admitted, "we haven't actually talked about it, although I think he suspects. A few days ago he asked me if I had already gone through the change. I guess he finally noticed that nothing had happened. When I assured him that I hadn't, he gave me a funny look, but he didn't ask any other questions. I'm just as glad he didn't. Maybe I'm superstitious, but I'm afraid to talk about it yet. Does that make any sense?"
"Oh yes, it does," Felicity replied, understanding only too well.
That night, as Felicity lay beside Joshua in the dark, she felt the familiar flutter of life within her womb. Instinctively her hand went to cover it, to cherish it. She had come to terms with her condition weeks ago. Why, then, did she still refuse to speak of it to Joshua? Perhaps because she was just as superstitious as Blanche. To speak of something so dangerous yet so desired was to invite the demons of destruction to do their work. To acknowledge her secret to Joshua would mean that she would have to face her fears and discuss them. How could she bear it if this child died, too? And she would have to consider the possibility of her own death and the effect it would have on Joshua. And how would he react? She had made him a promise, and she had broken that promise. Would he be angry? Would he hate her?
But he would be afraid, too, afraid of losing her. She was already so frightened herself that she wasn't certain she could deal with his fear, too. If they were both afraid, who would be strong? She did not have an answer, and she had asked the question so many times, she was no longer certain there even was one.
And she was a fool to think that her condition was a secret. Joshua knew; he must know. How many times had he asked her leading questions, that silent accusation darkening his eyes? But still she had not been able to speak of it. She was certain that to speak aloud the truth that they both knew was to invite disaster. To admit the existence of their child meant they would then have to plan for an event that terrified her. The very thought made her tremble.
But time was running out. Soon others would notice her pregnancy and comment on it. She was surprised Blanche hadn't mentioned it today. Luckily, her friend had been too concerned with her own joy to notice anything else.
Felicity turned her head on the pillow, listening to Joshua's breathing. He was not asleep. She could tell him right now. She should tell him right now. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Josh lay in the darkness, listening to her tiny movements. Why didn't she speak? Why didn't she tell him? She must know that he already knew. Was she afraid he would count on his fingers and figure out that he was not the father?
And was that why she had come home, why she had been so eager to be the perfect wife and lover, so she could pass Winthrop's bastard off as his child? Why then had she brought the sheaths if she was already pregnant? Because, the cold voice of reason replied, she knew you would never make love to her unless you thought she was safe. Now she can claim a failure in Dr. Strong's devices.
As furious as such thoughts made him, as agonizing as the thought of Felicity with Winthrop was, Josh nursed yet another, even more horrible thought. Some small part of him wanted the child to be Winthrop's bastard because he knew that if the child was his, Felicity might die. Her death was a burden he did not know if he could bear.
Never to see her, never to hold her again. How would he live? In his pain, he reached for her, drawing her close in an almost desperate embrace. His mouth found hers, and her eager response stirred other, equally desperate emotions.
Swiftly, he removed her nightdress. Their bodies were already damp from the sultry August night, and his hands glided over the moist satin of her skin, tracing the swells and valleys of her body. His own need was fierce, born not of passion but of the desire to reassert his claim-on her body and her love.
Felicity welcomed his ferocity, needing to feel his strength, hoping that it would renew her own. She clung to him feverishly, meeting him kiss for kiss, until her blood roared in her ears.
Then, suddenly, he pulled away. "I'll be right back," he said, using the phrase that told her he was going to reach into the drawer of the bedside table.
"No, don't," she said, unwilling to let him go, unwilling to let the charade go on a moment longer. She felt his body grow tense.
"What?" he asked hoarsely.
"I said, don't go. You don't need those things," Felicity said, her own voice hoarse, and quivery with the strain of confession.
At last, Josh thought, relief and dread flooding through him. "Why not?"
"I… because… you know why not!" she cried in frustration, angry that he would make her say the words when he must know as well as she did.
"Yes, I know," he said, slumping wearily back against the pillows, the heat of his passion rapidly cooling. "There's no use closing the barn door after the horse is gone."
Stung by the bitterness in his voice, Felicity drew away from him, wishing she could see his expression. He didn't sound angry, but she feared this cold cynicism even more.
"Why did you finally decide to tell me?" he asked tonelessly. "Did Blanche figure it out today? Were you afraid other people would start to notice, too?"
"No! She didn't… That isn't why!" Felicity insisted.
"Then why?"
Felicity shivered in spite of the torpid heat of the room. "I was afraid to tell you…" she began, wondering how she could make him understand.
"Afraid?" Josh pounced on the word, a confirmation of his worst nightmares. "Why were you afraid?" he demanded, sitting up so that he loomed over her in the darkness. "Were you afraid that I'd figure out I wasn't the father?"
"What!" Felicity cried in horror. She couldn't have heard him right. This couldn't be happening. She must be having a nightmare.
"I hope you made Winthrop work for it," Josh said, his hate and bitterness pouring out in a flood he was unable to stop. "A man appreciates a woman a lot more if she keeps him guessing a while."
Felicity made an anguished sound as his words hit her with the force of a body blow. "You can't think…" she whispered.
"What else am I supposed to think? You show up on my doorstep out of a clear blue sky, all ready to forgive and forget all my past 'sins.' Then I realize you're pregnant, except you don't say a word to me about it, even when I practically beg you to. Is that why you came back? So you wouldn't have a baby ten months after your husband left you?"
"NO!" she screamed as sobs wracked her body. As much as she had feared his reaction, she had never expected. anything so ugly as these absurd accusations. She hugged herself against the agony.
Hearing her sobs, Josh cursed, turning away from her and fumbling to light the lamp. He had to see her. He told himself that by seeing her, he would be able to see the truth.