The Tender Stranger Read online

  He saw that look in her eyes and could have cursed. Fate was giving him a hard time.

  "I don't like publicity," he said. "My private life is

  sacred."

  "And where do I fit into your life?" she asked quietly. It was too soon to ask that, but things needed to

  be said now.

  "You're my wife," he said simply.

  "Why did you marry me?" she asked.

  He looked hunted. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. He took a deep puff of his cigarette before he replied. "I wanted you."

  So that was all, she thought. It didn't hurt, although she was sure it was going to, when the numbness wore off. She was still in a state of shock. She had risked her life, seen a man wounded in front of her eyes, learned that her husband was a mercenary....

  He was watching her face, and he felt a violence of emotion that made him dizzy. She was under his skin. In his very soul. How did he get her out?

  "Yes, I thought so," she said too casually. She searched the face her hands had touched so lovingly. "And what did you expect that our married life would be like? That I'd sit home and wait while you went away and came home shot to pieces year after year?"

  He felt shocked. Taken by surprise. He stared at her intently. "I thought...we'd each have our own lives. That we could enjoy each other. Belong to each other."

  She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. I couldn't live that way. You'd better divorce me."

  It was almost comical. His spinster wife of a week was showing him the door. Him! Women had chased him for years. They'd practically hung out windows trying to snare him because of his very elusiveness. And this plain little frumpy bookseller was showing him the door!

  "You needn't look so shocked," she told him. "I'm only saving myself a little heartache, that's all. I can't

  live with the knowledge that your life is constantly in danger. I'd be destroyed."

  "I'm not suicidal, for God's sake," he began.

  "You're not superhuman, either," she reminded him. "There are scars on you. I didn't realize what they were at the time, but now I know. And one day you'll stop a bullet. I don't want to be sitting alone waiting for the phone to ring. I' m strong. But I' m not that strong. I care

  too much."

  It amazed him that he felt those last four words to the soles of his feet. She cared about him. Of course she did; it was written all over her, in the soft gray eyes that had worshipped him when he loved her, in the hands that had adored him. It was infatuation or hero worship, he knew, but it had been flattering. Now it meant something more to him. Now it mattered that she was turning him away. "We'll talk when we get to Greenville," he said

  firmly.

  "You can talk all you like," she said, walking away

  from him. "I've had my say."

  "You little frump!" he burst out, infuriated.

  "Look who's calling whom a frump!" she threw back, whirling, all big angry gray eyes behind her glasses and flying hair and flushed cheeks. "Who do you think you are, big, bad soldier. God's gift?"

  He wanted to strangle her, but he laughed instead.

  "And don't laugh at me," she fumed. "It was all a line, wasn't it? You told me I was beautiful to you, but I was just a pickup, something to play with between wars!"

  "At first," he agreed. He finished his cigarette and ground it out under his shoe. "But not now."

  "That's right, now I'm a liability," she told him. "I'm a holiday interlude that's over."

  He shook his blond head. She got prettier by the day, he mused, watching her. He'd called her a frump only because he was so angry. He smiled slowly. "You aren't over, pretty girl."

  "I'm a frump!" she yelled at him.

  A passing flight attendant grinned at her. "Not quite," he murmured, and winked.

  Dani picked up her bag of books and started walking toward the terminal.

  "Where are you going?" Dutch asked.

  "Back home," she told him. "I've got a bookstore to run."

  "Stop."

  She did, but she kept her back to him. "Well?"

  He hesitated. It was uncharacteristic. He didn't know what to do next. If he pushed her, he could lose her. But he couldn't let go, either. She'd become important to him. He didn't want to think about never seeing her again.

  "Think about it for a while," he said finally. "For a few weeks, until I get back."

  "Back?" She turned, not caring if he saw her pain. Tears bit at her eyelids and she felt sick all over.

  Oh, God, it hurt to see her like this! He glared toward the horizon, jamming his hands into his pockets. He'd never seen that expression on a woman's face in his life. He'd come to the brink of death with cool disdain more

  times than he cared to remember, and now the look on a woman's face terrified him.

  She fought to get herself under control. She took a slow, deep breath. "I won't change my mind," she said, sure now that it would be suicide to stay with him.

  "All the same, I'll be in touch."

  "Suit yourself."

  He met her eyes, searching them. "I'm already committed to this job. I can't back out." It was the first time in years that he'd explained himself, he realized.

  "I don't want to know," she said firmly. "You have your life, and I have mine. If you'd told me in the very beginning, I wouldn't have come near you."

  "I think I knew that," he said softly. He sketched her with his eyes, memorizing her. "Take care of yourself."

  "I always have." She let her eyes love him one last time. She ached already at their parting. It would be like losing a limb. "You take care of yourself, too."

  "Yes."

  She stared at her wedding ring, and he saw the thought in her eyes.

  "Leave it on," he said gently. "I—would like to think that you were wearing my ring."

  The tears burst from her eyes. She didn't even look at him again, she turned and broke into a run, suitcases and all, crying so hard that she could hardly see where she was going. Behind her he stood quietly on the apron, alone, watching until she was out of sight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NOTHING WAS THE SAME. The first day she was home Dani went into the bookstore the same as always, but her life was changed. Harriett Gaynor, her small, plump friend, gave her odd looks, and Dani was almost certain that Harriett didn't believe a word of the story her employer told her about the Mexican holiday. Then the next day the papers hit the stands.

  "It's true!" Harriett burst out, small and dark-eyed, her black hair in tight curls around her elfin face. "It's all here in the paper, about the hijacking, look!"

  Dani grimaced as she looked down at the newspaper Harriett had spread over the counter. There was a picture of the pilot, and a blurred one of the injured hijacker being carried off the plane. There wasn't a picture of Dutch, but she hadn't expected to see one. He seemed quite good at dodging the press.

  "Here's something about the man who overpowered the hijacker..." Harriett frowned and read, catching her breath at the vivid account. She looked up at Dani. "You did that?"

  "He said they would have asked for automatic weapons once we were in Miami," Dani said quietly.

  Harriett put the paper down. "A professional mercenary." She stared at her best friend. "I don't believe it. Didn't you ask what he did before you married him?"

  "If you saw him, you wouldn't be surprised that I didn't," Dani told her. She turned away. She didn't want to talk about Dutch. She wanted to forget. Even now, he was on his way to another conflict....

  "No man is that good-looking," Harriett said. "Not even Dave." Dave, a pleasant man, wasn't half the scrapper his pint-sized wife was. "By the way, Mrs. Jones called to thank you for her autographed books."

  "She's very welcome. It was nice, getting to meet some of the authors at the autographing." She checked the change in the cash register as they started to open

  the shop.

  "Where is he now?" Harriett asked suddenly.

  "Getting a good lawyer, I hope,"
Dani said, laughing even though it hurt to say it. "We're setting a new record for short marriages. One week."

  "You might work it out," came the quiet reply.

  Dani wouldn't look at her friend. "He makes his living risking his life, Harrie," she said. "I can't spend mine worrying about him. I'd rather get out while I still can."

  "I suppose you know your own mind," Harriett said, shrugging. "But when you decide to go adventuring, you sure go whole hog, don't you? Marrying strangers, overpowering hijackers..."

  She went away muttering, and Dani smiled at her retreating back. Yes, she'd had an adventure all right. But now it was over, and she'd better tuck her bittersweet

  memories away in a trunk and get on with her life. The first step was to put Dutch out of her mind forever. The second was to stop reading the newspaper. From now on, every time she learned about a small foreign war, she'd see him.

  Of course, it wasn't that easy. In the weeks that followed, everything conspired to remind her of him. Especially Harriett, who became heartily suspicious when Dani began losing her breakfast.

  "It's the curse of Montezuma," Dani said shortly, glaring at her friend from a pasty face as she came out of the bathroom with a wet paper towel at her mouth.

  "It's the curse of the flying Dutchman," came the dry reply.

  Dani laughed in spite of herself, but it was brief. "I am not pregnant."

  "I had a miscarriage," Harriett said quietly. "But I've never forgotten how it felt, or how I looked. You're white as a sheet, you tire so easily it isn't funny, and your stomach stays upset no matter what you do."

  It was the same thing Dani had been dreading, hoping, terrified to admit. But she'd arrived at the same conclusion Harriett had. She sat down on the stool behind the counter with a weary sigh.

  "You crazy child, didn't you even think about contraceptives?" Harriett moaned, hugging her.

  Harriett, only four years her senior, sometimes seemed twice that. Dani let the tears come. She wept so easily these days. Last night a story on the news about guerrilla action in Africa had set her off when she spot-

  ted a blond head among some troops. Now, Harriett's concern was doing it, too.

  "I'm pregnant," Dani whispered shakily. "Yes, I know."

  "Oh, Harrie, I'm scared stiff," she said, clutching the older woman. "I don't know anything about babies." "There, there, Miss Scarlett, I doesn't know anything about birthin' babies my own self, but we'll muddle through somehow." She drew away, smiling with a genuine affection. "I'll take care of you." She searched Dani's eyes. "Do you want to have it?"

  Dani shuddered. "I saw a film once, about how babies develop." She put her hand slowly, tenderly, to her flat abdomen. "They showed what happened when a pregnancy is terminated." She looked up. "I cried for hours." "Sometimes it's for the best," Harriett said gently. "In some circumstances," she agreed. "But I'll never see it as a casual answer to contraception. And as for me," she said shifting restlessly, "I...want his baby." She clasped her arms around herself with a tiny smile. "I wonder if he'll be blond?" she mused. "He may be a she," came the dry reply. "That's all right. I like little girls." She sighed dreamily. "Isn't it amazing? Having a tiny life inside you,

  feeling it grow?"

  "Yes," Harriett said wistfully. "It was the happiest

  time of my life."

  Dani looked up and smiled. "You can share mine." Harriett, tougher than nails, grew teary-eyed. She

  turned quickly away before Dani could see that vulnerability.

  "Of course I can. Right now you need to get to a doctor and see how far along you are."

  "I already know," Dani said, remembering the morning in Dutch's room, the exquisite tenderness of that brief loving. "I know."

  "You'll need vitamins," Harriett continued. "And a proper diet."

  "And baby clothes and a baby bed..." Dani was dreaming again.

  "Not until after the seventh month," Harriett said firmly. "You have to be realistic, too. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't. But it helps not to get too involved too soon."

  "Spoilsport!" Dani burst out, half-irritated.

  "The doctor will tell you the same thing," Harriett said. "Dani, I bought baby furniture when I was a month along. I miscarried at four months, and had all those bright new things to dispose of. Don't do it."

  Dani immediately felt repentant. She hugged Harriett warmly. "Thank you for being my friend. For caring about me."

  "Someone has to." She glowered up at Dani. "Are you going to tell him?"

  "How?" Dani asked. "I don't even know his address."

  "My God, she's married to a man and she doesn't know where he lives."

  Dani laughed at the expression on Harriett's face. "Well, we didn't spend much time talking."

  Harriett started at the young woman's belly. "So I noticed."

  "Stop that!" Dani sighed wearily. "Besides, he said he never wanted children. He'd go right through the roof if he knew. It's just as well that the divorce go through without his finding out."

  "How can you divorce a man you can't find?" Harriett asked reasonably.

  "He's getting the divorce, not me. He has my address." "Lovely. Shall we sell some books? Call the doctor first," Harriett said, and went back to her pricing.

  Dani was healthy, and after her family doctor put her on prenatal vitamins, she began to bloom. Dr. Henry Carter laughed delightedly every visit she made to his office for checkups, pleased with her progress as well as her attitude toward being pregnant.

  "You really love being pregnant, don't you?" he asked when she was having her third checkup, at a little over four and a half months.

  "Every second!" She touched the swell of her abdomen. "I think he moved this morning," she added excitedly. "Little flutters, like a bird trying to get free."

  "Yes," he said with a warm smile. "That's what it feels like, I'm told. The first sign of a healthy baby. The tests we ran assured us of that."

  She'd liked the test. It was done with ultrasound, and they'd given her a polaroid picture of the baby's head, just visible in the X-ray, an n-type sound scan.

  "Has there been any word from your husband?" he added quietly.

  Dani felt herself go cold. "No." She stared down at her hands. "He might.. .never come back."

  "I'm sorry. The reason I asked is because I'd like you to sign up for natural childbirth classes. Even if you don't want to have a natural delivery, they'll help you cope with labor," he explained. "They involve exercises that prepare you for childbirth. And, sadly, they require a partner." "Can—can Harriett do it?" she asked. He knew Harriett, and he grinned. "Best person I know for a coach. All she really has to do is stand beside you and tell you when to breathe."

  "She already does that very well," she said dryly. "Okay. Next month I'll sign you up. You're doing fine. Get out of here. And don't exert yourself too much. The heat's terrible this summer."

  'Tell me about it," she murmured, sweating even in her loose sleeveless tent blouse and elastic-fronted skirt. "See you next time."

  She made another appointment and dawdled on her way back to work. It was a lovely summer day, the kind that lures dreamers to quiet ponds and butterfly-laden meadows full of flowers. She sang a little as she walked along, feeling the tiny flutters in her stomach and laughing as she went. What a beautiful world. How wonderful to be pregnant and healthy.

  Finally, she gave in and went back to the bookstore, because she knew Harriett would worry if she was gone too long. She strolled lazily along the small shopping center in the heart of Greenville, oblivious to shoppers and the sounds of children playing on the sidewalk.

  With a slow, dreamy smile, she opened the door of the shop and walked inside. And came face-to-face with Dutch.

  He was wearing khakis—a bush shirt with slacks— and there was a new scar on one cheek. He looked as though he'd lost a little weight, although he was as handsome, as physically devastating, as ever. Harriett must have thought so, too, because she was openly star
ing at him, wide-eyed.

  Dutch did some staring of his own. His eyes were on her stomach, and their expression was frankly terrified. He felt as if he'd never breathe again. He'd come back to see if they could work out a compromise, if she might be willing to rethink her position. Only to find—this!

  Dani saw the stark terror in his eyes. If she'd hoped for any kind of reconciliation, she knew now that it was all a pipe dream. After all the long nights of remembering, worrying, hoping, praying, for him, of thinking how he'd react if she told him about the baby, now she knew.

  It was too much all at once. The sight of him, the hunger for him, the weeks and months of worry. He began to blur, and then to darken. And she fainted at his feet.

  She came to in the back of the shop, in a storeroom that Dani and Harriett used for lunch breaks. There was a big armchair there, and Dani was lying across it, her shoes off, a cold cloth on her forehead.

  ".. .had a hard time of it," Harriett was saying grimly. "She's healthy enough, but she won't rest."

  "I never should have married her," came the harsh reply.

  "You're a prize, aren't you?" Harriett was saying. "That child has never had anything or anyone in her life to make her way easier. Her parents deserted her when

  she was just a baby; she doesn't even know where they are. She never really had a boyfriend of her own. She's had no one except me. And now you sweep her off her feet, get her pregnant, and walk out on her. Mister, you are a walking blond plague, and if there's one iota of human decency left in you, you'll do her a favor and get out of her life."

  "And leave her at your mercy?" Dutch came back idly. "Like hell."

  Oh, no, Dani thought sickly. She'd known that would happen. World War III. Dutch and Harriett were just alike....