“Are you sure?”
She nodded quickly before she changed her mind. At Ryan’s suggestion, they moved to the table in the center of the expansive living area and spread the contract over the large glass top.
She recited the terms she already knew all too well. They sounded completely different when she related them to herself. “We have to stay married for one year, and during that time we must sleep together in the same bedroom.” She forced herself to block out the images of his hands, his mouth, his body.
“Correct.”
“And I have to become pregnant within that year.”
“Right. If no pregnancy occurs, we have to spend another year together and undergo fertility testing until you conceive. And if you can’t by then, we divorce, you get a settlement, and this whole search-for-a-bride circus starts all over again for me.”
He’d stated the terms so impersonally, yet Faith knew how much this whole charade bothered him. More than once over the past year he’d ranted to her about his manipulating grandfather. If he’d wanted a wife, he’d told her, he’d have damn well gone out and found one himself.
“I’m just going to have to hope you can bear children,” he added.
Faith shrugged. “Obviously, I have no idea. And you have to be able to…um …”
“Provide the fertilizer?” He offered a wry smile. “I’d already looked into that as a possible loophole. If I were sterile, this entire deal would be off.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I have plenty of strong swimmers in me.”
Faith chose to ignore the implications of that statement and focused instead on the contract. “Who will monitor our marriage?”
Ryan’s eyes darkened with his frown. “My cousin, James, who stands to inherit the business if I fail, as well as grandfather’s attorney, Stan Fredericks. They’ll be shadowing us like a couple of PI’s in a bad Bogart movie. Watching our every move, making sure we sleep in the same room, insuring we’re always together.”
Wonderful. It would be like living with a camera in her face for the next year. “And if you travel, I have to go with you.”
“That’s right. As will James and Stan. And don’t forget, we have to appear before the board every month to report on the state of our marriage.”
“Yes, I remember that part.” She handed the paper back to him. “And the child we create. You want no part of it.”
He nodded. “I don’t want a child, nor do I need a family. This whole ordeal is because my grandfather had some misguided notion while on his deathbed that he needed to redeem himself. And so he thought he could show me the love he never had by forcing me into a marriage I don’t want, and require me to have a child I have no intention of raising.”
Ryan shrugged and turned to the window. He was so tired of playing this ridiculous game. And now he’d had to draw Faith into it.
She was the only one who understood and accepted him. Who had no expectations of him. Unlike his grandfather.
As if Quentin McKay had even known what love was. His grandfather had never shown even a glimpse of it to the frightened eight-year-old boy whose father had died and whose mother decided she’d rather play socialite than parent.
He’d witnessed the loveless marriage of both his parents and his grandparents, and never wanted to personally experience it himself. Now his grandfather was forcing him to do the same thing—marry for anything but love. This was Quentin McKay’s way of making amends?
“I’m sorry.” Faith’s soft voice brought him back to reality. He turned toward her and offered a smile. She’d always made him feel better.
Marriage to Faith for a year would be easy. Despite the dowdy outfits and huge glasses she wore, and the way she tried to hide her sable hair in those horrid buns, she was attractive.
Not beautiful like Erica, but then again Erica was so remote she was practically untouchable. If she hadn’t been so hungry for the settlement money she’d have never entertained the notion of marrying him. It wasn’t like she’d agreed to the marriage out of any caring or love for him.
But Faith? She would do it because she was loyal to him. Dedicated, and with a shy quality that Ryan found foreign in his usual social circle.
She oozed desirability in a way that had nothing to do with expensive clothes, artfully applied makeup or pedigree.
Faith was genuine, honest and caring. And a natural beauty. The thought of making love to her ran through his mind. And not simply for the act of procreation. He could already imagine unlocking the secrets she tried so hard to hide away.
He’d caught glimpses of them. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. The way her eyes lit up when he entered a room. Her willingness to do anything to help him with the business. The way her voice softened when she spoke to him.
“Are you certain you’re willing to sign away rights to our child?”
The harsh reality of her question shook him out of his fantasies of making love to her. What would he do with a child? Treat it the way he’d been treated? He’d never put a child through what he’d been through.
What had he been thinking asking Erica to marry him? What kind of mother would she have made? The same kind of father he’d make, no doubt. That was the problem with this deal. He hadn’t been thinking straight—not since he’d been read the terms of his grandfather’s will.
Ryan had already accepted the fact that he didn’t have the capacity to love. He’d had no loving role models. No, he wasn’t cut out to be a father. He felt a twinge, something unfamiliar as he looked at Faith and imagined that pixie smile on a tiny boy. His boy. Theirs.
Quickly and coldly he banished the image from his mind and addressed Faith’s question. She, at least, would be a good mother to the child they created. That eased his conscience somewhat.
“I’ll sign away rights and you’ll get a handsome settlement, full support and expenses for the rest of the child’s life. You’ll be well taken care of financially, Faith. You and your child.”
Faith studied him, his voice so cold and detached. He couldn’t even refer to the baby they’d make as their child or his child. Even in this, she’d be alone. Like she’d always been. Unwanted, unloved. With a child whose father didn’t love or want it. Could she do that?