Marriage: To Claim His Twins. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
speedily Sander had turned the tables on her, Ruby recognised. What had begun as a challenge to him she had been confident would make him back down had now turned into a double-edged sword which right now he was wielding very skilfully against her, cutting what she had thought was secure ground away from under her feet.
‘They need their mother—’ she started.
‘They are my sons,’ Sander interrupted her angrily. ‘And I mean to have them. If I have to marry you to facilitate that, then so be it. But make no mistake, Ruby. I intend to have my sons.’
His response stunned her. She had been expecting him to refuse, to back down, to go away and leave them alone—anything rather than marry her. Sander had called her bluff and left her defenceless.
Now Ruby could see a reality she hadn’t seen before. Sander really did want the boys and he meant to have them. He was rich and powerful, well able to provide materially for his sons. What chance would she have of keeping them if he pursued her through the courts? At best all she could hope for was shared custody, with the boys passed to and fro between them, torn between two homes, and that was the last thing she wanted for them. Why had Sander had to discover that he had fathered them? Hadn’t life been cruel enough to her as it was?
Marriage to him, which she had not in any kind of way wanted, had now devastatingly turned into the protection she was forced to recognise she might need if she was to continue to have the permanent place in her sons’ lives that she had previously taken for granted.
Marriage to Sander wouldn’t just provide her sons with a father, she recognised now through growing panic, it would also protect her rights as a mother. As long as they were married the twins would have both parents there for them.
Both parents. Ruby swallowed painfully. Wasn’t it true that she had spent many sleepless nights worrying about the future and the effect not having a father figure might have on her sons?
A father figure, but not their real father. She had never imagined them having Sander in their lives—not after those first agonising weeks of being forced to accept that she meant nothing to him.
She wasn’t going to give up, though. She would fight with every bit of her strength for her sons.
Holding her head up she told him fiercely, ‘Very well, then. The choice is yours, Sander. If you genuinely want the boys because they are your sons, and because you want to get to know them and be part of their lives, then you will accept that separating them from me will inflict huge emotional damage on them. You will understand, as I do, no matter how much that understanding galls you, that children need the security of having two parents they know are there for them—will always be there for them. You will be prepared to make the same sacrifice that I am prepared to make to provide them with the security that comes from having two parents committed to them and to each other through marriage.’
‘Sacrifice?’ Sander demanded. ‘I am a billionaire. I don’t think there are many women who would consider marriage to me a sacrifice.’
Did he really believe that? If so, it just showed how right she was to want to ensure that her sons grew up knowing there were far more important things in life than money.
‘You are very cynical,’ she told him. ‘There are any number of women who would be appalled by what you have just said—women who put love before money, women like me who put their children first, women who would run from a man like you. I don’t want your money, and I am quite willing to sign a document saying so.’
‘Oh, you will be doing that. Make no mistake about it,’ Sander assured her ruthlessly. Did she really expect him to fall for her lies and her faked lack of interest in his money? ‘There is no way I will abandon my sons to the care of a mother who could very soon be without a roof over her head—a mother who would have to rely on charity in order to feed and clothe them—a mother who dressed like a tart and offered herself to a man she didn’t know.’
Ruby flinched as though he had physically hit her, but she still managed to ask quickly, ‘Were you any better? Or does the fact that you are a man and I’m a woman somehow mean that my behaviour was worse than yours? I was a seventeen-year-old-girl; you were an adult male.’
A seventeen-year-old girl. Angered by the reminder, Sander reacted against it. ‘You certainly weren’t dressed like a schoolgirl—or an innocent. And you were the one who propositioned me, not the other way round.’
And now he was going to be forced to marry her. Sander didn’t want to marry anyone—much less a woman like her.
What he had seen in his parents’ marriage, the bitterness and resentment between them, had made him vow never to marry himself. That vow had been the cause of acrimony and dissent between him and his grandfather, a despot who believed he had the right to barter his own flesh and blood in marriage as though they were just another part of his fleet of tankers.
Refusing Ruby’s proposal would give her an advantage. She could and would undoubtedly attempt to use his refusal against him were there to be a court case between them over the twins. But her obstinacy and her attempt to get the better of him had hardened Sander’s determination to claim his sons—even if it now meant using underhand methods to do so. Once they were on his island, its laws would ensure that he, as their father, had the right to keep them.
The familiar sound of a car drawing up outside and doors opening had Ruby ignoring Sander to hurry to the door. She suddenly realised what time it was, and that the twins were being dropped off by the neighbour with whom she shared school run duties. Opening the door, she hurried down the drive to thank her neighbour and help the twins out of the car, gathering up school bags and lunchboxes as she did, clucking over the fact that neither boy had fastened his coat despite the fact that it was still only March and cold.
Identical in every way, except for the tiny mole behind Freddie’s right ear, the boys stood and stared at the expensive car parked on the drive, and then looked at Ruby.
‘Whose car is that?’ Freddie asked, round-eyed.
Ruby couldn’t answer him. Why hadn’t she realised the time and got rid of Sander before the twins came home from school? Now they were bound to ask questions—questions she wasn’t going to be able to answer honestly—and she hated the thought of lying to them.
Freddie was still waiting for her to answer. Forcing a reassuring smile, she told him, ‘It’s just…someone’s. Come on, let’s get inside before the two of you catch cold with your coats unfastened like that.’
‘I’m hungry. Can we have toast with peanut butter?’ Harry asked her hopefully.
Peanut butter was his current favourite.
‘We’ll see,’ was Ruby’s answer as she pushed then gently into the hall in front of her. ‘Upstairs now, boys,’ she told them both, trying to remain as calm as she could even as they stood and stared in silence at Sander, who now seemed to be taking up a good deal of space in the hallway.
He was tall, well over six foot, and in other circumstances it would have made her smile to see the way Harry tipped his head right back to look up at him. Freddie, though, suddenly very much the man of the family as the elder of the two. He moved closer to her, as if instinctively seeking to protect her, and some silent communication between the two of them caused his twin to fall back to her other side to do the same.
Unwanted emotional tears stung Ruby’s eyes. Her darling boys. They didn’t deserve any of this, and it was her fault that things were as they were. Before she could stop herself she dropped down on one knee, putting an arm around each twin, holding them to her. Freddie was the more sensitive of the two, although he tried to conceal it, and he turned into her immediately, burying his face in her neck and holding her tightly, whilst Harry looked briefly towards Sander—wanting to go to him? Ruby wondered wretchedly—before copying his brother.
Sander couldn’t move. The second he had seen the two boys he had known that there was nothing he would not do for them—including tearing out his own heart and offering