Page 16 of Daigo

Ignoring the sharp pang of guilt that the woman's words evoked, Shelby lifted her chin. "We've discussed it-"

"He feels something for you; there's little doubt of that. Men have a way of going with their lower … extremities." Yuna sipped tea and eyed her over the rim.

"You're a beautiful woman, my dear, and no doubt sex has a lot to do with the reason why my son chose to marry you. But don't you think you're pushing it? It's obvious you cannot conceive the natural way, and what you're doing smacks of desperation. You want to tie my son to you by giving him children. Is that going to work? Do you really believe bringing them into the picture will make him want to stay married to you?"

Every word she spoke was like a knife being driven into her heart, the blade twisting, pulling out, and twisting again. Her mouth was dry, her throat working, but no sound came out. Yuna was the first to notice her son standing just inside the doorway, and her smile flashed, pleasure blossoming on her face.

"Darling." Pushing back the chair, she rose and hurried toward him. "We didn't hear you come in. Your wife and I were having a nice cup of tea."

"The door was unlocked." He greeted her automatically, eyes glued to his wife, who still remained seated as if frozen in space. The look of solid despair and utter helplessness on the lovely face twisted him up inside. He loved her; he had never thought it could be this intense, or even more so. But seeing her like this, the hurt and pain, he knew without a doubt that he wanted to slay dragons for her, shove aside mountains, a den of lions, and whatever else he had to fight. He also knew that he would never allow anyone to hurt her like this, not even his own mother.

Putting his mother away from him, he walked toward his wife, and still she sat, her golden-brown eyes haunted, hands clenched into fists. The aroma from the oven scented the air.

Without a word, he drew her up, his heart twisting when he felt the cold clamminess of her hands.

"Hi."

She had to clear her throat to speak. "You're early."

"Darling, your wife-"

Ignoring his mother, he cupped his hands on her cheeks. "Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"I need to speak to my mother alone."

"The food-"

"Can wait." He bent a tender smile on her. "Please."

She nodded. "I'll just turn the oven all the way down and-"

"Yes, that'll do." Tilting her chin up, he brushed his lips on hers and felt when she trembled and her eyes filled. Fresh anger rose up to almost choke him. He had to make an effort to swallow it, and he waited until his wife had left the room.

"Darling, I don't know what you heard-"

"I heard enough." He took his time turning around to face her, and even so, he had to restrain himself from lashing out at her with the full power of his rage. He walked to the window and tried once again to control his anger.

"I was just explaining to her the way things were." Yuna hated the fact that she was justifying trying to look out for him. "You're my son-"

"And she's my goddamned wife!" He whirled and had her jumping back, one hand on her chest. "Do you get that? She's the most important person in my life. I love you, Mother, but what you said to her, the way you spoke to her just now, it's going to take me a hell of a long time to forget, much less forgive. You hurt her!" He dragged a hand through his hair in agitation.

"You're making me choose, and guess who I choose? Her. She's my life. I've brushed away her agitations and comments about the fact that you never approved of her. She never said anything against you, not bloody once! She's my wife, and I love her more than my own life."

He took a breath to try and calm himself. "I would like you to leave, now, before I say something I will regret. And you're not welcome here anymore. Not until you apologize to her."

Her eyes glazed over as she stared at him in shock.

"You would choose her over your own mother, and after all I've done for you?"

He closed his eyes in weary resignation. "What you've done for me? You mean being a parent? Yes, I will always choose her. I would like you to leave now. I want to spend time with my wife."

For a moment, she just stood there staring at him as if she expected him to change his mind. When he simply stared her down, she turned on her heel and left. He waited until he heard the door click shut before he moved to secure the code. He would change it if possible.

He had been anticipating his return home so much that he had become impatient. He had left earlier than expected, but he was glad he did, or else he would never have heard the things spewing from his mother's mouth.

Raking his hands through his hair, he fought for the courage to face his wife and wondered what the hell he was going to say to her. He attended to his cases, straightened a Picasso on the wall of the living room, and plucked a dried rose from the vase in the entrance parlor. Then he realized that he was stalling.