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Since he left, her only solace had been the life growing inside her. This and the newfound love for him. It swelled her heart, even though her body still burned for him. Some days, the longing felt almost unbearable. When it happened, she tried to think about her child, boy or girl, and what it would look like. She dreamed it’d look like him, dark hair and clove eyes.
She stepped in the bath Nell had prepared and soaked with a sigh. She hadn’t decided yet what she’d do. If she could chose, she’d take a cottage in the manor and raise the infant there, where its family was. A bastard child had no rights; and would grow up in the margins of society. However, she reckoned she’d have to tell Philip sooner or later. She didn’t know when though. Surely, she’d sort this out.
Having had her child in secrecy, she’d be able to go back to London and resume her place in society. Cases were when a woman left the child in the country or took it with her as a relation, depending on the possibilities. She didn’t feel worried with her unexpected pregnancy. As a widow of means, she’d be able to provide for her and the child. The secrecy would have to be maintained or society would shun her and the child. If her infant took too much after its father, people would put two and two together, especially after they’d been caught. She’d have to be very careful.
Going down to the sitting room, after bath, she saw Nell had brought more London newspapers. She opened one, her eyes caught on a news. “Disappeared. Mr Charles Eastwell, son and heir to Baron of Drawbridge, has evaded due to gambling debts. His creditors are searching for him.” Oh, dear. More scandal coming her way. Now she’d be the sister to a man who didn’t honour his debts. She knew she’d had a part in this, as she refused to lend him money. If she’d done it, she’d be feeding his gambling endlessly, while he’d come for more repeatedly. She didn’t regret her decision, as she’d need the money for her child. The publicity would be the problem though. Society regarded a married woman belonging to her husband’s family, being the same with a widow. The connections would be there, though. She had a long time ahead of her to see how circumstances developed.
After dinner, of which little she ate, she sent Nell and Tobias to bed and sat knitting. Both servants had been working hard to keep the cottage going. She’d think about a pay raise for them; they deserved it.
The settling sun came through the window, a fading light. The cosy decoration of the sitting room also received the warm glow from the fireplace, making her feel comfortable and content. Her sickness seemed to have subsided a little, even though she still felt queasy. She lifted the tiny wool shoe she’d just finished, completing the pair. A wave of tenderness invaded her. She placed the pair on the table and started organising threads and needles.
The knock on the door startled her. She sat frozen, a gelid shudder going over her. Another knock. Whoever stood outside knew people to be inside, as the fireplace gave out smoke and light possible to be seen outside.
Resolutely, she took the gun she’d found, stood up and walked to the door. She opened it with a dry movement. Her heart burst in a crazy rhythm. What did the devil come here for? Sod him! Oh, but she’d have to make good on her word and go to the Continent, as she’d threatened. Fury dominated her. She lifted the gun and pointed at him, his clove eyes surprised.
“I told you not to come here again!” Both hands pointed the gun firmly at him.
“I have something to tell you.” His eyes focused on her, no fear in his stance.
“Say it and leave.” She commanded dryly. Why did the blasted man have to come here and destroy the shred of peace she’d achieved?
“Don’t do this, Selene.” Calm deep silky voice “Let’s talk inside.” He gave one step towards her.
She pointed the gun higher. “Stay where you are!”
He didn’t. One more step. “Give me that, Selene.” One step closer. “Before someone gets hurt.”
Her hands grabbed the gun so tightly they shook. “Go away!” She didn’t want him here. She didn’t want to see him. Desire him. Would this never end?
One more step of his and the gun touched his chest. Their eyes clashed in the twilight, hers hostile; his firm, calm.
Slowly, he lifted his arm; his hand closed on the gun and pulled gently. She let go, with a low sob.
He took the gun, opened it. “No balls.”
“I found the gun, but no balls.” She answered as her eyes took his tall, broad figure, his ruffled sleek dark hair, his chiselled face. Lowering her gaze, she saw his muddled boots. It had been raining earlier. Her vivid green attention went back to his clove one. Oh, how she’d missed him.
“Finished the inspection?” They looked at each other seriously, immovable.
At this her eyes darted anger. And then they went astounded as he walked past her and entered the cottage unceremoniously. There was nothing she could do but close the door and go after him.
In the vestibule, he turned to her. “I came here to talk to you. That’s what I’m going to do.” He turned his back to her and entered the sitting room cum dining room.
She followed again, not bothering to invite him to sit. “So say what you must and be gone.”
“I-“ His eyes fell on the table. The little woollen shoes! He strode there and caught them. He turned to her. “Are these yours?”
She blanched. Never did she plan to tell him this way. “Yes.” She breathed.
“You’re with child.” A statement rather than a question.
“Yes.”
The expression on his face a mixture of bewilderment, wonder and…smugness. The devil!
He strode to five inches from her. Lifting his powerful hand, he placed it on her abdomen. “My heir.” He murmured huskily.
“No. My bastard.” She devolved. It wouldn’t be legitimate to be his heir.
