Page 68 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

No. The baby was ours in every way that mattered if Mary wanted us anywhere near it.

I took one step toward her, then stopped myself.

Her eyes were bright. “Say something,” she whispered.

“I’ve negotiated land deals worth more than some governments’ annual budgets.”

“What?”

I shook my head. “I’m shocked.” It wasn’t the right thing to say. I knew it as soon as her face closed. “And I appear to be saying the first thing in my head, and that was it.” I had never in my life had less language.

She swallowed. “Sorry.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s a good shock. How far along are you?”

“That’s what you ask?”

“No.” I reached for composure and found only panic. “No, Mary. I’m sorry. I mean, are you well? Have you seen a doctor? Are you safe?”

She blinked. Rain clung to her lashes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

“My body doesn’t know if that’s because London is wet or because of my poor life choices.”

“Coming here wasn’t a bad choice.”

Her mouth trembled. “Wasn’t it? Maeve went on and on about you needing to know.” She looked away before I could see too much.

“We did need to know.”

“You don’t have to be kind.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. If you think I’m too young, or this is too complicated, or Damien...”

His name landed between us but I ignored it as I stepped closer this time and stopped only when she looked back at me. “Damien doesn’t decide what we do.”

“He’s your son.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m...”

“Our mate,” I said.

The words came out before I could make them careful.

Mary went still. The violet in her scent flared. “Don’t say things like that on a public sidewalk.”

“Why?”

“Because I might believe you, and then we’ll both look foolish.”

“I’d survive.”

“I wasn’t worried about you.”