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“I bet you couldn’t do that again without falling,” he taunted, but in desperation I grabbed the fireplace poker and jabbed it into his back.

“Go away and never touch me again!”

“I’ll be back,” Mano snorted, dumping the grocery bag all over the floor. “Maybe you’ll be a little more grateful then. Maybe you’ll play nice with me. Or maybe I’ll tell my brother more about what we’ve been doing.”

“Liar!” I cried, watching him scatter maternity clothes all over the floor, kicking them towards me with his boot.

Étienne had to be told about this!

As soon as Mano left, I poured out most of what had happened to Hugo.

I had to tell Étienne. The motive was right there in front of me!

Mano was jealous of Étienne.

We discussed ways we could get in touch with Étienne, make sure he would listen to me. . .

There was a home phone here, programmed for only a few numbers and Hugo dialed one of the handful of people he was permitted to call.

“Yes?”

My knees went weak to hear my husband’s voice on the other end.

“It’s Léonie!” Hugo said, and I only prayed Étienne would believe him.

“Her water’s just broken and she’s gone in to labor! You need to get down here.”

“Her water broke?” he asked sharply, and inside I gloried to hear something in his voice that wasn’t cold indifference or anger.

There was still something there. Something like concern for me.

“The contractions—” Hugo began, but Étienne had already hung up the phone.

“Did it sound like he was coming?” I asked.

“Yes,” Hugo said, frowning a bit. “I only hope we can convince him to take a second look at the paternity test before he gets angry at the deception.”

Every moment was an eternity of pacing the kitchen floors until I saw that dark SUV at the gates. At last, it was him!

My heart leaped to see my husband’s tall, strong body, the way the bright sun hit on his tanned skin, making him gleam with health and vigor. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the way the tight shirt fit against his flat belly and muscular arms.

He had come! He had come!

I looked horrible, pale and wan, with big dark circles under my eyes and my red curls lank around my face. But I couldn’t worry about that.

Straightening Hugo’s hand-me-down T-shirt over my belly and tightening the rolled-up sweatpants, I hurried out to the porch.

But instead of rushing over to check on me, Étienne went around to the passenger door, opening it like a gentleman.

Out emerged Faustine, her hair falling down in shining waves, wearing a tight navy dress, a perfect line of lipstick across her upturned lips.

And on her finger was something shiny. . .

CHAPTER 6

Léonie

“Léonie?”