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He released her mouth with reluctance. ‘You make me insatiable.’ The sexy growl to that lancing confession did nothing to cool her fevered blood and she rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Somehow, I doubt,’ he murmured, ‘that it’ll take that long for you to become pregnant.’
‘Pregnant?’ she squeaked, jerking back from him, her first reaction one of shock and, curiously, fear.
His hands steadied her before she could overbalance and he nuzzled his lips hotly into the hollow of her collarbone where a tiny pulse beat out her tension. ‘Don’t tell me you believed in the stork story,’ he teased. ‘Believe it or not, what we’ve been doing in recent days does have another more basic purpose above and beyond mere pleasure.’
She was trembling. ‘Yes, but—’
‘And we haven’t been taking any steps to forestall such a result,’ he reminded her with complete calm.
That awareness was only hitting Catherine now. It shook her that a matter which had once been shrouded with such importance could have slipped her mind so entirely. There had been no contraceptive pills in her possession. Evidently she was no longer taking them. Remembering to take them had once been the bane of her existence, invoking horrid attacks of panic when she realised that she had forgotten one or two. If Luc realised just how many near misses they had had, he would probably feel very much as she did now.
That background hadn’t prepared her very well for Luc’s smoothly talking about having a baby as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Which of course it was…if you were married. In the circumstances, she decided that her initial sense of panic at his comment had been quite understandable. Where reproduction was concerned, she had to learn a whole new way of thinking.
Seemingly impervious to the frantic readjustments he had set in train, Luc ran a caressing hand down her spine and eased her closer. ‘Didn’t you notice that omission?’ he said softly.
‘No,’ she muttered with instinctive guilt.
‘I want children while I’m young enough to enjoy them.’
It crossed her mind that he might just have mentioned that before taking the decision right over her head, as it were. But equally fast came a seductive image of carrying Luc’s baby and she was overcome by the prospect and quite forgot to be annoyed with him. ‘Yes,’ she agreed wistfully.
Engaged on cutting a sensual path across her fine-boned shoulder, Luc murmured huskily, ‘I knew you’d agree with me. Now, instead of rushing to look into every baby carriage that passes by, you can concentrate on your own.’
‘Do I do that?’ she whispered.
‘You do,’ he said wryly.
Once anything to do with babies had left Luc arctic-cold. Naturally she couldn’t help but be surprised that he should want a child with such immediacy. But when she thought about it for a minute or two, it began to make sense. Luc was entering marriage much as he entered a business deal, armed with expectations. He wanted an heir, that was all. You couldn’t empire-build without a dynasty. But still she couldn’t summon a smile to her face and she couldn’t shake off that irrational fear assailing her.
Common sense ought to have reasoned it away. She loved Luc. She loved children. Where was the problem? Yet still the feeling persisted and her templ
es began to throb. When the phone buzzed on the table and Luc reached for it impatiently, she was starting to feel distinctly shaky and sick into the bargain.
Luc was talking in Japanese with the languid cool of someone fluent in a dozen languages. A frown pleating his dark brows, he sighed as he replaced the phone. ‘Business,’ he said. ‘I have to go inside to make a few calls. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Sunlight played blindingly on the surface of the pool several feet away. As a faint breeze sent a glimmering tide of ripples across the water, the effect was almost hynotic. Catherine’s head ached too much to think. She wondered ruefully if she had had too much sun.
A sound jerked her out of an uneasy doze. A child emerged from below the trees. His stubby little legs pumped energetically in pursuit of the ball he was chasing. As it headed directly for the water, Catherine flew upright, consumed by alarm. But he caught the ball before it reached the edge, and as he did so one of the maids came racing down the slope from the castle.
‘Scusi, signorina, scusi!’ she gasped in frantic apology for the intrusion as she scooped the child up into her arms. He gave a wail of protest. As he was hurried away, still clutching his ball, Catherine stopped breathing.
The thumping behind her forehead had for a split second become unbearable, but now it receded. She didn’t even notice the fact. She was in a benumbed state that went beyond shock into incredulous horror. Daniel…Daniel! The sybaritic luxury of the pool with its marble surround vanished as she unfroze.
Snatching up the phone, she pressed the button for the internal house line. A secretary answered. ‘This is Miss Parrish.’ She had to cough to persuade her voice to grow from a thread into comprehensible volume. ‘I want you to get me a number in England and connect me. It’s urgent,’ she stressed, straining to recall Peggy’s maiden name and the address of her home and finally coming up with them.
Shaking like the victim of an accident, she sat down before her legs gave out beneath her. What sort of a mother could forget about her son? Oh, dear God, please let me wake up, please don’t let this nightmare be real, she prayed with fervour.
The phone buzzed and she leapt at it.
‘Hello? Hello?’ Peggy was saying.
‘It’s Catherine. Is Daniel there?’
‘He’s out bringing in the hay. I cried off to make refreshments,’ Peggy chattered. ‘Our phone was out for a couple of days and we didn’t realise. Have you been frantic, trying to get through?’
‘Well—’
‘I thought you would’ve been,’ Peggy interrupted with her usual impatience. ‘I tried to ring you a few times from the call-box in the village but I always struck out. I suppose you’ve been out scouring the pavements in search of a job if you’ve decided against working for Mrs Anstey.’
