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And now this baby.
Taking her arm, Malachi steered her to the riverside. The bracing air walloped her, mercifully knocking her out of her panic.
‘Not exactly the balmiest evening for a walk along the promenade.’ His tone was clipped. ‘But at least the wind has dropped.’
‘It’s invigorating,’ she lied, turning away from him and beginning to walk.
Anything was better than being pressed up to him within the confines of that car. Remembering the feel of his hands as they had explored every last millimetre of her body with such reverence. The heat from his breath as he had tracked down the column of her neck, leaving her shivering with desire and desperate for more. And the way he had moved between her legs, holding himself up and locking his eyes with hers before he surged into her, making her whole world explode in a riot of colours she’d never known before.
Had that first time been the moment the die had been cast? The moment her journey to pregnancy had begun? Or had that been later, in his apartment? On the couch or on the rug? In the swimming pool or in the bedroom? In his shower or in his bed?
He had claimed her over and over and over again, as if she were his.
She had actually felt like she was. For that one incredible weekend.
And then it had been over.
She’d made herself leave, sneaking out when he hadn’t been able to postpone a conference call for a fourth time, because she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to walk out through the door if he was watching her.
Over the last three months she’d told herself that she’d imagined the way it had been between them. That her memories had been blown out of proportion to all reality.
Now, with her body reacting in ways it had no business doing, Saskia was beginning to fear that her memories hadn’t even done reality justice.
‘Is this really where you want to talk?’
Malachi’s rich voice cut through her thoughts. She toyed with telling him that a part of her didn’t want to talk at all. But she knew that would be unwise. Either way, it was better here...where her body wasn’t so assaulted by memories.
‘There’s no one around.’ She shrugged, even as a faint shiver entered her voice.
She wouldn’t last long in this cold, wearing only what she had on. He would use that to his advantage.
‘So be it.’
They managed about fifty metres in silence, but if she’d been hoping the location might put him off then clearly she’d been mistaken.
‘Were you planning on telling me?’ he demanded, without preamble.
When she didn’t answer it appeared that he couldn’t stop himself from goading her—just a little.
‘Or was there some doubt in your head that it was mine?’
She lifted her eyes up to his dark, blazing ones. A sense of belated dignity was apparently struggling to make itself known.
‘Is yours.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Is,’ she repeated clearly. ‘Not was.’
‘My apologies.’ He didn’t look in the slightest bit apologetic.
‘And, for the record, I don’t make a habit of one-night stands,’ she managed stiffly, compelled to make the point even though it didn’t remotely answer his actual question. ‘I’ve slept with two people in my life. Andy was my first. You were my second.’
Another flash she couldn’t recognise went through his eyes, and another thread of taut silence wove its way around them, as if binding them tighter together even in the expanse of the promenade.
‘Is that so?’
She licked her lips.
