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‘Are you certain?’
Anger spiked through her, firing her words. ‘Am I certain?’ she repeated, her voice rising, giving way to the ocean of emotion underneath. She strove to temper it, to keep herself as calm and remote as always. She could not give in to the emotions and memories now. If she did, she might drown in them. ‘Of course I am.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘It is perhaps possible, though?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Freya said coldly. She hated that he was pressing her, giving her hope. She’d lived with her infertility for ten years. Had accepted it…almost.
Perhaps this is your punishment. A girl like you…
‘It is not possible. And I’m surprised you’d even think of it, based on such little evidence. A little nausea—’
His mouth compressed into a thin line. ‘I looked for pregnancy symptoms in my wife for five years. I know the signs.’
His admission caused shock to slice through her. Five years? ‘And she never fell pregnant?’
‘No,’ Rafe told her flatly. ‘Because she was on the Pill the entire time and didn’t tell me. She never wanted children, even though I—’ He stopped, his lips pressed firmly together, his body taut with suppressed emotion.
‘But then she did become pregnant, and kept it from you?’ Freya filled in slowly.
‘Exactly.’ Rafe turned back to her with a grim smile. ‘By accident, I must suppose. She deceived me twice—first by taking birth control when she knew how much I wanted a child, and then by keeping her pregnancy secret from me.’
‘I suppose I can understand why you wanted a paternity test,’ Freya said quietly, and Rafe’s features twisted.
‘I did not realise she hated me so much.’ He raked a hand through his hair, then let it fall. ‘I think you should take a pregnancy test. Just in case.’
‘It’s not—’
‘I know,’ he cut across her. ‘But at least it will rule out the possibility.’
This was what Rosalia lived with for five years, Freya supposed. The pressure, the tension, and then of course his disappointment. By the time Freya had met her Rosalia had surely hated Rafe. Yet what had caused that hate? Five years of expectation and disappointment could not have helped. Had she ever loved him? Freya thought she must have. Her hatred had seemed fuelled by disappointment and despair. Had Rafe ever loved his wife, Freya wondered, or just the idea of a child?
‘I’ll buy a test tomorrow,’ Rafe told her.
Freya shrugged her acceptance. If it eased Rafe’s mind, she would take the test. She knew what the result would be.
Positive. Two pink lines. Freya sat on the edge of the bath and stared disbelievingly at the test stick. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. She knew it was.
Yet the evidence was right there in her hand—two blazing pink lines that meant she was pregnant. She scrabbled for the leaflet that had come with the test, checked again. Yes. Pregnant. And what about false positives? Very rare, the leaflet said.
And yet…
It couldn’t be.
Even so an incredulous hope was filling her up inside, buoying her heart. She felt a sudden fierce joy—a joy she’d never thought to experience. A child. Her child. A miracle.
‘Freya?’ Rafe stood outside the bathroom door, impatience sharpening his voice.
The disbelieving joy of seeing the test results gave way to a greater shock. She was pregnant…with Rafe’s child. It was a miracle, but it was also a mess.
‘Just a minute.’ From somewhere Freya found her voice. Fumbling with the lock, she opened the bathroom door. She had no words—she felt suddenly near tears—so she simply handed the test stick to Rafe. He took it automatically, then stared down at those two lines.
For a split second, no more, Freya thought he looked almost—happy. He didn’t smile, but his features softened in a way that made her yearn for this moment to be so different from what it was. Then his expression was ironed out and he tossed the stick in the bin.
‘You’re pregnant.’ He spoke levelly, without any inflection.
Freya nodded. ‘Yes, it would seem… I thought it was impossible. I was sure…’
‘Were you?’ Rafe enquired coolly.
