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“It’s nice and strong. Your baby looks healthy,” the doctor murmured. She pointed at the ultrasound screen. “Here you can see the head, arms...legs...and...” She turned to them with a smile. “Congratulations. You’re having a little girl.”
“A girl!” Belle gasped.
“A girl?” Reaching out, Santiago suddenly gripped Belle’s hand tightly in his own. “When will she be born?”
“Her growth is on track for her due date in late September,” the doctor replied.
“September,” he murmured, looking dazed. “Just two months from now...”
Belle saw an expression on his face she’d never seen before. Bewilderment. Emotion. Tenderness.
So he wasn’t a total bastard after all, she thought. There was one thing that could reach past his layers of cynicism and darkness. Their baby.
Grateful tears had risen unbidden to her eyes, and she’d gripped his hand back tightly. Their daughter would have a father. A father who loved her.
Now, as the helicopter landed at his Texas ranch, Santiago held out his hand to help her out onto the tarmac. He caught her when her knees unexpectedly started to buckle.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes full of concern.
She gave him a weak smile. “It’s been a crazy week.”
He laughed. “That’s one way of describing it.”
She’d never seen him laugh like that, with his whole body, almost a guffaw. It made him more human, and somehow even more handsome, more impossibly desirable. In that instant, as she looked up at his dark, merry eyes, her heart twisted in her chest. She turned away, afraid of what he might see in her face.
“So, what happens now?” she said, relieved her voice held steady.
“Now?” he said. “We start planning the wedding.”
She stopped abruptly on the tarmac. “I’m not going to marry you. We can share custody.”
His eyes narrowed. “The decision has been made.”
“By you. Not by me. And if you think you can bully me into marriage, on this ranch or anywhere else, you’ve got another think coming.” She lifted her chin. “My family might not have an aristocratic history that goes back to infinity, but there are a few things we do have.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Stubbornness. Pure cussedness. And I’m not going to marry a man I don’t love, a man who doesn’t love me. I would rather scrub your floors with my tongue!”
Amusement flashed across his handsome face. “That can be arranged. Although,” he murmured in her ear, “I can think of better uses for your tongue.”
An unwilling fire went through Belle’s body. Before she could formulate a response, he took her hand, pulling her toward the sprawling single-story ranch house surrounded by green trees.
Inside the main house, it was light and airy, with large windows and hardwood floors. A smiling housekeeper came forward. “Welcome back to the ranch, Mr. Velazquez.” She turned her rosy round face in Belle’s direction. “Welcome, miss. I hope you had a nice journey.”
Nice didn’t quite cover it, but luckily Santiago answered for her. “It’s been a long day, Mrs. Carlson. Could you please serve refreshments in the morning room?”
“Of course, Mr. Velazquez.”
He led Belle down the hall, into a large room with a glossy wooden floor and a wall of windows. Comfortable furniture faced the view of green trees and a river turned gold beneath dappled sunlight. She breathed, “It’s so beautiful.”
“Sit down,” he said. He seemed suddenly on edge.
Her knees felt weak anyway, so she let herself fall back onto the soft, plush, white cotton sofa. A moment later, the housekeeper appeared with a tray, which she set down on the table.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, sir.”
