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Tess let the contentment wash through her as Nate crossed to the door, his movements firm and decisive with no trace of the earlier panic. She loved him so much—this stubborn, indomitable, pragmatic and ridiculously pushy guy. Because he’d broken through all the barriers she’d put around her heart and shown her that she deserved to be loved and cherished—even when his need to care for her occasionally drove her nuts.
‘I’ll get the Jeep and we’ll head to the hospital,’ he said from the doorway. ‘Magnificence is great, but let’s get you some pain relief to go with it.’
* * *
He came back less than two minutes later, making Tess realise that the panic hadn’t gone completely, he was just being extra careful not to show it. After bundling her into her coat and boots, supporting her as she yelled her way through another monstrous contraction and then carrying her to the Jeep, he started the ignition.
Tess let out a wistful sigh as she watched the redolent glow of the rising sun light up the sky. The spring dawn rolled towards them over the cliffs as the Jeep accelerated down the driveway.
She settled her hands over her belly, contemplating the momentousness of what was about to happen. She was excited about the birth, and eager to meet their baby for the first time, even if she was a little terrified about having her pain threshold pushed to the max in the hours ahead. But she had to admit she was also a tiny bit sad that this would be the end of her and Nate as a couple after only seven short months. If she’d been given a choice, she would have liked more time with just the two of them. She could only hope that they had had enough time together. That their friendship as well as their love was strong enough to see them through all the new challenges they would face when the two of them became three.
‘I guess this is the start of a whole new journey for us,’ she murmured. ‘I hope we don’t mess it up.’
Braking at the gates that marked the entrance to the estate, Nate rested his hand over hers and rubbed. ‘Nah,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘We won’t mess it up. Because it’s not a new journey, it’s just a new twist in the road. And I’ve found my ideal travelling companion.’
She laughed, the swell of love and hope and commitment going some way to quelling her fears, and whispered, ‘Ditto.’
* * *
Brandon Zane Tremaine Graystone was born sixteen excruciating hours later, weighing in at a healthy eight pounds, three ounces. Tess cradled him in tired arms, and smiled, flinching only slightly when he latched onto her nipple and sucked hungrily.
‘That’s a relief,’ she whispered, glancing up at her
husband-to-be as he leaned over her to stroke the baby’s dark curls. ‘He’s definitely not a billy goat.’
Nate placed a soft kiss on her temple, the fatigue etched on his face overridden by fierce pride and no small amount of smugness. ‘See, what did I tell you? That’s already one thing we didn’t mess up.’
Tess laughed, tears of joy spilling over her lids and the last of her fears slipping away as they gazed in mutual appreciation at their totally beautiful, completely precious, utterly perfect, non-billy-goat son, together.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of The Secrets She Carried by Lynn Graham.
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CHAPTER ONE
CRISTOPHE DONAKIS opened the file on the Stanwick Hall Hotel group, which he expected to become the latest addition to his luxury hotel empire, and suffered an unanticipated shock.
Ironically, it took a great deal to shock Cristophe. At thirty years of age, the Greek entrepreneur and billionaire had seen a lot of bad behaviour and when it came to women in particular he was a complete cynic with low expectations. Orphaned at the age of five, he had survived several major setbacks in life, not the least of which had included foster parents whom he loved but with whom he had not a single thought in common, and a divorce, which still rankled for he had entered his marriage with the best of good intentions. No, what caused Cristophe to vault upright behind his desk and carry the file over to the window to avail of the best possible light was a glimpse of a startlingly familiar face in a photograph of the Stanwick executive staff…a face from his past.
Erin Turner…a pocket Venus with pale hair that glittered like polished silver gilt and eyes the colour of amethysts. Straight off, his lean, darkly handsome features clenched into forbidding angles. Erin occupied a category all of her own in his memories, for she had been the only woman ever to betray him and, even though almost three years had to have passed since their last meeting, the recollection could still sting. His keenly intelligent gaze devoured the photograph of his former mistress standing smiling at the elbow of Sam
Morton, the elderly owner of Stanwick Hall. Clad in a dark business suit with her eye-catching hair restrained by a clip, she looked very different from the carefree, casually clad young woman he remembered.
