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That night and the unknown woman in his bed. The woman who’d gasped and sighed, and twisted against him. Whose delicate, musky feminine scent had driven him half out of his mind, and whose hot, silky body he’d spent all night exploring.
He was at a loss to explain why he kept thinking about it. He’d had literally hundreds of similar nights, with similar women and sometimes more than one woman. But none of them ever replayed themselves over and over again the way that night did.
Sometimes he indulged the memory, replaying it for his own erotic amusement and quite frankly for some relief—he’d been busy these past three months and hadn’t had either the time or the inclination to avail himself of his usual lovers. They all seemed unexciting to him for some reason.
Whatever, that night had nothing to do with Freddie’s situation or Freddie herself, and he really needed to stop thinking about it.
‘Sir,’ Freddie began.
But Augustine was tired of the conversation. His headache required further dealing with and even the dim lighting of the bar was beginning to get too much. He needed darkness and another cocktail, and to be alone.
‘We’ll discuss it on the plane tomorrow,’ he said curtly, getting off the bar stool and picking up his jacket. ‘You’re dismissed for the night.’
Then he walked past her and out of the bar.
CHAPTER THREE
WINIFREDSTAREDATthe spreadsheets on her laptop, the tiredness that had been dogging her all day making them blur in front of her. She’d thought that once the first three months were up, the fatigue would get better, but not today. The comforting drone of the plane’s engines only made it worse, and the fact that she’d slept poorly the night before didn’t help either.
Her brain had been merciless, the scenes with Augustine down in the bar replaying themselves over and over in her head.
She’d thought telling him about her pregnancy would make things easier, would make him less likely to ask awkward questions but it hadn’t. In fact, it had been the opposite. She’d stood there, trying not to quail as his relentlessly sharp blue gaze focused on her. He’d never looked at her like that before, not once, and she wasn’t used to it, and especially not with the most recent lie burning on her tongue.
She had no idea why he was suddenly so interested in all the ins and outs of the pregnancy—shock, possibly. And no doubt he was concerned about how it would work with her not being around.
She’d been prepared for his anger, but not for all the questions about when and who and how, the answers to which she hadn’t given any thought to because she hadn’t expected him to be interested.
Hehadbeen angry, though. She’d seen it flicker in his eyes, heard the edge of it in his voice. Perhaps that’s why she’d got all those questions. Because he’d been tired and had a headache and her pregnancy was going to disrupt the smooth running of his rule.
Winifred closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, the fatigue deepening.
She should have lied more about the ‘important man in her life’, inventing a boyfriend or even a husband, and how this pregnancy had been completely planned. Augustine might not have been so curious if she had. Except she just hadn’t been able to face piling yet more lies onto to the already fragile edifice she’d constructed so far.
Especially not when the child is his.
That had been the real issue though, hadn’t it? Standing in front of the man who’d given her the most incredible night of her life as well as the child she now carried, and he didn’t even know it. The man she loved, whom she’d had to lie to about all of it, because the truth would bring everything down.
You should have told him right at the beginning.
She leaned back in her seat, her hand going to the curve of her stomach, cradling the small life that was growing inside it.
Children weren’t supposed to be part of her future either. They couldn’t be, not after how she’d taken that gun and used it in defence of Annie, her sister. She was dangerous when she loved someone. She’d go to any lengths, do anything...
Even kill.
Her throat closed. No, she couldn’t think about that. All that mattered was that her child be safe, and they wouldn’t be safe with her.
She should have told Augustine, of course she should. But she’d wanted to protect him as much as she wanted to protect their child. He struggled so much day to day, and a child would only add to that burden. She didn’t doubt that he’d take responsibility if he knew about the child, and that he’d try his best to be a good father. But she didn’t want him to have to try and she didn’t want their child to be just another thing he had to deal with.
Giving up her baby wasn’t what she wanted, but she had to do what was best for all of them. Even if it hurt.
Anyway, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to give up something she loved. When she’d run away in the aftermath of Aaron’s death, she’d taken her sisters with her because she couldn’t bear to leave them in her mother’s care, prey for yet another of her mother’s disgusting boyfriends. But she’d only been sixteen and had no money, and with them being too young to be left on their own, she hadn’t been able to look after them.
She’d had to give them up to social services and while it had ripped her heart out to do it, she knew they’d be better off in a foster family than they would be with her.
‘Freddie, we need to have a discussion,’ a deep, male voice said from somewhere far too close.
She shook off the memories and opened her eyes to find Augustine already sitting down in the leather seat opposite her, stretching his long, powerful legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. He put his elbows on the arms of the seat and interlaced his fingers, fixing that turquoise gaze of his on her.
