The Unexpected Baby

He pushed away from the table and rinsed his glass out at the deep stone sink, upturning it on the drainer, and Elena choked back a sob.

Every word he’d uttered had strengthened the wall between them, making it impossible to breach. Whatever she said to him now, whether he believed her or not, those words—the brutal ending of their marriage in al

l but name—would never be forgotten.

‘And if I don’t agree to this—this farce!’ She struggled to her feet, but had to support herself against the table. ‘I want you to listen to my point of view. I want you to hear what really happened. I have that right.’

‘You have no rights!’ He flung down the towel he’d been drying his hands on, the first sign of a real emotion directed at her since his return showing through. ‘And you brought this “farce” on yourself. You married me while knowing you could be pregnant by my brother,’ he castigated harshly. ‘Why? Because you didn’t fancy single parenthood? One brother was lost to you so you might as well settle on the other? He might not live such a dangerously fascinating, swashbuckling type of life, might not be as pretty to look at, but he’d do? Marry me and hope fantastic sex would make me overlook everything else.’

He turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘Well, you were wrong. It didn’t. You’re good in bed, I’ll give you that. But not that good. In any case, I can get fantastic sex whenever I want. No strings, no messy secrets, no regrets.’

That hurt. If he’d ripped her heart out of her body with his bare hands it couldn’t have hurt more.

Pain took her by the throat and shook her, making speech impossible. But she had, somehow, to make him understand, to begin the process of partially exonerating herself, for both their sakes. Distrust of her was turning him into a man she didn’t know.

‘When we first met, I truly believed...’ Her voice, difficult to push past the constriction in her throat, faltered and died as she remembered the way he’d approached her after the graveside ceremony. ‘You must be Elena Keele; Sam often spoke about you. Don’t go away.’ He had touched her black-gloved hand briefly, and warmth had momentarily displaced the aching sorrow in his eyes. ‘Come back to the house. I think your company would be a comfort to my mother. And to me. Through Sam, I already feel I know you.’

And so it had begun.

Aware that he was watching her struggle for words, the straight line of his mouth twisted to one side, sardonically interested in her fumbling attempts to excuse the inexcusable, she went scarlet and told him roughly, ‘I thought I wasn’t pregnant. I started a period on the morning of Sam’s funeral.’ It had been sketchy, and of very short duration, but she’d put that down to the shock of learning of her friend’s death, the rush to get a flight to London, hire a car and drive out to his home village to pay her last respects.

The next had been equally slight, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that she might be carrying Sam’s child. She’d been back in Spain for two weeks then, regretfully leaving Jed in England. They’d spent two weeks getting to know each other, learning to accept the unbelievable fact of love at first sight. But she’d had a deadline to meet, and if they were to be married as soon as possible—which they had both known almost from that first moment of meeting—Jed had a lot of business ends to tie up, too.

The love, the magic, the precious feeling of being born for each other couldn’t have disappeared so completely. Surely it couldn’t?

She approached him with more determination. He had to hear her out. ‘Jed—Sam and I—’

‘Spare me!’ he cut across her, his eyes derisive. ‘I don’t want to hear the sordid details.’ He headed for the door, his footsteps ringing firmly on the tiled floor. ‘And I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t believe a word you say. Why keep a testing kit around if you were so certain your affair with my brother hadn’t left you with any music to face? Why use it at all?’

‘Because I’d begun to feel nauseous in the morning! I believed pregnancy was out of the question, but did the test just to make doubly sure!’ she shot back at him, her temper rising. How could a man who’d said he’d love her till the day he died refuse to properly hear her side of the story, refuse point-blank to believe a word she said?

Her shoulders rigid, she bunched her hands into fists at her sides and told him, her voice grinding out the slow words, ‘Sam and I were never lovers.’

‘No? One-night stand, was it? Don’t try to tell me he forced himself on you. Sam wasn’t like that. It was more likely to be the other way around. From my experience during this last week your appetite for sex is pretty well insatiable.’

Bitterness was stamped all over his harsh features, and it held his spine in a rigid line as he walked out of the room. In that moment she hated him.

She had never hated anyone before, not even Liam. She had despised him, but never hated him. The savage emotion consumed her. She paced the terracotta tiles, her arms wrapped around her slender body, holding herself together in case she should explode with the hot rage that flared and flamed inside her.

How dared he treat her as if she were trash? Accuse her of such monstrous things? And where had the man she loved more than her life disappeared to? Had he ever really existed, or had he been mere wishfulfilment, a figment of her imagination? The man who had just walked out on her was a cold-hearted, arrogant, egotistical monster!

He could forget his ‘non-negotiable’ decision of a sham marriage. She would accept no part of it Did he think he had a God-given right to dish out orders, arrogantly decide how she would live out the rest of her life?

Did he really think she would stay legally tied to a man who thought so badly of her? Did he imagine, for one moment, that she’d unquestioningly suffer the misery such a vile arrangement would bring her?

As far as she was concerned their marriage was over in every way there was. She had no intention of returning to England with him, living a lie. She was perfectly capable of looking after her child on her own—that had been the original intention, after all.

Her child did not need a father figure, especially one as all-fired intransigent, bloody-minded and arrogant as Jed Nolan!

First thing in the morning she would tell him to pack his bags, get out of her home. She never wanted to have to see him again.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE didn’t get the opportunity to ask him to leave. He’d already done it.

The sun had only just begun to gild the flanks of the rugged hills with new-day light when she left her solitary bed and dragged herself downstairs after a monumentally miserable and sleepless night.

Which bedroom Jed had used she had no idea, and didn’t care, she told herself as she secured the belt of the robe she’d thrown on more tightly around her narrow waist. As soon as he surfaced she would ask him to leave, announce that she’d be in touch, through her solicitor, some time in the future. Let him know that he wasn’t the only one who could make decisions and hurl them around like concrete slabs.