The Surgeon's One-Night Baby

They could have seen him as an unwanted entanglement. Yet they had welcomed him. Because he’d wanted to be there. Because he’d craved that life, that stability. And now Archie had returned to him. The fact that she was pregnant with his baby after a one-night stand should have been the greatest unwanted complication of all. Instead, he’d welcomed her. Wanted to be with her. Craved her.

Another man had crossed the room now to greet her, her obvious state of pregnancy apparently not putting him off in the slightest as he leaned in a little too closely to whisper in Archie’s ear. As though the guy didn’t care for the fact that Archie was

his. And Archie tipped back her head so that the glorious long line of her elegant neck was exposed, and laughed unashamedly.

Kaspar didn’t recall moving from the bar, but suddenly he was across the room in an instant, the blood bubbling and popping in his veins. The man didn’t even stay long enough to introduce himself, although Kaspar supposed the baring of his teeth in what wouldn’t have passed for a smile might have had something to do with it.

‘Shall we dance?’

‘Are you intending to chase off any male who dares to talk to me, as though you’re some dog peeing on a post to mark its territory?’ she enquired archly.

He shrugged, unrepentant.

‘If I need to.’

‘I see.’

Half amusement, half chastisement. Still, Kaspar merely held out his hand. A command rather than a request.

She eyed him, a touch incredulously.

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Funnily enough, I hadn’t forgotten.’

‘Don’t be facetious.’ She bit her lip. ‘I have a bump. The press will photograph us. It will look silly.’

His bump. His baby.

‘It would never look silly,’ he ground out fiercely. ‘Besides, isn’t this why you insisted we come here tonight? Why else put yourself through this ordeal if not to show the world?’

Without waiting for her to agree, he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. People moved out of their way, one pair of curious eyes after another locking onto them, wondering if this was where he was going to make his unspoken statement to the world. Necks craning to see how his Hollywood royalty mother was taking it.

But he ignored them. No one else mattered anyway. It all simply fell away until there was nothing but the feel of Archie in his arms. At last. Her fingers curled into his, her delicate scent filling his nostrils, their baby cradled in her belly and pressed against him.

They moved together so sinuously, so harmoniously that it felt as though they were melding, just as they had done before. It felt comfortable, and good, and right. They danced until the meal was served, a sumptuous feast, which he couldn’t remember tasting a morsel of, and some polite, inane conversation that flowed out of his head instantly. He could only remember the feel of Archie’s bare skin as his hand rested on her back, or the way she leaned slightly against him, or her hand within his.

And then something changed, so quickly, so suddenly that there was no chance to pre-empt it.

Photographers were crowding in on them, their manner not quite that of the ball’s official photographers and Kaspar tensed instinctively. He glanced around, but the security team seemed relaxed and comfortable, and not wanting to make a scene he forced himself to stand down. Ordered himself not to let his imagination, or his worst fears, run riot.

Kaspar had no doubt a hundred cellphones had been capturing them all night, in order to post on the various crude forms of social media so many of the so-called charity supporters favoured. But it didn’t bother him.

He only cared about Archie.

And then...

He thrust her back, gently but firmly, shock pulsing through him.

‘Was that...?’

‘The baby kicking,’ she whispered, nodding, her eyes locked onto his as though, like him, she could barely register the other people in around them, the music, the noise.

Tentatively, he reached his arm out and then stopped. Only for Archie to take his hand and place it over her stomach. The kick bounced against him almost immediately. Hard, strong, playful.

Until this point, he’d appreciated everything in the abstract. Whatever other buttons being with Archie had pressed, the baby had always been something he’d known within context. Logically.

Suddenly, there was nothing reasoned or logical about it. Emotions coursed through him and he had absolutely no control over them. But instead of terrifying him, or worrying him, it was almost...freeing.