“It’s a simple question, Taylor. Is the child yours?”
In the end, there was only one possible response. She gave it on a forced exhalation of breath.
“Yes. She’s mine.”
She steadied herself for what would come next. Anger that she hadn’t told him he’d made her pregnant? A demand to claim that which was his? Or perhaps, by some miracle, a thawing of his ice-clad heart at the realization he had a daughter.
Later, she’d weep bitter tears at the memory of those possibilities and how reasonable they’d seemed.
“So, that’s the reason you left me. Because you were pregnant.”
She nodded and searched his face for some hint of what he was thinking.
“Answer the question! Was your pregnancy the reason you ran away?”
“I didn’t run away.”
His mouth thinned. “No. Of course you didn’t.”
“I’m sure you think I should have told you, but—”
“You were quite right, keeping the information to yourself,” he said coldly. “However you imagined I’d react, the reality would have been worse.”
Tears blurred her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I know that now.”
Dante caught her by the shoulders, his hands as hard as his eyes.
“I made myself clear from the start.”
She couldn’t help it. The tears she’d tried to control trembled on her lashes, then fell. She pulled free of his hands, went to the sink and made a pretense of straightening things that didn’t need straightening.
“I know. That’s why I didn’t—”
“You were my mistress.”
That dried her tears in a hurry. “I was never that.”
“Don’t mince words, damn it!” He came up behind her and swung her toward him. “You belonged to me.”
“This jacket belongs to you,” she said, shrugging it from her shoulders so it dropped to the floor. “And that vehicle in the driveway.” Tally thumped her fist against her chest. “I am not property. I never belonged to you.”
“No.” His smile was as thin as a rapier. “As it turns out, you didn’t.” His grasp on her tightened. “I knew things had changed between us. I just didn’t know the reason.”
“I left you. Final answer.”
“I thought it was that our relationship was growing old.”
Amazing, that such cruel words could wound after all this time, but she’d sooner have died than let him know it.
“You’re right. It was. It had. That’s why—”
“Now I find out it wasn’t that at all.” He caught her face, lifted it to him so that their eyes met. “It was this,” he said, jerking his chin toward the next room, where the baby lay sleeping. “You had a secret and you were so intent on keeping it from me that you kept yourself from me, too.”
“Maybe you’re not as thick-headed as you seem,” Tally countered, trying for sarcasm and failing, if the twist of his lips was any indication.
“I could kill you,” he said softly.
As if to prove it, one cool hand circled her throat. His touch was light, but she felt its warning pressure.