The Secret Love-Child

The fear had first begun yesterday, within hours of her not getting her period around noon, as usual. By this afternoon she'd been in a right royal flap.

Already, she could see it all. Rafe not wanting this child. Rafe making her feel terrible about her decision to have it. Rafe perhaps trying to talk her into a termination.

No, no, she could not stand that. He was the one she had to get rid of, not the baby.

The ringing changed to a loud knocking, followed by Rafe's voice through the door. 'I know you're in there, Isabel, so please open up. I'm not going away till I speak to you.'

Isabel valiantly pulled herself together. Now's your opportunity, she lectured herself as she marched towards the front door. He already knows you lied to him about tonight He'll be wondering why. The timing is perfect to tell him you don't want to see him any more. That this relationship—despite the great sex—isn't working for you.

Rafe knew, the moment she opened the door, that he was in trouble. She had that look in her eyes, a combination of steel and ice. He'd seen it before, the day they'd first met at his place.

'Come in,' she said curtly. 'Please excuse my appearance. I wasn't expecting any visitors tonight.'

She was wearing a simple black tracksuit and white joggers. Her hair was down and her face was free of make-up. Rafe thought she looked even more lovely than usual.

'I was just making coffee.' She turned her back on him and headed across the cream-tiled foyer towards the archway which led into the living room. 'Would you like a cup?' she threw over her shoulder.

Rafe decided to circumvent any social niceties and go straight to the heart of the matter.

'No,' he said firmly as he shut the door behind him and followed her into the stylishly furnished living room. 'I didn't come here for coffee.'

She watched him walk over to one of the cream leather armchairs. He had a sexy walk, did Rafe. Actually, he had a sexy way of doing most things. Once settled, he glanced back up at her, his dark eyes raking her up and down, reminding Isabel that she was braless underneath her top.

Feeling her nipples automatically harden annoyed her, self-disgust giving her the courage to do what she had to do. 'If you came for sex, Rafe,' she said as she crossed her arms, 'then you're out of luck. There won't be any more sex. In fact, there won't be any more us. Period.'

'Mmm. Was that a Freudian slip, Isabel?'

Her resolve cracked a little. 'What...what do you mean?'

'I mean that's the problem, isn't it? You haven't got your period.'

She literally gaped at him, her crossed arms unfolding to dangle in limp shock at her sides.

Rafe sucked in sharply. Bingo! He was right. She was pregnant.

Suddenly, he was no longer afraid. He felt nothing but joy and pride, and love. Isabel didn't know it yet but he was going to make a great father. And a great husband, if she'd let him.

'I understand your reaction,' he said carefully. 'But you have no reason to worry. I'm here to tell you that if you are pregnant, then I will support you and the child in every way.'

She still didn't say a word.

'You are late, aren't you?' he probed softly.

She blinked, then shook her head as though trying to clear the wool from her brain. 'I don't understand any of this,' she said, her hands lifting agitatedly, first to touch her hair and then to rest over her heart. 'Why would you even think I was pregnant?'

'I have a confession to make. There was this one occasion on Dream Island when the condom failed.'

Isabel gasped. 'Oh, that's what I thought must have happened. But why didn't you tell me?'

'I didn't want to worry you. It was too late to do anything after the event, other than get you to a doctor for the morning-after pill. And I didn't think you'd want to do that Was I wrong, Isabel? Would you have taken that option?'

He could see by the expression in her eyes that she wouldn't have even considered it.

'I thought as much,' he said.

She almost staggered over to perch on the cream leather sofa adjacent to him. 'When...when did this happen?'

'On the Wednesday.''

She frowned. That night after dinner?'

'No, earlier on in the day.'

Her frown deepened. 'So all those questions you asked about my plans to get pregnant on my honeymoon... You were trying to find out what the likelihood was of my getting pregnant that day?'

'Yes,' he admitted.

'You had to have been worried.'

'No. Actually, I wasn't.'

'But that's insane! You yourself told me you never wanted to become a father."

'Oddly enough, once it became a distinct possibility, I found I was taken with the idea.'

'Taken with the idea?' she exclaimed, stunned at first, then angry. 'Oh, isn't that just like a man? Taken with the idea. A baby's not just a fad, Rafe. It's a reality. A forever reality. A forever responsibility.'

'You think I don't know that?' he countered, his own temper rising. 'I've had longer than you to get acquainted with the reality and the responsibility entailed in my being the father of your baby, and I still like the idea. If you must know, when it seemed like a pregnancy might only be a fifty-fifty possibility, I made a conscious decision to up the odds in favour of your conceiving.'