Page 209 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

He’d wanted to enjoy himself with a few casual liaisons, yet every time he even looked at a woman, all he could see was the challenging glint in Maude Braithwaite’s brown eyes and the way her hand had curved over her stomach. All he could think about was the feel of her in the forest that night, and how then she’d looked up at him when she’d been beneath him on the couch, her face flushed with heat and passion...

None of the other women he’d met had that same glint in their eyes, and while they definitely looked at him with heat and passion, it didn’t move him. It didn’t make him hard.

His nymph had put a spell on him and now she was all he thought about.

Ringing her to discuss the baby hadn’t even occurred to him. Neither had simply sending her an email or a text. All he’d thought was that any discussion with her had to be conducted face to face, so he’d let Polly know he’d be visiting, and now he was here, he wondered if he’d made the right choice.

Then he wondered why the hell he was doubting himself, when he never had before.

It was her that was the issue. It was all her and the baby.

He’d thought about the baby, too, in the past week. About how he was going to be a father and what that would look like. Not like his own father, that was for sure. He wouldn’t keep his child secreted away like an afterthought. He wouldn’t go away and leave them for weeks and months, rattling around in this big ancient house. And he certainly wouldn’t be presenting them with itemised bills for their own upkeep or making them negotiate for everything they wanted.

The child would live with him in London and he’d give he or she whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it. And as for Maude, well, she could come and live with them too. He hadn’t had a mother, since his own had up and vanished, and he’d never known why she’d just walked away—his father had never mentioned it and Dominic had never asked—but maybe his life would have been less lonely, less difficult, if she’d stayed. He certainly wanted his own child to have their mother around.

One thing for certain, though: neither of them would live here.

The helicopter settled and Dominic leapt out, heading for the path that led to the groundskeeper’s cottage rather than the manor, since he might as well get this meeting with Maude over and done with, and as soon as possible.

The cottage was a ridiculously picturesque brick building on the edge of the forest, not far from the manor house. It was small, with a slate roof and ivy climbing up the sides and pots of lavender just outside the front door.

He hadn’t been here for years, he realised suddenly as he approached the cottage. Not since he was a boy. Craddock, who’d been his father’s gamekeeper, had lived in it, and Dominic had loved visiting him, though Jacob had disapproved. He hadn’t liked his son mixing with the staff.

Jacob would have a fit now, Dominic reflected as he knocked on the door, if he’d known that his son was now having a baby with said staff.

There was a pause, and he was about to knock again, when the door opened and Maude stood on the threshold, her warm brown eyes meeting his.

And he felt it again, that gut punch of desire, leaving him breathless, his heart racing in a way it hadn’t raced for any of the women he’d surrounded himself with back in London.

His fingers itched to shove the door open, grab her and pull her close, press his mouth to hers and taste her again. But he crushed the urge. This was not about sex. This was about the child.

‘May I come in?’ he asked, when she didn’t say anything.

‘You didn’t tell me you were coming,’ she said, eyeing him.

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I didn’t. Do you really want to have this discussion on the doorstep?’

She stared at him a moment longer, then turned without a word, and went down the little hallway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, then followed her through another doorway and into the tiny living area.

It was a cosy little room, with a sofa facing the fireplace and an armchair to the side. There were throws of various brightly coloured fabric draped everywhere and lots of mugs on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Books were stacked in piles on every available surface, as well as magazines open at the crossword section. A comfortable room, full of cheerful clutter, that made him feel at ease, though he wasn’t sure why.

Maude stood in front of the fireplace, her arms folded, regarding him warily. Her hair was loose and she was wearing a flowing, wraparound dress of deep scarlet that shouldn’t have been so sexy, since it was very plain. Yet somehow it drew his attention to every one of her feminine curves, including the generous swell of her breasts and her little bump, making him feel once again that primal sense of possession.

Yours. She is yours.

He gritted his teeth, ignoring the thought. The baby was his.Shewasn’t.

‘Why didn’t you warn me that you were coming?’ she said, as ifhewere the problem.

He sat on the arm of the sofa, ostensibly casual, trying to find his usual lazy, bored facade. ‘Should I have?’

‘I would have appreciated some preparation.’

‘Preparation for what?’

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then, clearly thinking better of it, she shut it. But he didn’t miss the way her gaze darted down over his chest and lower, before returning once again to his face. Colour bloomed in her cheeks and the little glints of gold in her eyes gleamed brighter, and the rush of possessiveness and desire tightened its grip on him.

She wanted him too, that was obvious.

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