Page 212 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

It was exhilarating to affect him this way, to make his bored, jaded mask slip a little.

‘I’m not playing your game,’ she said into the seething, tense silence. ‘I won’t. I’ve done what other people wanted me to do all my life and I’m not doing it now. This is too important.’

‘Important to whom?’ There was a certain lethal softness in his voice. ‘Is this little performance really for your child’s benefit or for your own?’

That caught at her in a place she wasn’t expecting, a vulnerable place, making a thread of doubt wind through her. This was supposed to be about her child and yet...

You were brought up in Earthsong by your mother, because she wanted to stay. It wasn’t about what was best for you, was it?

Selfish, that was what her grandparents had always said about her mother. Selfish of Sonya to bring Maude up in a place where there was no formal schooling and no other children, either. Living in the commune had been lonely, and Sonya had left a large portion of Maude’s care with other people, if any were around. Most of the time she’d been left on her own.

Was she the one being selfish now? With her own child? Forcing her or him into a way of life that they might not necessarily want or might not be the best for them?

Maude turned around abruptly, facing the fireplace, not wanting her doubt to show, and especially not since he’d already warned her once about that.

She didn’t want to be a mother like her own, who’d cared more about herself and what she wanted than she had about what was right for Maude. So...maybe her child would be better off in London. Dominic could certainly give him or her a much better life than Maude could give them on her own. And living in London didn’t mean they had to be apart from nature. There were plenty of woods and lakes and wild places that were within easy reach of London, as he’d already said.

Abruptly, the familiar, intoxicating scent of the forest surrounded her and she knew he was there. She could sense him standing behind her and close. Like one of those mighty oaks in the forest, tall and strong. And she had the oddest urge to lean back into him and take some of his strength for herself, because she was coming to the end of hers and pure stubbornness wasn’t a good enough reason to keep fighting him.

‘Maude,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me why this is so important to you.’

Dominic had made an error somewhere along the line and he knew it. He’d known it the moment she’d turned away suddenly, his little barb about her passionate outburst obviously landing somewhere painful.

He hadn’t known what hurting her would do to him, because if he’d known, he wouldn’t have done it. He hadn’t expected to feel as if he’d kicked something small and vulnerable, and purely for cruelty’s sake.

He couldn’t believe he’d done the same thing as he had last week, letting himself be drawn into a fruitless argument because she was so stubborn, and then nearly losing his temper because she wouldn’t give in and because no one said no to him.

The problem was, she’d called his bluff. She’d absolutely refused to negotiate, leaving him no choice but to bring out the threat of lawyers, knowing, even as he’d said it, that he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to tear the child away from her or trespass her from Darkfell.

He wanted to sell this place, that was true, get rid of the last vestiges of his father, but it surely didn’t matter when he sold it. It wasn’t as if he needed the money. He was insisting purely because she aggravated him so much.

He was letting his emotions get the better of him.

He wasn’t in the habit of caring about other people’s feelings, so it was odd to care about hers. Or at least to have her hurt bother him as much as it did. Perhaps it was because of that passion, that sincerity. The honesty burning in her eyes as she’d told him that nature, the forest, was important to her.

It was foreign to him, that honesty, that sincerity. In the past, in the boardroom, they had been ammunition in the negotiating war, and he’d used both to win. But he wasn’t in a boardroom now, and she wasn’t a businessperson who knew the rules of engagement.

She was pregnant and it wasn’t a deal they were negotiating, but what would happen when their child was born. She was right, this was important, and they needed to find an understanding between them, not relentless arguing.

So his request to know why she was so insistent about staying here had been a start of the bridge they had to build between them, a small olive branch to begin with. Also, he was curious.

She didn’t move and he realised he was closer to her than he should be. Enough to be aware of the scent of lavender that seemed to come from her hair and another delicate, very feminine scent that was uniquely her own.

It made his mouth water, woke everything male in him into a state of almost painful alertness.

‘I grew up close to nature,’ she said, without turning around. ‘I spent a lot of time in the commune’s gardens and in the woods nearby. It was a...child’s paradise. The commune didn’t have a school or lessons of any kind, so I was free to follow my own interests. Then my grandparents took me away to live with them. And there were schools and lessons and timetables and...rules. I tried to live with them, tried to fit in, but it never felt the same as being in the commune. It never felt like...home. Not the way the forest does.’

Finally, she turned around and looked up at him, her brown eyes dark, the forest pool shadowed. ‘I wanted that for our child. I wanted him or her to experience the same freedom I had at Earthsong, to not be bound by rules and timetables, even if it’s only for a short time.’ Slowly the gold in her eyes began brightening. ‘It’s important for our future society that we come to an understanding with nature, with this planet we live on. Because this is our home, and we need to take care of it.’

Dominic found himself momentarily transfixed, caught by the passion in her voice and the glitter of it in her eyes. And he realised, almost with shock, that although she’d revealed a significant vulnerability to him, he wasn’t going to exploit it for his own gain, use it against her to get what he wanted.

And not only he wouldn’t—hecouldn’t.

She believed what she said, believed in it totally, and her refusal to play the little game he’d started made him feel something akin to shame for his own part in it. She had more integrity than he did, it seemed, and part of him admired her for it.

‘Then,’ he said quietly, ‘you should stay here.’

She blinked, as if she didn’t quite understand what he’d said. ‘You mean stay here? In the cottage?’

---