Page 85 of A Whisper of Desire
She would never have children.
She wrapped her arms around herself as the pain lanced her.
She would never hold a baby in her arms, or at her breast.
Never take their child on his first pony ride.
Never watch him find his true love.
Never see him marry.
Never see her grandchildren.
The enormity of all she’d—they’d—lost, swamped her, and her knees buckled as a wail of pain escaped her lips.
She heard Maitland’s curse as he swept her up again and hugged her tightly to his chest.
Her tears fell freely, mingled with his, as he simply carried her around her bedchamber, letting her cry. Her heart broke, she felt it fracture, the pain so intense she thought she’d die.
Chapter 21
The guests were all seated in the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks. Marisa smiled and chattered as if her world had not been destroyed. She could barely bring herself to look at Maitland. She knew she had to be strong. She would have to walk away and give him the means to obtain an heir. Priscilla’s strength helped her. She drew on her sacrifice and decided that tomorrow she would talk with Sebastian.
Her brother would not like the idea of her being divorced, but she knew Maitland would always provide for her. Besides, she had her dowry, and she’d take Clarence and Simon with her. She would devote her life to the orphanages of London, as she would never remarry. Her heart would always belong to Maitland.
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Marisa? You look a bit peaky.”
She pasted on a smile before turning to Beatrice. “I’m perfectly fine. I thought I’d go stir-crazy being cooped up like a hen in a henhouse for all these weeks. I intend to enjoy myself tonight.”
Just then Beatrice gave a small squeal. “The baby kicked. Here, feel.” She grabbed Marisa’s hand and placed it on her protruding stomach.
Marisa couldn’t feel anything, and then, oh, a strong thump hit her hand. She looked at Beatrice in awe. Such a strong little kick. She kept her hand there, waiting for more. “With strength like that, I’m sure it’s a boy.”
The look of joy on Beatrice’s face took Marisa’s breath away. “I bet you’ll be feeling as bloated and as uncomfortable as me soon, but in these moments it’s so worth it.”
She felt Maitland’s start from across the room. Saw him begin to move toward her, pain and pity filling his eyes. She couldn’t stand the pity.
Beatrice looked between them and her smile died. “I’m sorry, have I said something wrong?”
Marisa patted Beatrice’s hand. “No. Let’s just say the villainess has taken more from Maitland and me than you know.” With that she stood and asked to be excused.
She walked blindly from the room, needing some air to cool the dark anger building inside of her. She made her way through Maitland’s study to the adjoining terrace and threw open the doors with such force she thought for one moment she might have shattered the glass.
She heard footsteps behind her, and she hoped it wasn’t Maitland. A shudder rocked her. She couldn’t bear to see that look in his eyes.
“I gather what the doctor told you wasn’t good news.”
Priscilla.
“No.”
The woman came and stood beside her. They both looked out into the darkening night. After a dark silence Marisa spoke.
“The injury was more severe than Maitland or anyone told me. They had to take my womb.”
She held Priscilla’s indrawn breath. “You—you can’t give Maitlandchildren.”
When would that sentence not ever send her body into spasms of pain? “No.”
