Page 58 of A Treasure Worth Seeking

Walking into her living room, she paused as usual and enjoyed the sight of it. She loved this room. The walls were painted a dark beige which contrasted nicely with the white woodwork and shutters. The sofa and easy chairs were also white, but were heaped with pillows in vivid shades of blue, green, and orange. As if on command, her eyes strayed to the white brick fireplace. It was one of three in the house.

Lance had lit a fire in that unused fireplace that night. What was on his mind when he did that? Had he been thinking of her? Had he wished she would come down—

Stop it!

She sank down in one of the easy chairs and put her feet up on an ottoman. In her hand was the photograph Lance had delivered to her today. As she sipped her tea, she stared at the picture of her family. Tomorrow she would buy a gold frame to put it in. What kind did she want? Something Victorian with filigreeing around the edges? Or something simple so as not to detract from the photograph itself?

For the first time in her life, she felt like she had a heritage. She could be content.

Almost. If it weren’t for the heartache over the man—

She groaned when the doorbell sounded. It was probably the paper boy collecting for this month. With weary limbs, she got up from the chair and dragged herself to the front door.

Lance was standing on the porch between the urns of red geraniums on either side of the door. He had forsaken the brown coat and there was one more button on his shirt undone. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows.

She shrank from the livid anger on his face.

“Take off your clothes.”

She stared at him dumbfounded. Her ears must be playing tricks on her. “What—”

“I said to take off your clothes.” He barged past her into the living room. “And if you don’t, I will.” She shut the door and turned to face him. His voice brooked no argument, and she didn’t doubt for one moment he’d do what he threatened.

Well, she wasn’t going to cringe against the door in fear. She pushed away from that false sanctuary and lifted her chin defensively. “You’d have to kill me first.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled. “I’m on the verge now of wringing your lovely neck.”

“What have I done to provoke you?” Her heart was racing. Did he know? Of course he did. He never missed anything.

His eyes narrowed on her. The golden-flecked lashes formed a thick brush over them. “I couldn’t quite figure out what it was while I was with you, but I knew that something was different. I was just about to board the airplane when it finally hit me.” His face suddenly lost its belligerence. If he had stripped away a mask, the change in his expression couldn’t have been more disparate. “Erin—”

He didn’t finish. Instead he walked toward her and reached out to touch her. Reflexively, she protected her stomach with her hands. Inexorably, he moved her hands aside and settled his palms against her.

The abdomen that he knew as almost concave and supple was now turgid and slightly convex. He inclined toward her, keeping his hands as they were, and released a long, ragged breath. She saw a look that resembled pain in his eyes as he asked, “Stanton?”

Her lips trembled when she tried to smile. “No, Lance.”

The blue eyes asked that monumental question and hers answered by closing briefly in affirmation.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he gathered her into his arms and continued squeezing until they were like one unit. He pressed his forehead against hers. “God, Erin, why didn’t you tell me? Were you just going to have my baby and never let me know about it? Why?”

She had never heard such confusion in Lance’s voice. Bewilderment was written on every feature of his handsome face. He wasn’t invincible. He was a man.

She hugged him tight. “Don’t you think I wanted to? But how could I? That’s not something you write a man in a letter, tell him over the telephone. For all I knew, I’d never see you again. I was going to let you know after the baby was born, but until then I couldn’t take the chance.”

“Chance?” he asked, pushing away from her, but holding on to her shoulders. “What kind of chance?”

She averted her eyes from his severe probing. “Lance, I didn’t know how you’d react to the… the baby. You might have wanted me to…” He grasped her unspoken meaning.

“And you couldn’t do that.” It wasn’t a question.

“No!” she exclaimed.

“Why?”

She licked her lips nervously. “B—because my religion doesn’t condone it.”

“No other reason?”

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