Page 23 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘I will show you the back of the house tomorrow; there is a garden you might like to explore. Somewhere Raf can play. It is fenced, so you need not worry he will escape.’

‘Okay.’ She nodded, but her head was swimming. The house—no, it wasn’t a house—the castle was sumptuous.

He led her up the staircase, moving quickly, so she almost had to jog to keep up with him. At the landing, he split in one direction and she followed him. It was on the tip of her tongue to implore him to slow down when he did just that, so she had to halt abruptly or risk bumping into him.

‘This is Raf’s room.’ He stepped back to allow her to precede him, and his eyes glowed with an emotion she couldn’t immediately understand.

It was defiance, she realised, when she stepped over the threshold and saw the way Gabe had furnished it. He was telling her that he was right—that he had been right to insist she accompany him.

Abby had no idea what the room had been in the past, but it was now a child’s paradise. There was a bassinet and a cot, a small chair—something he wouldn’t need for many months yet. There was a baby jumper, a walker, shelves and shelves lined with age-appropriate toys, a rocking chair, a narrow bed that an adult could use. Abby walked around the room, her breath held as she fingered many of the objects, her mind sagging when she tried to calculate what this must have cost him. A year’s rent for her, certainly.

There was a doorway on one side; she went through it and discovered a large bathroom to one side and a bedroom to the other.

‘The nannies will take it in turns to be on duty overnight. Whoever is watching Raf will sleep here.’

‘And the bed in his room?’ she asked softly, her eyes swept shut.

He shrugged. ‘If he’s sick. Has nightmares.’

It was the kind of thoughtful inclusion she wouldn’t have expected of him.

‘How did you arrange all this so quickly? It must have been hard to source so many items…’

‘Not particularly.’

Of course it wasn’t. For someone like Gabe, this would have been easy. Just a click of his fingers, a flex of his wallet, and all was arranged.

‘Where’s my room?’

He regarded her for several seconds before turning away and stalking through Raf’s comfortable suite. Abby followed. Gabe walked past several doors that must have led to other bedrooms, and eventually he paused at the end of the hallway.

Until h

e opened the door, Abby hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath, fully expecting—hoping—that Gabe would insist they share a bedroom…and a bed! Deep, deep down, she’d been preparing for the likelihood and, in the back of her mind, trying to fathom how she would respond to that.

But the room he gestured towards was definitely not his. It was furnished in neutral décor, for one thing, with a couple of flower arrangements on the bedside table and a dressing table. It was devoid of personal details.

‘My room,’ she said with a confident nod, as if telling herself, reassuring herself.

‘My own is next door,’ he said, the words giving no indication that this affected him in any way.

But for Abby? Knowing he would be so close made her heart throb inside her and her pulse pounded in her veins, rushing hard and fast, demanding attention. Colour bloomed in her cheeks and when she lifted her eyes to Gabe he was watching her intently.

‘Unless you’d prefer to share my room,’ he prompted silkily, and Abby’s knees began to tremble.

One night.

Her only night with a man.

The feelings he’d invoked had tormented her, the memories strong and vivid in her mind, demanding more, craving more. But there’d been no more. No Gabe, only memories.

And now?

She blinked at him, her expression unknowingly panic-stricken. But it wasn’t fear of being with him; it was fear of showing him just how much she wanted and needed that! It was fear of the fact she did want him, even now. That, no matter what she’d promised to herself, she knew she wanted Gabe in a way she couldn’t—wouldn’t—ignore. Did that make her foolish or brave? And what point did a definition serve?

She was hungry for him, desperate for his touch, despite knowing she might very well regret succumbing to that hunger. She felt instinct take over, changing the course of her determination with ease.

‘Relax, tempesta. It was a joke. I think we both know one night together was one night too many.’

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