Page 51 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘I want you to make a life here with me,’ he said gently, so that her heart ached. ‘A real life. You aren’t to feel like a guest. This is your house, your money. Our son binds us, tempesta.’

‘Tempesta,’ she said distractedly. ‘You call me that often. What does it mean?’

‘Storm.’ His lips twisted sardonically. ‘I thought it the first night we met—

that you had the power to move through me like a hurricane. I feel that still.’

She wouldn’t let those words come to mean anything. They were insufficient, meaningless.

‘Have you told your father we are to marry?’

Abigail shook her head. ‘I didn’t have time before I left and…’ The words trailed off into nothingness.

‘You don’t want him to know,’ Gabe concluded.

‘He’d hate this,’ she said simply. ‘I’d worry that it would be the last straw for him. You know? Since losing Mom, he’s just been so…caught up in the company and a huge part of that is…’

‘Hating me,’ Gabe supplied with a drawl.

‘Yes.’ No sense denying that. ‘When he found out I was pregnant with Raf, that you were the father, it was like I’d shot him.’

Gabe’s eyes narrowed.

‘Knowing that I’ve moved in with you… I don’t want to do that to him.’

Sheer cold anger met her gaze when she looked at him. He was furious—but why? ‘Do you expect our marriage will be kept out of the public eye? I am a well-known figure, and you are too. At some point the media will discover our union. Isn’t it better for your father to hear it first from us?’

‘No.’ She shook her head quickly. ‘Absolutely not. It’s best of all if he never knows.’

‘But I’ve just pointed out how unlikely that is.’

‘Unlikely isn’t definite,’ she said urgently. ‘There’s still a chance.’

* * *

The noise was shrill, panicked. He sat bolt upright, rubbing a hand across his face, trying to work out what the hell was going on. He turned around and saw her. Abby, crying out in her sleep. He stared at her and an adrenal response fired in his belly. He reached for her, shaking her shoulder gently. ‘Wake up, Abby.’

She pulled a face in her sleep but didn’t open her eyes.

‘You’re dreaming.’

She mumbled something, words he didn’t hear, so he did the only thing he could. He kissed her, swallowing the panic, tasting it, and returning it as passion. She responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck and, when he lifted his head a little, her eyes were open. Groggy and thick with passionate entreaty.

His own body stirred in response, but his curiosity over what had upset her was greater. ‘You were having a nightmare.’

‘Was I?’ Her eyes flicked away from his, a small frown playing about her lips. He dropped a finger to them, touching her gently. ‘That happens sometimes.’

That adrenaline response was back. ‘Does it?’

‘Not for a long time.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It started when my mom died.’

Gabe dropped onto the pillow beside her, propping himself on one elbow so he could see her face. ‘Are the nightmares about your mother?’

‘Yes and no.’ She slid her gaze to him warily. ‘She’s always in them, but out of reach. Like watching me from behind a window or talking to me but when I look for her I can’t find her. Does that make sense?’

He shrugged. ‘Dreams rarely do.’

‘I haven’t had one in a long time.’ She swallowed. ‘But I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. She would have loved Raf, you know.’

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