Page 100 of Modern Romance Collection Books (5-8)

She still couldn’t believe what he’d just offered her.

‘How did you know?’ A question she should have asked at least an hour ago, she knew. ‘How did you know it was me that night?’

He didn’t seem surprised. ‘On the plane, I came into the bedroom and you were fast asleep. I went to wake you up and you...smelled familiar. Then you made a sound.’ His eyes gleamed, the embers of desire still smouldering in them. ‘It reminded me of the sound you made that night, when I made you come.’

Heat crept up her neck, flooding into her cheeks. He was a very observant man, she knew that. It was why she’d been so surprised that he hadn’t guessed it had been her before. Then again, she was just part of the furniture to him, wasn’t she? At least, that’s how he’d always treated her.

‘You never suspected—’

‘No,’ he cut her off flatly. ‘But now is not the time to discuss my powers of observation. You’re pregnant with my child, Freddie. Which means that we must marry.’

Her heart was beating far too loud in her ears. ‘Why? I thought you never wanted to get married.’

‘I didn’t. But I never meant to have children either and yet here we are.’

‘You don’t have to do this.’ She clasped her hands together tighter, not sure why she was arguing with him when this was a good outcome for her. ‘It’s not the Victorian era. Probably half the people in the world are born to parents who aren’t married.’

‘When I said I wasn’t going to have children that didn’t mean I didn’t want them,’ he said gently.

A little shock went through her, along with the knife-edge of guilt. She’d been going to keep his child from him...

What other proof do you need that you’re a bad person?

‘I thought—’

‘You probably thought a lot of things. My preferences have nothing to do with the situation we find ourselves in, let alone yours. You are pregnant with the heir to the throne. No, it wasn’t my choice, but it is what it is. I have to claim the child, Freddie. An illegitimate heir would cause me all sorts of problems and I can’t have that.’

Her fingers were numb. She couldn’t believe that he actually thought marrying her was a good idea and that she was actually thinking she’d accept him.

She didn’t want to. She couldn’t bear to think about all the lies she’d have to tell him, a future unrolling of all the things she couldn’t say. A small part of her desperately wished she could confide in him, but she had a horrible feeling it was too late for that. She’d already hurt him enough by not telling him about the baby, and what would he say if he knew she’d been lying to him for years? Not a great way to start a marriage.

Not that she knew anything about marriage. Her parents hadn’t been married. She’d never known her father, but she’d assumed he was the same petty criminal as her mother. They’d barely been together for her conception before her mother had moved on to someone else. Then to Aaron. But she didn’t want to think about him or what had happened with him.

The bottom line was that her mother hadn’t cared about her father. Then again, her mother hadn’t cared about anyone but herself.

Winifred had always thought she was different, but maybe she wasn’t. Yes, she loved Augustine, but here she was contemplating telling him yet more lies to protect herself. It made her feel sick.

‘You’re looking extremely pale,’ Augustine said, frowning. ‘I know it wasn’t the world’s most romantic proposal, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

It was disturbing how he’d somehow spotted her fear.

‘I’m not afraid,’ she said, trying to sound calm.

But he only kept frowning at her. ‘Yes, you are. I know what fear looks like. Your face is white and you’re holding your hands clasped together very tightly.’

Instantly she unclasped them, but it was too late. He’d already spotted her trepidation and him being him, he’d want to know why.

She had to say something, distract him again so she wouldn’t be faced with yet more questions she couldn’t answer.

‘It’s morning sickness,’ she said quickly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘I thought morning sickness was only an issue in the first three months?’

‘Sometimes it can go on the whole nine months,’ she said, forcing her voice to sound steady. ‘Stress can add to it sometimes.’

He regarded her silently another moment. ‘Drink your tea,’ he said at last, finally moving to sit on the sofa next to her.

It was too close. She could feel his heat, feel the urge inside her to lean into him, take some of his strength and certainty for herself, because she felt so weak and powerless and afraid.

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