Pregnant!. Charlotte HughesЧитать онлайн книгу.
few hours ago, she would have had an instant answer to that one. Now she was finding herself perilously close to agreeing with him.
They were both adults, both—since she had said goodbye to poor Simon—unencumbered by other commitments. And they wouldn’t be doing anything they hadn’t done before.
But she whispered, ‘‘No,’’ anyway. Tenderly. With regret.
* * *
The next day, as Finn sat in the office room at Ingrid’s house, checking his stocks and speaking with a London broker he often used, the other line blinked red.
He looked at the display and recognized the number. ‘‘I’ll ring you back,’’ he said to the broker. He punched the second line. ‘‘Your Majesty. I am honored.’’
‘‘How goes it?’’
Finn sat back in his chair and stared, unseeing, at the columns of figures on his computer screen. He thought of the night before, of all the lingering, maddening kisses. Of how, in the end, Liv had sent him away. ‘‘She’s an amazing woman, your daughter.’’
The king grunted. ‘‘She has yet to say yes.’’
‘‘That’s correct.’’
‘‘The World Tattler says otherwise.’’
Finn chuckled. ‘‘Sadly, the Tattler’s sources are often untrustworthy.’’
‘‘My sources tell me my daughter is…softening.’’
‘‘Softening.’’ Finn pondered the word. ‘‘Yes, sire. I think I can safely claim that to be so.’’
‘‘We have reason then, to be optimistic?’’
‘‘Yes, Your Majesty. I believe we do….’’
Chapter Nine
That evening Liv and Finn went to the movies. The night after that, they ordered in. Friday, they went to a play in the park. And Saturday, they rode up into the foothills. Finn drove. He kept the music up way too loud. And he made jokes about that extra brake pedal she appeared to have on her side of the car.
Liv found Nevada City as charming as ever, with its adorable Victorians in close rows, the slopes of the hills blanketed in tall evergreen and the oaks and maples thick with their summer leaves. They wandered the steep streets of downtown, window-shopping, stopping to look inside when a particular store caught their fancy. Later they shared a picnic in Pioneer Park.
It was after dark when they got back to the T Street house. Finn came in for a couple of hours. They watched a movie, a bowl of popcorn on the couch between them, losing track of the story as they kept bending across the bowl to enjoy an endless string of lovely, salty kisses. Somehow, though, she managed to send him away before bedtime.
It wasn’t easy, keeping Finn out of her bed. He was so very skilled at tempting her to let him in. Liv spent more time than she would ever admit dreaming about doing with him what she kept insisting they weren’t going to do. Mostly, she was able to confine her dreams to the appropriate situations: mornings, over a cup of herb tea; when she was in Finn’s arms—and at night, after she sent him away.
Happily, fantasies of making love with Finn brought only pleasure now. They didn’t torture her in daylight, or keep her awake too long at night. She was sleeping well and she was pulling her weight at work again, word processing with the best of them, answering phones with cheer and efficiency, ready and willing to ‘‘gofer’’ whatever needed getting.
On Monday, she saw the new issue of The World Tattler on the table in the break room. She couldn’t resist thumbing through it.
She and Finn didn’t rate their own article in that one. Just a couple of snapshots in a spread titled Young Royals In Love. There was a shot of them walking up Commercial Street in Nevada City, hand in hand, their heads turned toward each other, both of them grinning. And another of them sitting close together at the Land Park amphitheater, eyes forward, focused on the play.
It wasn’t so bad, really. At least they’d only been caught during their more…public moments. She didn’t find a single shot of them locked in a torrid embrace on her front porch swing or anything.
And besides, wasn’t it something she’d have to get used to—reporters trailing her, asking questions, taking pictures? She planned, after all, a very public kind of life for herself.
‘‘Lookin’ good, there, Liv.’’ It was one of the file clerks, peering over her shoulder.
Liv only smiled. ‘‘Hey, thanks, Orinda.’’
In his office room, Finn picked up the phone. ‘‘Your Majesty. I trust you are well.’’
‘‘I didn’t call to speak of my health. My sources tell me you’re with my daughter constantly.’’
Finn turned in his swivel chair and looked out the window at a lush-leaved oak in his hostess’s backyard. ‘‘Your sources have it right.’’
There was a silence. Then the king prompted, ‘‘Well?’’
‘‘My lord, progress is slower than I would wish.’’
‘‘I’m told you always leave her house well before morning light.’’
‘‘Your men are most impressively observant.’’
‘‘Take her to bed. A woman is always more easily led after thorough pleasuring.’’
‘‘Excellent advice, my lord.’’
‘‘Have you taken her to bed as of yet?’’
‘‘Your Majesty, we wouldn’t be in this predicament had I not.’’
‘‘Don’t toy with me, Finn.’’
‘‘My liege, there are some things a man hesitates to discuss, even with his king.’’
Again the line was silent, except for the faint crackle of static. Finally the king said, ‘‘Perhaps you have a point.’’
‘‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’’
‘‘I want to know immediately when she says yes.’’
‘‘And you shall.’’
‘‘And Finn?’’
‘‘Yes, Your Majesty?’’
‘‘Remember the words of Odin himself. ‘The hearts of women were fashioned on a spinning wheel.’ Those of the fairer sex are by nature capricious. Don’t allow her forever to make up her mind. She will take eternity—and then demand another day.’’
‘‘Marry me,’’ Finn said that night. They were sitting in the porch swing. Swaying. Kissing.
‘‘Oh, Finn.’’
He captured her chin. ‘‘Tell me that means yes.’’
She wrapped her hand around his wrist and held on. They stared at each other as the crickets sang and a siren started low in the distance, the sound swelling until it passed a few blocks away and then fading off into the summer night.
He asked, ‘‘When you know you’re pregnant, will you marry me then?’’
‘‘I…don’t know.’’
He let go. For a moment, she thought he was angry. And then, very slowly, he smiled. ‘‘A week ago, you would have said absolutely not.’’
He was right. But that didn’t mean she could ever, realistically, say yes. She knew that the future she planned for herself could still be made to happen, even if she was pregnant and had her baby without benefit of marriage. Single motherhood, in America, was