Wedding at King's Convenience / Bedding the Secret Heiress. Maureen ChildЧитать онлайн книгу.
contract.”
She pulled the quilt down and her sleepy, dark blue eyes pinned him. For one awful moment, he was afraid she might ask him to stay. He hoped to hell she didn’t, because it wouldn’t take much convincing to have him going along with that idea, and all that would do was prolong the inevitable. Make this harder—on both of them.
But she surprised him again.
Pushing her hair back out of her face, she nodded and sat up, letting the quilt pool at her waist. His mouth went dry and his body stirred, requiring all of his focus just to get it under control again. Completely at ease with her own nudity, she scooted off the bed, walked right up to him and went up on her toes. Linking her arms around his neck, she gave him a long, luscious kiss, then looked up at him. “Then I’ll say goodbye, Jefferson King. Have a safe trip.”
His hands rested on her bare hips and his fingers burned with the heat of her. Nothing quite like a warm, naked woman pressed up against you to make a man think of a long, lazy day spent rolling around on her bed. But he had a King jet waiting for him and a business and a life to get back to.
She smiled and he asked, “That’s it? No, ‘Please stay, Jefferson’?”
Shaking her head, she rubbed her fingertip across his mouth, then stepped back from him. “What would be the point in that? We’re neither of us children. We wanted each other and we had each other. It was a lovely night. Let’s keep its ending just as lovely.”
Apparently, he’d been worried for no reason. She wasn’t going to beg him to stay. She wasn’t going to cry or say how she’d miss him or ask when he was returning. None of the things he’d hoped to avoid were happening.
So why was he irritated?
“I’ll see you off, shall I?” She stepped over to her closet, grabbed a dark green terry-cloth robe and slipped into it. Her body was covered now, but the imprint of her was still etched firmly in his mind. Hiding what he’d already spent hours exploring wasn’t going to change anything.
“You don’t have to go downstairs with me.”
“Oh,” she said, leading the way out to the landing and then down the stairs. “’Tisn’t just for you. I’m off to brew some tea and then get to work myself.”
His eyebrows rose. So much for the fond farewell. His leaving was no more than a by-product here. She was picking up the threads of her everyday life and so was he, he reminded himself. So again, why the flicker of irritation?
She opened the front door and held it wide for him. She smiled, reached up and cupped his cheek briefly. “Fly safe, Jefferson.”
“Right.” He stepped onto the porch and the Irish wind howled around him. “Take care of yourself, Maura.”
“Oh, I always do,” she told him. “And you, as well. Not to worry about your film crew, either. All will be here when they arrive.”
“Fine.”
“All right then.” She gave him one last smile, then shut the door, leaving him no choice now but to walk to his car and leave.
With her back to the closed door, Maura wrapped her arms around her middle and held on. After a few steadying breaths, she heard his car engine fire up and she leaned toward the nearest window to catch one last glimpse of him.
He steered his car out onto the road and in a moment, he was gone, as if he’d never been. Even the echo of his car was nothing more than a hush on the wind.
“Well, now,” she murmured, swiping away the tears running down her cheeks. “It’s best this way and you know it, my girl. No point in laying out your heart for him to stumble over on his way out of the country.”
She wasn’t the first foolish woman to fall for the wrong man entirely. No doubt, she wouldn’t be the last, either.
“Doesn’t matter now anyway as he’s gone.” She headed through the quiet house toward the kitchen and a morning pot of tea. Best to get back to her life. The life she knew. The animals and the land and the world that was hers. “You’ll get over him,” she promised herself firmly. “Won’t take long at all.”
Chapter Four
She wasn’t over him.
It had been two months and she still thought of Jefferson King nearly every day. Her only hope was that he was being haunted by memories, as well. That would make this whole thing more fair.
The problem was, she had too much alone time, she told herself. Too much empty time to spend in thoughts she shouldn’t be indulging in anyway. But with Cara off making a film in Dublin, Maura was alone at the farmhouse with nothing more to talk to than the dog she’d recently acquired.
Unfortunately, King, named for a certain man she was still feeling fondness for when she purchased the dog, was not much of a conversationalist.
Now, along with her wild thoughts, her misery at missing the man she never should have let into her heart, the work building up to lambing season and her new dog, she was also feeling a bit off physically. Her stomach was queasy most of the time and she’d been so dizzy only that morning in the barn, she’d had to sit down before she fell down.
“I was right, wasn’t I? It’s the flu, I know it,” Maura told the village doctor as he walked into the examination room. “I haven’t been getting enough sleep and there’s so much work to be done. I’m run down is all. I thought you could give me a little something to help me sleep.”
Doc Rafferty had been in the village for forty years. He’d treated everyone for miles around and he had delivered both Maura and Cara himself. So he knew them far too intimately to pull any punches, so to speak. And as he was a forthright man in any case, he met her gaze and told her the truth of the matter.
“I’ve got the results of your test,” he said, checking the papers he held in his hand as if to be sure of what he was about to say. “If this is the flu, it’s the nine-month variety, Maura. You’re pregnant.”
A beat of silence fell between them as those last two words of the doctor’s repeated over and over again in her head. Sure she’d misheard him, Maura laughed shortly.
“No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it now?” The older man sat down on a rolling stool and shifted his pale green eyes up to hers. “You’re telling me you’ve done nothing to produce such a condition?”
“Well I—” He’d examined her from head to toe too often for her to try to persuade him she was a virgin, and why would she care to? But this? No. It couldn’t be.
Maura stopped, frowned and started thinking. Odd, but she’d been paying no attention at all to her period and hadn’t even noticed until now that it hadn’t shown up in quite some time. Quickly, she did a little math in her head and as she reached the only conclusion she could under the circumstances, she let out a breath and whispered, “Oh my God.”
“There you are, then.” Doc Rafferty reached out, patted her knee. “You’ll be feeling fine again soon. The first couple of months are always the hardest, after all. In the meantime though, I want you to take better care of yourself.” He scribbled a few things down on a pad and then tore off the top sheet and handed it to her.
Maura couldn’t read it through the fog blocking her vision.
“Eat regular meals, cut back on the caffeine and I’ll have Nurse Doherty give you a sample bottle of vitamins.” He stood up, looked down at her through kind eyes and said, “Maura, love. You should tell the baby’s father right away.”
The baby’s father.
The man she’d sworn to put firmly in her past.
So much for that fine notion. He would surely be a part of her future now, wouldn’t he?
“Yes, I