Her Pregnancy Surprise (13 page)

‘Ten.’

‘What?’ she groaned, pushing aside the throw. ‘I’ll never find a hotel room now.’

‘There’s a perfectly good bed upstairs.’ He saw her expression and he gave a cynical smile. ‘And a perfectly good sofa here, which I will take, and,’ he added, ‘there are clean sheets on the bed.’

Megan was not happy with the arrangement but she accepted the inevitable with as much good grace as possible under the circumstances.

There were no blinds on the roof windows in Luc’s big bedroom so she could lie in bed and see the stars above. She could also see the time on the dial of her watch.

She consulted it now and found that it was three-thirty, five minutes later than the last time she had looked! Perhaps a drink of milk might help…?

The getting of the milk involved going downstairs where Luc was sleeping. But, she reminded herself, Luc sleeping wasn’t a problem—it was Luc awake that she had to worry about.

Without switching on the lights she slipped quietly downstairs. She winced and froze warily when the electric light from the fridge spilled out into the dark room. Tensely she waited…but no voice in the dark demanded to know who was there…

Clearly Luc was a deep sleeper.

Obviously she was relieved. She didn’t
want
him to wake up and find her there; that would be
really
stupid.

Her foot on the bottom step, she stopped and turned back…
Impulse…?
Isn’t this what you planned to do all
along? Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it would wake the sleeping man. Isn’t that what you want…?

With a frown she dismissed the intrusive voice in her head and stood looking down at the shadowy sleeping figure. She couldn’t see his face, but the blanket spread over him had fallen down to waist level as he slept, revealing that he was naked at least from the waist up. Below…? Do not go there, Megan!

She looked with longing that made her throat ache at the smooth, supple line of his strong back and the deliciously defined musculature of his broad shoulders. The muscles low in her belly cramped.

What am I doing? She pressed a hand across her tight, aching breasts. If he woke up now what would she say? I couldn’t resist a quick peek…? In the darkness a flush of mortification spread over her skin.

She was literally about to turn away when a deep voice enquired, ‘Well, are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to get in?’

Megan froze like a startled animal caught in the beam of a strong headlight as Luc flipped over onto his back.

‘You’re awake,’ she gasped stupidly.

‘Of course I’m awake.’ The scathing derision in his voice was mingling with a distinguishable note of strain.

In the semi-darkness their eyes locked.

Still holding her gaze, he flung back the thin blanket and Megan saw that his naked state extended below the waist. Her entire body started to shake; even in this light there was no mistaking his state of arousal.

‘There’s no room,’ she protested weakly.

‘Underneath me…on top of me…’

Megan gave a low moan of sheer lustful longing. She pulled the tee shirt he had given her over her head in one smooth motion. She stood poised, her pale body gleaming translucently and heard his sharp intake of breath.

‘Your feet are cold and you’re shaking!’ he said as she slid in beside him.

‘So are you,’ she discovered. ‘You have no idea how much I have wanted to touch you,’ she admitted, running her hands over the lean, smooth contours of his body and making him shake a lot more.

‘Tell me about it,’ he invited.

Megan did.

At some point in the night he carried her upstairs to the big bed.

When she complained that the bed had gone cold Luc laughed throatily and said that there was a tried and tested method of warming up a bed.

As he pulled her beneath him and touched her in her most secret places with a skill that was simply devastating she wondered if he had utilised his bed-warming skills with anyone else in this particular bed.

She pushed aside the intrusive question and let the tension flow from her body. Why spoil what was perfect by wanting more? What Luc was giving her was more than she had ever imagined experiencing.

L
UC
, behind the wheel of Megan’s car, stopped in the village to fill the car with petrol. Megan took the opportunity to nip to the village shop, which was next door. The place, which smelt of newly baked bread, was amazingly well stocked. Megan peered at the amazing selection of cheese and cooked meats in the cold cabinet and the attractively displayed local organic vegetables, commenting on the fact to the woman behind the counter.

‘If we want to encourage people to shop locally and not go to the big supermarkets in town we have to give them what they want.’

This sounded like good business sense to Megan, who left with some locally produced cheese, which the woman had personally recommended, as well as the two fat Sunday newspapers she had come in for.

Luc was sitting in the car waiting for her when she got back, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. She slid in beside him. They had agreed to drive in shifts—at least, she had agreed and he had said nothing at all, which to save argument she had decided to believe equalled assent.

‘Where have you been?’

‘Like there’s so much choice? Though you can get pretty much what you want in the shop. I bought some blue smelly cheese.’ Luc laughed when she attempted to read the Welsh label on it.

‘I know the one and it is delicious, but you can’t have any.’

Megan’s chin went up. ‘Because you say so.’ If he thought he could go around issuing autocratic decrees left
and right and she would meekly sit there and take it, he was in for a disappointment.

‘Because you’re pregnant and pregnant women should not eat, amongst other things, soft cheeses.’

‘Really…?’

His sensual lips curved upwards. ‘Really.’

Megan shook her head; this being pregnant was a minefield. ‘How on earth did you know?’

He inserted the ignition key. ‘I’m well read, talking of which…’ His pained glance touched the pile of newspapers on her knee. ‘What do you intend to do with those?’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat them. What do you think I’m going to do with them? I’m going to read them.’

‘While I’m driving?’

‘Well, not while I’m driving.’ What was his problem?

‘Broadsheet newspapers?’

‘You prefer tabloids?’

His lips moved in a spasm of fastidious distaste as she selected a paper and cheerfully tossed the other one over her shoulder. The pages scattered over the back seat. His thoughts were diverted from the unreadable quality of crumpled papers when Megan then crossed her legs, long, sexy, go-on-for-ever legs. She proceeded to balance one edge of the paper precariously on one knee, leaving the other to flap against the driving mirror.

‘I’d
prefer
you didn’t distract me while I’m driving.’ Luc, whose eyes were riveted to the expanse of smooth, rounded thigh her knee-crossing action had exposed, fully appreciated the irony of his comment.

Tight-lipped, she folded the paper with a lot of loud sighs. ‘Am I allowed to
talk
?’ she enquired spikily when she had disposed of the newspaper in the back seat. She had seen him look at her legs and was excited and trying desperately not to show it.

‘I’m a captive audience.’

Megan looked at his hands on the wheel, and a freeze-frame
image flashed across her retina—an image straight from a fantasy, only it hadn’t been, had it…? She really had sat astride him and pinioned his hands above his head? Not that he had seemed to mind very much.

The memory of her depravity and how much she had enjoyed it sent her body temperature soaring by what felt like several hundred degrees in the space of a single heartbeat.

‘I don’t feel like talking,’ Megan grunted, turning her face away from him. She looked out the window and tried really hard to concentrate on the scenery. In direct contradiction of her earlier comment she almost immediately added, ‘About last night…’ Did she imagine that his hands tightened on the wheel?

Up to that point neither of them had commented on the sleepless night they had shared. Megan, exhausted, had drifted off to sleep near dawn. When she had woken up she had been alone, a holdall sitting in the middle of the bedroom. Then Luc had walked into the room minus clothes and modesty!

Megan, who had been taking a sly peek into the bag, almost fell over. Her eyes had moved in helpless approval of the sleek, muscular lines of his incredible body. His skin, still dusted with water droplets had gleamed the colour of old gold.

A disturbing half-smile had played about his fascinating lips as he’d continued to towel his dark hair dry.

‘I can think of better uses for that towel,’ she croaked, tearing her hungry eyes from his body.

‘It’s not like you’ve not seen it all before, and I think you’re wearing enough for both of us,’ he commented, turning his amused attention to the blanket she had arranged sarong-wise to cover herself. ‘Nice outfit, but not really suitable for the journey. You’d better get a move on,’ he added casually, flicking the towel in her direction. ‘There’s a severe gale warning out for later. I don’t fancy getting caught
in the middle of a storm. You do remember agreeing to me moving in on a trial basis?’

Last night, she would have agreed to anything he’d suggested. The way she remembered it she pretty much had. Once Luc had got over his concern about sex not harming the baby, he had been pretty inventive.

‘I remember everything.’

She still did, which made bringing up the subject now hard, but she had to know.

Luc slowed at a crossroads and squinted up at the signpost partially hidden by a hedge. ‘What part of last night specifically did you have in mind?’

‘It was all pretty incredible,’ she responded with a husky catch in her voice. Beside her she was aware of Luc inhaling sharply. ‘At least I thought so…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I have to know…’

He slid a teasing look at her flushed face and turned left onto a quiet country road. ‘If it was good for me?’

She shook her head, then, aware that his attention was on the winding road, explained. ‘I have to know if you slept with me because you wanted to get me to agree to you moving in.’

There was a long silence. Megan risked a peek at his profile, it was totally unreadable as he concentrated on the road ahead.

‘In a kind of look-what-you’d-be-missing sort of way?’

Megan’s heart sank. There was no anger in his voice, his manner was almost indolent, but the deliberate pauses in between his words just screamed with it.

‘If that had been my motivation, would it have worked?’

Megan heaved a massive sigh. ‘Oh, God, yes…
totally
,’ she admitted. ‘I have absolutely no will power where you’re concerned,’ she revealed rashly.

A long sibilant hiss escaped through his clenched teeth, as if this piece of devastating honesty was the last thing Luc had been expecting to hear.

‘I had no ulterior motive last night beyond the fact I haven’t thought of anything else but having you in my bed since that first time. Does that make you feel better?’

Megan didn’t reply, she couldn’t, her vocal cords simply didn’t function—for that matter nothing else did either.
Better
, he had said! Catatonic might be more apt.

‘You’ve gone awfully quiet.’

‘I’m thinking,’ she croaked.

‘Thinking what?’

‘Thinking great sex isn’t a sound basis for a long-lasting relationship, but we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.’ Megan was pleased that she’d managed to inject the right light-hearted note into her response.

Luc’s jaw tightened as he gazed grimly ahead. ‘It’s going to last a hell of a long time.’

He was wrong, of course; it didn’t. Though for a while there she had started believing him, they were the best three months of her life. They were also some of the busiest.

The first month she was still commuting up to London and then the next two months there were the inevitable teething problems that came about from the upheaval of the transfer. She had to work late frequently and arrived home depressed and tired.

Luc didn’t complain about the hour or demand to know where she had been. He would take one look at her pale, exhausted face and tell her she looked like hell, then he’d kiss her until the colour returned to her cheeks.

Luc knew a lot about kissing; even thinking about his mouth made her insides melt.

On a typical evening, while she soaked in a scented bath with her non-alcoholic drink he would sit on the edge and sip his wine while he coaxed the details of her days from her. He had a unique ability to make her see the funny side of things that had seemed like major disasters. Then he would tell her about his day, things that had happened in
the estate or the entire chapter that had been consigned to the bin.

Like their love making, no two evenings together were the same, but they were all magical to Megan who had never experienced this sort of sharing with anyone before.

The magic was short-lived. At the beginning of November she was searching for a piece of paper that she had scribbled down a friend’s change of address on when she saw THE LETTER. She always thought of THE LETTER in capital letters. She had only needed to read one line and the signature: ‘I will always love you. Grace.’ This had been enough to send her little world crashing around her ears.

Had she imagined that Luc was happy because she was? The irony was she had begun to think lately that he really might actually share her feelings…that he really might be in love with her. On one or two occasions she had even imagined that he had been on the brink of saying something; now she knew for sure that this had been wishful thinking.

Humiliated and hurting, she had taken immediate and drastic action. The result was that she now slept alone in the big bed that they had once shared.

‘D
ON’T
worry, the boss has already been down,’ the man who had been given the roofing contract had said when she’d appeared on site.

Megan’s chin lifted at the patronising tone. ‘I am the boss,’ she told him before she asked exhaustive questions about every detail of the project.

As she made her way back up to the house using the short cut through the wood she turned the interchange over in her head, getting madder and madder. Of course she was glad Luc had fitted into estate life so easily. It was just he fitted in
so
well that there were occasions when she felt as though she was surplus to requirements.

It would have been nice to be needed, she reflected with a self-pitying sigh. As she reached the kitchen door John saw her and came across.

‘How are you feeling?’ He addressed the question to her bump, not her, but Megan didn’t mind this. She had got used to being the uninteresting part of a joint package.

‘Fine, thank you.’ She patted her stomach with a smile. ‘But I’m looking forward to meeting this little one.’

‘If you’re looking for Luc, he’s over at the old stables.’

‘Is there a problem, John?’ Megan had been as excited as everyone else when a Sunday supplement had expressed an interest in doing a piece on the old stable workshops—work on the extension was due to be finished the next month and this opportunity to publicise the place was heaven-sent.

The newspaper people were due this morning and the last thing they needed was any last-minute hitch.

The older man shook his head. ‘Not now. There was a power problem,’ he admitted. ‘That looked like really
throwing a spanner in the works, but that man of yours,’ he conceded, ‘can turn his hand to most things. He’s still got a lot to learn, but he’s willing, and he doesn’t mind admitting when he’s wrong.’

Megan stared at him. Were they both talking about the same man…? The Luc she knew had an inability to even realise when he was wrong, let alone admit it!

‘I admit,’ John admitted, ‘that I had my doubts when he first arrived, but I was wrong. No, I’d say you’ve got a first-rate man there, Megan, lass.’

Megan just restrained herself from denying ownership.

His comments echoed almost exactly the words her mother had used when they’d spoken on the phone the previous evening—‘I hate not being able to see you, but I can relax knowing that Luc is there to look after you, Megan. He really is one in a million.’

‘He’s driving me mad; he won’t let me lift a finger!’ Megan complained.

‘Isn’t that a good thing? I really don’t see what your problem is, dear,’ Laura responded in a bewildered voice. ‘From what you say, he’s thrown himself into the place and, quite frankly, supplied what it’s been lacking since your father died. I think you’ve fallen on your feet there.’

Everyone loves Luc, she thought…
including me.
But Luc loves Grace, who loves him right back.

‘Oh, yes, he’s so busy making himself indispensable around here that we barely see one another. That,’ she added bitterly, ‘is probably the idea.’ Megan listened to the loud silence on the other end of the line and covered her mouth to stifle the groan that rose to her lips.

Her waistline might be a distant memory, she might waddle and not walk, but some things didn’t change—such as her unerring ability to say the wrong thing at the even
wronger
time.

‘Don’t talk nonsense, Megan, the man is obviously deeply in love with you.’

If she hadn’t felt so miserable she might have laughed.

‘Are you and Luc having problems…?’ her mother wanted to know.

‘No, we are not having problems,’ her daughter gritted. How could you have problems when you never saw one another? When Luc wasn’t writing he was busy inspiring admiration and devotion with his enthusiasm. Before she had started her maternity leave it had been easier. Now she saw him all the time and it hurt.

‘Because if you are you should talk. It’s not good bottling things up.’

On this subject at least her mum was right—things surely couldn’t go on like this for much longer. She was pretty certain that Luc was feeling the strain too. Why else did he avoid being alone with her? He was thoughtful, kind, concerned for her welfare, but all this tender loving care was inspired, she was sure, from a strong sense of duty, not love.

At her last appointment with her obstetrician Megan had listened to one heavily pregnant woman confiding to another that her husband expected a medal if he whisked a duster around the living room
and
, she’d complained, barely able to restrain her smugness, ‘…he can’t get enough of me. We’ve had more early nights than you would believe!’

Megan would have welcomed some slackness with the household chores if Luc had suggested a few early nights, but Luc kept late nights; sometimes it was two or three in the morning when she heard him coming up. She heard him because she was listening out for his tread as he walked past her door. Sometimes as she lay there in the dark, her breath coming fast, she thought she heard his footsteps stop outside her door, but they never did.

Pretending never had been Megan’s strong suit. It was ironic really—she had secretly hoped that Luc would fall in love with her and he had actually fallen in love with the damned estate. She had to be realistic: things were not going to change and she would be a fool to pretend otherwise.

Well, he could stay, she’d probably have to contend with a workers’ revolt if she asked him to leave, but she couldn’t keep up the illusion they were a couple. Luc would probably prefer to stop pretending too, she realised. It couldn’t be much fun for him either. If he agreed, he could move into the newly renovated farmhouse by the river next month.

It wasn’t ideal, but this situation required some compromise…mostly on her part, admittedly. As far as she could see her plan provided the best of both worlds for Luc; he would be on hand for the baby, but he would be a free agent.

Of course there were drawbacks to this arrangement, especially as his freedom would no doubt involve the reappearance of Grace. So long as he didn’t flaunt her under her nose she could cope. After all, they were both adults…

‘Is anything wrong, lass?’

Megan pushed aside the nagging concern that her coping mechanisms might not be up to dealing with the reality of Luc having sex with another woman five minutes’ walk from where she was sleeping and shook her head.

‘I’m fine. The stables, you say…?’

‘I suppose you know that this is bribery?’

‘So long as it’s not extortion.’

Megan, who had taken the shortcut, was halfway through the ivy-covered door when she identified the owner of the ironic tone. She came to a halt and glanced at her wristwatch. How typical—she had finally made a decision and worked up the courage to carry it through and Luc had company. If she hadn’t already done the entire I’ll-definitely-speak-to-him-later thing and known for a fact that when later came she wouldn’t, Megan would have gone back to the house.

‘You can laugh about it.’ The stranger’s voice was lifted in wonder. ‘Does this mean we’re quits?’

‘Let me see,’ she heard Luc muse. ‘A double-paged feature for a reputation ruined…?’ There was a pause and he
added in a voice that was chill and contemptuous, ‘I don’t think so, Malone.’

Megan stepped back into the shadows, feeling guilty as hell for eavesdropping, but unable not to. She had never heard Luc sound like that; she hardly recognised his hard voice. She knew she ought to reveal herself, but ‘reputation ruined’—
what was that about?

‘It was nothing personal, Lucas,’ she heard the other man placate.

‘Strange that it felt pretty personal from where I was standing.’

‘Yeah, well…it’s a tough old world, and we did print an apology.’

‘Two lines on an inside page?’

‘All right, I still owe you,’ came the reluctant admission. ‘But just don’t let on I’ve got a conscience or my career will be over.’

The men must have begun to walk away, because she could hear the deep, distinctive sound of Luc’s voice, but, frustratingly, not what he was saying. She stood there for a couple of minutes waiting to be sure that they had gone before she emerged.

Her head was in a whirl. One thing was pretty clear—this newspaper article hadn’t been the marvellous piece of unsolicited good fortune they had all imagined. Luc had arranged it. Clearly he felt that this journalist owed him for his
ruined reputation
and he was calling in that favour.

Now she owed
Luc
and she couldn’t even let on she knew, let alone thank him—not without giving away the fact that she had dragged the story from Uncle Malcolm.

Her mind bent to this new dilemma, she walked through the arch into the courtyard and straight into the solid chest of a tall figure. Even with her eyes closed she would have recognised that very individual scent, a mingling of soap and the warm male and totally unique fragrance of his skin.

Megan’s eyes weren’t closed. At the moment of collision
she had automatically tilted her face up to him and found herself looking straight into those scarily penetrating eyes of his…eyes that had as many moods as the stormy sea they reminded her of at that moment.

Luc’s hands came up to steady her. She was very conscious of them lying heavily on her shoulders.

‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’

Megan fought her way out of the soft fog of desire that misted her vision and made her thought processes slow and sluggish. This was physically the closest they had been in several weeks and the desire to lean into his warm, gloriously hard body threatened to overwhelm her.

She was afraid that if she started leaning she might not be able to stop—
ever
!
I miss you,
she wanted to say, which, considering they saw one another every day, was a comment he might find strange.

‘Nowhere…that is here…’ Oh, God, if I look as guilty as I sound, I’m in
big
trouble.

Luc, apparently satisfied she wasn’t going to fall over, allowed his hands to slide down her shoulders.

The feeling of loss as his hands fell away was quite irrational and totally devastating.

‘Oh, they’ve arrived,’ she cried, affecting surprise as she observed the signs of activity in the courtyard. ‘How are things going?’

‘Did you miss that bit?’

Megan gave a panic-stricken gulp and, playing for time, shook her head. ‘Pardon…?’ Had he known she was there or was her guilt making her imagine things…?

‘Did you miss the part of our conversation from your little hiding place?’ he enquired politely.

To be caught listening like a naughty child by Luc, of all people, brought a mortified flush to her cheeks.

‘Oh, in that case, let me bring you up to date. Malone, the reporter, says it’s going well, but he thinks it would go better if our bronzed blacksmith would take his shirt off.’

‘Sam!’ she exclaimed, momentarily diverted. ‘You’re kidding.’

Luc shook his head. ‘I’m not and neither,’ he added drily, ‘was Sam when he told them where to go.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘After ten minutes of negotiation he has agreed to roll up his sleeves. You know, Megan,’ he added seamlessly, ‘you don’t lie very well.’

This wasn’t true. She had told him some big fat lies and he had swallowed them hook, line and sinker! But maybe, she thought despondently, that was because he had wanted to believe them.

‘Do you suggest I start to take instruction from an expert…?’

‘I don’t lie to you.’

‘No, you just don’t tell me anything. And I wasn’t hiding,’ she added with a defiant sniff.

One satirical brow lifted. ‘
No…?’

‘
No.
I came here looking for you.’

‘Now that’s unusual enough to merit my attention,’ he observed sardonically.

She angled a wary look at his lean face. It was hard to gauge his mood, but then it always was. Not only did Luc have mercurial changes of mood, he was very good at hiding what he was feeling. ‘I’ve had an idea that could solve all our problems.’

‘It must be quite an
idea
.’ he drawled.

So he wasn’t trying to pretend they
didn’t
have problems. This was good, she told herself firmly. They were being grown up about this.

Megan repressed a very un-grown-up urge to stamp her feet and yell,
It isn’t fair!
‘I’ve just been to see the farm; the roof’s almost finished.’

Luc released an exasperated hiss through clenched teeth. ‘I
know
it’s almost finished; I went down earlier. There was no need for you to go.’

‘I wanted to.’

‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you to take the Land Rover…? Or better still ask someone to drive you.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ The impatient recommendation brought a glint to his deep-set eyes. ‘People have better things to do than ferry me around, and it’s only a five-minute walk.’ To drive that distance seemed to Megan the height of indolence.

‘A five-minute walk down a track that has a two-in-one incline and is at the moment slick with several inches of mud.’

‘The doctor says exercise is good for me.’

‘I hardly think that’s what he had in mind.’

‘So now you’re a doctor too, are you?’

An amused expression settled on his lean, dark features as he took the brunt of her angry glare. ‘I’ve noticed you always get shrill when you’re in the wrong.’

‘I am not shrill…or,’ she added belatedly, ‘in the wrong.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘I’d noticed that too.’ His expression hardened as he went on. ‘Since last week’s rain that path is lethal. If you slip there’s a nasty…what would you say—twenty-foot drop…? Why,’ he demanded, drawing a frustrated hand through his collar-length ebony hair, ‘do you insist on taking unnecessary risks?

‘Risk…what risk?’ she scoffed.

His furious glance was drawn to the pale, slender column of her neck. ‘It’s only a matter of time before you break your damned neck,’ he forecast huskily.

Megan, recalling the path, had to admit he did have a point. ‘I didn’t fall,’ she placated.
Nearly
didn’t count, did it…? And there was no point winding him up. ‘It’ll be lovely when it’s finished, don’t you think?’