Adopt-a-Dad

CHAPTER FOUR

“RIGHT. That all appears to be in order.” The gray-haired woman pushed her glasses down her nose and stared across the desk at Jenny and Michael. Her eyes bored right through them. “But there are a couple of questions I need to put to you both.”

“Yes?” Michael took Jenny’s hand and exerted gentle pressure. Leave the talking to me, his hand said, but he didn’t mind admitting he liked the feel of her fingers in his.

“Why did you delay marrying for so long?” she asked. She fixed Jenny with a stern look. “You’re aware your permit to stay in this country expires on Monday.” She glanced at her computer screen. “We’ve been given advice that you didn’t intend leaving the country. On the basis of information received, we have officers checking your whereabouts right at this minute.”

“Who gave you that information?” Michael asked, as though surprised, and the woman shook her head.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“If it’s Jenny’s family in England, maybe we can understand it.” Michael smiled, and his grip on Jenny’s hand tightened. She was so tense. “They wanted her to come home when her husband was killed but she thought she’d get over his death better if she stayed out of sympathy range. And now… Maybe Jen’s thrown out a few hints that she was thinking of staying here after the baby’s born and that’s what’s worrying them. I guess they have reason to worry. Jenny’s a young widow, she’s alone, she’s vulnerable, and they don’t know me.”

“I’m not vulnerable,” Jenny said, but no one was listening.

“So you’ve been thinking about marriage for a while?”

“We’ve been working side by side for the last five months,” Michael said easily, as if pulling the wool over official eyes was something he did every day. “Jen applied for her work permit and came to me as a temporary secretary, trying to keep busy to get over her grief at Peter’s death. The arrangement was to have been for only a couple of months, but it kept being extended. By me. It didn’t take me long to realize Jen was special.”

That much at least was true. She was the best secretary he’d ever had.

“But Jenny was newly widowed,” he went on smoothly. “It’s taken time to convince her to look at anyone else.” He grinned engagingly at the woman behind the desk. “Five months, in fact. I must be a very slow convincer.”

The woman didn’t smile back, but she glanced again at the computer screen, as though what it told her conflicted with Michael’s story. Then she looked again at Jenny.

“My information says that you are desperate to stay in this country,” she said, ignoring Michael’s charm completely. “Maybe desperate enough to consider marriage as a means to staying?”

“Hey, am I someone you’d have to be desperate to marry?” Michael was all ready to feign outrage, but Jenny returned the pressure on his hand to tell him she was capable of answering the question herself, thank you very much. Vulnerable? Ha!

But she didn’t remove her hand from his.

“I nearly went crazy after my husband’s death,” she said softly. “That’s why I wanted to stay here for a while-to be close to where he died and to avoid the crushing sympathy of friends and media back home. You know that my husband-my late husband-came from a titled family in Britain? My baby will inherit that title, and my mother-in-law has promised to support us both in luxury for the rest of our lives. I’m not under pressure to stay in America. On the contrary, my family, my wealth, my son’s inheritance, all those things are pressuring me to go home. So it’s been a very hard decision to stay here, to stay with Michael.”

She smiled, and reluctantly the lady behind the desk smiled back. It seemed Jenny’s charm worked better than Michael’s.

“I’d be guessing the person worrying about me-putting pressure on your officials-is my mother-in-law,” Jenny continued, pressing her advantage. Speeding up the thaw. “She wants me to return home, and she’s a very strong lady. Maybe if she’s spoken to you then you know that already, and that she thinks I’m a fool for staying. I intended to go home-after all, there’s a lot to be said for living on my ex-husband’s inherited wealth-but when I went to the travel agent to book my return ticket I realized…I realized just how much I wanted to stay.”

“And why was that?”

Jenny cast a sideways glance-a loving look that almost shattered Michael’s composure-at her new husband. If she was acting, she was sure good at it! “It was knowing how much I wanted to stay with Michael,” she said in a voice that was no more than a whisper.

“So you didn’t buy your return ticket?” the woman pressed her. “But you thought about it. That would be how long ago?”

“A month ago,” Jenny said, unruffled. “Nearing the end of the time I could fly.”

“So you’ve been planning this marriage for a month?”

“I have,” Jenny said serenely. “I just delayed telling Michael.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I wanted to make him sweat.” Jenny’s eyes twinkled, and she gave Michael an affectionate grin, for all the world as though they were longtime lovers and she was teasing him. Then she turned to the woman, and her smile died.

“No.” She hesitated. “That’s not the truth. To be honest… I don’t know if you can understand, but… Peter’s only been dead for seven months. It’s soon. Maybe too soon. That was why we haven’t told anyone of our relationship. We’ve kept it quiet. Though it seemed so right, it still seemed a betrayal. It has been very hard to say yes to Michael. I only know that I couldn’t say no.”

There was a trace of sympathy flickering in the woman’s eyes. “But you’ve said yes now?”

Jenny’s chin tilted. “I surely have. We’re married now, so I guess I’m as sure as I’ll ever be. Michael’s promised to care for my baby like his own.” Her eyes defied the woman to doubt her. “An offer like Michael’s-from a man like Michael-doesn’t come along every day. I’d guess that my mother-in-law is very upset. I can understand her reasons, though we don’t always get on. But I’d be a fool to go home to England and to hope that Michael would follow.”

“I would follow,” Michael said, playing his part to the hilt. He put his arm around her waist. “I certainly would. It’d be me who’d be the fool if I didn’t.”

And suddenly it was over. The woman was rising and smiling, her frost giving way to a thaw. “Well, this seems satisfactory. There will be follow-up visits, checking on you on your home territory, so to speak, but it seems a formality. We’ll give you notice.” She cast a look of dislike at her computer screen, as if it had betrayed her. “Enough of my time’s been wasted on this. I seem to have sent my officers on a wild-goose chase.”

“Your officers?”

“There are two of our people searching Austin for you right now,” she told Jenny. “I suspect they’ll be annoyed when I tell them I’ve had you here all along.” She pursed her lips. “Of all the useless…”

“Was that because of us?” Jenny said, distressed. “Should I have let people know sooner? I didn’t think- I mean, I thought we had until Monday to let people know. I thought if we applied now…”

“No, my dear, it is not your fault,” the woman told her. “You go off and enjoy your honeymoon, and I wish you the very best of luck for your life together.”

“I DON’T THINK,” Michael said carefully as the door closed behind them, “that Gloria is in for a very good reception if she tries to exert more pressure on you through immigration.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Now that she was out of the office, Jenny felt her knees turning to jelly. Michael had hold of her arm, and she was grateful for his support.

“Why? She clearly seemed to be on your side.”

“Gloria has influence everywhere, right up to royalty and congress. We’ll be checked out thoroughly.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Michael said, tucking her hand firmly into his. “We’re a staid married couple, off to take our honeymoon before we start our life together. Come on, Jenny. Forget about your mother-in-law. Come to think of it, you don’t have a mother-in-law anymore. Only me. So from now on, just think about us.”

THEY HAD their wedding dinner at a restaurant where Michael said the food was better than anywhere else in the States. He made her eat migas, a very different form of scrambled eggs, and try Carta Blanca, a Mexican beer. She tasted the beer but went back to lemonade in a hurry, pleading her pregnancy, but he knew he was on a winner with the migas. She ate like a starving person.

She’d hardly had any breakfast or lunch. Now, though, her color was returning and she looked as if she might be able to face the world again.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” he told her. “Drive back tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind when we go.” She didn’t, she decided. She felt light-headed and free. It seemed the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Or at least most of it.

“I guess,” she began, then looked across the table at her new husband. He really was impossibly good-looking, she decided, with his dark coloring and wonderful red hair. There was a trace of chest hair showing at the throat of his open-necked shirt, and she felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch it. To trace it downward.

Too good-looking…

Strange how she’d hardly noticed it before, but she did now. He’d gone out and bought a casual shirt for their wedding because he always wore a shirt and tie for work and decided he wanted his wedding clothes to be different. She wouldn’t buy anything new-it was a total waste when she was this pregnant-but she loved his casual look. And she loved the fact that he’d bought something special for their wedding.

He really was…special?

“You guess what?” he asked, and she had to drag her thoughts back to where they’d been. Or to where they should have been.

“I guess we’ll have to face your family.” She frowned into her lemonade. “Will you explain things? That our marriage is just a formality? We don’t want them thinking…”

“That we’re really married?” Michael frowned. “We are really married. We need to be, Jen.”

“But we won’t be living together.”

“Yes, we will. She said they’d check.”

“She also said they’d give us notice.”

“That’s true. Still…”

“So we tell your family the truth. Otherwise…” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass, troubled. “They might accept me as part of the family.”

“So?”

“So it wouldn’t be honest. Or fair.”

“Jenny, you’re my wife,” Michael said firmly, so loud that people turned to stare. He grinned and lowered his tone. “Okay, our marriage isn’t what most people think of as a marriage. We don’t love each other and we’ll lead independent lives. But it’s still a marriage. We’ve signed a contract, and we play by the rules.”

“But…”

“If either of us decides we want out sometime in the future, then that’s okay. People understand divorce, even if they don’t like it. But for now, we tell people we’re husband and wife and let them decide what to make of it. I guess my brother and sisters might have to be told the truth-they’d guess anyway-but for the rest…”

“The rest?”

“The rest as in everyone else,” he said. “They need to know as much as Gloria needs to know. We’ll send a notice to the local paper. We won’t tell people that we fell in love, but we won’t tell them that we didn’t. Love has many different faces. There are lots of couples who don’t stay tied to each other. Who travel independently. Sleep independently.”

“Watch separate TVs?”

He grinned. “That, too. I bet you don’t like watching football.”

“I do, actually.” She smiled, but the trace of uncertainty remained. “In moderation. Like once a year for half an hour with plenty of chocolate on the side. But I see what you mean. It’s only…”

“Only what?”

“I don’t like telling lies.”

“We’re not. We’re married, Jenny. How hard is that to accept?”

It sounded totally reasonable.

But still the worry remained.

“At least let’s insist on a few basics. Like no presents. No party. This really is crazy.” Her brow furrowed. “I mean, if people think it’s romantic, well, we’ll be in for all sorts of things.”

“Then we say-firmly-that we don’t want it. No fuss. But otherwise, we treat each other as husband and wife. An independent couple, but a couple for all that.”

She smiled then, though her doubts remained. “You might not know what you’re saying. When I tell you off for the sixtieth time for drinking beer out of the can… Speaking of which.” She reached forward to grab his can, which had been supplied with a glass beside it. He’d elected not to use it.

He was faster than she was, hauling the beer out of reach. “Not so fast, woman. Have you no respect? I might have asked you to marry me, but if you start interfering with my beer-drinking habits…”

“There’ll be all sorts of things I’ll want to interfere with,” she said, her worry returning. “I wonder… Maybe we went into this too fast.”

“We didn’t have a choice.”

“I know that, but…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you, Michael.”

“You won’t.” He smiled. “Hey, I was brought up with two sisters and a brother. I’m accustomed to leading my own life surrounded by chaos. Family doesn’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just easier to turn off. I always have. That’s what makes this whole thing feasible.”

Somehow that only made her feel worse.

THAT NIGHT was difficult.

Once again they shared a hotel room. “After all, the authorities would be surprised if we didn’t sleep together tonight,” Michael told her, and Jenny had to agree. Tonight, however, he didn’t pull the bed across the door.

“If Gloria’s as smart as you think she is-and she’s obviously paying a bundle to keep informed-then she’ll know what’s happened by now. The officials in Austin will have been called off, and they’ll have told Gloria why.”

“I guess.”

“She can’t touch you, Jenny,” Michael said, and he stroked her face gently as she sat on the bed. “Don’t start looking for threats. You’re safe.”

Safe, but at what price?

She climbed into her appalling cotton pajamas and snuggled under the bedclothes, then lay in the dark with Michael three feet from her side. He went straight to sleep, his low, even breathing sounding softly across the room.

It should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. It was unsettling, strange.

What had Michael said? Family doesn’t touch me.

It touched her. People touched her. What Michael had done for her, what he intended to do for her-it moved her to tears.

She was so indebted.

She should never have agreed to this. She knew better than Michael what sort of reception would greet them in Austin when people found out. How would his family react to her? She could guess. They’d react with horror-and they’d be right. His sisters would want a nice local girl to marry their wonderful brother. Someone he loved, not someone he felt sorry for.

The baby stirred within her, and she was achingly aware of the new little life waiting to be born.

“I’ve done this for you,” she whispered into the dark, her hands resting on her belly. “I’ve married Michael for you.”

It wasn’t totally true.

She stared at Michael’s silhouette in the dark and felt emotions that had been repressed for a very long time.

He was letting her close. Not too close, but closer than he’d ever let anyone else. He’d married her.

“For better or for worse,” she whispered into the night. “Well, Michael, this is my worst, and this is your best. I just hope that sometime in the future we can balance things out a bit.”

AT THREE in the morning she scared the living daylights out of him.

He’d been solidly asleep, dreaming, and his dreams hadn’t been half bad. Jenny was in there somewhere, and her smile.

Her low moan had him sitting bolt upright. Jenny was standing on the other side of the room, leaning on the wall and rocking back and forth with pain.

“Jenny!” The light was on and he was over there faster than should have been physically possible, gripping her shoulders and turning her to face him. “Jenny, what is it?” Hell, if it was the baby…

It wasn’t the baby.

“Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and there was agony in her voice. “I didn’t want to wake you. It’s not the baby. It’s okay.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just cramps. My legs…they seize up some nights. I tried not to wake you.”

“Cramps?”

“It’s a side effect of advanced pregnancy,” she said, closing her eyes in pain. “One of the things you don’t hear about until it’s too late. Like varicose veins and heartburn.”

“Let me help.”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’ll pass.”

“Lie down, Jenny,” he told her, pushing her to the bed. Before she could say a word, she was lifted and laid gently on the pillows, and he was sitting on the bed beside her. He took her legs onto his knees and pushed the loose cotton up. “This one?”

“They’re both bad, but that’s the worst.”

It had to be. Her calf muscles were rock hard, knotting in vicious spasms. “Hell,” he muttered. “Jen, this is some cramp!”

“You’re telling me. Leave it, Michael. Go back to sleep. It’ll pass.”

“Yeah, so I just lie in bed and snore while you pass out in agony. In your dreams! I’m not completely without feeling. We need some cream. Moisturizer or something.”

“There’s cream in my bag. In the bathroom.”

“Coming right up.” And he left her, diving for the bathroom to search her toiletries.

This felt wrong, he thought as he lifted her toothpaste and hairbrush and rifled through lipstick, cosmetics, toiletries. It was strangely intimate, as if they really were married.

That’s what it felt like, he realized. He felt married, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked the sensation. He’d been alone for so long, and now the woman out there needed him and he was responsible. This was taking him someplace he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to be.

But this was no time for regrets. Decisions had been made, for better or for worse, and he had to live with them. He found what he was looking for and headed back to Jenny.

To his wife.

SHE SHOULDN’T let him do this, Jenny thought as she struggled against the pain. She shouldn’t let him near. She’d tried so hard to be quiet, not to wake him.

Because she didn’t need him. She didn’t!

But the last few months had been so long and so lonely, and to know that he was here and was prepared to stand by her…

The thought was infinitely comforting.

She didn’t love him, but she needed him. Dear heaven, she didn’t have the strength to hold him away. Even Michael was better than the bleak future she’d faced two days ago.

Even Michael?

Maybe…maybe especially Michael.

MICHAEL TOOK all the time in the world. It was almost an hour before the cramps eased, and the entire time he sat at the end of the bed and massaged her calves as if he wasn’t tired-as if the most important thing in the world was to use his big hands to gently soothe the aching hurt in her legs. He applied moisturizer to soften the skin, gently working his fingers into each knot, one after another, over and over again.

He could feel how much pain she must have been in. She’d only made that one tiny groan, which had woken him, but for her legs to be in this mess, she must have been awake for hours. He swore into the night as he worked, thinking over the past few months. She’d put in long hours at the office for him, and he hadn’t granted one concession to her pregnancy. In fact he’d hardly noticed his secretary had been pregnant. And each night, she must have gone home to this.

Alone.

“Let’s forget about driving tomorrow,” he told her. “I want you checked by a doctor first.” Hell, had he caused problems by driving all the way to El Paso in one shot? He should have stopped often. Made her walk. Hired a larger car than the Corvette.

“I’M FINE,” she whispered. In fact, it was as much as she could do to get her voice to work at all. She felt wonderful. The pain had eased to almost nothing, and to lie here with her head on the pillows while Michael’s fingers worked their magic… While his hands eased the pain, taking away the desolation and loneliness of the last few awful months… She was feeling so grateful she could almost burst.

She was feeling as though she could almost reach out and take him to her, take him as her true husband.

Which was really, really stupid. She was eight months pregnant with another man’s baby. Peter. Her husband.

No! Not her husband. Peter was her first husband, and that was over. Her husband now was the man massaging her legs with such infinite gentleness that she wanted to weep.

Michael was being kind. Nothing more. Heavens, he’d done enough for her without her placing emotional obligations on him. Somehow she forced herself to lie still and she pushed her errant heart into order.

You’ve got yourself a marriage of convenience, she thought. A green card marriage. That’s what you need, so don’t you dare mess it up by letting your heart get involved.

FINALLY SHE SLEPT, and Michael went back to bed. But he lay awake staring at the darkened ceiling, wondering just what he’d let himself in for.

For better or for worse, he was married, and he was starting to realize this wasn’t just the solution to one problem at all. It was the start of a whole heap more.

And it was the beginning of a brand-new dimension to his existence.

THEY TOOK the entire day to drive home, with Michael insisting on so many stops that Jenny was starting to go nuts.

“I don’t need this.”

“I don’t want you cramping again tonight.”

“At least I won’t be waking you up.”

“That’s another thing. You’re not staying in that lousy apartment.”

“It’s where I live, Michael,” she said stolidly. “They said they’ll give us warning if they check, so I’m staying there.”

“We have to act married. Besides, it’s a dump.”

“Dump or not, it’s my home,” she snapped. “It’s nothing to do with you. You’ve offered me marriage and I’m incredibly grateful, but I have no intention of interfering with your life. Or of you interfering with mine.”

“It’s not sensible. They’ll check.”

She shook her head, her curls flying in the wind. “They won’t check yet, and it’s not sensible to be anything but independent. You’re my boss, Michael, and I’m one of your employees, who from now on happens to be on leave to have a baby. We have a green card marriage. Nothing more.”

Michael glanced at her set face, and his head told him she was partly right. He’d offered marriage on the spur of the moment, and she’d accepted with gratitude. She was asking nothing more, and there was nothing more he wanted to give.

Was there?

Maybe not, but living together… It wasn’t negotiable. Whether he wanted it or not, they had no choice. Immigration officials weren’t stupid.

“Give me a day to clean out the spare room,” he told her grudgingly. In truth, his spare room was fine, but maybe she needed space, and maybe he could do with a day or two to get used to the idea of her living with him. “But you need to move in with me if we’re going to make this work.”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” he accused, but she shook her head and looked away.

Maybe it would take the warning of an immigration visit to make her see sense, Michael thought. Meanwhile, he could hardly cart her to his place screaming. And did he really want to?

HER APARTMENT looked exactly the same as he’d left it-somewhere between dreary and awful. Michael carried her baggage up the three flights of stairs-the elevator was out of order-and stared around with distaste. He wanted her out of there.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Of course I can.” She smiled as he put her bag on the bed. There wasn’t anywhere else to put it. “I’ve been living here for months and haven’t been mugged yet. I told you- I like it. There are nice people here. Would you like some coffee before you go?”

“I…no.” His brow furrowed. “This is only for a couple of days at the most. Do you have coffee?”

“Hey, I’m not exactly starving in an attic,” she told him, exasperated. “I live simply because I need savings to support myself while I can’t work, but I know how to look after myself. And I’ll stay here until we hear from immigration. You don’t need to worry. I’ve eaten every vitamin and done every exercise Dr. Maitland’s given me.”

“You’re seeing Abby?”

“Of course I’m seeing Abby.” She flushed defensively. “Obstetric care is one of the perks of working at Maitland Maternity. There’s no way Ellie would employ me unless I was looked after by the Maitland obstetric staff, and my baby’s too important for me to take stupid risks.”

“Yeah, right.” He tried to make his voice sound as if he hadn’t been worrying, but it didn’t come out right. Okay, he had been anxious. He’d had visions of her without health insurance, and not having seen a doctor since she’d left England.

But why on earth was he worrying now, when he hadn’t so much as thought of her pregnancy since the day he employed her?

For one reason and one reason only, he told himself grimly. Then she was his secretary.

Now she was his wife.

The realization slammed home hard, and with it came an overwhelming sense of responsibility. It was a feeling so vast it almost knocked him sideways. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t asked for it and he’d never dreamed he’d feel like it. Now, though, it was as much as he could do not to pick up her bag and haul her out of there. Carry her out in a fireman’s hold if he had to.

But she was asking him to leave.

“Thank you, Michael.” She was smiling. “You’ve been wonderful.” Her voice trailed off, but the look she gave him was direct and honest. “I was in a mess, and you’ve rescued me in true hero style. You don’t know how much it means to me, but… Well, thank you.” And she took two steps forward, reached up and kissed him very lightly on the lips.

It was a feather kiss, a kiss of gratitude and relief, no more, and there was no reason in the world it should pack any charge at all.

But pack a charge it did, a million volts slamming through his body, leaving it seared and shaken to its core.

It was the shock, he told himself, dazed, as she drew back-the shock of acknowledging responsibility. He took a step away from her, and she was still smiling with her lovely green eyes, as though she hadn’t felt the charge at all. He figured he’d better get out of there fast. It was their second kiss-and he didn’t dare risk a third.

“I…well…I’ll be off.”

“Yes. You’d best leave. You’ll have things to do.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” His voice sounded lame. Spineless.

“No, Michael, I won’t see you Monday,” she reminded him gently. “There’s only four weeks before the baby’s due. Abby told me to quit. Ellie’s hired you a new secretary. You met her last Wednesday, remember?”

That’s right. This had all been organized. He knew it-sort of. So why the heck was his head fogging up like soup?

“I guess…”

“If immigration contacts either of us, then we’ll get together,” she said. “But after our performance yesterday, they might not even check.”

“Jenny, they’re not stupid. They’ll come, and I don’t know how much notice they’ll give.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She gave a self-mocking smile. “So call me. I’m a cab drive away.”

There was something else gnawing at him. “When the baby’s born… What will you do when you go into labor?” It was impossible to keep a note of anxiety out of his voice.

She heard it and smiled. There was no need for his anxiety, but she liked it all the same. “There’s no problem,” she assured him. “I’ll take a cab or I’ll call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I’ll even walk, if there’s time.”

“Don’t you dare. Call me.”

“Hey, I’m only eight months pregnant, and I don’t need-”

“Call me!” He barked the command, and she blinked. And then she smiled again.

“Okay, Michael. I’ll call you.”

“At two in the morning if necessary,” he growled. “Anytime. You swear?”

“I swear.”

“There’s nothing else you need?”

“Nothing.”

“I told you, I can afford-”

“There’s nothing else,” she said, with a lot more confidence than she felt. She opened the door, then stood waiting until he passed through it. “Thank you for everything, Michael. Goodbye.”

SHE’D SOUNDED so firm.

Jenny closed the door after her husband and stood for a long, long time with her back against it, staring at nothing. There was nothing else she needed.

Except someone.

Except Michael.

Unconsciously she traced her fingers where his mouth had touched hers, remembering the feel of his harsher skin against the softness of her lips. Nice.

Michael was nice.

“The girls at work would have kittens if they heard me,” she said into the silence, thinking of the reception staff and the female nurses at the hospital. Michael Lord had a reputation as a hunk of the first order. But nice? That was the last word they’d use to describe him. He was cool, aloof, demanding…

“But nice,” she said softly, and fingered the ring on her finger. She’d moved Peter’s rings to her right hand. The new band of gold lay light and strange on her ring finger.

Different.

She touched Peter’s rings and tried to conjure up his face. She couldn’t. Frowning, she crossed to her bag and found his picture, put the photograph on her bedside chair, where it belonged.

“Because Peter’s my husband.”

Peter.

She closed her eyes, pain and guilt washing over her. Peter’s title was this baby’s birthright. If she did what Gloria wanted, the baby could inherit it right away.

No. That way was madness. To barter what she knew was right for this new little life for riches and a title…

“I’m sorry, Peter,” she whispered bleakly into the silence. “I can’t do it. It just seems so wrong. I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes, and there was no one there. Nothing.

Except tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…