EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER they were married in the little local church in the village where Abby had grown up. It was packed to the rafters. To Gabriel’s bemusement, everyone from the butcher to the milkman was there to support them both.
‘Now I know,’ he murmured, halfway through the reception party, ‘What it must feel like to be royalty. I’m surprised there wasn’t a run on red carpets so that they could lay one down for us.’
She dazzled him. Seeing her walking up the aisle towards him had brought a lump to his throat and he had had to look away quickly to gather his emotions. The guy who had been proud to think that his heart was encased in ice had watched his beloved wife-to-be walk towards him and had wanted to cry.
Abby had laughed and told him that the paparazzi had nothing to do with her or anyone in the village. ‘That’s all for you,’ she had teased, looking at him with a heart so filled with love, she thought it might burst. ‘So, when it comes to being treated like royalty, look no further than yourself, my darling.’
The months leading up to the wedding had been hectic. Her parents had returned from their cruise, beyond excited to meet the guy who was going to be their son-in-law, and as expected Gabriel had laid it on thick with the charm. Afterwards, he’d told her just how nervous he had been.
He told her stuff like that now. The macho persona was still there but he no longer hid his emotions, at least from her.
‘You’re the other half of me,’ he’d let her know. ‘You get to see what no one else is entitled to see.’
Ava, of course, had been speechless with delight. The engagement ring, Gabriel had later confessed, had stayed in its box in a drawer in his bedroom.
‘I couldn’t tell her that it was off,’ he’d confided. ‘Somehow it would have felt too final and I suppose, deep down, I wasn’t prepared to let you go. I just couldn’t face a life without you in it. I just had to wake up to that fact, and thank God I did.’
They had a blissful two-week honeymoon on an exquisite island in the Caribbean and then, returning to England, they searched and found somewhere to live just outside London. A perfect cottage surrounded by fields.
A perfect cottage for kids.
And now...
Abby placed her hand on her still-flat stomach and smiled. They weren’t yet in their perfect cottage and, when they did move in, it would be just in time for the addition that would turn two into three.
She heard the sound of the front door opening and she felt that familiar skipping thing her heart did whenever she saw him, whenever she thought of him.
Walking in, Gabriel dropped a kiss on her lips, thought about it, deepened the kiss and kept kissing her as he kicked shut the door behind him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the table was set and there were candles on it.
‘What’s the occasion?’ he asked, then he looked at her with dawning comprehension.
She loved the way he could do that—read her mind, predict what she was going to say.
‘Nothing yet but definitely something in, oh, approximately seven months’ time...’ She grinned and tiptoed to kiss the side of his mouth. ‘I’m pregnant.’
She took his big hand and guided it to her stomach and, for a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Gabriel found that he couldn’t. He was going to be a dad. Joy swelled through him and he closed his eyes.
‘My darling,’ he said unsteadily. ‘That’s the most wonderful news any man could ever hear. I love you so much.’ He kissed her again gently. ‘I used to be scared of handing my soul over to someone else. You have my soul. For now and for ever...’
* * * * *
Coming next month
THE BRIDE’S BABY OF SHAME
Caitlin Crews
“I can see you are not asleep,” came a familiar voice from much too close. “It is best to stop pretending, Sophie.”
It was a voice that should not have been anywhere near her, not here.
Not in Langston House where, in a few short hours, she would become the latest in a long line of unenthused countesses.
Sophie took her time turning over in her bed. And still, no matter how long she stared or blinked, she couldn’t make Renzo disappear.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“It turns out we have more to discuss.”
She didn’t like the way he said that, dark and something like lethal.
And Renzo was here.
Right here, in this bedroom Sophie had been installed in as the future Countess of Langston. It was all tapestries, priceless art, and frothy antique chairs that looked too fragile to sit in.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her lips too dry and her throat not much better.
“I think you do.” Renzo stood at the foot of her bed, one hand looped around one of the posts in a lazy, easy sort of grip that did absolutely nothing to calm Sophie’s nerves. “I think you came to tell me something last night but let my temper scare you off. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say you used my temper as an excuse to keep from telling me, would it not?”
Sophie found her hands covering her belly again, there beneath her comforter. Worse, Renzo’s dark gaze followed the movement, as if he could see straight through the pile of soft linen to the truth.
“I would like you to leave,” she told him, fighting to keep her voice calm. “I don’t know what showing up here, hours before I’m meant to marry, could possibly accomplish. Or is this a punishment?”
Renzo’s lips quirked into something no sane person would call a smile. He didn’t move and yet he seemed to loom there, growing larger by the second and consuming all the air in the bedchamber.
He made it hard to breathe. Or see straight.
“We will get to punishments in a moment,” Renzo said. His dark amber gaze raked over her, bold and harsh. His sensual mouth, the one she’d felt on every inch of her skin and woke in the night yearning for again, flattened. His gaze bored into her, so hard and deep she was sure he left marks. “Are you with child, Sophie?”
Continue reading
THE BRIDE’S BABY OF SHAME
Caitlin Crews
Available next month
Copyright © 2018 Caitlin Crews
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