The Baby Secret

by Helen Brooks

  She was right to insist on this separation and divorce. Victoria lowered her long eyelashes to hide her expression from that piercing gaze that was able to read far too much. He could be so intimidating, so icy and distant—there were times when she wondered how on earth she had been so taken in by him during their pre-marriage days, when it had been all laughter and fun and excitement He was like two different men in the same skin.

  But she still loved him and she couldn't escape from that fact. Perhaps it was the same with all men of Zac's magnetic personality? Lesser mortals were swept into their dark, consuming orbit like faintly glowing lights round a brilliant black star, until those lesser lights burnt fainter and fainter and then eventually died altogether, drained by a force that fascinated them even as it destroyed them?

  He talked about compromise, but in essence he wanted to go on just the same as he had always done without a change in his lifestyle—a wife was probably rated as less useful than his business advisors, his directors, even perhaps his secretary?

  'Tory, I'm not saying I didn't make mistakes.'

  Her head shot up at the sound of his voice, soft and quiet now, with that thread of dark huskiness that had always had the power to turn her knees to jelly. She stared at him, her eyes dilated and her mouth slightly open, as the knowledge that he could read her mind, sense exactly what she was thinking, brought fear to the surface. He was a formidable adversary.

  'I wanted to protect you from the seamier side of life—' was he saying his relationship with Gina was seamy? Victoria asked herself silently '—and the cut and thrust of business, that's all, but maybe that was wrong,' Zac said slowly. 'You were so young when we met, numerically as well as in experience, and I didn't want life touching you with its dark side. And it can be dark, Tory, as dark as hell itself. So—' he paused, his eyes tight on her white face '—I made decisions as I saw fit.'

  'I'm not a child, Zac.' Victoria didn't know where the strength was coming from to speak so dispassionately when she was a quivering wreck inside, but she was thankful for it. 'I had a very short childhood as it happens; my parents saw to that. Cats and dogs were only a step up from children in nuisance value as far as they were concerned, and I learnt very quickly to behave and think like a small adult. I don't want my child—' again her hand splayed instinctively over the mound of her stomach '—to be brought up like that I won't have history repeating itself.'

  'And you think I am like your parents, like your father?' Zac asked softly, his ebony eyes, with their thick black lashes, almost closed as they narrowed cm her violet-blue ones.

  'Yes. No. Oh, I don't know,' she said nervously, the hot colour coming and going in her face. 'I feel like everything has changed, everything is topsy turvy, and I don't know anything except—'

  'Except?' he prompted carefully. 'Come on, Tory, talk to me.'

  'Except this baby is the first person who has really needed me, just as I am,' Victoria finished painfully. 'It can't live without me, I'm everything to it and it is everything to me. It's mine and…and I won't ever let it go. It's my flesh and blood.'

  'It is mine too, Tory.'

  It was said gently, and his voice was soft, but the steel thread of warning running underneath the mild words was reflected in his face. And it was true, she acknowledged bitterly. It was his.

  They stared at each other for what seemed an age, and then he inclined his head towards her, his face straight as he said, 'I'll be in touch,' before opening the front door and stepping into the mews beyond. He shut the door gently without turning round.

  Victoria continued to stand there for some minutes staring blankly into space, and then a determined and almost peeved kick brought her back to reality. 'What's the matter, Sweet-pea? Aren't I taking any notice of you?' she whispered brokenly, her fingers trembling as they stroked her softly rounded belly. 'That was your daddy laying down the law as usual, and he didn't even have his coffee, did he?'

  She stumbled through into the sitting room, feeling as though she had been run over by a steam engine emotionally, and sat down in one of the chairs with a dispirited little sigh. She had never felt so confused and mixed up in all her life, she thought wearily. And she wasn't going to blame it on hormones either.

  She loved Zac, and at times hated him with equal passion. She wanted him to have a part in his child's life, and at other times she wanted him to be at the other end of the earth and to never have the opportunity to set eyes on her baby once it was born. Now, was that normal? She shook her head at herself. She didn't know about the maternity wing of the hospital—she'd be ending up in the psychiatric ward if she wasn't careful.

  The brief moment of humour helped, enabling her to rise from the chair and pad through into the kitchen where she stood staring at the massive bouquet for a full minute. Zac, oh, Zac… She didn't realise she was crying until a tear dripped onto her hand. How could you even begin to understand a man like him? One minute fire and brim-stone, the next arriving on her doorstep with flowers and a winning smile that would get him anything.

  Only it hadn't And now her mouth straightened as she reached for a piece of kitchen roll and dried her eyes determinedly. And it mustn't, she told herself grimly. It wasn't just her future they were considering here—there was someone far more important than her and Zac in all of this.

  She wanted the warmth and security of a peaceful loving home for her child, and if that meant living with one parent, with visits to the other, then, awful though that was, she'd do it She would. She drew her chin down into her neck as she stared ahead doggedly. It wouldn't be easy of course, talking of which… She still had to tell her mother the good tidings.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Coral took the news of her imminent grandmother status even worse than Victoria had feared, which had been pretty bad.

  'You've done this just to spite me, haven't you?' Coral's red-tipped talons gripped the edge of her wine glass so tightly, the stem snapped, spilling expensive red wine over the white linen tablecloth at the exclusive little restaurant Victoria had taken her mother to. Her generosity had an ulterior motive—Victoria knew her mother well enough to gauge that Coral wouldn't dream of causing a scene at Chaucer's. Although she hadn't reckoned on the wine glass, she thought now as she watched Coral play the gracious lady while the waiter mopped up and replaced.

  But once the waiter had departed Coral returned immediately to the attack. 'This is just like you, Victoria.' Her mother's narrowed, hostile gaze gave a feline appearance to her pretty face that emphasised her high cheekbones and small nose. 'You have been doing things like this since the day you were born.'

  'Hardly, Mother.' Victoria kept her tone light and bantering. She had learnt through countless such confrontations over her wary twenty years of life that it was the only way to take Coral on and survive the encounter with a few nerves intact. 'I think someone would have noticed if I'd done this before.'

  Her mother's thin mouth tightened and she all but bared her teeth. 'This facetious attitude does you no credit, you know that, don't you?' she said cuttingly, her eyes flashing.

  'Mother, I merely told you I was expecting a baby,' Victoria retorted quietly, willing her voice not to shake.

  'And what does Zac think of this? He is the father, I take it?' Coral rasped tightly.

  'Of course Zac is the father, and he's…he's pleased.' Victoria's stomach was churning, every nerve and sinew curling and tightening, but that was normal when she was in her mother's company. She should be used to it by now, she reflected bitterly.

  'So you are back with him, then.' Coral spoke as if their reconciliation might go some way to atoning for her daughter's grievous sin, her stiff body relaxing slightly.

  'No, not exactly.' Victoria raised her chin a notch as she forced herself not to duck the issue. 'Not at all, actually. I…I intend to have this baby and bring it up myself. The divorce will go through as planned,' she said as evenly as she could.

  'Are you mad, girl?' Coral stared at her, aghast. 'The m
an is a Harding; doesn't that mean anything to you? He is enormously wealthy and powerful; you'll never want for anything in your life.'

  'I don't intend to discuss this with you, Mother,' Victoria said very succinctly. 'Now or ever.' She eyed her grimly.

  'Don't you indeed?' Coral paused as their first course— smoked-duck salad, the house speciality—arrived.

  Ever the elegant, sophisticated, well-bred lady, Victoria thought bitterly as she watched Coral coldly incline her head at the young waiter before he departed again. Didn't her mother ever get tired of acting a part? But perhaps it wasn't a part—perhaps this brittle, cold shell was all that was left of the real flesh-and-blood person her mother must once have been.

  'I can see why you've been hiding yourself away these last few weeks,' Coral said tightly after taking a tiny bite of one wafer-thin sliver of meat, her eyes flicking con-temptuously over her daughter. 'Too ashamed to tell me, I suppose,'

  'I haven't been hiding away.' Victoria took a deep breath. This was only going to be received fractionally better than her pregnancy. 'I've been working as it happens,' she said quietly.

  'Working?' Coral stared at her, utterly aghast.

  'In a flower shop.' Victoria actually enjoyed the moment.

  The blank silence was more telling than any show of rage, and it continued all through the trout with stuffed mushrooms, and the lemon cheesecake, right up to the moment Victoria paid the bill and the two women stepped into the warm summer sunshine outside Chaucer's esteemed brass and gold doors.

  'When is this—' Coral flapped a disdainful hand in the direction of Victoria's stomach, ignoring Victoria's sharp 'Baby?' '—due?' she asked coldly, her eyes scanning the street for a taxi.

  'Towards the end of December,' Victoria said flatly. She wasn't going to cry, not here in the middle of the street, she told herself fiercely. She'd told her mother now; it was nearly over. She could carry this off for a few moments more.

  'I shall be holidaying in the Bahamas at Christmas.' It was said in such a way that Victoria was meant to understand her mother would have been holidaying whenever the baby was expected. She would probably continue to 'holiday' for the rest of her grandchild's life.

  'Really?' Victoria ignored the undertones and forced a bright smile. 'How lovely. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time,' she said briskly. 'You'll be staying until the New Year?'

  'Yes…' Coral raised a small authoritative hand and immediately a taxi glided to a halt at the side of them, causing Victoria to reflect, and not for the first time, that her mother could summon a cab in the middle of the Sahara desert and one would instantly appear. 'Can I give you a lift, Victoria?'

  It was cold and dismissive, and Victoria responded to the tone as she replied, 'No, thank you. I've some shopping to do.'

  Coral nodded, a barely perceptible inclination of her head, and after offering a smooth, perfumed cheek to Victoria's lips climbed into the taxi without another word or backward glance.

  Victoria continued to stand without moving as she watched the vehicle pull into the mainstream traffic, and just for a moment the raw anguish that had permeated her childhood returned in a consuming rush, causing her to feel as though she was getting tinier and tinier, shrinking away into nothing. Unloved and unlovable. It was a terrifying feeling and quite devastating.

  'How did it go?'

  The deep male voice just behind her caused Victoria to swing round so quickly, she almost lost her balance. 'Zac.' She stared at him in surprise, the darkness evaporating. 'What are you doing here?'

  'It's a lovely Saturday afternoon and I hadn't anything much to do,' he replied easily, taking her arm and beginning to walk along the pavement. 'I thought I'd have a wander, do a bit of window-shopping, take in a few rays, you know?'

  Victoria stopped dead as she turned in his hold and looked up into the handsome face. Zac Harding always had plenty to do—in fact he ran his life with military precision—and wandering, along with window-shopping, was anathema to his fast, hectic lifestyle. And taking in a few rays? It didn't even sound like him.

  'You came here because you thought I'd be upset after seeing my mother, didn't you?' she said slowly as realisation dawned. She didn't question how he'd known she was lunching with Coral: Zac had more contacts than MI5 and used them just as ruthlessly.

  'That was a consideration,' he agreed lightly. 'Now, we have the rest of the afternoon and the evening to enjoy. What would you like to do? I'm utterly and completely yours, dear Tory.'

  The lump in her throat and tightness in her chest were preventing Victoria from speaking, and she couldn't have explained how she felt to anyone. He had thought about her. He had known how the meeting—or rather confrontation—with her mother would go, and he had been concerned about how it would affect her. She stared up at him, her eyes brimming as she choked back the tears and swallowed desperately, and when Zac said, 'Hey, come on, Tory, you know what the dragon-lady is lie,' she knew he had misunderstood her reaction and thought she was upset about her mother.

  Which was probably just as well in the circumstances, she told herself as he pulled her into his strong male frame for one comforting moment before they began to walk again, still without Victoria having spoken. This was Zac she was dealing with—Zac—and she couldn't afford to forget that for a moment. He was like a chameleon at the best of tunes, which was one of his greatest strengths in business, but that formidably intelligent mind and razor-sharp discernment that seized on any weakness made him a terrifying adversary. And until this thing was finally settled and the lawyers had drawn up their papers that was what he was—an adversary. She forgot it at her peril.

  'My boat is moored at Henley,' Zac said softly after a few moments had ticked by. 'Do you fancy an afternoon on the river?'

  'Zac…' Victoria swung round to face him again, her face troubled. 'I don't think this is a good idea.' And that was putting it mildly, she thought helplessly. He looked good—no, more than good; they had only walked a few yards along the busy London pavement, but already Victoria had noticed several young women—and some not so young—take a second look, although Zac, she had to admit, seemed quite oblivious to their wide-eyed interest and in one or two cases openly lascivious stares. It had always amazed her in the past how blatant some women could be.

  But she couldn't blame them; she really couldn't, Victoria thought weakly, even as the little green-eyed monster jumped on her shoulder. Zac was dressed casually as befitted a hot summer afternoon, but his charcoal jeans and open-necked dark blue shirt showed the broodingly foreign side of his dark good looks off to perfection, his broad shoulders, lean hips and long, long legs model material. He was walking dynamite, that was the truth of it.

  And she was fat. Victoria thought back to how her body had looked earlier that morning as she had got ready to meet her mother, and inwardly cringed. No wonder he had been able to walk away from her so easily earlier in the week. It wasn't surprising.

  'Why isn't it a good idea?' Zac frowned darkly. 'You like the water, don't you? And the world and his wife are on the London streets this afternoon. I don't like crowds.'

  But crowds were safe.

  'You're not meeting anyone, are you?' His voice had changed and the frown had become more ferocious. 'Later on?'

  Victoria thought about lying for one split second, but only one. The trouble was she wanted to go with him, ached to go with him, and on a sheer practicality scale afternoons like this would be rare—if at all—in the future. She couldn't afford cosy twosomes.

  And she was his wife—legally and before God. Whatever Gina meant to him, he hadn't given the dark-eyed Italian his name… But the thought of Gina had popped the warm bubble his thoughtfulness over her mother had produced, and now she found herself glaring at him before she could control her expression.

  Oh, she was a mess, she thought suddenly as she lowered her eyes. Mixed up, confused, miserable and alone, and here she was going to be a mother in another four months. And Zac was going to be a fath
er. They'd be the parents of one little scrap of humanity. The thought melted her.

  'Are you?' Zac pressured grimly. 'Meeting someone?'

  'No.' And she was wearing her other expensive boutique frock, Victoria told herself reassuringly, the one Zac hadn't seen before. If she was careful how she walked and sat it hid her bump extremely well. Clothed, she didn't look too bad still.

  'That's settled, then,' Zac said smoothly, temper restored.

  Yes, she supposed it was, Victoria thought resignedly as she glanced at her husband's satisfied face. Zac Harding had spoken and as usual it was fait accompli. Oh, if only she didn't love him quite so much. Or if only he loved her more…

  The Georgian town of Henley, with its fifteenth-century pubs and pretty shops, was busy and colourful when Zac's Jaguar glided to a halt close to where his boat was moored.

  Victoria had been on the sports-type cruiser—which was the last word in luxury—several times the preceding summer and had loved every minute of it, but now her face was apprehensive as she allowed Zac to help her on board. The craft was spacious and roomy but a boat was a boat, and suddenly the dark, magnetic drawing power of Zac's virile masculinity was magnified a hundred times in the confined space, making it a hundred times more dangerous.

  'Drink?' Victoria sat down in the saloon as Zac opened the fridge to reveal such mouth-watering delicacies as smoke salmon and caviare, and he smiled wickedly in answer to her raised eyebrows.

  'Okay, so I thought you'd like a few hours on the river,' he said smoothly, dismissing the evidence of his scheming with a wave of his hand. 'Nothing wrong in that, is there? And I always get hungry on the water. You know that, Tory.'

  'And thirsty.' Victoria glanced at the bottle of vintage champagne reposing in one corner. 'But I hope you've got soft drinks, Zac. I'm not having any alcohol at the moment until the baby is born, just to be on the safe side.'

  'Not even one glass?' he asked persuasively. 'Half of one?'