Bound by the Unborn Baby

by Bella Bucannon

  ‘I’ve been lucky so far—occasional nausea from strong aromas, nothing too bad.’

  This polite, bland conversation had no reason to irritate her—however, it did. There was no one around to hear them. Let’s get on with it.

  ‘What else have...? Never mind.’

  Ethan tamped down his curiosity regarding her history. The current situation had priority. He put the two mugs on the coffee table and sat down beside her, inadvertently too close for detachment. Close enough to smell the fragrance he’d determined to change at the earliest opportunity. Close enough to notice the faded scar almost hidden by her hair. Close enough to inadvertently touch her. He linked his fingers to prevent impulsive movement. To keep it impersonal. Huh, she’s having Louise’s child. Can’t get much more personal.

  Clearing his throat, he returned to basic facts. ‘Has the pregnancy been confirmed medically?’ A natural question to open the conversation.

  She flicked a non-existent lock of hair from her forehead. A recent change of hairstyle? Cut shorter than she normally wore it?

  ‘No. We did an early home test on February the seventh. Although it showed positive, I repeated it before booking my flight.’ Her voice was clear, with no hesitation.

  He nodded. ‘We have an appointment at eleven-thirty next Monday with Dr Patricia Conlan—reputedly one of Sydney’s leading gynaecologists. I’ve been assured she’ll give the best care to you and our baby. She’s had a cancellation, otherwise we’d have a longer wait.’

  Her pupils dilated, making a stunning display of her violet irises. Her hand moved swiftly to cover her abdomen, triggering a surge of possessiveness in him, alien and disquieting. An instinctive action? Had he imagined the flicker of awareness at his deliberate use of a certain adjective?

  ‘You need your own proof that I’m pregnant. I’ll be ready.’

  ‘Not proof. Confirmation that everything is okay.’

  She sampled her tea, smiled approvingly. ‘It is. Apart from mild nausea, I’m fit and healthy. What else do you want to know?’

  All your secrets. She’d been in his thoughts all day, disturbing his concentration at inopportune moments. Every time he’d walked past his PA’s potted plant the flowers had conjured up a picture of stunning, sorrowful violet eyes. He’d never been drawn to any woman so fast, so powerfully. Telling himself it was because she carried Louise’s child didn’t cut it. His body had responded to her on sight, when he’d still suspected a scam.

  ‘I’ve made frequent trips to Barcelona in the last three years. I don’t remember your name being mentioned. How come we didn’t meet?’ There’d always been noisy gatherings at his sister’s, available women and obvious attempts at matchmaking. ‘I flew over for a week in January. They were excited and secretive, so I’m guessing it happened around then.’

  ‘I deliberately wasn’t part of their social group. Louise and I were casual friends who’d have a chat over coffee sometimes. Occasionally Leon would join us. I’d never been to their home until the day she confided in me. Again, my choice. The embryo was implanted on the twenty-eighth—after you’d left.’

  Her gaze drifted to the window, as if she were picturing something from her past. She raised her drink and swallowed. As he watched the movement of her throat his fingers itched to caress her lightly tanned skin wherever it was exposed. Wherever it wasn’t.

  Draining his mug, he set it down with a sharp clink.

  Startled by the noise, she swung round to confront him. ‘I told you I travel a lot—mostly Europe. I’m not good at socialising or small talk.’

  Merely lack of practice, to be rectified by the new circles he intended to introduce her into—a world involving business dinners and networking. She’d have his support and protection as long as she stayed with him. In return he’d expect her to accompany him to various functions when a partner was invited.

  He’d been completely absorbed in her during their meal. Her eyes, her lips, the graceful curve of her neck as she bent her head, even the way she used her cutlery, all fascinated him. The plain gold ring on her left hand—the only jewellery she wore—niggled at his gut.

  She still hadn’t mentioned a husband or partner. It had always been ‘I’. His curiosity had to be satisfied prior to revealing his intentions.

  He fisted his fingers on his thigh, braced himself for her reaction. Spoke as she leant over to put her mug down. ‘You wear a wedding ring. And my research informs me surrogates are invariably women who have had at least one successful pregnancy.’

  She sat immobilised, one arm outstretched, her face in profile.

  He couldn’t stop the next words forming. ‘Where’s your child? Your husband?’

  Her mug dropped to the table’s edge, broke in two. Fell to the floor. Her skin drained of colour. Wide, tormented eyes met his. The truth hit him like a king punch to the solar plexus a split second before she replied.

  ‘They died.’

  Flat. Expressionless. Heartbreakingly poignant.

  No movement. No sound. Then without warning she erupted from the settee, her desperate eyes swinging towards the door. She took one step. Ethan sprang to his feet and caught her elbow, twisting her round. Her stricken face shook him to the core. He let go.

  ‘I didn’t think. I’m sorry, Alina.’

  She gulped in a deep, staggered breath that raked her body and silently walked to the hallway.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THEY DIED. WHY HADN’T he realised? The travelling. The solitary lifestyle. He hadn’t connected the facts. Instead he’d acted like a bastard, without consideration for her feelings. An echo of his father.

  Somehow he had to make amends, persuade her to stay. The child’s acceptance of him depended on her conceding to his proposition. In every way. Alina the woman as much as the child-bearer. Oh, Louise, what have you started? Why didn’t you tell me?

  He picked up both mugs, dropped hers into a bin, washed his, and waited.

  * * *

  Alina sat on the toilet seat lid, hugging herself, rocking rhythmically, trying to quell her shuddering breaths. The cloud in her mind began to clear, leaving behind a mixture of fear and shame. She’d blown it—been ambushed by a question she ought to have foreseen. Ethan James was a man who’d check the information he’d been given—investigate until he knew everything. Or believed he did. And instead of calmly answering, she’d panicked.

  She cringed, dreading what his opinion of her would be now—a neurotic female with serious hang-ups who claimed to be pregnant with his niece or nephew. It was essential he be convinced of her emotional stability, so he’d trust her to take proper care of herself and the baby until its birth.

  Dampening a cloth from the rail with cold water, she pressed it to her face, ashamed of her abrupt reaction. Her reflection in the mirror was pale and strained—not the composed image she’d hoped to project. For Louise and Leon. She recited her mantra, squared her shoulders, and returned to the main sitting area.

  Ethan leant on the counter by the coffee machine, watching her with sympathetic eyes. Guilt also flickered in the cobalt blue, stirring her conscience.

  She gave an awkward shrug. ‘You surprised me. I anticipated a doctor asking about my history, but I guess I’m not as prepared as I thought. Add my hormones acting crazy, and jet lag—’

  ‘My fault. I didn’t mean it to come out so brutally.’ He moved forward, gave her plenty of space. ‘My only excuse is I’m still trying to come to grips with it all. Forgive me?’

  She empathised—had been there. Heck, she was still there. Shock upon shock robbed you of lucidity. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d delivered a bundle to him. Not having any option didn’t ease her remorse.

  She managed a twisted smile. ‘Time heals is a furphy. Developing a façade to get through each day is the only way to survive.’ An
d hers threatened to crack with every look, every touch from this man. Her mouth dried; her throat constricted. ‘It’s not right. They deserved to have their baby. Life stinks.’

  Fierce and heartfelt.

  Ethan concurred that life wasn’t always fair, but refrained from admitting it. ‘Life’s what you make it. Are you up for talking a little longer? If not I’ll take you to your hotel and we can continue in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll stay.’ She ran her tongue over dry lips. ‘Could I have another tea, please?’

  ‘Thank you for agreeing. Same flavour?’

  With a brave attempt at smiling, she curled into the corner of the settee. When he sat he left a bigger gap between them, avoiding accidental contact.

  Space didn’t help. Yesterday he’d attributed his reaction to her as the combined effects of disbelief, weariness, and self-enforced celibacy due to his business commitments. Problems with the expansion of his hotel chain into Queensland—on top of his regular heavy workload—had left him little time for a personal life even prior to the accident.

  Tonight the desire for physical contact had been—was still—much stronger. He’d resisted with effort, knowing it was essential to allay her doubts and resolve some of the essential matters. Every day counted in the agenda he’d formulated.

  She drank thirstily, colour gradually returning to her cheeks. Unsure eyes met his and he thought he’d have given almost anything to appease her by bringing the evening to an end.

  ‘That was the reason you kept moving? No ties? No commitments?’

  Relief washed over him when she merely nodded before placing her mug down carefully.

  ‘We need to discuss certain issues—the main one being protection for the child. It wasn’t random curiosity, Alina. I have a genuine motivation for everything I ask.’

  Her jaw firmed, her shoulders hitched. Bracing for what? The sight of her teeth giving a quick tug to the side of her mouth gave him a moment of regret, determinedly squashed. He needed facts.

  ‘What did you imagine would happen when you requested a meeting?’

  To his surprise she relaxed, as if she’d feared a different query.

  ‘Springing a newborn niece or nephew on you didn’t seem right, even though I don’t think you can get DNA proof till then. I figured you’d appreciate time to get used to the idea—time to decide if your family wanted to adopt the—’

  ‘If we wanted to adopt Louise’s child?’ In a second he was towering over her, six feet of instant fury directed solely at the woman recoiling from him.

  A range of emotions flickered across her features. Resentment. Anger. Guilt?

  She pushed herself upright, causing him to step back. ‘Yes—if. You expect me to believe your parents will welcome this? Even with DNA proof?’ She glared up at him, delightfully incensed, daring him to contradict her.

  Stunned at her outburst, he felt his temper abate. His mother’s perception of social standing... His father’s snobbery... Their disapproval of his sister’s marriage... All probably the reason Louise’s miscarriages had been kept secret.

  He spun round to the window, running agitated fingers into his hair. How much more angst was a man supposed to endure?

  ‘Options were limited because of their attitude.’

  Her tone was gentle, conciliatory. He turned.

  ‘Louise knew they’d consider adopting a failure, although it was to be their last resort.’

  ‘I’m not sure they’d have accepted a surrogate grandchild either,’ he grated.

  ‘They weren’t going to find out.’

  It had slipped out, and Alina couldn’t retract the declaration.

  A predatory gleam flared in his eyes. He moved quickly, trapping her against the settee, his breath fanning her face. She stood her ground, holding his gaze, hoping he couldn’t sense her trepidation.

  A long moment later he inclined his head. ‘I suggest we sit, so you can explain exactly how the three of you intended to hide it from us.’

  She didn’t sit. She flopped, desperately trying to regroup. Extremely perceptive, he had a reputation for dealing strictly on the level. Though he might accept his parents’ rigid viewpoint had been the incentive for all their secrecy and deception, he certainly hoped the trio hadn’t broken any laws. That would definitely test his principles.

  He also had a way of undermining her defences, honing in on sensitive secrets. Some were not for sharing.

  She watched him settle, folding one leg onto the settee. His features indicated that he was cool, calm, and collected. His right fingers lightly drumming on his thigh proved otherwise.

  Crunch time. Next week she’d probably be back in Spain, managing alone until October. She’d learned life’s lessons the hard way, already had a plan worked out. There was the trust account Leon had set up, plus an Australian bank account she’d never accessed.

  Wriggling into the corner, she tucked her feet up and challenged him. ‘Then I can go to my hotel?’

  ‘Yes. Tell me the basics. We’ll discuss the rest later.’ Milder tone. Persuasive.

  He laid his arm along the back of the settee. A normal gesture, yet she had a sudden urge to slide into its embrace, lay her head on his shoulder, and let him take care of everything. Crazy notion. Not for her. Ever.

  ‘They made a generous donation to a clinic that caters to low-income couples. The procedure was done under fictitious names, with Louise and me using the same one. We planned to travel around, avoid people we knew. As a patient, I’d use her name.’

  She stopped, reluctant to continue as his posture changed. He’d jolted upright when she’d mentioned fictitious names, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. Now he sat still as stone, an incredulous stare in his dark blue eyes. Icy chills ran down her spine; cold sweat formed on her palms. He didn’t approve—couldn’t comprehend all they’d been through.

  ‘We didn’t hurt or cheat anyone. In fact the money we donated gave other couples a chance to realise their dream too.’

  His lips compressed. ‘What about doctors and scans? The birth? What if something had gone wrong? How many people did you intend to lie to?’

  Alina’s grip tightened till the ring she wore dug into her flesh. Damn fate and to heck with life. She’d finally found the courage to confront her dark solitude; to try and help someone else in despair. And now she’d been left with the fall-out on her own. Again. She curbed the tears threatening to fall. He’d probably dismiss them anyway.

  ‘As few as possible. There was no reason to suppose this pregnancy and birth wouldn’t be normal.’ Apart from the fact that this tiny person growing inside her belonged to someone else. ‘You can’t possibly understand. You weren’t there.’

  He froze. She couldn’t even detect any movement from his breathing. His black eyebrows were drawn together, his cobalt eyes dark and fathomless. He was justifiably shaken. Right now she didn’t care. She wanted this night to end.

  ‘No, I wasn’t. They never gave me the chance to be.’

  They were both silent for a moment, then he startled her by reaching out and taking her left hand in his. His thumb stroked over her gold ring.

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Thirty.’

  ‘I’ll turn thirty-six in December. You’re not involved with anyone?’

  She shook her head warily.

  ‘No one else is aware of your surrogacy pact?’

  A more emphatic shake.

  His next words were spoken in a clear, resolute tone. ‘Then as far as everyone’s concerned, Alina, this child is ours.’

  Her heart began to thump wildly. He was claiming the baby as his own. Ours. Our baby. She stared at their joined hands and remembered his earlier words. The best solution of all. More than she’d dared hope for. No need for adoption.

  ‘A
nd it’s credible because you were in Spain at the right time.’ A whisper...barely audible.

  Ethan had still been struggling to make sense of it all even as he’d made his declaration. His sister and his best friend had been prepared to lie, even commit fraud, to become parents. He’d have done everything possible to help. They hadn’t asked.

  Instead, whatever their original intentions had been, he would now be the father of their child. His tenacious, practical persona, the one that had achieved corporate success, kicked in. He refocused on Alina. He’d give her no choice. She had to accept the optimum scenario he’d envisaged last night.

  Her drawn face and drooping eyelids mirrored his own exhaustion. They’d both been bombarded with emotional stress since the accident. Maybe if he carried her into the bedroom they’d sleep peacefully, continue their conversation in the morning. Maybe if he cradled her in his arms they’d find comfort.

  Bad idea. He swung his leg off the settee, stretched as he stood. Glanced at his watch.

  ‘It’s been gruelling for both of us.’ Like a manic rollercoaster. ‘And tomorrow won’t be any easier. This suite has three bedrooms. You can sleep here or I’ll escort you to your hotel.’

  ‘I’d prefer my hotel.’ She hesitated, bit her lip before resuming doggedly. ‘We weren’t being reckless. We’d have gone straight to the nearest medical facility at the slightest hint of any problem.’

  Her eyes begged for understanding, and she held out her hands, palms up, in supplication. ‘I’m not lying. We’d never have risked the baby’s health. Never.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it.’ He didn’t. They’d concocted a crazy scheme, with holes you could drive a truck through, and yet he found himself believing that with luck on their side they might have succeeded.

  He phoned for the hire car. She put her shoes on and went to the bathroom.

  A little later Alina stood quietly in the doorway, watching him replace the mugs. For seven years she’d befriended few men, always kept things casual. From the moment they’d met, Ethan James had stirred feelings she tried not to acknowledge. She prayed it was a fleeting thing, caused by her condition. Gone after the birth. Entrusting her shattered heart to anyone would be too great a risk.