The Innocent's Shock Pregnancy

by Carol Marinelli

‘Yes,’ Merida said. ‘Well, once the baby’s old enough, of course.’

  ‘And who’s going to look after the baby while you work?’

  Merida swallowed. ‘I won’t be the first mother to work.’

  ‘You’d be the first Devereux wife who did,’ Ethan said, and then shook his head. ‘The only solution is marriage.’

  ‘Ethan...’ She shook her head in turn. ‘It’s the twenty-first century. We don’t have to get married.’

  ‘I don’t care what century it is,’ he responded. ‘I’d like my child to have my surname. And I’d like my baby to be born here. Now, we both know this isn’t a love-match...’

  He just said it as fact, unaware of the sting his words delivered, and he continued speaking, oblivious to the tears in her eyes.

  ‘Neither of us will be going into this with stupid illusions.’

  ‘Love can grow...’ she said hopefully.

  ‘We’re not plants.’ Ethan tossed her notion aside.

  ‘No, but remember the amulets...’

  His lips parted, but before he could give a derisive laugh she spoke again.

  ‘What I meant is that arranged marriages often work well...’

  ‘Then let’s arrange it well.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant either.’

  ‘I know that—but listen to me.’ He was firm. ‘I don’t believe in love, Merida. More than that, I don’t even want to test the notion.’

  He wanted to be drawing up a contract—not sitting drinking coffee as they discussed some imaginary castle in the sky. Ethan never ever wanted the responsibility of another’s heart, nor any foolish belief in love.

  He had grown up guarding his heart and there was a wall of steel clamped around it now, for he had to keep his head in this.

  ‘What about the baby?’ Merida asked. ‘What happens to our baby in this loveless world of yours?’

  ‘I can’t answer that,’ Ethan said through gritted teeth, ‘because I haven’t met our baby yet. Merida, what the hell did you expect? We hooked up one night and, as good as it was, it’s not really a recipe for longevity.’

  He took a breath and tried to push aside the memories of just how good it had been, reminding himself that sex was the easy part.

  ‘Listen, Merida. You look after yourself, I’ll look after myself, and together we will do the very best by our child.’

  ‘You’re talking about a business arrangement?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And in this arrangement do we sleep together?’

  ‘I believe a marriage has to be suitably consummated,’ Ethan said, and then grew irritated at her pointless question. ‘Of course we’ll sleep together.’

  ‘Even though we don’t love each other?’

  ‘You can put your moral compass away now, Merida. You didn’t seem to mind too much a few months ago.’

  She folded her arms, angry at his words and wanting to refute them. It hadn’t felt like a hook-up. How bloody dared he? Yet she guessed, to him, that was all it had been.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Ethan said as he handed over the contract. ‘If either one of us cheats it will be an expensive mistake.’

  He was covering all the bases as he shredded her heart.

  ‘We’ve given this a lot of thought...’

  ‘We?’

  ‘A select few members of my team have been working with me through the night.’

  ‘Talking about us?’ She was up on her feet now. ‘Last night I asked that you speak to me...’

  ‘Merida.’ His calmness only accentuated her drama. ‘Sit down and tell me what you think we should do.’

  She sat down. ‘We could...get used to the idea. Together. Maybe date...’

  ‘So you’d stay here in New York?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And where would you live?’

  Merida swallowed. ‘You have this suite here...’ she said, and then winced a little as he dragged out of Merida her flimsy plan.

  ‘Okay, so I house you in a five-star establishment. I presume you’d need an allowance—how much?’

  ‘I’ll get a job,’ Merida retorted.

  ‘Yes, because finding a job when you’re pregnant is so easy.’

  ‘I’ll go back to the gallery,’ Merida attempted, but then sagged. She doubted Reece would have her back. ‘Or I’ll get a job waiting tables.’

  ‘And then come back and sleep here at night?’ From across the table he gave a mocking laugh. ‘What about medical care? I’m presuming your holiday insurance won’t cover it?’

  ‘No,’ Merida said, because she’d already looked into that. ‘You’d pay for my medical care and the care of your child.’

  ‘Who I’ll be housing in a hotel?’ Ethan wasn’t laughing now—he was deadly serious. ‘Have you any idea how ridiculous that sounds? Don’t you see that we need a properly drawn out plan? One that covers both of us? Because from where I’m sitting, you hold all the cards.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘If I don’t adequately take care of you there’s nothing to stop you from getting on a plane and leaving...’

  He closed his eyes for a second, for his mother had done exactly that. But this was different, Ethan told himself.

  ‘A marriage, properly arranged, will take care of all of us.’

  He moved on to the next item. And he actually hadn’t said this out loud to anyone.

  ‘My father’s not well,’ he said, and then elaborated. ‘It’s terminal.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No one is allowed to know yet,’ Ethan warned.

  ‘Oh, and there was me about to ring down to Reception and tell them.’

  He didn’t smile—he just stared.

  ‘I was being sarcastic,’ Merida said, and then closed her eyes, because a sarcastic response perhaps wasn’t the best one when he’d just told her his father was going to die. ‘Of course I’m not going to say anything. How long have you known?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Oh, but it did. In their time apart it would seem that so much had happened.

  ‘As I said,’ Ethan continued, in such cool business tones that she half expected to look over and see someone else sitting there, taking notes. ‘A grandchild on the way will certainly make things...’ He snapped his fingers as he searched for the words.

  ‘It might give your father some hope—something to look forward to?’ Merida offered.

  ‘I was thinking more of the shareholders. It will show them some stability.’

  If there was any precise moment when he became a stranger to her, then that was it. But she had been warned about how cold and calculated the Devereux family were. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to find out that everything she’d read and been told was right, yet it did.

  ‘Who are you?’ Merida demanded. ‘What happened to the man I met...?’

  ‘The man you met was having a night off from himself!’ Ethan retorted angrily. ‘This is who I am. Perhaps you should have done your research a bit better before you—’

  ‘Go on,’ Merida invited.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does to me.’

  ‘Fine. You were a struggling actress when I met you, Merida. If I remember rightly “nearing desperation” were your words about yourself. I’m not saying you set out to get pregnant, but I don’t think you exactly rushed to take your Pill.’

  He felt a flicker of guilt when he saw her already pale face bleach.

  In truth, that day, walking away from her, hearing his father was dying... Well, he’d forgotten even to eat until the next day, let alone take some damned pill.

  But he would not back down. This was too important for sentiment to get in the way.

  ‘I’ll never forgive you for that, Ethan.’

  ‘T
hat’s okay,’ he said. ‘I don’t need your forgiveness, nor a life spent living a charade.’

  He told her they would be divorced after one year, and then spoke of allowances and apartments, rattling off details as she sat there stunned.

  ‘I don’t want the first months of our child’s life spent with us hammering out details through attorneys on either side of the Atlantic. By the time our marriage is over we’ll have hopefully come to an arrangement that works for both of us.’

  Merida felt her breathing turn shallow.

  Yes, she might have fired the first ‘lawyer’ shot, but being mired in a custody dispute was the last thing she wanted for her child. She’d been mired in her parents’ disputes for years.

  Ethan was right—he was a complete stranger, but he was right. They had to do what was best for the baby, and right now that meant her staying here.

  And to do that she needed his financial help.

  But marriage...?

  ‘I want my child to have my name,’ Ethan reiterated. ‘And, given my father is dying, I’d like to think the baby could be born here and...’

  He didn’t finish. In fact, Merida thought she heard a slight husk to his voice. But when she looked up his expression was as stony as ever, and she decided she’d misheard.

  ‘Take your time,’ Ethan said.

  Merida read through the contract, but the words blurred.

  Suddenly she’d become the aforementioned. Their baby the dependant.

  She didn’t need to read through all the pages to guess there would be no mention of love.

  ‘Do you have any questions?’ Ethan asked, just as he had on the night they had met.

  But there was no suggestive edge there now. No seamless move to invite her to dinner. Or to bed.

  Not that she’d go.

  Merida felt utterly wiped.

  ‘None.’

  ‘If you can give me your parents’ contact details I can let them know that I’m happy to organise their attendance. Helene will sort out flights and accommodation.’

  Merida nodded.

  ‘I think that’s everything, then.’ He stood.

  A huge tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. And though in her line of work Merida had been taught to cry on demand, she must have missed the class where they were taught how to stop, for the tears would not stop falling.

  ‘Stop the crocodile tears, Merida.’ His voice was like ice.

  ‘They’re not crocodile tears!’ Merida gulped, but Ethan had clearly decided they were.

  ‘And don’t worry about giving up your career,’ he added when she had signed the papers and he was clearing up. ‘You just landed the biggest gig of your life.’ Ethan gave her a black smile. ‘Playing the part of my loving wife.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ALL BRIDES WERE nervous on their wedding day. But Merida felt as if she might pass out.

  It was to be a true whirlwind wedding.

  They’d got their marriage licence first thing on Monday and now, on Tuesday, Merida stood in Ethan’s suite with her teeth chattering as she was preened and readied for the role of her life.

  ‘I’d like to wear my hair down,’ Merida attempted, but Howard the stylist had other ideas—it would be smoothed and worn up.

  And when she looked at the rack of stunning dresses that several bridal houses had sent up, and her hand lingered on a dusky lilac peplum dress that would surely disguise her bump, Howard snatched it out of her hands in horror and told her how it would be.

  ‘You’re marrying a Devereux, my dear—not joining the circus.’

  Her red curls were smoothed to become glossy and straight, and then coiled into an elegant French pleat. Her nails were buffed and painted nude, as were her lips.

  And the dress chosen for her was a very pale gold.

  ‘I’m not sure...’ Merida said as she stood looking at her unfamiliar reflection, but Howard and his cronies seemed incredibly pleased.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Howard insisted.

  The dressers and the stylist left, and when there was a knock on the door she opened it to the stunning sight of Ethan.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ he said, though privately he thought she looked like a sepia photo—dimmed and toned down.

  ‘Thank you,’ she answered. ‘You do too.’

  Ethan actually did. His charcoal-grey suit was immaculate and he wore a gunmetal-grey tie. He was utterly clean shaven, as of an hour ago, and yet a raven-blue hue lay beneath the surface.

  ‘Isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding?’

  ‘I already told you—I’m not superstitious. Anyway, I need to give you this. It was just delivered.’

  ‘Oh...?’

  He put his hand in the pocket of his suit and produced a ring.

  No box.

  No speech.

  No moment.

  A stunning emerald-cut diamond was handed to her, but when Merida’s eyes glittered it was with tears. She refused to let him see them—she would not be accused of faking it again.

  ‘When you’re asked where I proposed—’

  ‘We’ve been through this, Ethan,’ Merida said, pushing the ring on. ‘We met at the gallery where I worked...’ They hadn’t actually deviated much from the truth—more extended the timeline.

  There was no pretence at romance. Absolutely none.

  They took the elevator down, and just when she wanted to turn and bolt back up to the suite he took her hand.

  ‘Come on. Let’s do this.’

  He sounded as if he was on the way to his own funeral.

  It was to be a City Hall wedding—where, Ethan told her, it was first come, first served.

  There, they stopped by a desk and took a number, and were told that the wait was around two hours.

  ‘Plenty of time, then,’ Ethan said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You’ll see later.’

  Ethan was quite confident that word would have spread to the press by the time they were finished with the ceremony.

  City Hall was, Merida soon discovered, a rather wonderful place to pass the time. There were cheers and tears, families and friends. But theirs weren’t there.

  Merida could not think about her parents now, so she watched the anxious brides and tense grooms waiting to marry, though some seemed relaxed and simply enjoying the day.

  Ethan sat and occasionally tapped a well-shod foot, and in her chest butterflies leapt, but apart from that they might well be sitting in a doctor’s waiting room.

  ‘The photographer will be here soon,’ Ethan said. ‘He’s our witness.’

  ‘I see.’

  She didn’t really.

  Merida watched a couple come out. The woman was heavily pregnant, and as she watched their loving embrace Merida felt sure that she and Ethan would never be like them.

  ‘Having second thoughts?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Merida admitted. ‘Are you?’

  ‘No,’ Ethan said.

  He had given it enough thought to feel positive that this was right. In fact, he’d feel a whole lot better once this was all made legal.

  ‘We’re up,’ Ethan said.

  They walked in for their two-minute wedding ceremony, and though she had been expecting very little, it was incredibly nice.

  The celebrant was a real New Yorker, and clearly thrilled to be a part of this day.

  ‘Mr Devereux, this is a pleasure!’ he boomed. ‘And Miss Cartwright—can I say that for the last time?’

  Merida found that she laughed.

  She did make a very beautiful bride, Ethan thought. Her lipstick was the coral one she had worn when they met, and a curl of red hair had escaped and fallen over her face. He pushed it to the side.

  ‘We’ve got this,’
he told her.

  On a day when she felt as if a flock of seagulls were roosting in her chest, and when it took all her focus and acting skills to appear calm and smile, there was an almost surreal moment when they exchanged rings that she felt they might just get this right.

  ‘You may kiss your bride.’

  Ethan did so—and it had been such a very long time since he had kissed her.

  It was measured, and it was more sensual than tender. Ethan’s hands held her bare arms as he kissed her, long and slow, and she was glad of that, for at his lips’ command her hands wanted to lift to his head. And if she couldn’t do that, then she wanted to rise on her tiptoes, to press harder to his mouth.

  But she didn’t. In fact she fought with her body not to respond—to simply kiss as she would were she on stage.

  The photographer was clicking away and Merida, whose mind had been only on their wedding day, now moved on to thinking of their wedding night.

  And as Ethan released her his black eyes and subtle smile told her he was thinking of the same thing.

  He had been so abrasive, so cold at their meeting, that she had expected the same from his kiss.

  Oh, she should have asked more questions about their contract when he’d invited her to do so, but she hadn’t been able to bear it.

  Now Merida wanted a time-out. Just a moment to work out how she was going to deal with the quivering wreck he made her and somehow hold onto her heart.

  This was a business arrangement—one she had agreed to so that they would be in the same country at least when their baby was born, and would share in that valuable time.

  Yet his kiss had rocked her world.

  And now there was no more time to think. For she was Mrs Ethan Devereux, and Merida found that their supposedly low-key wedding had been completely staged to be anything but.

  In the hours they had sat waiting word had got out and the press had gathered. She felt as if every tourist, every native New Yorker, was watching as Ethan Devereux once again took his bride in his arms.

  The photographer positioned them on the iconic steps of the court building and she felt Ethan’s hand warm on the side of her waist. And then they turned so they faced each other and she looked up into his dark eyes.

  ‘Hello, wife,’ Ethan said, which made her smile.