by Geneva Lee
“This is good news, right?”
I hung up rather than answering him.
It was good news, but it didn’t feel real. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to get in the car and return to my life, but all I could do was stare at the silent mobile in my hands. I’d waited for it to ring, and it finally had. For the first time in a very long time, what I did next was entirely up to me.
Chapter 14
“You are being an insane bitch,” I said to my reflection. I could see it. I could feel it, but I’d lost the ability to control it. Because things weren’t bad enough already, I needed to add my own personal psychosis into the mix. There was nothing different about the woman staring back in the mirror. Since we’d been in Somerset, I hadn’t bothered with make-up, and though I’d grown accustomed to it, I felt like a girl when I caught sight of myself.
Too often my hair was wind-blown from riding or pulled into a ponytail. My wardrobe had been confined to clothing I’d left behind the summer before university. It hadn’t been long enough to declare any of it vintage, and none of it had come back in fashion. It was just old and poorly fitted. All of that had begun to slowly chip away my sense of self. There was no evidence of an empowered career woman here. Nope, just a girl forced to run home to her mother.
Smith was the only glue holding me to my former life. Without him, that version of me might vanish entirely. It was a reason to act crazy regarding every word that came out of his mouth, but it wasn’t a good one. Somehow I’d fallen victim to the pitfalls of my sex.
“Get a grip and face it,” I ordered myself, but I couldn’t channel the sternness I saw in my own face. I felt more like crawling into the corner and crying.
He was planning something. That much was clear, and I fucking hated having to pull a trump card, but I wasn’t above doing it. If Smith thought he was going to sneak off to London to deal with Hammond, he would have one mental basket case of a wife to answer to. Turning on the tap, I splashed cold water over my face.
It was time to stop skirting the trouble at hand. Smith was keeping a secret from me and I was keeping one from him. Time to come clean.
Yanking open the bedroom door, I froze. Smith was sitting, naked, at the foot of the bed. His bare body was generally enough to stop me in my tracks, but this time it was what he was holding.
A mobile.
A goddamn mobile.
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “What happened to going off the grid? Or did I imagine it when you ripped the phone cord out of the wall earlier?”
Apparently I wasn’t the only one capable of fits of incensed irrationality. I had an excuse though.
“Belle,” he began, but I held up my hand.
“Not done!” I snapped. “You have known everything going on in London, while I haven’t even been able to call my best friends.”
His head tilted to the side in challenge.
“Fine. While I wasn’t supposed to call my best friends—and just so you know, I haven’t called Clara. She probably thinks I’m dead. With any luck, I’ll return to London with no business and no friends.”
“Are you finished?” he asked after a moment.
“Not remotely.” I was seething now, ready to bombard him with weeks of pent-up fear and frustration.
“You have a right to be upset.”
I had the right and the capability. If only I had the right to be silent.
“Who were you calling?” I asked.
“No one.” There was no doubting the sincerity of his tone. He might not have called someone, but there was a reason the phone was in his hand, and we both bloody well knew it.
“Don’t lawyer me,” I warned him.
“Coincidentally, it was my lawyer who called me.”
If there were an Olympic event for literal interpretation, he’d be a medalist.
“Georgia’s alive.”
I stepped back, feeling for the wall before slumping against it. This was a good thing, so why did I want to cry? Probably because crazy Belle was jealous—of a woman who had nearly died last month.
It was time to adjust my priorities. Right fucking now.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” I couldn’t wait any longer, probably because his news had my hackles up. I needed to claim him as my own, starting with making sure that he knew whom he belonged to.
“There’s more,” he continued, obviously deeming whatever information he had to share more urgent than mine.
Time for a reality check. “Smith, I—”
“I haven’t spoken to my lawyer before tonight,” he said, bypassing my interjection. “What you told me about being released as a suspect was news to me. Andrew had orders to call me only in the event of a major development.”
And Georgia was a major development. Of course she was. Smith had grown up with her, although their adolescence was far from normal. The trouble was that I had seen the two of them together. I’d watched as he’d dominated her in their private club. She had enjoyed it. Smith was loyal to me—for now.
Everything was about to change. Would he run to her at the first opportunity he got?
“I know Georgia is very important to you.” I tried to sound casual but the words quivered from me.
“I won’t lie. I wanted her to be okay. She is important to me, but not in the way you think.” He stood up and took a few strides toward me, pausing when he saw how I pressed against the wall to get away from him.
I would never get this out if he touched me. I couldn’t help my reaction to physical contact with him, especially not at the moment. I’d been trying to broach the subject for a week and each time I’d wound up with some part of me wrapped around his cock instead.
“I don’t want Georgia,” he said in a firm voice. “I chose you. You know that.”
I did, so why couldn’t I believe it? Angry tears streaked down my cheeks as I began to shake.
“Belle, you’ve been through so much.” He lowered his voice, taking another tentative step in my direction. “Maybe you should see a doctor in the village.”
Oh what the hell.
“That’s a probably a good idea,” I sobbed, wiping my face with the back of my hand, “since I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 15
I collapsed to the floor.
I collapsed to the floor.
Fuck.
That definitely fell under the category of handling this poorly. There were things I needed to say to her—something I meant to tell her—and right now I couldn’t find the words. Belle often left me speechless, but this was different.
Pregnant. Baby. Father.
Christ, Price, you aren’t playing word association. I didn’t dare to look up at her. Not yet. Not while she was crying, and I was on the floor and…she was talking to me again, but I couldn’t hear.
Belle is pregnant. I repeated the statement over and over in my head. I was just getting used to the idea that she was my wife. Now she was going to have a baby—we were going to have a baby. A strange sensation bubbled inside me and then laughter burst from me.
“You’re taking this well,” she choked out.
I looked up at her then, a wide smile springing to my face. “We’re having a baby?”
“Yes.” Confusion temporarily suspended her tears. “Smith, I—”
Pushing to my feet, I took hold of her, cutting her off with a kiss. When we finally broke apart, she stared at me breathlessly. I cupped her chin and peered into her dazed eyes. “I thought I was the one delivering the good news tonight, but you topped me.”
“It’s usually the other way around,” she said in an uncharacteristically shy voice.
She was different. Everything had changed in the best possible way. A door that had been shut to me for so long had finally opened.
“So you aren’t mad?” she whispered.
“Mad? I’m over the moon, beautiful.” I had never really thought about children until she came along, but even then the possibility had seemed a long way off.<
br />
“It’s terrible timing.” She tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip.
“Andrew called to tell me two things. You only heard part of the news,” I said in a gentle voice, guiding her attention back to me. “They’ve arrested Hammond.”
Belle blinked rapidly before squeaking, “Oh!”
And then we were both laughing. This was how newlyweds were supposed to feel: joyful. Even the happiness I’d felt saying “I do” in a suite at the New York Plaza couldn’t match this, because that celebration had been colored by an unresolved situation. Now we were free to live as husband and wife. We could be normal. A baby wouldn’t change that, it would just make it sweeter.
“I can’t believe you’re taking this so well,” Belle said, snuggling into my chest. “I’ve been in a panic since I found out.”
“I knew something was going on. I just thought you’d come to your senses and had decided to leave me.”
She tugged back, her eyes flashing as she glared up at me. “Don’t say things like that, even as a joke. It’s not funny.”
I bit back a joke about her hormones and kissed her forehead instead. The mystery of my wife’s wildly uneven moods had been solved, but it hadn’t been cured.
“I want to ask you a million questions, but for now I just want to hold you,” I whispered. Leading her to the bed, I watched her as she climbed in, searching for signs of a change I’d missed. She looked exactly the same, and somehow even more beautiful. Lying down beside her, I gathered her against me and placed a hand over her bare abdomen. “You shouldn’t have let me be so rough with you.”
“The baby is about the size of a grain of rice, it’s okay.” Her fingers knitted through mine. “Besides that, I don’t want things to change.”
“They already have.” Surely, she felt it, too.
“Fine, I don’t want that to change.”
I wasn’t about to promise her anything on that account. If she had thought I was overbearing before, she hadn’t seen the half of it.
Stuart Hall’s kitchen was relatively calm the next morning. I’d left Belle sleeping in our room, wanting to be certain she got plenty of rest. Belinda caught sight of me and scurried over, wiping flour off of her apron as she came.
“Short-staffed?” I asked, glancing around at the empty space.
“I am the staff,” she informed me. “Mrs. Price keeps talking of hiring more staff, but she has no need. I can care for the lot of you.”
Considering that when Belle and I departed the household would consist of Belinda, Gunther, and Belle’s mother, I could see her point.
“I hate to add to your workload, but I want to make certain that Mrs. Price is brought breakfast in our room each morning.”
“Mrs. Stuart frowns on serving food outside of the dining room or kitchen.” Belinda twisted her fingers as she told me this.
“Let me make this easy on you,” I said. “I’m not making a request. Mrs. Price will be brought breakfast each morning.”
This wasn’t a negotiation. Mary Stuart might run the household, but my wife owned the house.
“Of course, sir. Will she be wanting tea or coffee?”
“No coffee,” I said firmly. “An herbal tea and fruit. Eggs. More than toast.”
Belinda’s forehead wrinkled as a knowing smile pulled on her lips. “The missus might not be able to stomach more than toast soon. If you’ll pardon me saying so.”
Of course it would be impossible to keep our little secret for long, but I hadn’t quite been ready to share with others yet. I tugged at my cuffs, smiling tightly.
“It’s not my business, and I won’t be saying a thing,” she assured me, “but I am an old woman, sir. It isn’t hard to put two and two together. A package from the pharmacy and an overprotective husband. I’m only glad that she’s found a man who will take care of her.”
So was I. There had been a time when I wasn’t certain that I could be that man, but that was no longer the case. I might not be perfect; however, I’d give her everything I had. Now that I was no longer a working attorney, my primary focus would be on her.
“What time would you like me to bring breakfast?” Belinda asked.
“Bring breakfast where?” Mary’s harsh voice cut in.
Belinda looked up at me for instructions.
“I’ll handle this,” I told her, “and nine o’clock.”
“Yes, sir. Excuse me, I need to speak to Gunther.” She didn’t wait around for the showdown. “I’ll bring that up in a few minutes.”
“Mr. Price, you might be under the impression that you have some authority in this house,” Mary began.
“Interestingly, I was just thinking the same thing,” I interrupted her.
Her eyes narrowed to pinpoints. “I am not running a charity.”
“It’s hardly charity to open a home to its owner,” I reminded her. “Belle has avoided dealing with Stuart Hall, but I can promise you that I will not. I’ve allowed this situation to continue for far too long.”
“That isn’t your place,” she retorted, but her voice cracked with uncertainty.
“Actually it is. Our lawyers will be in touch.”
I left her standing, mouth hanging open, in the kitchen.
Belle was still in bed when I returned to our room, her blonde hair spread like a halo around her head. Creeping quietly into bed, I propped myself up on an elbow and marveled. I had known she was special the moment I saw her, and I’d spent the time since discovering just how much. The thought that she was carrying my child only proved everything I had suspected about her strength and courage. I wasn’t thrilled that she’d kept it from me for even a short period of time, but I could understand her motivation.
All of that would change now. There was no more need for secrets or lies.
“Are you going to just stare at me, perv?” she murmured, her eyes still closed.
“I might.”
“I can think of a few things that might be more fun.” She peeked at me, her eyelids still heavy with sleep.
“I think you should see a doctor first. Hopefully your ass isn’t too bruised.”
“Don’t get soft on me now, Price.” But there was amusement in her voice. She pushed the sheet off, revealing her gorgeous body.
“You aren’t playing fair,” I noted, tracing the hollow between her breasts.
“I never do,” she promised, shifting so that my fingers brushed her nipple. It hardened instantly, even from the light touch.
Every inch of me wanted to take it in my mouth and suck until she came. I wanted to watch her writhe and gasp, but I wasn’t going to give in to the urge. “I’m a patient man.”
“You’re a control freak.” She flopped onto her back with a sigh. “Are you cutting me off?”
“Only until we see a doctor.”
“You’re a sadist,” she accused.
“And you are a masochist, beautiful.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We’re a match made in heaven.”
Despite her commitment to pouting, she smiled. “Birds of a feather.”
Chapter 16
After a week, it was hard to decide which I was more proud of: how well I was taking care of my wife or how much self-restraint I was showing. Keeping my hands off Belle was proving difficult. Every day, I studied her for any sign of change, but she looked the same. Still there was something about her. Maybe it was a flush to her cheeks or that she slept so deeply that she’d begun to snore. All I knew was that I was in a perpetual state of awe.
That, coupled with my determination to get the all clear from a midwife before we resumed our sex life, amused her. At first.
But that afternoon when she appeared in the doorframe of the study, I got the sense that her patience with me had run out.
She planted her hands on her hips in her best do-not-even-try-to-fuck-with-me stance. “I need to talk to you.”
I settled into my chair and waited for her to unleash her fury.
“Not here,” she snapp
ed. “Privacy.”
“Of course.” I made it a point to remain calm. It seemed like one of us should. Things tended to get out of control when we both gave in to our emotions.
But when she led me toward our bedroom, I began to suspect her motives. Any doubt I had was laid to rest when she reached for the hem of her shirt and began to tug it off her head.
“Wait,” I commanded, catching her hands and forcing her to drop it. “We’re not doing it like this.”
“Please tell me how we’re doing it then,” she seethed.
Judging from the almost painful rush of blood that flooded my groin, my cock was on her side. Belle getting angry had the unfortunate effect of making me hard. It always had.
Traitor.
“My mother is making my life hell because, in her words, you’re acting like you run the place,” she continued furiously. “Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen it. I even heard Belinda tell the grocery boy that the house had a new master.”
I winced. Master sounded so antiquated in this situation.
“And do you have any clue how hot that is?” she demanded. “Telling my mother off and taking control? Do you know the only thing you aren’t taking control of?”
I had a guess.
“Me!” She didn’t bother to wait for my response.
“I’ve seen to it that you are fed. I spoke to Gunther today about keeping you off the horses. I’m running your property.” I tilted my head in challenge. “It seems like I’m pretty well in control.”
“You know what I mean.”
I knew exactly what she meant, but I wasn’t going to walk right into her trap. “Once you see the doctor—”
“The midwife said I didn’t need to be seen until I’m eight weeks along,” she reminded me. She crossed her arms and glared at me. “She also told me sex was perfectly fine.”
“Did you mention that you like to be tied up and spanked when you’re fucked?” I countered. I’d been involved in the scene long enough to know exactly how far I could take her without causing serious damage, but a pregnancy was new territory for me. Territory I wasn’t entering without a little guidance.