by Lucy Farago
“How’s a Las Vegas stripper involved in all of this?”
Fuck. He should have moved faster, gotten them as far away from reporters as humanly possible. But he hadn’t. Thankfully, it had only taken his mother, ever the diplomat, a few seconds to recover before she answered. “Again, let’s wait for the police.”
Blake had had enough. Taking her by the elbow, he led her through the swinging doors. The police followed, blocking the reporters from getting in. If only they’d showed up earlier.
He stopped out of earshot from anyone. “Go home, Mother. I’m spending the night here. When Rhonda’s released, I’ll see her comfortable in a hotel and then return to get our things. I’ll explain what happened to the former Agent Harris then. Well, whatever I’m allowed to. Please, if you love me, don’t mention the baby to anyone.”
“Hotel? Why?”
“Do you really think I would subject her to Grandmother’s scrutiny after this? It will be all over the newspapers by tonight. And if I bring her home, they’ll know we’re involved. I won’t drag Rhonda through that kind of scandal. You know how the press are. And she doesn’t need it. She’s a good woman, a great woman, the best I’ve ever known. I’ll not tolerate anyone saying otherwise.”
“It’s true then?”
He nodded. There was no point in denying it. But he wouldn’t have his mother thinking less of the woman he loved. “Her father wasn’t a single parent. He was no parent. She was. She sacrificed everything to take care of him and needed money to do it.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t.” He wouldn’t stand here and listen to anything negative about Rhonda.
“Blake—”
“Go home, Mother, please. I need to see her.” He half-expected her to argue but she surprised him.
She placed her warm palm on his forearm. “Call me later, and let me know how she’s doing.” And with one of the police officers acting as escort, she left.
*
Remnants of the long night were chased away as the drawn shade fought to keep the morning sun out. Blake was glad Rhonda had slept through the night. The nurses had offered to bring in a cot, but he’d opted for the armchair, wanting to be near in case she needed him.
He adjusted his body, stretching out his long legs. The blanket they’d given him was positioned behind his head, rolled and acting as a pillow. He yawned, then repeated the scenarios he’d gone over in his head, discarding each one before he was stupid enough to say them to her. He’d been trying all night to find the right words to tell her the jig was up, he knew she was pregnant. Hell. His mother knew she was pregnant, and all of Great Britain knew she was a stripper.
She’d be horrified. What had he done, bringing her here? If he hadn’t been selfish, she wouldn’t be in a hospital, about to be humiliated. He didn’t give a shit what his family or the world thought of her, but she did. How was he going to protect her from this?
Rhonda stirred but remained sleeping, one hand flat against her belly. Always the mother. And she’d make a great mom. No one who knew Rhonda could doubt that. If she’d made all those sacrifices for her father, imagine what she’d do for their baby.
Bloody hell, he was going to be a father. She could be carrying the next Duke of Oakley. If Colin died without children before Blake, the title would pass to Blake first of course, but then possibly onto his son. If he married Rhonda. What if Rhonda was right? What if his brother was stronger than they’d given him credit for? Despite the title, if she gave birth to a boy, that boy would inherit. And Sarah would likely flip her crazy switch.
As the morning drew out, he became less and less sure of what to do. If he asked Rhonda to marry him, she’d assume it was because of the baby and would say no. She was too independent. If he insisted, she’d tell him to go screw himself. He again questioned if she’d ever intended to tell him. What if she planned to have the baby on her own, to raise their child without him? Could her independent streak run that deep? On the other hand, she wanted a life for herself. Maybe a baby didn’t factor into that equation? She must have known she could be carrying the next heir to the Jameson title—which would carry responsibilities unlike she’d ever imagined, or wanted. He decided to stop driving himself crazy with questions. When she woke up, he’d have his answers.
*
Rhonda tried to shift her weight. The hard floor was hurting her back. She must have landed on fallen floorboards and made the mistake of groaning. The vibration of sound drilled the back of her head. She moved her left hand, ready to dig herself out from under the floorboards and joists that had caved in on her, but met air. Her other arm throbbed. It was pinned.
Peeling her eyelids open, she saw a white ceiling instead of the debris she’d expected. She was no longer in the house. The musty scent of dry rot and ancient timbers was gone. In its place, the antiseptic smell of a hospital.
The room glowed a soft yellow, and outside the window, birds chirped—loudly. Dumb birds. Early morning, she deduced. Cautiously, she turned her neck, understanding that was no rock beneath her skull but one badass lump. She was never more grateful to see the big lout sleeping in a chair by her bed. Blake was unharmed.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey,” he said softly, getting to his feet. “How do you feel?”
“Like road kill.” She glanced down at the cast on her arm. “Aw hell. I broke it?”
“You’re lucky that’s all you did.” His smile was now gone.
The baby? Something began to beep loudly, the sound drilling her sore head. It was the heart monitor she was strapped to. She attempted to sit up, but her body protested with a wicked spasm down her spine. “I need to see a doctor,” she said, trying really hard not to panic.
“Are you in pain?”
She was scaring him. Hell, she was scaring herself. “No … yes … I just need to see a doctor.” What if she’d lost her baby?
The expression on Blake’s face changed from worry to something else, understanding. What the hell did he understand? Shit. Her pulse skyrocketed, overloading the room with the sound of a hundred trucks backing up.
“Rhonda, you need to relax.”
A nurse rushed in. “Is everything all right?”
Rhonda lay her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes, her back aching with every heavy breath she took. A warm hand touched her wrist. “There now, my dear. Try to calm yourself,” the nurse said. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t have you upsetting her.”
“It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Rhonda just wanted answers. Was her baby all right? She opened her eyes.
“See to it that it doesn’t,” the nurse warned. The woman could give Maggie a run for her money.
When they were alone, Blake returned to Rhonda’s side, taking her hand in his. “You don’t have to worry. The baby’s fine.”
She closed her eyes again with a soft exhalation. The beeping on the heart monitor slowed, only to pick up, after the few seconds it took for it to sink in. Blake knew.
“When were you planning to tell me?”
She swallowed and forced herself to look at him. A little ashamed and embarrassed, she shrugged. Things had changed. She was keeping her baby. Blake might not be hers, but this baby was.
“Damn, you weren’t going to tell me. What the hell, Rhonda?” He was upset. Understandable.
She resigned to the inevitable. They were going to argue. On the plus side, he’d probably forgot about her going back into the house, and best of all, her baby was fine. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil that news. “You don’t do forever, remember? A baby is forever.”
“Things change.”
“What exactly has changed? If anything, they’ve gotten worse.”
“How so? I’m not shirking my responsibilities to you or this baby.”
Responsibilities. She’d been reduced to being someone else’s problem? She wasn’t her father and she sure as hell didn’t need anyone taking care of her or her baby. She did the t
aking care of. She’d done it all her life.
“What exactly do you think those are? I may not have your kind of money, but I banked almost everything I made after my father died and when I was den mother for the other dancers, Maggie paid all my living expenses. And I think you and I both know I’m good at taking care of things. I don’t need you.” Or the hassles of dealing with his grandmother, a woman who’d insist on knowing “who her people were.” Rhonda had no people but she had a past. No way would she stick around and be subjected to ridicule.
“Why are you getting defensive? This is my baby too. Rhonda, you must know how much I care for you. Damn, I think I’m in love with you.”
Her temper flared, setting off the heart monitor again. “Now you think you’re in love?” He didn’t love her. He was just a great guy who wanted to do the right thing.
“Stop. You need to relax,” he said, his frantic gaze darting between the machinery and her. “I almost lost you last night. You could have broken your neck. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was trying to save your sorry ass!” She wanted her baby to know its father. Then her anger deflated, remembering why she made the decision, why she risked being discovered by Harris. “I don’t want to fight. And I don’t want to take this baby away from you. To be honest, when we were in Key West and I first thought I might be pregnant, I considered ending the pregnancy,” she told him, unable to meet his eyes. “But I could never do that. This baby, however, needs parents who love it. A mom who wants to be a mom. I wasn’t ready to be that mom. Again,” she explained.
“It wasn’t fair to me and it certainly wasn’t fair to an innocent baby. I’d be as resentful of it as I was of my father. Kids are smart. They figure things out.” Hadn’t she? “I thought about giving you the chance to raise this baby without me but couldn’t imagine another kid thinking it had one parent who didn’t love it enough to be there for it. So I decided on adoption, on finding two people who’d make this baby the center of their universe. For this child’s sake, someone else had to raise my baby.”
“Our baby,” he was quick to point out. “So, what changed?”
She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. He was upset, justifiably so. She had planned on keeping his baby from him. But the accusatory tone in his voice and the disappointment in his eyes made her squirm. “Harris threatened your life. This baby deserves what I never had.” That hadn’t changed. “But putting it up for adoption because I don’t want the responsibility of yet another life … well, it’s not who I am. You were right. I could’ve walked away from my father. But I didn’t. So how in the world can I walk away from this? I’m going to be a mother. And I have to give you the chance to be a part of this baby’s life.” She left out the part about how much it was going to suck not having Blake in her life.
“But you still plan on doing this without me?”
She’d hurt him. That had never been her intention. “You and I come from different worlds.” He had to know that. “I don’t want to deny you your child.” And now that he knew, she wouldn’t. “But I also don’t want to be tangled up with your family’s problems.”
“That’s not an answer.”
This was harder than she thought. How could she explain it so he’d understand? “Don’t you see? I can’t spend my life wondering if you’re with me out of obligation. To me … or your family. I will no longer be selfish about raising this child, but I will be selfish about that. I deserve someone who loves me for me.”
“I do love you.”
“I’ll never know for sure, will I?” She’d always wonder. What woman wouldn’t?
“Sure you will. Rhonda, look in your heart. You know I love you. I loved you before we came to Scotland. I just wasn’t ready to admit it or say it. But I was there. You have to know that. And you love me, or you wouldn’t have risked your life,” he said, staring at her stomach, “and the baby’s life. Which, by the way, was really, really stupid.” He looked up and what she saw in his eyes told her not to argue, on that point anyway.
And she did love him. But in the end, it didn’t matter. “I do love you. I’ve known for a while, but it doesn’t change a thing.”
“Sure it does. I love you and you love me. You don’t want to get married? We won’t. We go back to Vegas and raise this kid together. We’ll keep doing what we’re doing, except with a baby.”
If they didn’t get married and she had a son, he couldn’t inherit the money or the title. Not according to the terms of his grandfather’s will or the laws that decreed an illegitimate child couldn’t succeed to a title. Would his family be happy about that? Sarah would. And Rhonda was pretty certain his family wouldn’t appreciate the mother of the next duke being a stripper. So could they play house without them ever finding out? She wanted to be with Blake.
“And Kendrick Manor?” He wasn’t going through all the effort and expense to fix it, to leave it behind. It wasn’t an investment in real estate. It was his past … and his future.
“I’ll sell it or rent it. Or,” he said, hesitating, “we can live in it. I saw your face when we walked through it. You loved it. We can move here, and I can give you everything you ever wanted. Let me take care of you. Would that be so bad? You can start over. With me.”
She did love that house. The possibility of being able to help restore it boggled her mind. She could leave the Goth stripper behind in Vegas. She’d never have to be that woman again. The life she had no choice in making could be part of her past. She could start over, here, with him and the baby. But that was a dream and that was all it would ever be. They’d find out who she was. “Your grandmother—”
“Has nothing to do with this.”
“I’m pregnant. This baby could be the heir if Colin and Sarah don’t have a child. Which is the likely scenario. Of course she has something to do with this.”
“Fine. And if we don’t get married, she’ll … be … upset.”
“Upset? Is that how you’re really going to describe it? She’d blow a bloody gasket.”
“This has nothing to do with her. Stay here with me and help me renovate the house.”
“Okay. For argument’s sake, let’s say your family is okay with us not making this baby legitimate.” She snorted. Like that was going to happen. “Why are you not hearing me? Could your boss provide me with a new background the way he provided me with new luggage? Come on, Blake. Get real. If it ever got out, the British tabloids would be all over this. I’d be the gold-digger, not Sarah, the friggin’ Duchess.” Never in a million years would she allow herself to be humiliated in the papers again.
She’d had enough of the heart monitor going off and tore the sticky pads off her chest.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t agree or disagree with her. Instead, he went over to the window and drew the blinds, allowing a burst of sunlight into the room.
“This is my baby,” he finally said, turning toward her. “I won’t keep that from my mother. But I’m fine with Vegas. Or wherever you want to live. I can’t promise my family won’t find out about how you made your living. But we’ll be far enough away that you won’t have to put up with their bullshit. If we don’t get married, then no one else has to know I have a child. Is that okay? Can we do that? Can we raise our child together?”
The fact of it was, she was pregnant. Blake was the father. He had a right to know his child and whether they were together or not, his blue-blooded family would learn of it. Did she want to do this alone? Did she want to be without Blake? No, it would kill her to leave him, the same way they’d worried it would kill Colin if Sarah left him. Blake was the best thing that ever happened in her sorry life. And she loved him. God, she loved him. He looked at her expectantly with those amazing eyes. It made her stomach quiver with anticipation. She could have her happily ever after.
A ringing interrupted her answer. Blake frowned at the phone by Rhonda’s bedside, as it rang a second time.
Rhonda glanced at it too. “Who can that be
?”
“I don’t know. I have my mobile. Want me to answer it?”
“No, pass it to me, will you?” She reached with her good hand. “Hello,” she answered, then was surprised by the reply.
“Rhonda, are you all right?” Maggie sounded concerned.
“I’m fine. Broken arm. Nothing major. How did you know where to find me?”
“A suspected terrorist doesn’t die without it making the papers. How’s Blake?”
So Harris was dead. “He’s fine too. He’s sitting here if Christian wants to talk to him.”
“Later. Ryan sent the plane, and we can arrange for you to leave the hospital with no one knowing.”
The tone in Maggie’s voice set off more alarms than the heart monitor had. She was in mother-hen mode. “You want to sneak me out of the hospital?” She looked up and saw confirmation in Blake’s face. Something was wrong.
“I figured you’d want to avoid the press. They’re like vultures over there.”
They were like vultures in the States too, as Maggie could attest when the media had found out Reverend Hopewell’s daughter ran a strip club. But why would they be all over Rhonda? She was a nobody. If anything, it would be Blake the press would hound. “What’s going on?” She hated that she had to ask.
“You haven’t seen the papers?”
“No, I just woke up.”
“Oh,” she said, a definite doom and gloom in that one word. “Ronnie, honey, they found out what you did in Vegas. They know who you are.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Judging from his pathetic frozen expression, Blake guessed why Maggie had called.
“I’ll call you back.” She thrust the phone at him to hang up. “What’s going on? And don’t you goddamn lie to me.”
“I was going to tell you,” he explained. “Just not now.”
“When? After your family read it in the papers? After I decided to move here with you?” She rubbed a hand over her face. “What your mother must think of me. Can you imagine if they found out I was pregnant now?” She tried not to shout but couldn’t help it. She would be perceived as an opportunistic whore.