Her Pregnancy Bombshell

by Liz Fielding

  She stopped. ‘And what? Are you saying that you changed overnight?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ He was the one walking now and she was the one keeping up. ‘Once I’d got over the frustration, I was glad that Posy had blundered into us that night.’ They were running out of beach and he stopped, turned to her. ‘You were different, Miranda. The kind of girl a man would take home to meet his mother and hope to hell that she would love you too, because it was that important. I knew how hard your father had worked to save Marlowe Aviation and I wanted to be the kind of man someone like him would accept. Respect.’

  He took the hand that wasn’t holding her dress out of the wet sand and this time she didn’t pull away.

  ‘I took a long hard look at what I was doing and buckled down. No more parties, no more girls; there was only one girl I was interested in.’

  ‘And then there was the bank crash.’

  ‘Without Goldfinch I had nothing to offer you, Miranda. Forget offering you a job, I wouldn’t have had one myself.’

  ‘I saw how you stuck with it, Cleve. Grew when other air couriers were going under.’

  ‘And I was ready to ask your father to give me another chance with you.’ He was looking at her hand now, the ring he placed on her finger sparkling gold in the lowering sun. ‘It was a few days before Christmas. I’d flown the Mayfly back to the factory to have some new electronics fitted and I went up to his office. He knew why I was there, but then, through his office window, I saw you fly in like an angel. An angel with a passenger. Your father was standing next to me and he said, “She’s brought the Honourable Freddy home for the holidays.”’

  ‘Freddy?’

  ‘The Honourable Frederick Cornwell-Jones. The implication was that you had moved on, found someone worthy of you. That I was history.’

  ‘Wishful thinking,’ she said. ‘Freddy is a lovely guy and it should have worked. We shared digs at uni, had a lot in common, but he knew all about you and said he’d rather be my best friend than my second-best lover. His parents were going through a very nasty divorce and so, as his best friend, I took him home for Christmas.’

  ‘So while I thought I was doing the right thing, the honourable thing in retiring from the lists, I should have been battering your door down?’

  ‘Instead you went to a New Year’s party…’ And they’d missed one another by days. ‘You said it, Cleve. It wasn’t our time.’

  ‘No, but this is. Whether we get married today or not, I’m not going to walk away again. You’re named for one Shakespearian heroine but I’m thinking of another one right now. Are you familiar with Twelfth Night?’

  She nodded. ‘We did it at school. Immi and I played the twins.’

  ‘Were you Viola or Sebastian?’

  ‘Viola.’

  ‘Then you’ll have learned the speech where she told Olivia what she’d do if she was in love with someone?’

  ‘The willow cabin speech?’ She knew it by heart. ‘How do you know it?’

  ‘English Lit GCSE,’ he said. ‘Will you say it for me?’

  Pointless to say that she didn’t remember it. She had read it over and over in the days, weeks, months she had waited for Cleve to come to her and after a moment to catch her breath she began, softly at first and then, as the words took hold, lifting her voice…

  ‘“Make me a willow cabin at your gate and call upon my soul within the house. Write loyal cantons of contemned love and sing them loud even in the dead of night. Halloo your name to the reverberate hills and make the babbling gossip of the air cry out ‘Olivia!’ Oh, you should not rest between the elements of air and earth, but you should pity me.”’

  ‘I flew to L’Isola dei Fiori with the express intent of telling you that I love you, Miranda, that I’d always loved you. I was going to ask you if we could start again. Spend time together, go on old-fashioned dates, build a relationship that had a future.’

  ‘Then I tossed in the baby bombshell.’

  ‘The baby complicated things because I knew you’d think I was just responding to that, but it meant that we had a shared future and I thought, hoped, that given time I could convince you that that future would be about more than the baby we made.’

  Before she could reply, he had gone down on one knee. ‘I’m asking you now, Miranda… Will you take pity on me? Be my one true love, my life, the mother of my children, my wife, my mistress, my lover for as long as we both shall live?’

  Her heart melting and uncaring about the dress, she knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers.

  ‘You said that Dad had given me what I wanted most in the world but there was something I wanted more. Will you take pity on me, Cleve? Will you be my one true love, my life, the father of my children, my husband, my lover for as long as we both shall live?’

  The kiss they shared, sweet, tender, was all the answer they needed. A promise shared.

  Neither of them wanted to move but there were anxious people waiting. ‘Before we go and put everyone out of their misery,’ Cleve said, as he helped her to her feet, ‘I have something for you.’

  ‘I have everything I’ve ever wanted right now.’

  ‘This is something blue.’

  ‘But the flowers…’

  He looked confused. ‘Flowers? But I asked Immi to get daisies.’

  ‘She did. You can get blue daisies. I thought, when you said you’d got it sorted…’

  ‘Blue daisies?’ He shook his head, clearly unconvinced. ‘I would have given it to you last night but it needed a fastening. The jeweller delivered it to the hotel this morning.’

  He took a small jeweller’s box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside, mounted on a silver fastening, was a pair of old RAF wings.

  ‘These belonged to George Finch, my great-grandfather,’ he said, as he took them from the box. ‘He was one of The Few and his wings are my most cherished possession.’ Fastening them to her dress, he said, ‘I cannot think of anything more fitting to show how much I love and honour you.’

  Andie, the tears flowing down her cheeks, her hand over her mouth, just shook her head, totally unable to speak.

  Cleve did some more mopping with the handkerchief, tucked his arm under hers and then, as they walked back up the path to the garden, he said, ‘I’m glad that turned out so well. I was afraid I’d have to go on honeymoon by myself.’

  ‘Honeymoon?’

  ‘We leave at dawn for Capri.’

  Fifteen minutes later, all traces of tears removed by clever Posy, the sand washed from her feet by Portia, her father peered nervously around the door.

  ‘Your mother is furious with me. She says I’m not to say another word.’

  She took his hand. ‘Tell Mum that I’m glad you told me. Everything you did was because you loved me, wanted the best for me. And because you told me, because Cleve and I had a chance to talk about what happened in the past, we are stronger, happier than you can ever imagine.’ She slipped her hand beneath his arm. ‘And I’ve a proposition for you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘If we hadn’t got married, I’d have come home and asked if I could have a job in the design office. Obviously I can’t do that now, but I won’t be flying for a while so I thought, maybe, I could set up a drawing board in the Goldfinch office. If you’ll have me?’

  ‘I’m giving you away and getting you back all in one day.’ He hugged her. ‘I couldn’t be more happy.’

  ‘Then let’s go and grab the future.’

  There were so many people waiting on the terrace, her sisters looking gorgeous in their vintage dresses. Her mother, Cleve’s parents, Matt. But the only person Andie had eyes for was Cleve, all doubts assuaged as he took a step towards her, taking her hand as her father surrendered her to him, this time for ever.

  The mayor said something, they made their responses, exchanged rings, but as Cleve paused in the moment before he kissed her and they both, as one, said, ‘I love you,’ it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

/>   Each of her sisters gave a reading.

  Portia had chosen Sir Philip Sidney’s poem ‘My True-Love Hath My Heart, and I Have His’. Immi read Shakespeare’s ‘Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?’ and then Posy read Christina Rossetti’s ‘A Birthday’, by which time even the mayor was wiping his eyes.

  As the sun sank below the horizon and the solar lights flickered on around the garden, toasts were drunk, a lavish buffet was enjoyed and the cake, topped with a spray of handmade fondant daisies that matched her bouquet, was cut.

  Her father’s speech was emotional, Matt’s was funny and then, as the strains of ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ whispered across the terrace, Cleve took Miranda in his arms and they danced as if no one was watching.

  EPILOGUE

  CLEVE HAD KEPT his promise. He’d been with her and the baby every step of the way. He’d been there for the scans, grinning like a loon when the midwife told them they were going to have a little girl.

  He’d shared the antenatal classes, becoming a master at the back rub. He’d sacrificed his running routine to go swimming with her so that she had plenty of exercise. He’d hunted down little treats for her when she was craving her favourite—forbidden—soft cheese.

  Together they’d planned and created a nursery in the house they’d bought just off the village green.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ he asked, when he arrived back from the airfield and found her in the nursery, up a stepladder, fixing something to the ceiling.

  ‘You painted Daisy a bicycle built for two. This is my contribution.’

  He looked up at the sleek little aeroplane that looked as if it were swooping across the room.

  ‘You’ve built her a model aircraft?’

  ‘It’s a prototype I’m working on…’ she said, wincing a little as he helped her down, kissed her. ‘An aeroplane built for two because for our little girl the sky is the limit.’

  ‘That stepladder is the limit. You should have waited until I got home.’

  ‘I just wanted…’ She stopped as the pain at the base of her spine intensified.

  He leaned back to take a closer look at her.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Backache,’ she muttered, clinging to him a little more tightly.

  ‘Come and sit down. I’ll get supper.’

  She gasped as another pain hit her. ‘Actually, when I said backache…’

  He was way ahead of her and two minutes later he was driving her to the birthing centre as if she were a piece of the finest Venetian crystal.

  Labour was not pretty but he was there with her in the birthing pool, taking everything she threw at him, supporting her with a seemingly endless supply of cold cloths and ice to suck like the hero he was.

  Finally, when he’d cut the cord and she was a red-faced, sweaty mess he kissed her, kissed their baby and, looking at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world, said, ‘I didn’t know there was this much love in the world, Andie. Thank you…’

  She laid her hand against his cheek and, half asleep, said, ‘“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…”’

  The midwife took away the baby to be weighed, measured and for all the little tests they did to make sure she was perfect—as if she could be anything else.

  A nurse cleaned Andie up, tucked her up in bed and brought her a cup of tea. Cleve caught it as she drifted off and when she woke he was still there, singing softly to the baby lying in the cradle next to her.

  ‘“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy, all for the love of you…”’

  ‘She’s definitely a Daisy, then?’

  ‘Daisy Marlowe Finch. As sunny and beautiful as her mother,’ he said. ‘I’ve sent a photograph to everyone. They all send their love and can’t wait to see you both.’

  She took his hand.

  ‘We’re not a both,’ she said. ‘We are a three, a family. Let’s go home.’

  *

  If you’ve enjoyed this book then don’t miss

  THE SHEIKH’S CONVENIENT PRINCESS

  by Liz Fielding. Available now!

  If you loved this story and want to indulge in

  more Mediterranean romances,

  make sure you try the rest of the

  SUMMER AT VILLA ROSA quartet.

  The second book,

  THE MYSTERIOUS ITALIAN HOUSEGUEST

  by Scarlet Wilson, is out next month!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  MARRIED FOR HIS SECRET HEIR

  by Jennifer Faye

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  Married for His Secret Heir

  by Jennifer Faye

  PROLOGUE

  Paris, France

  IT SHOULD HAVE been the most amazing night of her life.

  Elena Ricci swept her long blond tresses over her shoulder as she stepped backstage at the Paris fashion show that had just concluded. She should be on cloud nine, but instead worries brought her feet back down to earth. With a borrowed diamond necklace and matching earrings now returned to the jeweler and her crystal-embellished gown returned to the designer, she was ready to call it a night.

  “Are you heading straight to the party?” a female voice called out behind her.

  Elena turned to find a young woman smiling at her. Try as she might, Elena couldn’t put a name to the face. “No. I’m going to pass on it.”

  “But you have to go,” the beautiful young woman with flowing black hair said. “As the face of the line, you’re like the guest of honor. Tonight is your night.”

  “I’m sure you’ll all have fun without me. I’m just not up for a party.”

  “Ah, I bet you have other plans.” The young woman flashed her an I-know-what-you’re-up-to smile. “I’m sure he’ll be worth it.”

  He? There was no he. The last guy she’d had the misfortune of dating had been a liar and a cheat. Elena had sworn off men after that debacle. Who needed the hassle?

  “There is no guy,” Elena clarified.

  “Really? Then who’s the man waiting for you at your station?”

  Elena didn’t bother answering. She just started walking. If it was Steven, she was having security escort him out. She’d told him in no uncertain terms to get out of her life. And she’d meant it.

  When she neared her station, the man had his back to her. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

  The man turned. “Is that the way you greet all your friends?”

  Heat rushed to Elena’s face. Before her stood the Earl of Halencia, Luca DiSa
lvo, her childhood friend. “I’m sorry. I, uh, thought you were someone else.”

  “I think I feel bad for the other guy.”

  “Don’t. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.” She rushed forward and gave Luca a hug, finding comfort in his strong arms. And there was something else—a warm sensation that set her stomach aflutter. But she refused to examine the reason for her elated reaction.

  The truth of the matter was, she’d grown used to shoving aside her emotions when it came to Luca. Their friendship meant the world to her, and she wouldn’t do anything to risk it—even if it meant they would never be more than friends.

  He pulled back and smiled. “That’s better.”

  She looked deep into his tired eyes. There was something bothering him. This wasn’t just a casual visit. Luca didn’t do those. For him to come here unannounced, it meant something had happened—something big.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Is it your father?”

  Luca shook his head. “It’s my mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  Luca drew in a deep breath. “They caught her murderer. Actually, my sister did. Can you believe it? After all these years, it’s finally over.”

  Elena wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, she was relieved they’d solved the crime, but she also knew how tough the years following the heinous crime had been on Luca and his estranged family. She couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling at this point.

  After the murder, Luca had withdrawn from everyone around him—including her. When he’d finished high school, he’d moved away. Soon after, she’d done the same and moved to Paris. Their friendship dwindled to an occasional phone call or an annual visit over coffee at a small café when Luca was in Paris on business.

  Over the years, she’d told herself not to take the distance personally. It was Luca’s way of dealing with the unimaginable grief. But she couldn’t deny that losing the close connection with her best friend had hurt—a lot.

  A million questions bubbled up within her. And yet she remained quiet as he gave her the highlights of how Annabelle had caught the murderer. The story was truly stunning.