His Black Sheep Bride

by Anna DePalo

  At least, he’d thought so.

  In fact, he’d begun to think he and Tamara should stay married. Things were working out well. It had been surprisingly easy to share a bed and a roof with her, which he’d never done with any other woman.

  Why rush into a divorce? Instead, he’d begun to think they should take their time and see where things led.

  But now, there’d be no wife and no baby.

  Paradoxically, he felt the sting of loss for a child that had never come into being. His child and Tamara’s.

  Quite apart from his deal with Kincaid, Sawyer realized he’d been looking forward to having a child with Tamara—a little girl with her red hair and green eyes, or a child that blended both their features.

  An image flashed through his mind of Tamara’s face when she’d stepped into his office and interrupted his meeting with Kincaid.

  Despite her charged words, she’d looked crushed.

  Sawyer cursed under his breath.

  He should never have agreed to Kincaid’s secret condition. The only reason he had, he admitted to himself now, was because the idea of bedding Tamara had already begun to have irresistible appeal.

  When he reached the library, he went straight to the wet bar and mixed himself a Manhattan. Maybe after a couple of drinks, he’d forget Tamara’s devastated look in his office.

  Sure enough, a couple of hours later, he was slumped in an armchair, sitting in the dark, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He was right where he wanted to be—well on the way to oblivion.

  He felt a low, steady throb at his temples, and his gaze came to rest on the blinking light of his phone.

  He stared unseeingly at it. He’d noticed the message signal earlier, but had ignored it. He didn’t care who it was if it wasn’t Tamara—and he knew the message wouldn’t be from her.

  Now, though, he was far gone enough, and idle enough, he just might believe in a snowball’s chance in hell.

  So languidly, he picked up the receiver.

  After the standard automated voice intoned that the first message had been received at seven o’clock, Sawyer listened to the call.

  “Mrs. Langsford, this is Alexis from Dr. Ellis’s office,” a woman’s voice said. “I’m sorry for the confusion, but I inadvertently scheduled you for a day that Dr. Ellis will not be in the office. Please call us to reschedule your obstetrical appointment.”

  Even through his current haze, Sawyer stiffened, his senses going on alert.

  If Tamara had an obstetrical appointment, then that meant…

  Pregnant.

  The call was either a mistake—had the woman meant to say gynecological appointment?—or Tamara was pregnant.

  Sawyer grasped the arm of his leather chair as a mix of emotions roiled him. Shock was followed by exploding joy.

  He was going to be a father.

  And then his gut tightened and his next thought was, Hell. An unholy mess had just deepened into a life-altering event.

  Tamara had known she was pregnant, and she hadn’t told him. Had she meant to tell him tonight? Instead, she’d left him.

  It’s over.

  His jaw tightened. Like hell.

  In the process of fishing her keys out of her purse, Tamara looked up, saw him and froze.

  Despite herself, longing and a sweet piercing pain shot through her.

  Sawyer looked grim and uncompromising as he dropped his folded arms and straightened from his position lounging against his car.

  Rather than being dressed in a business suit, he was casual in a blue shirt and pants. He was unshaven, and pronounced creases bracketed his mouth.

  Why hadn’t she noticed him and the car before?

  Her only excuse was that the sidewalk had been crowded with lunchtime traffic. People still walked rapidly in both directions, and the curb was congested with street peddlers.

  But now, as if the crowd were parting before a mighty personage, he came toward her.

  She muttered under her breath, and then fumbled and dropped her keys. She bent to retrieve them, but somehow he was there first.

  “Allow me,” he said smoothly.

  Sawyer picked up the keys from the ground and inserted the correct one in the front door of her building.

  “After you,” Sawyer said, as he pushed the door open with one hand.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  She was the one who’d been wronged, she reminded herself, and yet he was turning the tables on her.

  Sawyer quirked a brow and nodded around them. “Do you really want to have this conversation on a busy street?”

  “You helm a media company. The last thing you’d want is a public scene.”

  He smiled mirthlessly. “Try me. There’s always a first time. And you’ll find different rules apply to the boss.”

  Her chin jutted out. “Pulling rank?”

  “Pulling strings, if I have to,” he replied.

  “Charming.”

  “I’m glad you’re still impressed by my charm, among my other sterling qualities.”

  Abruptly, she turned, leaving him to follow her into the vestibule of her building.

  “Pressing your case?” she tossed out as they crossed to the elevator and she jabbed a button. “I think we’ve said all there is to say.”

  “Hardly,” he contradicted, his voice too close for comfort.

  Out on the busy street, at least the forcefulness of Sawyer’s presence had been muted by the crowd. Here in her building, though, she felt its full, unmitigated effect.

  He was big and overpoweringly male, and despite herself, she felt a primitive awareness.

  They rode up in the elevator in silence, and then he let them into her loft with her keys.

  She should have bristled at his presumption, but the truth was, she admitted to herself with disheartening frankness, if not for Sawyer, Pink Teddy Designs would no longer even exist.

  And yet, he didn’t own her.

  She dropped her purse on her desk and turned to face him.

  “I have to admit,” he said with unreassuring calm, “it didn’t occur to me initially to look for you in the most obvious of places. You’ve surprised me.”

  She felt her pulse thrum through her veins. “I’m not hiding, Sawyer. I just chose to leave you. Unlike you, I have nothing to hide.”

  “Don’t you?” he said, his facial features tightening, and anger lacing his soft words.

  Her chin came up, but she didn’t answer him. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to repeat the lie.

  Instead, she walked over to her safe and used the combination she’d committed to memory to open it. She kept Pink Teddy’s more precious pieces inside.

  Since he’d presented her with an opportunity, she thought she’d hand over his purchases to him—perhaps that would convince him that the two of them were really finished.

  She retrieved two green felt boxes and walked back toward him. “I’ve finished the pieces you commissioned.”

  As she opened the bigger box, her gut twisted. All this time, she’d been working on this project—his gift to another woman—and he’d been deceiving her.

  She watched now as Sawyer stared at the glittering gems.

  She knew what he was seeing. Initially by chance, and then by design, she’d fashioned a necklace with alternating emeralds and diamonds that complemented the Langsford tiara.

  She knew she’d outdone herself, though pleasure had mixed with pain as she’d worked, so that the project had become a sweet torment. Presumably, Sawyer’s mistress would get the emerald necklace, and in all likelihood, sometime in the future, another woman would wear the Langsford tiara as Sawyer’s wife.

  The creation of the necklace had been an act of self-flagellation, she admitted to herself. It had perhaps started as a reminder not to fall for Sawyer, but it had evolved from there. Had she been half hoping to foster feelings in him for her? Had she begun to hope she’d be the owner of the jewelry she fashioned?

 
; Except she hadn’t counted on becoming pregnant. Except she hadn’t known of his ultimate treachery.

  His face inscrutable, Sawyer lifted the necklace with one hand, letting the jewels run over his fingers like a waterfall.

  Tamara placed the now-empty jewelry box on her work table, and then opened the smaller velvet case.

  Emerald earrings immediately caught the light.

  In her opinion, the earrings were just as breathtaking as the necklace.

  She glanced at Sawyer’s face and noticed his eyes had narrowed. Did he see the similarities to the Langsford emerald tiara here, too?

  His face unreadable, Sawyer took the case from her. “They’re exactly what I was looking for.”

  A fresh stab of pain shot through her, and she called herself all kinds of fool. “You know what they say. Give the client what they don’t know they want.”

  “Is that what you do?” he asked, setting aside the case with the earrings with what seemed like deceptive calm.

  Tamara raised her chin. “Now you can leave.”

  “I disagree.” He quirked a brow. “When were you planning to tell me you’re pregnant?”

  He said it so quietly she looked at him blankly for a second. He couldn’t possibly—

  Then she froze. “What makes you ask that?”

  “Don’t bother to deny it,” he said with sudden and quiet force.

  She searched his gaze, holding her ground. “And what if I am?”

  His eyes locked with hers. “Then a divorce is bloody well off the table. There is no way I’ll let anyone call into question the legitimacy of the heir to the earldom.”

  Of course, Tamara thought with a sinking heart. Even apart from his agreement with her father, Sawyer’s concern was with his potential future heir, not with her.

  “It could be a girl,” she pointed out challengingly.

  “Regardless.” His eyes traveled down her dress, intimate and probing, reminding her all too forcefully of all they’d been to one another.

  “How did you find out?” she asked.

  His eyes flashed. “A phone message left by the doctor’s office. You need to reschedule your appointment.”

  Tamara closed her eyes briefly. She’d had her home number transferred from the SoHo loft to Sawyer’s town house after the wedding. In her turmoil, she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to do something so basic as to call her doctor’s office and update her contact information.

  So Sawyer knew all, and much earlier than she’d anticipated and hoped. So much for keeping a secret. She hadn’t even had time to marshal her forces.

  She looked at Sawyer challengingly. “This pregnancy doesn’t change anything.”

  “Permit me to disagree. It changes everything.”

  “All right, it changes everything,” she retorted. “I’ll never forget that this baby was conceived to fulfill some—” she waved her hand “—deal with my father.”

  They were too close, furious with each other.

  “All those pretty words,” she scoffed, “when you were just deceiv—”

  He cut her off with a hard kiss, reaching deep into her soul.

  She breathed in his musky male scent and sensed the leashed power in him. He caressed her mouth, demanding a response from her that she unwittingly gave.

  When he raised his head, he demanded, “Does this feel real to you?”

  She stared at him.

  He looked uncompromising. “We’re not getting a divorce.”

  She turned away. “I’m not sure the law will let you stop me.”

  He grasped her arm and swung her back toward him. “I’m not concerned with the letter of the law.”

  “Oh?” she asked, bracing herself. “Then with what precisely?”

  His expression remained implacable. “Try to walk away, and I pull the plug on this—” he glanced around them “—and fight you all the way on custody. Stay married and all this stays yours, along with the title, position and social standing that comes with being my wife.”

  She gasped at his bluntness.

  This wasn’t the man who’d made love to her—the man she’d thought she was coming to know. This was the ruthless media baron who’d grown an empire—a man that her father could admire.

  She knew Sawyer could very well follow through on his demands. He paid the rent on her SoHo loft. Moreover, he’d invested in her jewelry business, and had commissioned her most expensive order to date. He’d breathed new life into her company.

  While the law might ultimately prove to be on her side, she didn’t have many resources to fight him.

  “A contested divorce will be long and expensive,” he said, as if reading her mind. “And it’ll be messy. I can tie you up in court on procedural issues alone. And then you’ll still need grounds for a divorce.”

  “Oh?” she queried, her tone sarcastic. “You don’t think your behavior qualifies as unreasonable?”

  He smiled without humor. “I see you’re familiar with the legal grounds for a divorce.”

  “Of course,” she retorted, her eyes snapping. “My father has been divorced three times!”

  “If you insist on going through with a divorce, then the score will be three to one.”

  She refused to respond to the taunt. She was nothing like her father. True, she’d be a divorcée, but that was a far cry from being a serial groom who let business trump love and family every time.

  “The divorce can still happen after the baby is born,” she tried. “With this baby, you can lay claim to having fulfilled the terms of your agreement with my father. Kincaid News will be yours. Why contest a divorce?”

  “It’s simple,” he said, his eyes all golden fire. “I want you back in my house. In my bed.”

  “We don’t always get what we want.”

  Their gazes clashed, the standoff drawing out the tension between them.

  Then unexpectedly, he looked down at the necklace he was still holding in his hand.

  She’d toiled over it these past weeks, wanting it to be perfect. Thinking about him. What a fool she’d been.

  “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “This was always meant for you.”

  Automatically, she stretched out her hand and took the necklace from him.

  “Thank you,” she said flippantly, unthinkingly disguising her hurt. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

  Sawyer’s face tightened, and then he turned and strode to the front door. Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him, the noise reverberating through the loft.

  Her confrontation with Sawyer over, energy ebbed out of her like a receding wave.

  She sat down heavily on the bar-height chair behind her.

  Outside, a car honked. The busy city went on with its life.

  She focused unseeingly on the necklace in her grasp, her hand pressing against the cool stones.

  This was always meant for you.

  She couldn’t let herself believe him. She knew better than to trust him.

  Fourteen

  “Tamara is pregnant.”

  Sawyer’s announcement fell into a lull in his conversation with Hawk and Colin.

  It wasn’t quite the sudden and unexpected announcement it seemed. They had all been sitting in Colin’s majestic penthouse living room for an hour already.

  But after a snifter or two of brandy, even the most tightly buttoned of men couldn’t be faulted for opening up.

  It was a Friday evening, and each of them was still dressed in work attire—though ties had already been loosened or shed.

  “Surprising,” Hawk finally remarked with a surfeit of understatement.

  Colin lifted his tumbler in salute. “Congratulations on your impending fatherhood, Melton.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was a pause as all three of them took a swallow from their drinks, toasting the impending arrival.

  “You’ve bested me, Sawyer,” Colin remarked. “I eloped. You’ve made the wife enceinte.”

  Colin
’s face was inscrutable despite his levity, and Sawyer wondered again at the basis for his friend’s incomplete annulment. It was unlike Colin to leave any loose ends.

  Sawyer leaned back in his leather chair. “Still, you may discover I’ll be following your path to a matrimonial lawyer. If you have a recommendation for a good one, pass it along.”

  At his position beside the mantel, Hawk raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  Colin—seated nearby on a camel-colored leather couch—as usual didn’t give anything away with so much as the slightest change of expression.

  “Surely you don’t mean to divorce Tamara now,” Hawk remarked.

  “No, but she may intend to divorce me.”

  “You mean to let this go?”

  Sawyer grunted. The hell he did. He’d pushed his way back into Tamara’s loft, into her life, and demanded she come back to him, backing up his words with the threat of stripping her business from her and an ugly divorce and custody fight.

  He pushed aside any misgivings at his heavy-handedness. She’d meant to leave him, and who knew when she would have seen fit to inform him of his impending fatherhood?

  Yes, he’d made a mistake by agreeing to Kincaid’s secret condition, but two wrongs didn’t make a right.

  He pushed back the encroaching thought that his actions had smacked of desperation.

  “I can suggest an excellent lawyer who will deliver a protracted fight, if necessary,” Colin said. “On the other hand, I can’t guarantee he’ll actually complete the divorce—though, on second thought, isn’t that what you want?”

  Hawk’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you admitting, Colin, that you purposely didn’t finalize the annulment of your Vegas wedding?”

  “I admit nothing,” Colin replied. “Except, of course, for the end result.”

  Hawk laughed shortly. “You’re an enigma, Easterbridge.”

  Colin merely tipped his head in acknowledgment.

  Sawyer’s mouth twisted with dry humor, but the smile faded when he thought of his own recent dealings with Tamara.

  Were his actions those of a desperate man? After discovering Tamara was pregnant, he’d acted reflexively. He’d tracked her down the next day and given her an ultimatum.