Читать книгу Tall, Dark... Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 22

HE had completely forgotten, Nick realised self-disgustedly, the fourth reason that women at least sometimes fainted.

Sally, when she’d been expecting Luke, had fainted several times during the early months of her pregnancy. She had woken up feeling sick every morning for the first three months, too—usually making a miraculous recovery once she had actually been sick, and so able to enjoy the rest of the day.

Hebe Johnson, Nick was pretty sure, was pregnant with his baby.

‘I assumed you were on the Pill, for God’s sake!’ he muttered impatiently. But assumption, he knew, was the mother of all—

‘What?’ Hebe returned vaguely, appearing to be completely dazed, her face once again deathly pale, her eyes huge luminous golden globes.

‘Look, let’s get out of this bathroom, at least,’ he suggested impatiently, sure that it couldn’t be helping her nausea to still be in the room where she had actually been sick. Taking a firm hold of her arm, he led her through to his bedroom when she made no effort to move herself. He sat her firmly down in the bedroom chair. ‘Now,’ he muttered sharply. ‘I asked if you’re on the Pill?’

She blinked up at him, really looking as if she were in shock this time. ‘Why would I be?’ she finally answered distractedly.

‘For God’s sake, pull yourself together, Hebe,’ he snapped, and he moved away impatiently, sure that his looming over her couldn’t be helping the situation.

Although if she really was pregnant he couldn’t see that there was any help for either of them!

‘It’s quite simple, Hebe. Were you, or were you not using any contraception when we went to bed together six weeks ago?’ He bit the words out as succinctly as he could in the circumstances, knowing that one of them, at least, had to try and make sense of all this.

Even if he didn’t feel very sensible!

He had needed to be with someone that night six weeks ago—had needed to lose himself in her, to blot out the painful memories and then move on. But if Hebe really was pregnant from that night then moving on wasn’t an option. For either of them…

Hebe drew in a deep breath, at last managing to fight down the panic his announcement had caused. Of course she wasn’t pregnant. No matter what people said, all those dire warnings parents gave to pubescent offspring about it ‘only taking once’, she could not be pregnant from that single night she had spent in Nick’s arms.

But it hadn’t just been ‘once’, a little voice inside her head reminded her. She and Nick had made love three times that night. Not once.

She was not pregnant!

It was ridiculous to even suggest that she was.

She straightened in the chair, determined to take some control of this situation. ‘No, I wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean—’

‘Why weren’t you?’ Nick rounded on her impatiently. ‘You’re what? Twenty-five, twenty-six years old—?’

‘Twenty-six,’ she confirmed, her own impatience rising to meet his as she glared at him. ‘But I’m not in a relationship. And I certainly don’t take contraceptive pills just on the off-chance I might meet a man I want to go to bed with!’

‘But that’s exactly what you did!’ he came back exasperatedly.

She paled even more. ‘But it wasn’t planned—’

‘Wasn’t it?’ he challenged coldly. ‘I seem to remember it was you who bumped into me that evening…’

Hebe became very still, her breathing shallow as she stared at him, her blood seeming to have turned to ice in her veins. ‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’ she prompted slowly.

He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t be the first woman to set this sort of trap for a man. What were you hoping for, Hebe? That I would pay you off—’

‘How dare you?’ she finally managed to gasp disbelievingly.

He couldn’t really think—believe—He did, she acknowledged dazedly as she saw the glittering anger in his eyes.

‘Give it up, Hebe,’ he bit out disgustedly. ‘The outraged virgin act doesn’t suit you at all!’

No, she hadn’t been a virgin when they went to bed together. She had had one previous relationship before Nick. But that had been five years ago, with a fellow student at university and the experience had not been repeated until that impetuous night with Nick. Nor since, either!

She really had been totally besotted with him, had found his attention flattering, his obvious desire for her to spend the night with him too tempting to resist.

She looked at him coldly. ‘Why are you turning all this round on me? I didn’t notice you using any protection that night either!’ she challenged.

He eyed her scornfully. He knew she had a point, but he was in no mood to admit that right now. ‘Because no one told me I needed to!’

‘Because I didn’t even think about getting pregnant!’ she snapped, standing up impatiently. ‘And I’m not! This conversation is acedemic,’ she dismissed. ‘I’m not pregnant. I’ve obviously just eaten something that’s disagreed with me—’

‘You haven’t eaten anything at all since yesterday,’ Nick reminded her impatiently.

Well, that was true. But it still didn’t mean—She could not be pregnant!

‘There’s one quick and easy way to settle all this,’ Nick decided brusquely, marching out of the bedroom.

Hebe quickly followed him, wondering what he was going to do. He was in the kitchen, putting his jacket back on when she got found him. ‘Where are you going?’ She frowned her confusion; she was the one who was leaving, not him!

He gave her a scathing glance. ‘To a chemist. To buy a pregnancy test. I don’t see any point in continuing our present conversation until we know one way or the other whether you actually are pregnant,’ he added grimly, picking up what appeared to be his car keys.

Hebe gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I won’t be here when you get back.’

Nick halted in the doorway, his face set into grimly determined lines as he turned back to her. ‘You had damn well better be,’ he warned angrily.

Hebe’s chin rose challengingly. ‘Aren’t you afraid of what else I might “pry” into while you’re gone?’ she taunted.

Nick gave a humourless smile. ‘Touch anything and I promise you you’ll regret it,’ he warned softly.

She believed him!

She believed his threat about her leaving too. But that didn’t stop her, as soon as she knew he had definitely gone, from quietly letting herself out of the apartment and making her way back downstairs, pausing only long enough to pick up her jacket and bag from the staffroom before leaving the gallery.

Nick really could just go ahead and sack her if he liked!

He might be used to issuing orders and expecting them to be obeyed, but after his insults she had no intention of obeying anyone who spoke to her in that autocratic tone.

And she refused even to think about his assertion that she was pregnant. Of course she wasn’t. The whole idea was ridiculous.

Besides, she had some telephone calls she needed to make before the close of business for the day—telephone calls she couldn’t make from Nick’s apartment.

She had a lot of friends from university working in the art world who, like her, had decided to work in galleries or agencies instead of painting professionally themselves. One of them, she was sure, would give her some sort of lead on Andrew Southern’s agent.

She was determined to track the artist down, no matter how impossible Nick seemed to think it was. Nothing was impossible if you had the right motivation. And she most certainly had that!

Where was her mother now?

Living in England somewhere? With a husband and possibly other children?

Maybe. Hebe had no intention of disrupting her life, but now that she had seen that portrait she just needed to know.

Was Andrew Southern her father?

Why, if he had loved her mother, hadn’t he married her when he knew she was expecting his child? If Hebe was his child…!

Why had she, Hebe, been given up for adoption?

None of those things had been of interest to her before she saw that portrait—and, whether he realised it or not, she had Nick Cavendish to thank for that!

It took half a dozen telephone calls once she got home to even track down Andrew Southern’s agent, and then a call to the agency only resulted in the receptionist telling her that she could make an appointment to speak to Mr Gillespie, and he would be happy to pass along any commission she might care to make, but she very much doubted he would be able to help Hebe in regard to meeting or talking to Andrew Southern personally.

Hebe made an appointment for the following day, anyway. If nothing else she could give the agent a letter, possibly a photograph of herself, to forward on to the reclusive artist. If her mother had meant anything to Andrew Southern at all—and that portrait seemed to say that she had—then the photograph of Hebe alone would surely be enough to pique his interest!

It was what she was hoping for, at least…

Nick banged forcefully on the apartment door, his anger not having diminished in the least on the drive over here after discovering that Hebe had indeed gone from his own apartment before he’d returned.

What did she think she was playing at?

He had told her to stay put.

She hadn’t.

He had told her they would talk further when he got back.

She hadn’t been there to talk to.

And he was furious. With her. With himself. With the fact that he had become more and more convinced since leaving her earlier that she was pregnant.

If Hebe was to be believed about having had no other relationships in her life—and her anger at the suggestion had seemed fairly convincing—then he was going to have baby…

A little girl who would look like Hebe. Or a little boy who looked like him. And Luke…

He banged on the door again, his fist raised a third time when the it suddenly opened. Hebe eyed him coldly from just inside her apartment.

‘There’s no need to break the door down, Nick,’ she snapped. ‘I was just eating a sandwich when I heard your—knock,’ she drawled pointedly.

He drew in an impatient breath. ‘What sort of sandwich?’ he demanded to know. ‘You do realise that there are certain things you can’t eat when you’re pregnant?’ he added impatiently as he walked past her into the apartment, to look around him curiously.

The apartment took up the second floor of one of the old Victorian buildings London was so famous for, with huge bay windows that looked out on a tree-lined avenue.

The sitting room was bright and sunny, the walls painted yellow, multicoloured scatter rugs on the polished wood floor, the brown sofa and chairs festooned with an assortment of cushions in autumn colours.

He turned to look at Hebe. She certainly looked a lot better than she had when he’d left her earlier. The colour was back in her cheeks, the sparkle—anger—was back in those gold-coloured eyes. She was looking very slim too, in the faded denims and fitted black tee shirt she had changed into since returning home.

Well, the slimness was soon going to change, if his assumption proved correct!

Although he had a feeling Hebe was going to be one of those women who put hardly any weight on while pregnant, and that despite the growing baby she would retain that air of delicacy that so appealed to him.

He took a crushed paper bag out of his jacket pocket. ‘For you,’ he told her dryly.

Hebe made no effort to take the bag from him, and in fact put both her hands behind her back instead. She knew exactly what was in the bag, and had no intention of satisfying his curiosity. ‘I don’t remember inviting you inside,’ she said irritably.

‘You didn’t,’ he confirmed, strolling over to where her plate, with its half-eaten sandwich, still sat on the table. He lifted one corner of the bread to look at the filling. ‘Cheese.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘You’ll need to keep up your calcium intake.’

‘Nick—’

‘Hebe?’ he came back challengingly.

‘Don’t you think you’ve taken this far enough?’ She sighed wearily, sitting down on the chair at the table. ‘Insulted me enough? I told you—I was faint and dizzy from hunger earlier, and for no other reason,’she said firmly.

He put the bag down on the table next to her sandwich. ‘We’ll know in a few minutes, won’t we?’ he said grimly. ‘You can do this test any time of the day and get a correct result,’ he assured her determinedly.

‘A negative one, you mean?’ She nodded.

‘Hebe.’ Nick moved down on his haunches beside the chair. ‘You weren’t on the Pill. I didn’t use any precautions, either. Did you go to the doctor for a morning-after pill?’

‘Certainly not!’ She was horrified at the suggestion. ‘No, I thought not,’ he accepted flatly. ‘Have you had a period since we were together?’

Her cheeks suffused with embarrassed colour. ‘Now, look—’

‘Have you?’ he persisted.

Had she? Her periods had never been particularly regular, anyway—sporadic at best—so she tended not to take too much notice of dates, just dealing with them when they arrived. But, no, she didn’t think she had—

She grabbed the bag containing the pregnancy test, got up and strode determinedly from the room. She would do his test, prove to Nick once and for all that she was not pregnant, and then hopefully he would just go away and leave her alone.

Blue.

The little line in the middle of the window was blue. Blue for positive.

Hebe sat on the side of the bath, her head bent down between her knees as she breathed in short, controlling gasps, trying not to faint again.

She hadn’t believed the result the first time, had been sure it was faulty, so had taken out the second tube in the double pack—trust Nick to want to make doubly sure!—and done it again.

That one had a positive blue line through the middle of it too.

She was definitely, positively pregnant.

With Nick Cavendish’s baby.

A baby he certainly didn’t want.

Did she?

She had never given much thought to having a baby of her own. Or, at least, if she had, it had been as part of and a progression of a loving marriage.

Not the result of a single night spent in Nick Cavendish’s arms!

Now what did she do?

She was pregnant. She had the spark of a tiny new life growing inside her. Her very own son or daughter. But it wasn’t just hers. It was Nick’s son or daughter, too!

And therein lay the problem. It was obvious from what Nick had said earlier that he believed she had deliberately got herself pregnant in order to trap him in some way.

What—?

‘Hebe? Are you okay?’ A soft knock on the bathroom door accompanied Nick’s pressing query.

She straightened and looked apprehensively at the door, wondering how she was supposed to go out there and tell Nick that she was expecting his baby after all.

She could lie, of course. That was always an option. She could tell him that the result was negative—

But he wouldn’t believe her, and would no doubt insist on being present when he made her do yet another test!

Because he knew, somehow he already knew, that she was pregnant.

‘Hebe?’ he prompted more urgently.

She drew in a deep breath, chewing her top lip before answering him. ‘Go away,’ she finally managed to groan.

There was silence on the other side of the door for several seconds, and then Nick rattled the door handle impatiently. ‘Open the door, Hebe,’ he ordered steadily.

‘I said go away!’ she muttered.

‘No way,’ he answered determinedly. ‘Either you open the damned door, Hebe, or you stand back out of the way while I kick it down,’ he instructed evenly.

He was going to kick the bathroom door down? She moved out of the way, just in case.

‘That’s harassment, Nick,’ she told him frowningly.

‘Your choice.’ The shrug could be heard in his voice.

‘I’m pregnant—okay!’ she shouted through the locked door. ‘You were right all the time and I was wrong. Because I’m pregnant!’ Her voice broke slightly as saying the words brought alive the enormity of what was happening to her.

No matter what Nick might choose to think, she was not going to ask him for help. Accepting any assistance from him after the things he had implied earlier was not an option. Although she had no idea how she was going to manage to support herself and the baby, either. Even if Nick let her keep her job at the gallery, she would only be able to work until the seventh month or so. Her parents would want to help, she felt sure. But was it fair to ask them? After all, they had adopted her and given her so much—how could she now ask them to help her in single-motherhood? That would just—

She didn’t have any time for further thought or worry as the bathroom door crashed back on its hinges, the lock having splintered away from the frame as Nick kicked it.

She stared up at him dazedly as he stood in the doorway. ‘You actually broke the door down,’ she murmured incredulously as she stood up to examine the damage.

He shrugged, his expression grim. ‘I told you that I would if you didn’t unlock it.’

Yes, but—He couldn’t just go around breaking up her apartment! What was her flatmate Gina going to say, when she came home from work later and saw the damage Nick had done to the door?

‘You had no right to do that.’ She gasped her indignation. ‘No need—’

‘I had every need, damn it,’ he grated harshly. ‘You wouldn’t open the door.’ He shrugged unapologetically. ‘I couldn’t tell what you were doing in here.’

She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘It’s a bathroom, Nick; what could I possibly have been doing?’

‘I had no way of knowing, did I? With that door between us,’ he came back hardly. ‘So a word of warning, Hebe,’ he added tautly. ‘Don’t ever put a locked door between us again!’

Hebe just continued to stare at him. Had the whole world gone mad? Her world, at least!

Hebe didn’t want to listen to him any more. She couldn’t think with him glaring at her like that. His eyes were no longer filled with the shadowy pain of the past but full of accusation now instead. And that accusation was directed at her. Because he believed she had deliberately set out to get pregnant that night they’d spent together!

She didn’t even look at him as she brushed past him to go back into the sitting room. It all looked so normal, exactly as she had left it this morning, with the bright autumn colours that she and Gina had had so much fun decorating with, her pot plants in the window, the early-evening sun shining through the almost floor to ceiling windows.

Only she had changed then, for she wasn’t the same person who had left the apartment early this morning to go to work as usual.

She was pregnant. With Nick Cavendish’s child. And that meant her life would never be back to what she thought of as normal ever again.

‘Well?’ She turned back to him challengingly. ‘When are you going to start accusing me again of being a gold-digger? Of deliberately getting myself pregnant so that I can get my hands on all that lovely Cavendish money? Because you do think that’s what I’ve done, don’t you, Nick?’ she scorned disgustedly.

Nick continued to look at her through narrowed lids. Yes, as he had driven to the chemist, bought the pregnancy test and driven back to his apartment only to find her gone, that was exactly what he had thought Hebe had done.

And he still did. Nothing had changed his belief about that.

It just didn’t matter any more. No, damn it, it mattered—but not to the ultimate outcome. Because Hebe was having his baby. His baby. And, whatever she might have thought would result from this, this child was going to be his as well as hers.

‘Don’t bother to answer that,’ she dismissed disgustedly. ‘I know that’s what you think. Well, do you want to know what I think?’ Her eyes flashed like molten gold.

Nick felt some of his own anger draining out of him as he took in all her outraged indignation. She really was a beautiful young woman. A woman who would be even more beautiful as her pregnancy developed. Nick knew from when Sally had been expecting Luke that pregnant women seemed to take on a beauty all their own, glowing from the inside rather than out.

A glowingly pregnant Hebe was going to be a sight to behold.

‘Yes,’ he answered briskly, moving to one of the armchairs to sit down and look up at her. ‘I would be very interested to hear what you think.’

‘I’ll bet!’ Hebe scorned. ‘You don’t seem to have taken too much notice of what I’ve had to say so far!’ She looked pointedly at the shattered bathroom door.

Couldn’t she see that was because he had been in shock himself? Because he couldn’t believe—hadn’t dared to hope—despite what he had said to the contrary, that Hebe really could be pregnant with their child.

He had loved being a father to Luke, and had been devastated when his son had died so tragically, so suddenly. He had felt totally bereft. Now, it seemed, he was to be given a second chance at fatherhood. With Hebe. He had never thought about having another child after Luke, but now the opportunity had presented itself he found he wanted this baby more than anything else in the world.

It was just going to take a little getting used to…

‘I’m listening now, Hebe,’ he assured her gruffly.

She would just bet he was. Waiting to hear her make demands, no doubt. To try and blackmail him out of some of the Cavendish fortune!

Well he was going to be disappointed.

She drew in a deep breath. ‘This is my baby, Nick—’

‘And mine,’ he put in quietly.

‘But you can’t be sure of that, can you?’ she taunted, pacing the room restlessly as she looked at him. ‘How do you know, how can you be sure, I haven’t been with another man in the last six weeks?’ she challenged.

He didn’t move, but a nerve began to pulse just below his jaw. ‘Have you?’

‘No, I haven’t, damn you!’ she denied furiously. ‘But there’s no way you can be sure—absolutely sure—is there?’ she taunted.

He continued to look at her for several long, breathless seconds, and then he nodded. ‘A doctor will be able to confirm just how pregnant you are.’

Hebe looked at him, frowning, but his expression was so inscrutable it was impossible to read any emotion behind those blue eyes. ‘And you will accept that?’

His eyes narrowed on her probingly. ‘If you insist we can have tests done too,’ he finally murmured softly.

‘If I insist…?’ she prompted suspiciously.

‘Hebe, once this baby is established as mine, that’s exactly what it will be!’ he grated harshly.

She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘Are you saying you would take this baby away from me?’

‘I’m not saying that at all.’ He shrugged. ‘Although, obviously that will ultimately be your decision.’

‘I don’t understand you!’ she muttered emotionally.

‘It’s quite simple, Hebe. If you want to get your hands on “all that lovely Cavendish money” then you will also have to accept that I come along with it,’ he bit out decisively.

Hebe stopped her pacing to stare at him incredulously. ‘But I don’t want your money,’ she finally burst out forcefully. ‘I’m not interested in it. Or you!’

‘Methinks you doth protest too much,’ he taunted.

‘I’m not protesting at all,’ she snapped, stung by his mockery. ‘I’m stating a fact.’

‘A fact, Hebe, the bottom line, is I now have a responsibility to you and the baby,’ he shrugged.

A responsibility? Was that what she had become?

After years of independence, of paying her own way, was that was she was going to be reduced to?

No, she wouldn’t become that! No matter how difficult going it alone was going to be, she wouldn’t become that…

She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I don’t need or want your help, thank you,’ she told him stiffly.

‘Haven’t you understood yet, Hebe?’ Nick ground out fiercely. ‘I’m not asking, I’m telling you how it’s going to be!’

Hebe raised her head to look at him numbly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Simply that I am going to marry you, Hebe,’ he told her grimly. ‘Just as quickly as the arrangements can be made!’

Nick was going to marry her?

He couldn’t be serious!