Читать книгу One Night, Two Consequences - Joss Wood - Страница 9

THE BELLEAIRE WINE estate was dominated by a triple storey blue stone mansion—and how could it not be? Remy thought, pulling to the side of the broad, Spanish-oak-tree-lined driveway so that she could spend a minute admiring the house.

It had turrets and bay windows galore, balconies and buttresses, and was three storeys of pure whimsy. It looked like a grand old lady who’d had too many glasses of wine at suppertime and had decided to kick up her heels and dance a jig. It was loud and ostentatious and a tad over the top—and she absolutely loved it.

Her type of mansion, Remy thought.

The entrance to the hotel was just behind a massive square fountain, and there were discreet signs directing visitors to the art gallery, the craft shop, the potters’ studio. In the other direction was the tasting room, and if she looked to the land there were rows of vines as far as the eye could see, heavy with grapes. It was late summer and autumn was on its way. Some of the trees were starting to turn and she knew that the harvest was fast approaching.

Remy, as directed by Ginny, took the path to the gallery and walked through the luscious gardens to her destination. God, it was pretty. How lucky were Ginny and Eli to own this, to be part of this? Remy looked around. The place was elegant, rich, tasteful … and Remy was still surprised that Ginny had invited her to see Belleaire up close and to join her and Eli for supper that night.

Remy felt heat in her cheekbones, still felt humiliated and foolish. After her mortifying display in the diner she’d shrugged off Ginny’s company in the hotel reception area and stumbled up to her room, deathly tired and intensely humiliated, and had instantly dropped to her knees in front of the toilet.

She hadn’t really left that bathroom since. God knew how she was going to manage eating with Eli and Ginny … She was still living on crackers, apples and cheese—none of which she could keep down. Dinner would be a nightmare. Right now, her best plan would be to tell them she was pregnant and that she’d just have a soft drink with them—she couldn’t even drink wine on a wine estate, for Pete’s sake!—and leave early.

Passing the art gallery, she saw another building with a sign stating that it was the Blue View Bistro and she grinned. Belleaire, Bellevue, Blue View … that worked, she thought. She pulled open the door and stepped into the large, mostly empty space.

On the wall closest to her was an artist’s impression of what the restaurant would look like and Remy approved of the bright colours, fun artwork and welcoming vibe. There would be vintage mismatched chairs and tables, modern light fittings, and couches and chairs grouped in amongst the tables. It would be a fantastic mix of old and new … Damn, she wished that she’d be able to see it when it was done.

‘Remy, you made it!’

Remy looked towards the bright voice and saw Ginny coming out from an area that was to be the bar. Surprising her, Ginny kissed both her cheeks before looking up into her face.

‘How are you feeling? Better? I hope so. Come into the bar area. My cousin and brother are having an argument about bar stools. You’re still looking very pale and washed out.’

Great. Good to know. ‘Um …’

‘What was it? Stomach flu?’ Ginny guided her over to the door to the bar and yanked it open.

Well, here goes, Remy thought, stepping into a room dominated by a massive bar. She’d consider it a practice round for when she told her child’s sexy father. And, dear Lord, he’d been so sexy …

Focus, Remy.

‘Uh, no. I’m pregnant, and that was my very first bout of morning sickness—henceforth to be known as all-day sickness.’ She kept her eyes firmly on Ginny’s face. ‘Actually, I came to tell you that I can’t do supper. I can’t keep much down. The reason I’m in Bellevue is to tell the father that I’m pregnant with his baby.’

‘Remy?’

It was the voice from her dreams—the one she still heard in her ear, against her skin. The one she heard in the memories she relived over and over again every night. That deep rumble, capable of sending heat to her womb, prickling her skin.

‘Bo?’

He was dressed in battered jeans and an open-necked white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal raised veins on those tanned forearms. He was here—all six-foot-something of pure, pissed off male.

He got up slowly and she saw that his eyes were slate-grey and hard.

‘What did you just say?’

What had she just said? She was so flabbergasted by his presence that she couldn’t remember … Oh, hell. Pregnant. His baby.

Oh, heavens, why did these things keep happening to her?

Remy bit her bottom lip and folded her arms across her chest, thinking about damage control. ‘Um … obviously I didn’t mean to tell you like that …’

‘You’re pregnant?’ Bo shouted, and she winced as his words bounced off the walls.

‘Yes.’

Was it hot in here? she wondered as the floor rose and fell. Along with heat there was suddenly no air. Instinctively she reached out her hand and grabbed the edge of the bar to keep from falling over. She saw dots behind her eyes, felt the blackness coming closer.

The last thing she heard before crumpling to the floor was Eli’s amused comment. ‘Well, now, isn’t this interesting?’

When she came to she was on the floor, her back against a solid male chest and two strong arms criss-crossed over her chest. She sat within the V of two legs, long thighs pressing against her own. She felt warm and secure and so very, very tired. Ginny was on her haunches in front of her and had a damp linen napkin in her hand, which she lifted to run across her forehead.

‘Hey, you’re back,’ Ginny said quietly, her expression concerned.

‘What happened?’ Remy asked weakly.

Eli dropped to her level, rested his arm on his bent knee and handed her a quirky smile. ‘Well, sunshine, you kind of announced that you were pregnant with Bo’s baby and then you dropped like a stone.’

‘When did you last eat? Are you getting enough rest? Vitamins?’ Ginny demanded.

Remy pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Bo …?’

She felt those strong arms tense before she heard his voice in her ear. ‘Still here.’

Thank God. No, that wasn’t right … She shouldn’t like being in his arms. Shouldn’t feel as if she was finally where she was meant to be.

Get a grip, Draycott!

He wasn’t her man … this wasn’t her place …

‘Are you still feeling like you’re going to faint?’ he demanded, moving his hands to hold her hips.

She winced at the irritation in his voice. Well, it wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose. She touched her forehead and shook her head. ‘No. I think I’m fine.’

His fingers dug into her skin. ‘Be sure. I don’t want to have to catch you again.’

Remy angled her head so that she could look at him. His mouth was drawn into a thin line and his jaw was rock-hard with tension. ‘You caught me?’

‘The man can move when he has incentive to do so,’ Eli said in an amused drawl.

‘Shut up, Elijah,’ Bo snapped, and he scooted backwards and stood up.

Reaching for Remy’s hands, he pulled her up into a standing position and kept a hand on her elbow—she supposed, to keep her from falling. Which was at odds with the furious expression on his face, which suggested that he’d like to boot her off the nearest cliff.