‘Charles is just trying to make a point—badly—about him being the king of the castle here. He runs the clinic and I run the veterinary practice and canine therapy centre across the way.’ Esme punched him not so playfully on the arm.
‘Oh, I think you mean Laird, Esme—but, yes, this isn’t about you. Forgive me, Harriet. I’ll take you up and show you to one of the spare rooms. Dear sister, perhaps you’d be so kind as to get Harriet something to eat too?’
He batted his eyelashes at Esme and Harriet knew it would be enough to persuade her to do anything. Especially when he was wearing those glasses and that jumper, which made him look more like the Charles she’d known instead of the suave version she’d met at the conference. She hoped that would keep some of the most recent, more erotic memories at bay so she could stay focused on the reason she’d come all this way.
‘I would love to—but I’m doing it for our guest, not you, Chas.’ Esme fluttered those same long dark eyelashes in response. They were so alike it was probably why they’d fought for as long as Harriet had known them. Deep down it was obvious how much they loved each other, and she wished she’d had a brother or a sister to fight with, love unconditionally, and have to hold after she’d lost everyone else.
‘We keep a few rooms made up just in case of emergencies.’ Charles led her up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. She couldn’t help but wonder which door led to his.
‘Do you get many late-night, uninvited women calling in on you?’ she teased, when he was such a stark contrast to the man who’d literally sent her packing in a previous lifetime.
‘No, I don’t, but sometimes we get patients arriving too late to be admitted to the clinic, so we put them up here for the night.’ Her teasing fell flat with him, but she supposed his defence from her insinuations was understandable when she was accusing him of having loose morals. She knew nothing about him any more.
‘I’m sure it’s most appreciated. As it is by me.’ She had to remember he was doing her a favour by letting her stay when she had no right to be here. Their risky behaviour in London had been her idea and as such she was fully prepared to take on the consequences single-handedly.
‘Bed, bathroom, wardrobe. All the essentials.’ He did a quick tour of the room before turning back to her. ‘Do you need help bringing in your luggage?’
‘I just have an overnight bag in the car, but I can manage that myself. As I said, this was a spur-of-the-moment visit.’
‘Ah, yes. The talk. Is this about what happened in London? I must admit it’s been harder to put out of my mind than I’d imagined too.’ He was moving towards her and Harriet’s heart leapt into her throat at the thought of him kissing her again. She wanted it so much but that’s not what had brought her here.
‘I’m pregnant, Charles.’
His outstretched arms immediately fell limply to his sides. ‘Pardon me?’
She sat down on the edge of the bed, wishing it would swallow her up. ‘That night in London... I’m pregnant.’
Charles collapsed onto the mattress beside her. ‘But—but we took precautions.’
‘The first time,’ she reminded him with as much of a smile as she could muster when she was wound up tighter than a drum, waiting for his reaction.
The second time had happened later, when they had both been naked under the covers and he’d reached for her, keen to do things at a slower pace and drive her wild with want before he had his way with her again. The third time, in the early hours of the morning, when she’d reached for him, knowing they would have to part again.
Conception could have happened at any point during those few passionate hours together. They’d simply been too wrapped up in each other, literally, to care. Well, they would now.
He dropped his head into his hands and she waited for him to process the information.
‘Are you sure? Have you done a test?’
‘Yes, Charles. I wouldn’t have driven all this way otherwise.’ She understood this was a shock to him, her too, but questioning her common sense wasn’t going to make the situation go away.
‘I gave up on plans for a family after we broke up. With very good reason. I don’t have time to spare for babies and all the baggage that comes with them.’ He was on his feet now, pacing the room like a caged animal. Trapped and unsure how to get out.
‘Believe me, becoming a mother wasn’t in my immediate plans either but here we are. I only came here to tell you about the baby because I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t say I wanted anything from you. You had no room in your life for me, I wouldn’t expect it to be different for your child.’ If he thought she’d waited until she was at the peak of her career to seduce him, get pregnant and force him back into her life, he’d really forgotten who she was.
‘That night was supposed to be a bit of fun. One last hurrah before we went our separate ways again. A baby means the complete opposite. We’ll be tied together for ever now. If I’d wanted that I would’ve saved us the heartbreak of splitting up twelve years ago.’
‘Okay. You’ve made your point. I don’t think there’s anything left for us to say.’ She should never have come here. Despite whatever flicker of hope she may have harboured for a different response, Charles had proved he hadn’t changed. He still had the capacity to let her down. She’d managed this far on her own and she was sure she could raise this baby alone too. It was preferable to Charles feigning interest, only to have him bail out later and make their child suffer too.
Harriet was pregnant. It was his fault for not protecting her, for getting carried away, and not thinking about the consequences of his actions. Again.
When she’d turned up on the doorstep tonight he’d hoped it was because she’d wanted a replay of that night in London. Perhaps an extended version that would have taken them into the New Year instead of one night. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to get that time together out of his head, but this was a whole different scenario.
He was waiting, hating this ridiculous sweater more than ever, for Harriet to give him some sort of clue what he was supposed to do next. Instead, she slowly rose from the bed, crossed the floor and walked out the door. It wasn’t the response he’d expected but some space would be good. Esme could keep her entertained and when he’d digested the news they could sit down and plan the next move.
Any second now Esme would come bowling up the stairs and deliver a knock-out punch once she heard what had happened. He was surprised Harriet hadn’t done just that after the way he’d spoken to her. It had been a knee-jerk reaction to finding out he was going to be a father and one he’d apologise for once this sank in. He was angry at himself, not her, when his selfish needs had resulted in this life-changing news. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was complicate her life.
Harriet’s response to his outburst was reminiscent of that awful day of his father’s funeral. She hadn’t slapped him then either, the way most women would have. Silently crying, she’d simply packed her things and walked out. He hadn’t seen or heard from her again until that conference.
At the sound of a car engine running outside, Charles rushed to the window in time to see Harriet driving away. It was déjà vu, except he couldn’t claim his actions, or lack of them now, had been in any way for her benefit.
‘Charles, what the hell have you done?’ Esme arrived, as he’d known she would, temper flaring, fists balling, ready for a fight.
‘Not now.’
‘You must have said something to make her leave like that. Are you really just going to stand here and watch her go? Again?’ That was the ultimate question. What they were going to do about the baby, how he felt about Harriet and what they did next were incidental