It was odd, Mari reflected—she hadn’t even known until that precise moment how much more she wanted. Much more than what he was offering or would ever offer. It was not until she heard him carefully avoid the word and felt the pain of its absence that she stopped trying to pretend that she had fallen in love with him.
God, could life be more complicated?
Normally Seb could read her expressions, but he struggled to read the look she gave him, and was further thrown by the odd intonation in her soft voice when she spoke.
‘How about we just enjoy ourselves?’ she suggested easily.
He frowned. That was his line, and he felt irrationally irritated to hear her speak that way.
‘Until we know for sure.’
He nodded and struggled to stifle a restless sense of dissatisfaction.
* * *
When she had first walked into the place Mari had been utterly convinced that she would never feel at ease in the dauntingly grand surroundings. The ballroom at Mandeville was straight out of a fairy tale, and the walls held the sort of art collection that a major gallery would envy, not to mention the massive leisure suite with a full-size swimming pool tucked away in the lower ground floor, but three weeks in Mari had adapted to the space and elegance with amazing ease.
It might be unadapting she had the problem with, she realised uneasily.
It was hard not to compare the life of a child growing up here with one growing up in her tiny fourth-floor flat—not that it was about money. Mari knew, none better, that it was love and security that really counted.
But Seb would make a good father. It wasn’t just his genuine desire to be a parent; he had a lot to offer. Seeing him interact with his young half-sister, who obviously adored and respected him, made her realise how far out in her initial assessment of him she’d been.
And being around him so much Mari found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him every day. Sometimes the sheer hopelessness of it all made her seek a quiet corner and weep, although that might be the hormones.
She knew that she was pregnant. She had known for a week now. The little changes—she had no morning nausea, thank God, but she’d gone off coffee completely, and her breasts were painfully sensitive.
She had not confided in Seb, who didn’t even trust a home testing kit. He insisted they have the test done by a Harley Street specialist, totally unnecessary, but she knew better than to try to dissuade him.
He’d been right. It had worked...worked too well really, she mused. It was all so polite. They hadn’t had a single disagreement; there was no sparking off each other; it was all totally vanilla, which on the surface sounded good but in reality felt flat and unreal... Yes, that was the right word, unreal. There were times when she felt they were actors in a play, performing to an unseen script. She could only assume that was what he thought a good relationship should be.
The only time it felt normal was in bed. That was when the stilted politeness went out of the window, and it got raw and real... It was those nights that kept her going!
She was living for sex—that didn’t sound healthy, but it was fun—while it lasted. And that was the point: how long would it last? Then they would be polite or maybe resentful strangers, the only thing holding them together a child.
When the consultant walked back into the office, Seb, who had sat in a chair opposite her trying to channel relaxed, surged to his feet.
‘Congratulations.’
He had his back to her, so Mari couldn’t see his expression, just the tension in his broad shoulders. It was gone when Seb exchanged a manly handshake with the other man and put a hand under Mari’s elbow as she rose, as though she were already burdened by a pregnancy bump.
On the drive back he was unnaturally silent. It wasn’t until they turned into the parkland that he slowed the car and stopped.
‘Are you all right with this?’
She didn’t respond.
‘Aren’t you excited?’ With a frown he searched her face. ‘Happy...sad...angry...?’
Crazily, she welcomed the shade of irritation that had crept into his voice.
‘I already knew,’ she admitted.
He stared at her for a moment before blasting, ‘Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you wouldn’t have believed me!’ she flung back, feeling her energy levels rise as she fed off the static charge in the air that had been so absent in the past weeks.
His head went down, concealing his face, but she could see his shoulders lifting as he took several long deep breaths. When he lifted his chin from his chest his expression was pleasant... Now, there was a word she had never imagined she’d think in the same sentence as Seb Rey-Defoe.
‘You’re right...’ A muscle clenched in his lean cheek before he added, ‘I’m sorry.’
She sucked in a furious breath, the anticlimax sending her spirits into a downward spiral. ‘It was probably my fault.’
Hating the dispirited note in her voice, he bit back a retort. He really didn’t know how long he could keep this up.
The harder he tried, the more distant she seemed to become. He had turned himself inside out trying to show her that living together did not have to be a constant battle. Did she appreciate how hard he was trying?
He’d have believed that she was indifferent to him if it weren’t for the fact that she was so insatiable in bed, and utterly uninhibited. He lived for those nights!
‘So I was thinking we’re officially married now as opposed to being temporarily married.’
As opposed to what we’d have been if I weren’t pregnant, she thought, looking out of the window to hide the hurt.
‘There’s a dinner at the end of the week, if you feel up to it—the royals are guests of honour.’
‘I’m not ill, I’m pregnant.’
‘Of course,’ he said, reminding himself that he needed to show he could be sensitive to hormones...sensitive, but not mention them—not as easy as it sounded. ‘I thought you’d like to officially be my hostess.’
‘Fine.’
* * *
That word had come back to haunt her on several occasions since.
The brisk walk through the park was not as relaxing as she’d intended. It was hard to forget tonight and relax when you couldn’t escape the reminder in the form of the magnificent facade of the house. It wasn’t just geography—the gardens had been designed with the vast Palladian mansion as the focal point. Like disapproving eyes, the rows of windows seemed to follow her.
She brushed away the fanciful notion, laughing at her overactive imagination and frowning at her nerves. Under the calm exterior—actually she was no longer so sure her calm, approaching comatose attitude had fooled anyone—Mari was eaten up by nerves. She felt so out of her depth that she was a stumble away from gibbering terror.
‘Don’t be a wimp.’ Above her stern voice the clock in the bell tower pealed out the half hour. With a deep sigh Mari squared her shoulders. She had timed it like a military operation so that she wouldn’t be dressed too soon and waiting in the wings twiddling her thumbs while she watched the second hand tick. She quickened her pace—she didn’t want getting ready to be a mad dash either.
The massive front door was flung open to allow access for the army of people who were preparing for this ‘simple