Gypsy

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘I hope so.’ She looked at him contemptuously. ‘Now, I think I’ll leave you to enjoy your liquid dinner while I have mine sent up to my room!’

  ‘Shay!’

  She turned to look at him, her breasts rising and falling as she tried to calm her breathing. ‘Yes?’ she answered coldly.

  ‘Do you still want to go shopping tomorrow?’ he asked huskily.

  ‘I’ll get Jeffrey to drive me in.’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ he grated.

  She gave a shrug, turning her back on him. ‘Whatever you want.’

  * * *

  WHATEVER HE WANTED! He wanted her, all of her, and she damn well knew it.

  His ‘liquid dinner’ had left him with a mammoth headache, and the last thing he felt like doing was talking, but he would have preferred that to Shay’s silence as they drove up to London together the next day. It was far from being a companionable silence, only two words exchanged between them from the time Shay had joined him at the breakfast table; and they both knew she didn’t wish him a ‘good morning’! If those words had been daggers they would have been stuck between his shoulder blades!

  ‘Where do you want to go first?’ He had to break the silence, could feel the tension down his spine. Not that Shay looked tense, very beautiful in a bright red dress that proudly displayed her pregnant state. God, how he wished it were his child nestled in her body! But it would never be, even if she did finally give in to his marriage demands. Which he doubted.

  ‘I really don’t mind,’ she uttered in a bored voice.

  The shopping was carried out with none of the spontaneity of that Christmas night so many years ago, when Shay had seemed to glow brighter than any of the lights around them. He had been entranced by her that night, but he had in no way guessed at the impact she was to have on his life.

  She chose her gifts for the family with care, some golf clubs for the addicted Neil, an antique clock for collector Matthew, a set of handcarved pipes for her grandfather, several smaller gifts for members of the staff. He hadn’t expected her to buy anything for him, although that hadn’t stopped his commission several weeks ago of an exquisite necklace designed especially for her; he hoped she would understand the message it conveyed.

  Shopping for the baby turned out to be more fun than he had anticipated, getting totally caught up in the toys and furniture necessary for the nursery once the shop assistant had assumed he was Shay’s husband.

  ‘Lyon, I won’t let you do this,’ she protested as the assistant went to ask the manager if the white and gold furniture Lyon had picked out for the nursery at Falconer House could be delivered straight away. ‘I have the nursery arranged at my own house, I don’t need this other furniture,’ she muttered.

  ‘You’ll need it for when you stay at the house,’ Lyon dismissed.

  ‘The baby and I will not be staying at the house.’ She looked at him coldly.

  His mouth tightened. ‘With you or without you, Shay, the baby will occasionally visit with us.’

  Her gaze continued to challenge him, but she was finally the one to look away. ‘As you don’t seem to need me here, I think I’ll go into the shop across the road,’ she snapped resentfully.

  ‘I don’t want you going off alone.’ Lyon grasped her arm.

  Her eyes shot purple flames at him. ‘I am merely going into the shop over the road, not running amok through London!’

  ‘I’ll only be a minute longer here—’

  ‘Lyon,’ she warned softly. ‘If you don’t let me go right now—’

  ‘You’ll start screaming,’ he grimaced, still holding on to her.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll have the assistant call the police to stop you harassing me.’

  ‘She wouldn’t believe that,’ he scorned. ‘Not since we’ve obviously been shopping together.’

  ‘I know that,’ Shay nodded. ‘But I could cause quite a scene, why not save yourself the embarrassment?’

  His mouth twisted before he began to smile, glancing out of the shop window to the shops opposite.

  ‘I promise to look both ways before crossing the road,’ Shay mocked.

  His humour faded. ‘Make sure that you do.’ He released her, turning back to the assistant as she returned from the manager’s office, beaming as she told him that of course the furniture could be delivered today.

  Shay had known what the answer would be; when had anyone dared to refuse Lyon Falconer anything he wanted! The resentment he incited wasn’t conducive to shopping for his Christmas present, but once she had seen the painting she couldn’t resist buying it.

  ‘Didn’t you buy anything?’ Lyon met up with her on the pavement outside.

  ‘Does it look as if I did?’ she derided her empty hands, having the painting delivered to the house tomorrow while Lyon was at work. ‘I think I’d like to go back to my house for lunch now, and I’m sure you should be getting to work.’

  ‘I’d rather stay and have lunch with you,’ he drawled.

  ‘You weren’t invited,’ Shay said bluntly.

  He laughed softly. ‘You’re consistent, anyway.’

  Mrs Devon was at the house keeping it clean and warm in Shay’s absence, very pleased to see Shay, providing her with an appetising lunch before the younger woman went up to her bedroom to rest.

  Shay woke up with a feeling of foreboding, rather as if she had had a bad dream. But she was sure she hadn’t dreamt, had slept too deeply for that. She forced the blanket of sleep from her, wanting the oppression to go away too, turning into welcoming arms as cool lips blocked out those feelings to ignite desire.

  ‘Oh, Gypsy!’ he gasped, his lips feverish in her hair. ‘Gypsy, I want you so damned much!’

  ‘Ricky?’ It had to be he who called her Gypsy, and yet it couldn’t be, Ricky was dead!

  ‘Do you have to keep throwing his name in my face?’ It was Lyon who pushed away from her, standing up to glare down at her with golden eyes. ‘Every time I touch you it’s his name I hear on your lips!’

  Shay was completely awake now, blinking up at him owlishly. ‘How long have I been asleep?’ she frowned dazedly.

  ‘It’s almost six—’

  ‘Four hours? But I never sleep for four hours!’ She shook her head. ‘I—’ She gasped as a pain shot through her back, paling as she realised it wasn’t the first pain she had known in quite this peculiar way, that it was these pains that had caused the feelings of oppression even while she slept. ‘Lyon!’ Her hand came out desperately, Lyon immediately taking it into his own.

  ‘What is it?’ he came down on his knees beside the bed, his expression anxious at her obvious discomfort. ‘Shay, I didn’t mean to hurt you just now. I—’

  ‘It wasn’t you.’ She shook her head.

  ‘The shopping was too much for you. I knew it would be. You—’

  ‘Lyon, it wasn’t that either.’ She swung her legs to the floor. ‘I think it’s the baby.’

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’ One of his hands moved protectively to the swell of her body, coming to rest over the nightgown she wore. ‘It hasn’t stopped moving?’

  She gave a rueful smile. ‘The opposite, I think.’ She gasped as another griping pain washed over her in a wave, making her feel nauseous.

  ‘The op—! Shay, you can’t be in labour, it’s too soon,’ he protested.

  ‘Tell that to the baby!’ She knew it was too soon, didn’t need him to remind her of that fact, her fears all for her baby right now.

  ‘Shall I ask the doctor to come here, or drive you straight to the hospital?’ Lyon asked worriedly. ‘What—’

  Shay stared at him in amazement; Lyon Falconer in a complete panic?

  CHAPTER NINE

  DURING the next half an hour Lyon proved just how much of a panic he could get into!

  It took him two dials to get the right telephone number for Peter Dunbar, swearing audibly when, after describing her contractions and the timing of them, the other man told him he thought it would be bes
t if he met them at the hospital. Lyon helped her down the stairs as if she were a piece of delicate porcelain, snapping at Mrs Devon as she came out of the kitchen to ask if there were anything wrong, literally shouting at the midwife who met them at the hospital and assured them it was probably just a false alarm.

  The doctor on duty, who examined her just as casually, assured her that it wasn’t, that she was well into the first stage of labour, the injection they gave her to stop the contractions doing nothing at all, as they continued to come with sickening regularity.

  Besides the fact that Shay was sure it was too early for the baby to be born without complications, she was also aware that having Lyon here with her was far from ideal too. Her grandfather, who was coming over for Christmas and had intended staying on for the baby’s birth, was supposed to be the one at her side now, not Lyon!

  Things became a little calmer once Peter Dunbar arrived, examining her quickly. ‘Well, young lady,’ he straightened, ‘this little one seems to be in a hurry to be born.’ He took off his mask, smiling reassuringly.

  ‘It can’t be born yet,’ Lyon told him frantically. ‘It’s too soon. Can’t you stop it?’

  The other man shook his head, obviously a little disconcerted to have Lyon there at all. And considering their last meeting, Shay couldn’t altogether blame him! ‘We’ve tried to do that, it isn’t working. No, I’m afraid the only thing to do now is let it be born. Five weeks premature isn’t so bad, and the baby seems a good size—’

  ‘There you go again with the “seems”,’ Lyon snapped. ‘What if it isn’t a good size?’

  ‘We have an excellent staff here especially trained to deal with premature babies that—’

  ‘What if he’s too small? Can’t you see how much Shay wants this baby?’

  ‘I’m fully conversant with Mrs Falconer’s feelings concerning her unborn child,’ Peter Dunbar told him coldly. ‘Can’t you see how you’re upsetting her?’ he added censoriously.

  Lyon flushed uncomfortably, not a man to appreciate having his faults pointed out to him.

  Shay looked at the doctor. ‘Do you really think it will be all right?’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll do everything that we can. Now I’m going to ask the midwife to come back in and get you ready. Mr Falconer?’

  ‘I’m staying with Shay,’ Lyon told him flatly.

  ‘You can come back as soon as Mrs Falconer has been prepared for the birth.’ Peter Dunbar had obviously given up arguing with a man whose strength of will far outweighed his own.

  ‘Please, Lyon,’ Shay encouraged as he seemed about to argue once again. ‘You can call Matthew and tell him what’s going on.’

  ‘I’m staying with you during the birth,’ he insisted stubbornly.

  She had already guessed that, and while she would rather have shared this moment with any other man but Lyon, she didn’t think anyone here had the power to stop him doing exactly what he wanted to do. ‘Could you telephone Grandy too?’ she requested huskily. ‘He’ll want to know.’

  ‘Your brother-in-law is a very determined man,’ Peter Dunbar drawled once Lyon had gone to make the telephone calls. ‘I got the feeling that if you had said no to him staying with you he would have fought off anyone who tried to prevent him.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed ruefully. ‘Peter, I—I want—’

  ‘I’m sure everything is going to be fine, Shay,’ he said softly. ‘And this baby is going to be born before the night is over too, if I’m not mistaken,’ he teased. ‘Once you’ve been prepared for labour, the midwife is going to put you on a monitor. It’s nothing to worry about it, it just tells us how quickly your contractions are coming and how the baby is bearing up to them. All right?’ he prompted gently.

  She nodded, not needing the monitor to tell her of the steady regularity of the cramping across her stomach as the midwife helped her undress and shower. The young woman looked astounded when Lyon strode arrogantly back into the room as she was helping Shay into her hospital gown.

  She stepped protectively in front of Shay. ‘Sir, I believe you have the wrong room.’

  Cold tawny eyes pierced through her. ‘I have the right room. How are you now, Shay?’ His voice gentled from harshness as he spoke to her.

  ‘Fine,’ she nodded warily, a little apprehensive now that the birth was so imminent.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realise—’

  ‘I’m Lyon Falconer,’ he supplied tersely, walking over to Shay. ‘Are you really all right?’ His eyes were dark with concern.

  The midwife still looked confused. ‘But I thought …’ She glanced down at Shay’s notes which she now held in her hand.

  Shay knew what was puzzling the young woman; under ‘marital status’ it would read ‘widowed’. ‘Mr Falconer is my—’

  ‘Fiancé,’ he put in firmly.

  Shay turned to him angrily as the midwife looked satisfied with this explanation. ‘Lyon, you—’

  ‘Darling, shouldn’t you be lying down or something?’ he cut in determinedly. ‘I’m sure you aren’t supposed to be walking about like this.’

  ‘It feels more comfortable when I do.’ She pulled on her own robe taken from the small suitcase Lyon had somehow remembered to bring with them in their mad rush from the house.

  ‘It won’t hurt until I get back,’ the young midwife assured him. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes to put you on the monitor, Mrs Falconer.’

  ‘What sort of monitor?’ Lyon demanded as the young woman prepared to leave.

  ‘Please don’t worry, Mr Falconer, I’ll only be gone a short time.’ She smiled at Shay before leaving.

  ‘Just what I need,’ Lyon muttered. ‘Condescension from a girl almost half my age!’

  Shay coped with the cramping pains as she moved restlessly about the room. ‘She’s been through this hundreds of times before,’ she excused distractedly. ‘Why did you have to lie about being my fiancé, Lyon?’ she demanded to know.

  ‘I’ve heard about these places,’ he scowled. ‘They throw out anyone who isn’t closely related to the expectant mother!’

  ‘No one would have dared to throw you out, whatever the circumstances,’ she scorned.

  ‘I was just making sure no one tried,’ he rasped.

  She shrugged, knowing it was no good to argue; the damage was done now. ‘Did you talk to Matthew and Grandy?’

  ‘Yes. Look, isn’t something supposed to be happening?’ he sounded harassed.

  She smiled. ‘Probably not for hours yet.’

  He sank down into a chair, looking slightly dazed. ‘You’re sure about that?’ he asked doubtingly.

  ‘Very.’ Her smile deepened. ‘Don’t you know anything about childbirth?’

  ‘Only what I’ve read in books the last few months,’ he scowled. ‘The way they described the stages of labour it all just—happened.’

  She wasn’t surprised that he had gone to the trouble of reading about childbirth; Lyon wouldn’t like to let anything defeat him, even something he believed he would never actively be involved in. ‘It takes a little longer than that, I’m afraid,’ she mocked.

  ‘I don’t—Shay, what is it?’ He stood up anxiously as she was suddenly bent double with pain. ‘Shay!’ he prompted desperately.

  ‘I think you had better get the midwife back in here,’ she told him as he helped her get on to the delivery table. ‘It seems to be happening a little faster than it should.’

  ‘Oh God,’ he paled again. ‘Oh God!’

  If she weren’t in so much pain Lyon’s uncharacteristic behaviour would be laughable. But the pain had been building steadily since they had got there, feeling quite separate from the crampings of labour. She hadn’t mentioned it before because she hadn’t wanted to seem as if she were making a fuss over nothing, but the pain really was excruciating now.

  It was Peter Dunbar who came back with Lyon, bringing calmness back to the proceedings, his smile gently reassuring. The smile didn’t quite seem to reach his ey
es when he straightened from examining her once again.

  ‘What is it?’ Shay demanded sharply.

  He shrugged. ‘The baby wants to be born—is determined to be born,’ he amended dryly. ‘But he or she has also decided it would like to make its entrance into the world feet first!’

  ‘Breech?’ she gasped, her eyes widening with shock—and fear.

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’ The doctor patted her hand. ‘It’s what I suspected earlier. It isn’t so unusual.’

  ‘Breech?’ Lyon stood on the other side of the delivery table. ‘What the hell is that?’

  Peter Dunbar looked at him reprovingly. ‘Could we talk outside?’ he grated, his expression softening as he looked down at Shay. ‘I’ll send in Nurse Stevens to sit with you. And please don’t worry, this breech birth is exactly what I’ve been expecting.’

  He sounded so confident, and yet Shay knew it was his job to sound that way; he didn’t necessarily feel as confident as he sounded. So many things seemed to have gone wrong during this pregnancy: Ricky’s death, her fall, and now this breech birth. Maybe she wasn’t meant to have this baby.

  It was going to live, she was determined it would. This was Ricky’s child, and she wanted it!

  Lyon was more subdued when he came back into the room after talking to Peter Dunbar. ‘I’m sorry,’ he bit out. ‘I’m behaving like a fool.’

  She gave a wan smile. ‘I’m sure Peter didn’t tell you that.’ She didn’t think the other man dare!

  ‘No,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘But it came across during the conversation.’

  She smiled at him, closing her eyes weakly. ‘If anyone can make this come out right it’s Peter.’

  * * *

  GOD, SHE LOOKED SO fragile lying there, her face pale, her lids translucent!

  If he could have taken the pain as his own he would, but now it was too late to do anything but pray. For both her and her child. And he was doing a lot of that.

  He watched emotionlessly as the midwife put two straps about Shay’s swollen body before switching on the monitor, the steady beep beep telling them that the baby’s heartbeat was strong at the moment.