The Surgeon's One-Night Baby

by Charlotte Hawkes

  She nodded again and Kaspar let his hands trail over her body until his thumbs were circling in the soft hair between her legs, her head slumping slightly forward, her breath coming shallow and quick. He dipped lower, playing with her even as he moved inside her, her body thrilling to his touch, tightening around him, moving faster on top of him.

  He was so close. So incredibly close. Everything about Archie turned him on in a way he hadn’t previously known was possible. And as they moved together in flawless harmony, the initial soft shudders of her body giving way to something far more urgent, and unrelenting, he imagined that this, here now, her, would be all he would ever need.

  It was the last thought he had as she finally came apart around him. Her body arched as she surrendered to him, crying out, rocking over him and against his fingers and her hands braced against his chest as though she thought she might otherwise collapse. And just as Archie seemed to start coming down, he changed his rhythm and hurled her over the edge all over again.

  This time, when she cried his name, Kaspar couldn’t contain himself any longer. He tumbled off the cliff edge with her, better than leaping out of any plane. He released himself into her, and the flames roared and surged through him and he feared they could never be quenched.

  Dangerous, even lethal. Yet blissful perfection.

  He might have known it could never last.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ARCHIE AWOKE THE next morning to the sun streaming through the curtains, the call of early morning seabirds. And the fact that she was alone. Again.

  But this time she didn’t worry. Instead she stretched languorously as rarely used muscles lazily grunted their objections, and recalled an hour earlier when she’d awoken to the feel of a warm, solid body behind her.

  Kaspar, pressed to her back and his hand cradling her bump. She’d snuggled back, his reaction even in sleep unmistakeable, and tried to drift back off into slumber. As much as they might want to make love again and again, they couldn’t. Light and infrequent, that was what Catherine had advised.

  At some point, she could just about remember him mentioning going for a run. His attempt to distract his urgent body. And now here she was finally awake, what had to be several hours later. Her ears strained for the sound of the shower or for him in the kitchen, but she heard nothing.

  Then again, marathons weren’t unusual for Kaspar.

  Abruptly she realised what had woken her.

  The low, insistent humming of her phone tumbled through the room and though there was no reason at all for the sense of foreboding that flooded through her, she nevertheless shivered under the sheets, despite the warmth of the sunlit room. At this hour, what were the chances it would be the press? Especially after last night’s little scene? Kaspar had wordlessly unplugged the phone last night and turned his own cell off, but it wouldn’t have taken them much to get her number. She knew what they were like.

  So Archie sat, her knees hugged tightly under her chest, waiting. Only breathing again once the drumming finally fell silent.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  Throwing off the sheets, she crossed the room to look out of the window, seeing the golden beach spread out below her like the most luxurious picnic mat in the world. The sight of Kaspar racing powerfully along the sand, the only figure on the private beach, an unexpected but welcome sight.

  Her fingers pressed against the glass as her eyes drank him in, from his muscled thighs to the wide, bare, olive chest that glistened from the exertion, all sending images of last night hurtling around her feverish mind.

  But then she caught sight of the expression on his face. Dark, brooding, even angry. And her stomach flip-flopped.

  Slowly she backed up, across the room, so that by the time he had powered up the hillside to vault over the small balcony and to the picture-height glass doors, she was already edging to the door. As though, somehow, the distance could silence whatever words he was about to utter. Words, she already knew, she didn’t want to hear.

  And then he was in the room, stopping dead as he saw her. For one moment she thought she could read frustration, regret in those chocolate depths. And then they were cold, and dark, and forbidding, shutting her out as effectively as anything he could say.

  ‘Kaspar...’

  ‘Have you seen the papers?’

  He cut across her and it was almost too much to bear, the way his tone devastated her so easily. So completely.

  ‘How could I have?’ She swallowed hard, as if it could buy her more time. ‘I’ve only just woken up.’

  ‘Then allow me to show you.’

  His harsh voice sliced her like a hundred scalpel blades, the barely contained fury in no doubt as he stalked past her, flinging the door open and striding down the hallway with all the ire that could have parted the ocean behind them had he changed direction.

  It was all Archie could do to scurry behind him, her mind racing too fast for the rest of her thoughts to catch up. Later, she would wonder how she’d had the presence of mind to grab a dressing gown as she left. Short and flimsy as it was, she had no idea at that point how grateful she would be to pull it around her near-naked form in some semblance of self-pride.

  ‘They’re emblazoned with ugly photos of the scene from last night,’ he continued bitingly, as he entered the study and powered up the laptop, which still sat quietly on the side from his latest round of research. ‘Headlines detailing exactly what kind of a volatile, out-of-control man I am. Screaming it for the world to know.’

  ‘They don’t know you.’ Her breath came out in a whoosh as she moved, actually took a step towards him. ‘I do.’

  She didn’t realise how foolish it was until he snatched his arm away from her outstretched fingers, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint, the spat-out word a Persian curse that she only now recalled from her youth.

  ‘I do not want your sympathy, Archana.’

  She flinched but he barely seemed to notice.

  Or perhaps he was deliberately trying to hurt her. To push her away.

  ‘This is exactly who I told you I was; who I told you I wanted to spare our baby from seeing. But you wouldn’t listen. You, in your arrogance, thought you could change me.’

  ‘This isn’t who you are,’ she faltered, but he shot her down.

  ‘This is exactly who I am. I knew it before. It was only my own ego that let me believe your naïve, rose-tinted view of me. You insisted on making us a spectacle, but I was the one who should have known better. Now they have uncovered the story from my past. And so we must both pay the penalty.’

  Archie opened her mouth to speak, but then she caught sight of some of the photos he’d been talking about and her lips became too dry, her throat too cracked to form any kind of coherent words. Even if she could have, her heart was clattering in her chest so wildly that she couldn’t hope to think straight, couldn’t organise the words that jumbled in her head.

  One thing leaped out of her more than anything else. One sad, shameful, truth. The expression in her eyes as she stared at Kaspar. The pathetic, unadulterated adoration in her expression.

  He was right. She was naïve, and a fool. Nothing more than the silly little girl she’d always been. She’d fallen in love with him. It was there on her face, mocking her, just as Kaspar was mocking her. Once again, she’d fooled herself into believing he’d let her in and here he was reminding her that he never truly would. Perhaps he simply wasn’t capable of it.

  Kaspar could never be hers. He could never be anyone’s. She was a fool for even considering for a moment that he could be.

  I deserve better, she chanted desperately, as if repeating it wildly in her head would be enough to convince her. I deserve someone who truly loves me.

  And one day, maybe, she might believe that.

  So much for the
bold, sophisticated Archie she’d tried to kid herself that she was. It was time to grow up and take responsibility. And that meant putting Kaspar Athari into her past once and for all. Or at least the idea of any relationship with him. The truth was that he was her baby’s father, she could never truly escape him for the rest of her life.

  It was embarrassing how much that thought gave as much comfort as it did torment.

  But she didn’t have to show it. Lifting her head, Archie forced herself to look him directly in the eyes, her voice conveying a breeziness she hadn’t known she possessed.

  ‘You’re right.’ Where did that hint of a tight, cold smile come from? ‘I see that now. This marriage was a foolish idea and I apologise for anything I did to make you feel you had little choice but to suggest it.’

  Her entire chest wrenched at the words, splitting her apart from her insides out with such force that she had no idea how she managed to stay standing, let alone talking. It was torture not to be able to read a single expression on his face, not that any expression even flickered over Kaspar’s unrelenting features. The only reaction at all was the clenched jaw and steady, clear pulse. But even that told her nothing of what was running through his head.

  How had she failed to realise before how little she knew him?

  ‘It’s the most logical solution.’ He offered a curt nod. ‘Once the baby is born, we’ll get divorced. Blame it on my playboy reputation. The press will be expecting that anyway. You can return to the UK. I’ll make the financial arrangements to provide for my child. Once all the furore has died down, which I’m sure won’t take too long, we’ll decide how I can have contact without turning your life, or our baby’s, into a circus.’

  She wanted to answer him but she couldn’t speak. Her tongue, like her body, was going numb. She could feel herself shutting down.

  ‘I’m going for a run,’ he bit out, as if her silence was answer enough. Neither of them mentioned the fact that he’d only just returned from his last one. ‘You should pack. I’ll let my driver know to pick you up and take you to a hotel near the hospital. It’s five-star, and you’ll have my suite.’

  ‘No...’ she blurted out, but he silenced her with a brief wave of his arm.

  ‘I’ll cover the costs.’

  As if that was her only objection. Still, it was enough to silence her. Clearly he thought so little of her, what was the point in trying to defend herself?

  ‘Understood.’ Her tone sounded nothing like herself.

  For a start it didn’t betray any of the howling pain that raged inside her.

  But then she clutched the flimsy dressing gown around her and was grateful she didn’t have nakedness to add to her tearing sense of vulnerability right now.

  Too late, Archie realised her mistake. Her action pulled Kaspar up sharply and he raked his hand uncomfortably through his hair.

  ‘Archie...’ His voice faltered, something so unfamiliar that for a moment she didn’t recognise it for what it was.

  And then suddenly she did.

  It was pity.

  Pride slammed into her. He could reject her, and distance himself, that was his right and there was nothing she could do about it.

  But she could make damned sure that, on top of everything else, he didn’t pity her for her pain.

  ‘What about the press?’ she asked.

  ‘What? Does it matter?’ He blew out a deep breath. ‘Fine, we’ll tell them it was the safest option. Closer to hospital, and people would always be around if anything...happened while I was away at work.’

  So that was it, she realised as her heart actually seemed to slump inside her drooping ribcage. He had an answer for everything, and she had no more excuses.

  She had to be strong. She had a baby to consider now. A future in which someone else was counting on her to make the responsible decisions, and she couldn’t ignore that fact. Especially with the way the atmosphere had changed within the room. Heavy. Strained. Foreboding. Even the sunlight getting in on the act since it didn’t quite reach this part of the house, and so the shadow left her standing, quite literally, in the cold.

  It took more than she could have imagined to shake off the ridiculous notion.

  ‘You’re right.’ The words sounded thick, heavy, gungy. She forced herself to say them anyway. ‘It’s best if you go.’

  ‘Then you agree?’ he bit out, his gaze boring into her until every fibre of her being trembled under its onslaught.

  No, I don’t agree, a part of her wanted to scream. But what was the use in arguing?

  None of this was enough for her any more. Kaspar was right. Their marriage was a pointless sham. She’d almost convinced herself that if she’d married Joe for practical reasons, then she could certainly stay married to Kaspar. For the sake of their baby. Yet deep down she’d always known it was an entirely different scenario. She’d never craved Joe the way she craved Kaspar. Why spend her life watching him, yearning for more, aching for something that could never be?

  ‘I agree.’ She thought the words might choke her.

  She didn’t know whether it was a relief or a disappointment that they didn’t. Then, with an offhand dip of his head, Kaspar dismissed her. And she let him. She backed out of the door and walked down the hallway on legs that had no business holding her upright.

  Just like that, she’d walked out of another marriage. Or Kaspar had pushed her out. Either way, there was no doubt in her mind that this time there would be no getting over it.

  * * *

  He was doing the right thing.

  Pounding down the beach, his legs burning from their fight against the soft sand, Kaspar wondered if any amount of beating his body could ever assuage this agony that ripped through his chest.

  The sense of failure. Of treachery. Of absolute loss. And it was all his own doing.

  The moment he’d seen that photo, the murderous look in his eyes as he’d slammed away that photographer’s camera, he’d realised that as much as he might pretend to be a different man—one worthy of someone as innocent and delicate as Archie, one who deserved the way she looked at him, as though he was something special, someone good—he wasn’t.

  He wasn’t special and he wasn’t good. He wasn’t at all the man she seemed to have convinced herself that he was. He was still the arrogant, out-of-control, emotionally bankrupt teenager he’d been who’d destroyed a man’s life all those years ago. All for the sake of a row over an upturned bar stool.

  He should have known better that night, just as he should have known better with the photographer at the ball. The press were animals. They’d had no right to jostle Archie as they had, especially not when she was so clearly pregnant. But that didn’t mean he could be equally savage and uncontrolled.

  And Archie had agreed.

  The whole thing only proved that he was as toxic and dangerous as his father had been.

  And, for that matter, as manipulative as his mother. Hadn’t he pretty much blackmailed Archie into marrying him in the first instance? What kind of a man did that? What sort of an example could that ever set for their child?

  Letting her walk away from their marriage was the only honourable thing he could do right now. Set her free. It was shameful that he was having to will himself so hard to keep running. Not turn around and race back up that beach, back to the house, and tell her that she couldn’t leave after all.

  All the while, a voice inside him grew. A whisper at first. Kaspar could barely hear it even as he pretended not to know what it was saying. It grew in volume, more insistent, more triumphant. He thundered along the beach as though he could outrun it, but the faster he moved the louder it grew. Until, at last, it was a bellow. A roar. It stopped him in his tracks, and it made him swing back round until the only thing he could see—the only thing his eyes would look at—was his beach house, in the distance.

  Or, more ac
curately, the house that had become a home ever since Archie had set foot inside. He planted his feet firmly, as though willing himself to ground himself into the sand the way a tree bedded itself into soil. Anything to stop him racing back there and charging in. Telling Archie she couldn’t leave. She could never leave. And not just because she was carrying his child. For a long, self-indulgent moment he allowed himself to imagine what she might say. What she might do.

  And then he wasn’t indulging himself any more because he knew exactly what she would say. She would ask if he loved her. The way she’d wanted to do so many times before, whether she realised it or not. He’d seen it for the first time one morning a few weeks ago. She’d been hovering by the pool, waiting for something, although he suspected she hadn’t even realised it herself. It had taken him days to figure out she’d been waiting for him to tell her that he loved her.

  And he did.

  Unconditionally. Irrevocably.

  It was the reason he needed her to leave now. From the instant he’d discovered she was pregnant he’d known he would be there for his child the way his parents had never been there for him. He wanted to give his baby the childhood the Coates family had given to him.

  But there had always been something more to it than that. There’d had to be. He would never have proposed such a marriage to any other woman. Only Archie.

  Because he wanted her. He wanted to be with her.

  And if it hadn’t been for his ruinous behaviour last night, he might have told her so. Now he knew he owed it to her to let her go. Before the press tainted her with the same poisonous brush with which they were so clearly intending to paint him.

  It was only what he deserved.

  Just as Archie deserved better. If he really loved her, as he claimed to, then he would let her go, no matter how painful it was to him. Wasn’t that what love was supposed to be about? Selfless acts for another person?

  All of which ensured that him returning to the house to declare his love for her was the one thing he absolutely couldn’t do. Kaspar snarled, but only the crashing sea and the squawking gulls bore the brunt of his frustration. And then, with what felt like a superhuman effort, he whirled around and ran, sinking furiously into the sand as though he might leave his footprints there for ever.