Her Pregnancy Surprise

by Kim Lawrence

  The moment the cry left her lips Luc was on his feet. ‘Are you all right?’

  She opened her eyes and found Luc sitting on his heels at her feet. His lean, strong face was chalk-white, the skin drawn taut with anxiety across his magnificent cheekbones. Megan rubbed a hand across her big belly and smiled reassuringly.

  ‘This one packs quite a punch.’

  He visibly relaxed. ‘Is he kicking you now?’

  She nodded and his fascinated eyes returned to her stomach. ‘He could be a she,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I’d settle for either.’ He stretched out his hand towards her. ‘Can I…?’

  Megan’s eyes dropped to his hand. The tentative quality of his request brought a lump to her throat. By way of reply she caught hold of his wrist and laid his hand against her belly.

  ‘I can’t feel anything,’ he said, disappointed.

  ‘You will,’ she promised just before, on cue, the baby launched a kick, less vigorous than the previous one, but strong enough to make Luc cry out in wonder.

  ‘Does that happen a lot?’

  The awe in his voice made her smile mistily. ‘All the time.’

  ‘Good God…!’

  Megan, who found sitting in one position for long made her back ache, shifted her position. Immediately Luc’s hand fell away from her stomach.

  Instead of straightening up, Luc sat back on his heels and looked at her.

  Their faces were almost on a level and there was a quality in his silent, unblinking regard that made Megan deeply uneasy.

  ‘What…?’

  He responded to her querulous enquiry with an enigmatic smile. Then, after a suitably nerve-racking silence, he revealed the reason for his odd behaviour. ‘You said you lied.’ She began to shake her head and he added in a voice that brooked no opposition. ‘You lied about being off sex.’

  Megan’s eyes dropped from his. The perceptive clarity of those opaque depths made her ashamed and defensive at one and the same time. ‘I might have stretched the truth,’ she admitted gruffly.

  ‘Then your skin didn’t crawl at the thought of me touching you?’

  Her head lifted. ‘Did I really…?’

  He nodded. ‘You did. For God’s sake, Megan, why…? It’s been a total nightmare wanting to touch you, hold you…’ He released an unsteady groan. ‘Of course I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as you; I didn’t trust myself!’ Pure silver, his molten eyes moved hungrily over her features, which pregnancy had made softer and rounder. ‘When I think what you have put me through these months I could strangle you!’ He took her chin and tilted her face up to his.

  The expression stamped on his lean features took her breath away.

  ‘So,’ he said, scanning her face with a heart-stopping blend of fierce hunger and devastating tenderness. ‘You fancy me…’

  He sounded so unbelievably smug that she grinned. ‘Pity,’ she said with a rueful glance down at her body. ‘It’s too late now to do much about it.’

  ‘Who says…?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted. ‘Look at me,’ she invited.

  ‘You’re beautiful, ripe and luscious.’

  This husky fulsome praise sent a tidal wave of warmth through her body. ‘That’s nice to know,’ she admitted, blushing rosily. ‘But I’m…well…’ Burning up with lust…?

  Luc looked puzzled. ‘You’re what?’ he prompted, sliding his fingers into her hair. With a sigh Megan let her head fall back as he massaged her scalp.

  ‘It isn’t just about sex,’ he said.

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘You think I’m that shallow?’ he ground out, looking exasperated at her response.

  ‘Not shallow, but you can’t tell me it’s not important to you.’

  ‘And it’s not to you?

  Watching the honey strands fall through his fingers, a handful of her rich, plentiful hair in his hand, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was so tender, so sweetly passionate that the tears sprang to her eyes as she melted into him.

  ‘Why did you say it, Megan?’ he demanded as they drew apart. ‘Why did you lie to get me out of your bed?’

  It was the question she had hoped he wouldn’t ask. Megan shook her head mutely and would have turned away had he not taken hold of her chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Why…?’

  ‘I saw the letter; it was lying there,’ she admitted huskily.

  Luc looked at her blankly. ‘What letter?’

  ‘It was an accident. I was looking for my address book,’ she explained stiltedly. ‘And…I didn’t read it,’ she added with an urgent shake of her head. ‘But it was open and I saw…I read…’ She swallowed and lowered her gaze, too ashamed to look at him.

  ‘I will always love you.’ The words had leapt from the page as had the name scrawled at the bottom of the page—Grace.

  She had not known until that moment that jealousy could be like that, be like a physical pain, a constant gnawing ache that invaded every cell of your body.

  Would Luc have got back with his wife if it hadn’t been for the child she was carrying? When he’d made love to her at night had he thought abut his ex-wife, had he seen her face when he’d closed his eyes in the moment of release…?

  The thought that she’d been a substitute, that while he’d been with her he’d dreamed of being with someone else, was something she just couldn’t bear.

  Luc was looking mystified. ‘What letter?’

  ‘From your…from Grace,’ she whispered.

  ‘I get a lot of letters from Grace.’

  This was something she could have lived without knowing. Did she declare her undying love in all of them? Megan wondered.

  ‘Considering you’re divorced, isn’t that a little unusual.’

  ‘She likes to keep in touch, even though she’s remarried,’ he admitted.

  His guarded manner was confirming all her worst fears. ‘She’s married to someone else now?’

  ‘For the time being.’

  Of course, Grace was getting a divorce and she wanted to get back with Luc…who wouldn’t? she thought, sliding a covetous look over his long, lean, supremely gorgeous frame. The idea took hold and she felt physically sick. You could be prepared for the worst but when it finally came it still hurt like hell.

  ‘Does that mean that things are not working out for her?’ She was amazed that she could feel so totally wretched and still appear normal.

  She realised that she must be faking it really well because Luc didn’t appear to have a clue that she was ready to fall apart. He was probably blind to everything else when he thought about his marvellous Grace.

  ‘I told her at the time that…’ His shoulders lifted in one of his expressive shrugs. ‘But that’s Gracie for you.’ The rueful tone of his voice increased the icy grip of the fingers that were squeezing her heart.

  ‘She’s impetuous?’

  He nodded and said with feeling, ‘And then some.’

  And Megan wanted to head for the nearest dark corner to lick her wounds. Instead she rubbed salt in them by imagining all the outlets for her impetuosity that Gracie might have found in the bedroom; or, being impetuous, she probably didn’t limit her surprises to one room. They had probably made love in every room of the house.

  ‘The guy’s years older than her; he’s got children older than she is.’

  ‘A lot of women are attracted to older men. I suppose they offer stability…?’

  ‘It helps if they’ve got a lot of money stashed away.’

  Was he saying his ex-wife had married for money—?

  ‘Don’t look so shocked, chérie, not everyone is the hopeless romantic you are. Grace is one of ten children; she had a tough life as a kid and just when she had started to get used to having the flashy cars and the big houses it was snatched away from her. She was honest—she couldn’t be the wife of a poor man.’

  Megan, who had always considered herself the most pragmatic of
people, shook her head in protest. ‘I’m not a romantic.’ A romantic she might not be, but the idea of walking away from your man at a moment when he most needed a wife’s support filled her with disgust.

  ‘You haven’t asked me how I lost my money…?’

  Well, he had plenty of money now, Megan thought. Which meant his avaricious ex was grasping and greedy.

  ‘It’s not my business.’

  For a long moment Luc scanned her face, then with the deliberation of someone who had come to a decision he pulled out a chair and, spinning it around, straddled it. ‘Five years ago I had a successful business and a partner.’

  ‘Yes, you told me.’ She gave a quick uninterested smile. ‘You hated it, but you made a lot of money…and then lost it.’ This moment, the moment when Luc felt able to confide in her, could have meant something very special if she didn’t already know what he was going to say. If she hadn’t gone behind his back, to Uncle Malcolm.

  ‘Aren’t you curious?’

  Feeling guilty as sin, she shook her head. ‘Not especially.’

  ‘Amazing! You really are the most incredible woman.’

  His admiration made her feel worse than ever. ‘I’m not incredible at all; I’m terrible!’ she wailed, covering her eyes with a hand as she gave a self-condemnatory groan. ‘I already know about your partner running off with all the money and the man who committed suicide and how the press were hateful to you.’ Megan couldn’t look at him.

  A short static silence followed her emotional confession.

  ‘Malcolm…?’

  The question had a resigned ring to it and Megan, who had expected him to go ballistic, opened her fingers and peeked cautiously through them.

  ‘It wasn’t his fault.’

  ‘No, that I can believe. I have noticed,’ he continued drily, ‘that when you make up your mind you can be difficult to divert. In fact you can be difficult full stop.’

  ‘Aren’t you angry?’

  One corner of his fascinating mouth lifted. ‘Do you want me to be?’

  ‘No, of course not, it’s just I know how you value your privacy and I know I should have waited until you wanted to tell me.’ She bit her lip. ‘I wish I had,’ she confided huskily.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, Malcolm supplied me with some information…reluctantly supplied,’ he added with a reminiscent grin.

  Megan’s smooth brow puckered. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I wanted to know a few things about the creep you almost married.’

  ‘Brian!’ she exclaimed, astonished by this revelation. ‘Whatever for?’

  Megan watched as his white teeth bared in a smile that did not touch his eyes. ‘I was kind of curious about what you saw in him in the first place. Now I know. The man is a total creep, but a pretty total creep.’

  Pretty…? Megan mentally compared Brian’s weak chin and average features with the man she was looking at and she laughed; she couldn’t help it.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he growled.

  Megan didn’t respond. ‘How do you know what Brian looks like?’

  ‘I happened to swing by a bar and he was there.’

  Megan’s eyes widened. ‘You wanted to see him…why?’

  Luc passed a hand across his forehead. ‘Why the hell do you think…?’ His attitude suggested she ought to have found the explanation obvious—she didn’t.

  ‘I’ve not the faintest idea,’ she told him.

  ‘I wanted to kick the slime ball’s teeth down his throat…’ His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. ‘He hit you,’ he gritted.

  ‘And you intended to do what? Hit him?’

  ‘It did cross my mind,’ he admitted, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw.

  ‘But you didn’t…?’ She felt she had to check.

  ‘I got a case of better judgement,’ he admitted with the air of someone who regretted the decision. ‘I blame it on my dad—he always told me I couldn’t pick on anyone smaller than me. The creep only came to my shoulder.’

  Megan’s eyes dropped from his. ‘I’m glad you didn’t hit him,’ she admitted.

  Luc’s expression hardened to granite.

  ‘Aside from the fact I really don’t need anyone to fight my battles. No big feminist statement,’ she promised, ‘just plain fact. When I said he hit me, I might have missed out the part where I hit him back…?’

  Luc stared at her for a moment, then started to grin. ‘You did?’

  Shamefaced, she nodded. ‘I’m not actually a violent person; it was a reflex action.’

  ‘Did you cause much damage?’ he asked with a hopeful expression.

  ‘None that I could see, but apparently the bridge work that needed repairing cost him a packet. He threatened to sue me.’

  Luc threw back his head and laughed. ‘God, what a prat! You,’ he added with an approving warmth that brought a glow to her cheeks, ‘are incredible.’

  ‘I know…I mean,’ she added hastily, ‘I know he’s a prat. Landing the punch was more luck than good judgement,’ she admitted.

  ‘So now that we have both invaded each others’ privacy, I think you could say we’re quits?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She looked at the hand he stretched out towards her and after a moment placed her hand in it. The contact sent a neat electric thrill through her body, which she endured with a fixed smile. As soon as it was possible—without causing offence—she removed her hand.

  ‘Now tell me what you read or didn’t read in Gracie’s letter that made you chuck me out of bed.’

  ‘I know she loves you and you love her.’

  ‘I don’t love her.’

  ‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ she countered sadly.

  The phone in Luc’s pocket began to ring.

  Megan, grateful for the reprieve, watched him pull it from his pocket.

  ‘Don’t switch it off. It might be important.’

  ‘More important than my infidelity…?’ His anger made her wince. ‘Patrick,’ he snarled into the mouthpiece.

  Megan tapped her toe on the floor as he began to listen. When he responded it was in rapid French. Megan tuned it out; she was quite proud of her grasp of the language, but there was no way she could follow what Luc was saying.

  It was only when she heard her stepfather’s name that she began to actually listen. She caught Luc’s eye and, mouthing, Let me speak to him, held out her hand. Luc shook his head and turned his back on her.

  When Luc finally hung up his expression was preoccupied.

  ‘Why didn’t you put me on? I wanted to talk to Jean Paul.’

  Without replying he caught her hands in his and drew her towards him. His grave expression made her stomach lurch in fear.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘NOW don’t panic.’

  An instruction, Megan reflected, that was guaranteed to make her do exactly that.

  ‘Is it Mum?’ Unconsciously her hands went flat to her own belly.

  Luc nodded. The compassion in his eyes made her spirits plummet; people didn’t look like that when they were about to give you good news.

  ‘The baby…?’

  ‘Your mother is in hospital. They’re performing an emergency Caesarean.’

  The blood seeped out of her face leaving her skin marble-pale. ‘How is she? This is my fault…I should have told her that she was too old to have a baby, but I encouraged her.’

  ‘Cut that out right now!’

  His bracing tone made her blink. Dazed, Megan looked from the hands encircling her wrists to his stern dark face.

  ‘This isn’t anyone’s fault and certainly not yours. Laura had every test going; she was given a clean bill.’ Megan reluctantly nodded. ‘And even if her age was a factor, which we don’t know, this was not your call; it was hers and Jean Paul’s. You did what you had to; you supported her decision.’

  Megan’s eyes remained on his face, then after a few tense moments she nodded.

  ‘So you’re not
going to go all hair-shirty on me?’

  Megan exhaled deeply and shook her head again. ‘No, what…what happened? Did Jean Paul say?’

  ‘Something to do with the placenta. Jean Paul was…unclear.’ The Frenchman had actually sounded as though he was in shock. ‘She began to bleed, apparently.’ He didn’t mention the pain that the distraught Jean Paul had graphically described.

  Luc wished he hadn’t said as much as he had when Megan literally swayed.

  ‘Come on, now, you shouldn’t upset yourself.’

  ‘Don’t upset myself? My mother is bleeding to death!’ Her voice rose to a shrill, scornful crescendo.

  ‘She isn’t…she’ll be fine,’ he said, hoping like hell he was telling the truth. ‘And Jean Paul will ring the moment she gets out of surgery…or they know something. In the meantime we should be positive.’

  ‘Know something…?’ With a distrustful frown she homed in on his comment. ‘What do you mean, know something?’ Her eyes narrowed into suspicious, accusing slits on his face. ‘You mean if she dies, don’t you?’ She pulled her hands from his clasp and let out a wail that made the hairs on his nape stand on end. ‘They think Mum’s going to die and you’re not telling me everything. I know you’re not.’

  ‘I swear I am.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you let me speak to Jean Paul?’

  Her breath coming in short, frantic gasps, her eyes darted around the room. She reminded Luc of a cornered wild animal.

  ‘He doesn’t know any more than I’m telling you, Megan.’

  In the midst of her heart-wrenching anguish Megan experienced a sudden icy calm and sense of purpose. She knew exactly what she had to do. She explained it to Luc.

  ‘I have to go to Paris.’

  ‘Megan, you’re thirty-seven weeks pregnant; you can’t travel.’ Luc’s expression was compassionate, but his tone was inflexible.

  ‘I’m not asking your permission; I’m telling you what’s going to happen.’

  ‘Calm down, Megan, you’re not thinking straight.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she accused, backing away from him. ‘I have to. She needs me.’ Her shoulder blades made contact with the wall and she leaned back against it, glad of the support.