I’m not the oldest son, so I’m just the Hon Oliver Darrington,’ he said. ‘Addressed as plain Mr Darrington, just as you’re addressed as Miss O’Brien.’
‘Ms,’ she corrected. And as for his ‘just the Hon’—she didn’t know anyone else who was an Hon. And then a really nasty thought struck her. ‘Oliver, you don’t think I’m a gold-digger, do you? Because I had absolutely no idea you were—well, from that kind of background.’
Shock spread across his face. ‘Of course you’re not a gold-digger, Ella. Apart from the fact that nobody at work knows about my background, you’re completely open and honest.’
That wasn’t quite true. She hadn’t been totally honest with him about her past, because she hadn’t wanted him to pity her. Guilt trickled through her—but the worry was uppermost. ‘So this party tonight’s going to be really, really posh?’
He grimaced. ‘A bit. And I understand if you’d rather not go. I probably should have told you when I asked you to come with me.’
‘I wish you had, because at least then I could’ve maybe found something more suitable to wear while I was out shopping today.’ She gestured to her dress. ‘Everyone’s going to take one look at me and know this was a sale bargain and probably cost less than their underwear. I’m not going to fit in. And your parents are going to think I’m just after your money. Which,’ she added, just in case he was under any kind of misapprehension on that score, ‘I’m not.’
Oliver came to stand before her and pulled her to her feet. ‘Ella O’Brien, you look beautiful. Nobody whose opinion matters will think anything about what you’re wearing other than the fact that you look lovely. You’re more than good enough to hold your own at any party, whether it’s the pub quiz between Teddy’s and the Emergency Department, or the ballroom at Darrington Hall full of…’ He spread his hands. ‘Well.’
‘Lords and ladies?’ she asked wryly.
‘Not all of them will have a title,’ he said. ‘But yes. You’re more than good enough, Ella.’
There was a slash of colour across his cheeks, telling her that he felt really strongly about this. He really did believe that she could fit in.
And then, the expression in his eyes changed. Turned from fierceness to heat. Achingly slowly, he dipped his head to brush his mouth against hers. There was a sweetness to his kiss, just like when he’d kissed her in the ultrasound room, and Ella found herself melting against him and returning his kiss.
‘You’re wearing the same dress you wore that night,’ Oliver whispered against her mouth. ‘That night we made love. The night we made our baby.’
His hand slid down to rest protectively over her abdomen, and Ella’s pulse speeded up a notch. On impulse, she rested her hand over his, and he moved slightly so that her fingers were entwined with his, united and protective.
‘And you’re wearing that suit,’ she whispered back. ‘I can remember taking your shirt off.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Ella. I can’t stop thinking about that night. How it felt to be with you.’ He stole another kiss. ‘The scent of your hair. The feel of your bare skin against mine.’ His teeth grazed her earlobe as he whispered, ‘I haven’t stopped wanting you. And now you’re carrying our baby, it makes me want to…’
‘Yes.’ Oh, yes. She wanted it, too. That shared closeness she’d only ever known with him. Except this time it would be different. Because they’d created a new life, and when he explored her he’d notice the tiny, subtle changes. And she knew he’d tell her about every single one in that amazingly sexy posh voice.
Right now her skin felt too tight. Especially when he kissed her again, pulling her close against him, and her hardened nipples rubbed against him.
‘Oliver,’ she breathed.
But, when Ella felt Oliver’s fingers brush the skin on her back as he began to slide the zip of her dress slowly downward, common sense kicked back in. Yes, she wanted to make love with him. Desperately. But she was supposed to be going to meet his family. She needed to make a good impression. Turning up late, looking as if she’d just had sex, with her mouth all swollen and her hair all mussed—that most definitely wouldn’t be the right impression.
‘Oliver. We can’t. We’re going to be late.’
He stroked her face. ‘Or we can skip the party.’
‘But your parents are expecting us. It’s rude not to turn up.’
‘I know. But I can say I was held up at work.’
‘Which isn’t true.’
‘It’s a white lie.’
It sounded as if he didn’t want to go to the party, and not just because he wanted to carry her to her bed. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What else aren’t you telling me, Oliver?’
He sighed. ‘Nothing, really.’
‘You said things were strained between you and your parents. Is not turning up going to make things worse? Or will it be worse when they meet me and realise I’m not from your world?’
He rested his palm against her cheek. ‘Trust you to hit the nail on the head. OK. Let’s just say that they had other plans for me, so they’re not brilliantly happy that I went into medicine.’
She couldn’t understand why. ‘But you’re Assistant Head of Department at a ridiculously young age. Doesn’t that tell them how good you are at what you do?’
‘I didn’t actually tell them about the promotion,’ he admitted.
‘Why? For pity’s sake, Oliver, aren’t they massively proud of you? Because they ought to be! You’re really good at your job. What you do is important.’
Ella was batting Oliver’s corner for him, and it made him feel odd. He’d never, ever dated anyone who’d backed him like that before. With Justine, he was always the one doing the protecting; but Ella was different. She was his equal.
Strictly speaking, he and Ella weren’t actually dating. But there was more to their relationship than just the shared unexpected parenthood. And the fact that she was backing him like this… Maybe she was the one that he could trust with his heart. The one who’d see him for who he really was. ‘You really think that?’ he asked.
She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at him. ‘Oliver Darrington, you’re the one who makes the difference in a tricky birth between someone having a baby, and someone losing their baby. You’ve saved babies and you’ve saved their mums, too. And if that’s not more important than—than—’ She waved a hand in disgust. ‘Than having a title, then I don’t know what is.’
Even with her lipstick smudged and her hair slightly mussed from their shared kiss, Ella looked magnificent. A pocket Amazonian.
‘You,’ he said softly, ‘are amazing. Never let anyone else ever tell you otherwise.’
‘So are you,’ Ella said fiercely. ‘So we’re going to this
