round to help her out.
Finally Rayne said very quietly, ‘I would have gone mad if I’d known you were pregnant and I couldn’t get to you. There was a chance I wasn’t coming out for years and years.’
She stopped struggling to get herself from the car. Wiped the tears on her cheek. Looked up at him. ‘Oh. Is that why you didn’t read the letters?’
‘I lost access to everything, Maeve. I was a faceless perpetrator surrounded by men who hated the world. I’d never hated the world before but I hated it in there. The only way I could stay sane in that toxic environment was to seal myself off from it. Create a wall and not let anything in. The last thing I needed was sunshine that I couldn’t touch and that’s what your letters were to me. That way led to madness and I had to stay strong behind my wall.’
‘I shouldn’t have sent them, then?’
It certainly hadn’t been her fault for sending them. She was an angel—especially now he’d read them. ‘You couldn’t have known. But they were something I looked forward to. I was going to open them when I got out. As soon as I got out. But then I got scared you would tell me not to come and I needed to see you and Simon one more time to explain. So I decided to open them after I saw you.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m so sorry I caused you pain.’
Maeve looked up at Rayne and saw what she’d seen nine months ago. Big shoulders under a black shirt, black hair cut shorter to the strong bones of his head, dark, dark eyes, even more difficult to read, but maybe they were only easy to read on the way to the bedroom. And that wicked mouth, lips that could work magic or drop words that made her go cold.
This was going to be tougher than she’d expected it to be. Something Tara had said to her a couple of days ago filtered back into her memory. Something about her knowing men who had been to prison and were harder, more distanced from others when they got out.
The problem was Rayne had already been distanced from people before he’d been wrongly convicted.
But when he’d said he was glad he hadn’t opened her letters, and she’d responded emotionally with the hurt of it, she’d been thinking about herself. Not about why he would say something hurtful like that. Not about what he’d been through. She promised herself she would try to help heal the scars that experience had left him with—not make the whole transition more difficult.
Guess she’d have to learn to filter her reactions through his eyes. And that wasn’t going to be easy because she liked looking at things her way.
But it should be easier with him here, not harder. The thought made her feel cross. ‘For goodness’ sake, help me out of this damn car.’ Not what she’d intended to say but now she thought about it she’d be a whole lot more comfortable with him not standing over her.
The dirty rat laughed.
But at least he put his hand out and again she sailed upwards with ridiculous ease until she was standing beside him.
‘You really are a princess, you know that?’
She glared at him as she adjusted her dress and straightened her shoulders. Re-establishing her personal space. ‘You have a problem with that?’
He looked at her, and if she wasn’t mistaken there could even be a little softening in that hard expression. ‘Nope. I love it.’
Warmth expanded inside her. There was hope for the man yet.
Rayne shut the door behind her and picked up the basket. Tucked her hand under his other arm, and she liked that closeness as they sauntered across to the lakeside seats.
Like nothing was wrong. She let it go. She’d always been a ‘temper fast and then forget it’ person so that was lucky because she had the feeling they had a bit of getting used to each other to come.
Further down the shore, a young boy and his dad were launching an obviously new sailing boat into the lake and a small dog was barking at the ducks heading their way away from those other noisy intruders.
‘I love ducks,’ Maeve said. ‘Always have. I used to have a baby one, it grew up to be an amazing pet. Used to waddle up and meet me when I came home from school.’
‘What did you call it?’
She could feel a blush on her cheeks. He was going to laugh. Maybe she could make up a different name. A cool one.
He bumped her shoulder gently with his as if he’d read her mind. ‘I want the real name.’
She glared at him. ‘I was going to give you the real one.’
‘Sure you were.’
Quietly. ‘Cinderella.’
Yep, he laughed. But it was a good sound. And so did she. Especially for Christmas morning, from a man only a few weeks out of prison who’d recently lost his mother and found out he was going to be a father. Going to be a father very soon. It felt good she’d made him laugh.
‘Imagine,’ he said. Then he turned and studied her face. His eyes were unreadable but his voice was sombre. ‘Thank you for even thinking of giving me a chance.’ And when she saw the sincerity, and just a touch of trepidation, now she felt like crying.
Wasn’t sure she should tell him about this morning—what if she scared him?—but couldn’t resist the chance. ‘You know, I woke up today and all I wanted for Christmas was to be able to talk to you.’
His eyes widened in shock. And something else—she wasn’t sure but it could have been fear. Yep, she’d scared him. Fool.
She felt her anger rise. Anger because it shouldn’t be this hard to connect with a guy she’d been powerless to resist and it wasn’t like he’d been doing something he hadn’t agreed to either that night they’d created this baby together. So there was a force greater than them that she believed in but she wasn’t so sure it worked if only one of them was a convert. ‘It’s not that hard to understand. I’m having a baby and there is supposed to be two of us. And if you don’t hate me, think about it.’
She turned away from him. Didn’t want to see anything negative at this moment. She watched the little boy jumping up and down as his little sailing boat picked up the breeze and sailed out towards the middle of the lake.
Nope. She needed to say it all. Get it out there because if it wasn’t going to happen she needed to know now. She turned back to him. ‘So what I’m saying is thank you for coming, even though you didn’t know I was pregnant, thank you for driving all this way on Christmas to see us.’
‘That’s nothing.’
‘I haven’t finished.’
He held up his hands. ‘Go on, then.’
‘If you want to do the right thing, do something for me.’ She took a big breath. ‘I’m asking you to stay. At least until after the birth. Be with me during the birth, because if you’re there I will be able to look forward to this occasion as I should be—not dreading the emptiness and fear of being alone.’
Rayne got that. He also got how freaking brave this woman was. To lay herself out there to be knocked back—not that he would, but, sheesh, how much
