It Started With One Night: The Magnate's Mistress / His Bride for One Night / Master of Her Virtue. Miranda Lee

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It Started With One Night: The Magnate's Mistress / His Bride for One Night / Master of Her Virtue - Miranda Lee

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can’t put any pressure on her yet, because she doesn’t intend telling him yet. OK?’

      Joyce nodded, but inside she was beside herself with worry. Yet she could do nothing to help, because she wasn’t supposed to know!

      She glanced over at Jen and tried to work out why it was that daughters always misunderstood their mothers. All she wanted was for them to be happy.

      Fancy Jen thinking she’d been ashamed of her when she fell pregnant. How could she possibly be ashamed of her daughters for doing exactly what she had done herself? Fallen madly in love. Maybe she would tell them one day that she had been pregnant when she’d married her beloved Bill.

      Tears filled Joyce’s eyes as she thought of the handsome man who’d swept her off her feet and into his bed before she could blink. How she’d loved that man. When he’d died, she could not bear to ever have another man touch her, though there’d been plenty who’d tried. Her daughters might be surprised to know that. But she’d only ever wanted her Bill.

      ‘Please don’t cry, Mum,’ Jen said, reaching over to touch her mother’s hand. ‘Tara will be fine. You’ll see.’

      Joyce found a watery smile from somewhere. ‘I hope so, love.’

      ‘She’s strong, is our Tara. And stubborn. Max won’t find it easy to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. And she doesn’t want to get rid of her baby. Come on, give me a hug and dry those tears. If you’re all puffy-eyed when Tara gets home, she’ll think I told you and then there’ll be hell to pay. Promise me now that you won’t let on.’

      Joyce gave her daughter a hug and a promise. But it was difficult not to worry once she was alone, so she did the one thing she always did when she started to stress over one of her daughters. She took out the photo albums which contained the visual memories of all the good times they’d had as a family before her Bill died.

      It always soothed her fears, looking at the man she’d loved so much and whom she still loved. She liked to talk to him; ask his advice.

      He told her to hang in there, the way he always did. And to be patient. Some things took time. Time. And work. And faith.

      She frowned over this last piece of advice. She had faith in Tara. The trouble was she had no faith in Max Richmond.

      MAX replaced the receiver, a deep frown drawing his brows together. Something was wrong. He could feel it. He’d been feeling it all week.

      Tara was different. Each night she’d cut his calls off after only a few minutes with some pitiful excuse. Her hair was wet. She wanted to watch some TV show. Tonight she’d said she had to go because she’d forgotten to feed her mother’s cat and her mother was out playing bingo.

      As if that couldn’t have waited!

      Then there was her definite lack of enthusiasm over their meeting up in Auckland. Tonight she’d even said she might not be able to make it. They were short-handed at Whitmore’s this weekend and she felt obliged to help out. Would he mind terribly if she didn’t come?

      When he’d said that he definitely would, she’d sighed and said she would see what she could do, but not to count on her coming. She hadn’t said she loved him before she ended the call, the way she usually did. Just a rather strained goodbye.

      Last weekend had been a mistake, Max realised. He’d frightened her.

      He shook his head. Hell, didn’t she realise he didn’t really care about that kind of sex? All he wanted was to be with her.

      He would ring her back, reassure her. It wasn’t late. Only eight o’clock, her time.

      When Mrs Bond answered the phone, he was startled. But not for long. Hadn’t he subconsciously known Tara was lying to him?

      ‘Max Richmond here, Mrs Bond. Can I speak to Tara, please?’

      ‘No, you may not!’ the woman snapped. ‘I’m not going to let you upset her any more tonight. She’s been through enough today.’

      ‘What? But I didn’t upset her tonight. And what do you mean she’s been through enough today? What’s going on that I don’t know about?’

      ‘Oh, Mum,’ he heard Tara say in the background. ‘How could you? You promised. I should never have told you.’

      ‘He has to know, Tara. And the sooner the better. Why should you shoulder this burden all on your own?’

      Max was taken aback. ‘Burden? What burden? Speak to me, woman. Tell me what’s going on.’

      But she didn’t answer him. All he heard was muffled sounds. His blood pressure soared as a most dreadful feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him. He wanted to be there, not here, hanging on the end of a phone thousands of miles away. If he was there, he’d make them both look at him and talk to him.

      ‘Hey!’ he shouted down the line. ‘Is anyone there? Mrs Bond. Answer me, damn it!’

      More sounds. A door slamming. A sigh.

      ‘It’s me,’ Tara said with another sigh.

      ‘Thank heaven. Tara, tell me what’s going on.’

      ‘I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret any longer. I’m pregnant, Max.’

      ‘Pregnant!’ He was floored. ‘But how c—?’

      ‘Before you go off on one,’ she swept on rather impatiently, ‘no, I didn’t do this on purpose and no, I didn’t even do it by accident. I took that darned Pill at the same time every day. I even had what I thought was a period a few weeks back. The doctor I saw today said that can happen. It’s rare but not unheard-of. I’m about six or seven weeks gone, according to the ultrasound.’

      A baby. Tara was going to have his baby. She wasn’t tired of him, or frightened of him. She was just pregnant.

      ‘Say something, for pity’s sake!’ she snapped.

      ‘I was thinking.’

      ‘I’ll bet you were. Look, if you think I’m happy about this, then you’re dead wrong. I’m not. The last thing I wanted at this time in my life was to have a baby. If being pregnant feels the way I’ve been feeling every morning then maybe I’ll never want to have one.’

      ‘So that’s why you were sick the other morning!’ Max exclaimed. ‘It wasn’t the champagne.’

      ‘No, it wasn’t the champagne,’ she reiterated tetchily. ‘It was your baby.’

      ‘Yes, I understand, Tara. And your mother’s right. This is my responsibility as much as it is yours. So how long have you known? You didn’t know last weekend, did you?’ Surely she wouldn’t have encouraged him to act the way he had if she knew she was pregnant!

      ‘No, of course I didn’t. But when I woke up on the Sunday morning, chucking up two mornings in a row, I began to suspect.’

      ‘Aah,

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