she could never have imagined the look of pure, unadulterated horror that fell over his features. It was as if someone had announced the end of the world.
Strange how painful it was to see. Her face burned as if she’d been slapped.
However, she had to pull herself together. She had intended to be strong and businesslike, presenting her facts and her demands unemotionally. She was furious with herself for suddenly coming across all weak and weepy. It must be the hormone fluctuations the doctor had warned her about.
And maybe it was also the confusion of entering this house, which had always been the symbol of unassailable power in Heyday. She’d felt uncomfortable even ringing the bell, like some unfortunate chambermaid come to tell the lord of the manor he’d done her wrong.
She’d always known Kieran was rich and important. Everyone in Heyday knew that. But knowing an abstract fact and seeing him here, dressed in a tuxedo, his handsome face and imposing physique so at home against the marble and the tapestries and the sheer impressive magnitude of his mansion, were two very different things.
She straightened her shoulders. Damn it, she wasn’t the chambermaid. And he wasn’t a lord. He wasn’t even the Saint everyone had always called him. He was just a guy who’d slept around once too often and gotten himself caught.
“I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her voice cool. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt. I know it’s a shock, but—”
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
“It was for me, as well. But it’s true.” She let her fingers rest against the black purse that hung at her side. She realized they were trembling. “I brought documentation from the gynecologist, in case you—”
He squinted and put out his hand, as if to stop her, though he didn’t actually touch her arm. “For God’s sake, Claire. I don’t think you’re lying.”
“Okay. Well, then, I assume you’ll want some proof of paternity. I haven’t looked into that yet. I thought it likely you’d rather work with doctors, or laboratories, of your own choosing, to ensure an unbiased—”
He shook his head tightly. “If you say it’s mine, I believe you. It’s just that I had thought that we— I mean I did—”
“Yes, you did. But we both know that’s not exactly a one-hundred-percent guarantee. Again, if you have any uncertainty, I’m perfectly willing to let you establish—”
“No.” He was still holding his cuff link. He was opening and closing his fist over the thing compulsively. Other than that, he was so motionless he might have been one of the sculptures that stood at intervals along the walls of this formal foyer. “I told you, if you say this is my problem, I’ll accept that.”
Heat flashed through her. “You must have misunderstood me. I didn’t say this was your problem. I said this was your child.”
He flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just that—I need a little time to absorb…”
He raked his fingers through his hair, which seemed to be damp. He must have showered recently. And the tuxedo. Suddenly she realized she had interrupted preparations for something.
When she arrived, she had only half registered the men and women milling about next door, in front of Aurora York’s house. Now she could put two and two together. He was on his way to a party. She was probably making him late.
Well, too bad. She hardened her heart against his obvious bewildered distress. The arrival of a baby was going to change a lot of plans, for both of them. They were just going to have to get used to it.
And if he’d been planning to meet some woman over there, some glamorous Heyday socialite who was even now impatiently awaiting his arrival… Well, it was better that he learn about the baby before he let the dancing and the drinking and the flirting go too far.
“Yes, it might be good to take a little time to think,” she said. “Anyway, I can see that you’re busy. I’m staying in town, at the hotel, and we can talk more tomorrow. I just thought it was important to let you know as soon as possible.”
Before she lost her nerve and ran back to Richmond.
“But—are you all right?” He seemed to be waking up a bit. He looked at her with clear eyes for the first time since her announcement. He frowned, as if what he saw worried him. “You look tired. Are you well?”
“I’m fine. I have a little nausea sometimes, but that’s normal.”
“What about money? Do you need money?” He touched his shirt, then seemed to realize he wasn’t completely dressed. “My wallet is upstairs, but if you’ll—”
She lifted her chin. Money! Of course that was what he would think. People who owned things were always convinced the rest of the world wanted to take those things away.
“It’s not about money,” she said. “Don’t insult me, Kieran.”
He made a small sound and came toward her, holding out his hand. Then, for the first time since she’d arrived, he touched her. It wasn’t much, just his palm on her shoulder, but it sent waves of weakness through her torso, and it almost loosened the emotional dam she used to hold back her tears.
“Claire—”
She backed off. What was wrong with her? Why did the slightest touch turn her steel will to mush? She had reacted the same way when the gynecologist had patted her arm and told her everything was going to be fine.
Except for the night she and Kieran had made love, she had barely touched another human being in two years. She had thought she didn’t need it, thought she was too strong to need it. Obviously she’d been wrong. Apparently she was starving for it, as weak as a baby herself.
“I don’t want your money,” she repeated. “You can relax. I’m not here either as a beggar or a blackmailer.”
“God, of course you’re not,” he said roughly. “Damn it, Claire, the thought never crossed my mind. But it’s just that—if you won’t let me help you financially…”
She looked at him. This had seemed much easier when she rehearsed it in the car on the way here. It had seemed so simple, like a business deal where everyone paid a fair price for what they got. Crime and punishment, sin and penance, equally balanced. She had even imagined that he might suggest the obvious answer himself.
But now she saw how thoroughly she had deluded herself. St. Kieran McClintock was genuinely horrified, completely bewildered and had no idea what she wanted.
She took a deep breath.
“I want you to marry me,” she said.
He recoiled. There was no other word for it. He even took a step backward, as if she’d hit him.
“Marry you?”
“Yes. You don’t need to look so stunned. That’s frequently what people do in situations like this.”
“But—” He undid the top button of his suit, as though he suddenly weren’t able
