Blackmail & Secrets: The Sandoval Baby / The Count's Secret Child / Playboy's Surprise Son. Кейт Хьюит
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‘Exactly.’ Rafe turned back to her with a grim smile. ‘By accident, I must suppose. She deceived me twice—first by taking birth control when she knew how much I wanted a child, and then by keeping her pregnancy secret from me.’
‘I suppose I can understand why you wanted a paternity test,’ Freya said quietly, and Rafe’s features twisted.
‘I did not realise she hated me so much.’ He raked a hand through his hair, then let it fall. ‘I think you should take a pregnancy test. Just in case.’
‘It’s not—’
‘I know,’ he cut across her. ‘But at least it will rule out the possibility.’
This was what Rosalia lived with for five years, Freya supposed. The pressure, the tension, and then of course his disappointment. By the time Freya had met her Rosalia had surely hated Rafe. Yet what had caused that hate? Five years of expectation and disappointment could not have helped. Had she ever loved him? Freya thought she must have. Her hatred had seemed fuelled by disappointment and despair. Had Rafe ever loved his wife, Freya wondered, or just the idea of a child?
‘I’ll buy a test tomorrow,’ Rafe told her.
Freya shrugged her acceptance. If it eased Rafe’s mind, she would take the test. She knew what the result would be.
Positive. Two pink lines. Freya sat on the edge of the bath and stared disbelievingly at the test stick. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. She knew it was.
Yet the evidence was right there in her hand—two blazing pink lines that meant she was pregnant. She scrabbled for the leaflet that had come with the test, checked again. Yes. Pregnant. And what about false positives? Very rare, the leaflet said.
And yet.
It couldn’t be.
Even so an incredulous hope was filling her up inside, buoying her heart. She felt a sudden fierce joy—a joy she’d never thought to experience. A child. Her child. A miracle.
‘Freya?’ Rafe stood outside the bathroom door, impatience sharpening his voice.
The disbelieving joy of seeing the test results gave way to a greater shock. She was pregnant … with Rafe’s child. It was a miracle, but it was also a mess.
‘Just a minute.’ From somewhere Freya found her voice. Fumbling with the lock, she opened the bathroom door. She had no words—she felt suddenly near tears—so she simply handed the test stick to Rafe. He took it automatically, then stared down at those two lines.
For a split second, no more, Freya thought he looked almost—happy. He didn’t smile, but his features softened in a way that made her yearn for this moment to be so different from what it was. Then his expression was ironed out and he tossed the stick in the bin.
‘You’re pregnant.’ He spoke levelly, without any inflection.
Freya nodded. ‘Yes, it would seem … I thought it was impossible. I was sure.’
‘Were you?’ Rafe enquired coolly.
Freya’s gaze flew to his face. She saw his eyes had narrowed, his lips pursed. She was starting to know that look so well.
‘What are you suggesting?’ she asked, her voice as cool as his. ‘That I tricked you somehow? That I planned what—what happened and thought I might get pregnant that one time? You still suspect some kind of seduction?’ Even though she kept her voice level and expressionless, she knew Rafe could hear the scorn.
‘I don’t know what to think,’ he said evenly. ‘You told me it was taken care of. I assumed you were on birth control—’
‘I am infertile.’ Freya cut across him, the words raw and wounded. ‘I was told I was infertile. I had no reason to doubt it.’ She swallowed convulsively, unable to say more. Rafe’s narrow gaze took in her sudden silence, and she knew he was not satisfied with her answer.
He nodded towards her still-flat belly. ‘Obviously the person who told you was mistaken.’
Freya placed her hand on her middle, as if she could somehow sense the tiny life within. Pregnant. A child. A chance she’d never, ever thought to have. Rafe raised his eyebrows, and suddenly, fiercely, Freya said, ‘I’m keeping it.’
Rafe drew back, clearly startled by the fierceness of her tone. ‘I was not suggesting otherwise.’
‘Good.’ She let out a harsh breath. ‘This baby is a miracle. I never thought I’d fall pregnant.’ Repercussions were slamming through her mind. This baby was not hers alone. ‘You’ve said you wanted children …’ she began hesitantly, not even sure what point she meant to make.
Rafe’s mouth thinned. ‘I have a child.’
The words hurt even as Freya lifted her chin. ‘Fine. If you think I’m asking for help, or money, or something like that—’
‘I don’t know what you want.’ Rafe cut across her, his tone suddenly savage. ‘I’ve never known what you wanted.’ He took a step closer to her, the action seeming both menacing and desperate. His eyes flashed blackly. ‘But I know you are hiding something from me, and when I find out what it is …’
It wasn’t quite a threat, but close enough that Freya felt a shiver steal straight through her, all the way to her soul.
‘Whatever secrets I have,’ she whispered, ‘have nothing to do with you.’
Rafe’s mouth curved in a humourless smile. ‘I knew from the moment I met you that you were hiding something from me. You still are. I’ve been deceived enough before to know the signs.’
Freya felt her heart start to beat with fast, fearful thuds. She could not deny that she was hiding something; she’d been hiding something for ten years. Yet neither could she confess. The thought of facing Rafe’s sure scorn and disgust was more than she could bear. Besides, it was her secret and hers alone. It had nothing to do with their baby. Their baby.
‘I think you must be paranoid,’ she told him coolly. ‘I am not Rosalia. I am not lying to you. I genuinely believed myself to be infertile.’
‘I believe you,’ Rafe returned, yet his tone suggested that was just about all he believed.
Freya could not keep herself from looking away, and Rafe noticed.
His mouth thinned once more. ‘I will make an appointment at the doctor’s in Seville.’
Freya swallowed. Tasted bile. Memories came rushing back—memories of pregnancy tests and doctors’ offices, of disappointment and despair. She’d been eighteen years old, alone in Barcelona. It had been different, and yet so much the same. She looked away, blinking hard.
‘What is wrong?’ Rafe asked.
Freya drew in a deep breath. She could not let memories claim her now—not when Rafe was already so suspicious.
‘Nothing. That is.this