to fall from her image of the house once she tried to imagine living there alone with the children. When it happened, it would be the end of their marriage and change was always scary, which was probably why her mind was so stubbornly refusing to stop thinking it. She wasn’t even pregnant yet, she reminded herself, and who knew how long that would take? Or how long Zac would be willing to be patient? He never forgot what they shared was temporary but she forgot it over and over again.
Her face drenched with colour as she thought about the way they had made love in the house. Zac had few inhibitions but she had encouraged him. Should she really be demonstrating that much enthusiasm with a man who was planning to leave her? Shouldn’t pride make her a little cooler? But how was she supposed to act cooler in that department when their main objective was for her to conceive? Torn apart by those conflicting thoughts, Freddie buried them. When their marriage was over, she told herself firmly, she would have to make her peace with reality.
The following day, Zac announced that Molderstone Manor was theirs with immediate possession and that he was throwing in a local construction firm to upgrade the north wing to his standards, which would allow the main house to be renovated at a more leisurely pace.
Freddie was thrilled and she hugged him and persuaded him that a second trip had to be made down to the manor. By the time surveys came back on the property, revealing that the manor was in much better order than Zac had anticipated, he was resigned to his future home and planning a helipad in the grounds for faster access. Freddie, however, immersed herself blissfully in paint colours and upholstery fabrics, leaving Zac to choose bathroom fittings and loudly veto some of her décor choices.
Another two weeks rattled past in that manner, by which time Zac was thoroughly bored with floral fabrics that sent Freddie into paroxysms of delight and convinced him that beige was the only way to go.
‘Bland...bland...bland,’ Freddie contradicted. ‘It’s not your fault. You’re too used to living in hotels.’
She was sitting on the bed with a giant pile of fabric swatches. She had dug herself into the project of turning the big house into a home to lift her mood. As summer wore into autumn, the anniversary of her sister’s tragic death loomed and she was keen to visit the cemetery where Lauren had been laid to rest, even though she knew it would reanimate sad memories. Tomorrow definitely, she decided ruefully, feeling guilty that she hadn’t been back there since the funeral.
Zac swept the fabric swatches off the bed and pounced on her. ‘You’re not allowed to bring those to bed with you.’
‘It’s only eight o’clock in the evening. I’m not technically in bed,’ Freddie pointed out, gazing up into black fringed stunning eyes that were the colour of grey ice in that light.
Zac wound his fingers slowly through the silky thickness of her hair. ‘But I can put you there, meu pequenino,’ he traded, in a dark deep drawl that sent tiny shivers of awareness down her spine. ‘And keep you there.’
‘Arrogant much?’ Freddie mocked with dancing eyes.
And his mouth crushed hers in answer. He tasted of coffee and hunger and he smelt divine. It was one of those truly perfect moments that she cherished. The bedroom was an oasis of peace for her once the children were in bed but it was also a wildly exciting but safe place to be with Zac. Her arms closed round him as his tongue tangled with hers. She decided he deserved one beige room. She could live with beige in very small quantities.
The next morning, Freddie slept in yet again and got out of bed in a rush, wondering why on earth she should be so tired when she was doing so little. Throwing on clothes in haste and only a smidgeon of make-up, she brushed her hair and went to join Zac for breakfast. The minute she entered the big reception room the smell of fried food assailed her nostrils and her stomach performed a virtual somersault, which left her cramming her hand against her mouth and racing back to the bathroom, grateful that Zac was out on the balcony and shielded from the sight. There she was very sick and, sobered by the experience, she leant on the vanity counter studying her perspiring face with wide, troubled eyes. Now that she thought about it, and she really hadn’t been thinking about it, she began counting days very carefully back to her last period. She was almost two weeks overdue! Could she be pregnant?
Of course you could be pregnant, you idiot, she scolded herself in exasperation. After all, they had been doing everything possible to get her pregnant since the day after they had married. A faint wave of warning dizziness engulfed her when she walked briskly back into the bedroom and she sat down with a still-swimming head on the end of the bed. Pregnant? Pregnant! She had thought it would take months to get pregnant, she had assumed it would take months but, possibly, not always. She headed back into the bathroom to clean her teeth and freshen up. She could be carrying Zac’s baby right now.
How long would he stay with her once she told him? That single question sliced through every other thought in her head. Of course, she would have to check that she was pregnant first because she didn’t want to sound a false alarm. And if she mentioned her suspicion to Zac, Zac would take over and she would be rushed off to see some fancy doctor when she could easily buy a pregnancy test and find out for herself. Would he stay with her at least until the baby was born? Freddie’s lips quivered and her eyes prickled like mad. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Maybe it was her hormones. Would he even stay with her until the baby was a few months old? She sucked in a deep breath like a drowning swimmer, struggling to compose herself.
What Zac chose to do was not her business, she warned herself fiercely. They had an agreement. He had agreed to adopt Eloise and Jack with her and she had agreed to try and give him a child to enable him to take control of the da Rocha business empire. Obviously he couldn’t leave her until the adoption was finalised, she acknowledged on a tide of sudden overpowering relief that even she couldn’t ignore. And there was a couple of months yet to run on the adoption process.
Why did the prospect of Zac leaving fill her with horror and a deep and terrifying sense of abandonment? Practicality not sentiment, she rhymed to herself. Oh, to hell with that cop-out, she decided without hesitation. He was planning to desert her with two kids and another on the way and escape all the work and hassle of a newborn! How was that fair? Freddie hurtled at insane speed from misery to rage at the injustice of his plans.
This was the man she slept wrapped around every night. This was the man who enjoyed her body several times a day. This was the man planning to maroon her in the country with a house that needed a heck of a lot of work and someone with Zac’s drive and energy to ensure it got done! That Molderstone Manor happened to be her dream house should carry no weight in the argument, she told herself, determined to be a martyr in every way.
‘What’s up?’ Zac enquired lazily as Freddie tilted her nose in the air and walked to the far end of the balcony, turning her slender back to him.
‘Nothing’s up,’ she responded, taking in a great gulp of fresh air to close out the faint aroma of fried food still on the table.
‘Aren’t you joining me for breakfast?’
‘I’m not hungry. Where are the children?’
‘Izzy took them to the park.’ Zac appraised her as she turned. She looked very pale and the tip of her nose was pink as if she had been crying. ‘Have you been crying?’
‘Why would I have been crying?’ Freddie asked stiffly. ‘I’ve got some shopping to do.’
‘I’m meeting Dad for lunch but I can do shopping as long as neither paint nor fabric choices are involved.’ Zac sprang upright, every long, lean line of his powerful body defined by the beautifully
