The Earl's Pregnant Bride. Christine Rimmer

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      Genny gulped. “How did she take it?”

      “She was pleased on all counts.”

      “She wasn’t surprised...you know, that you and I were, um, lovers?”

      He looked at her with infinite patience. “Nothing surprises my grandmother. You should know that.”

      “I...” She started to say something vague and dishonest. But why lie about it? “Yes. I suppose I do.” Eloise had never made a secret of her desire to have Genny join the DeValery family and had openly encouraged a union between Genny and the lost Edward.

      Not only did Genny adore the DeValerys and Hartmore, she had money. Pots of it—and giant old places like Hartmore needed serious infusions of cash on a regular basis. The lion’s share of Genny’s money came down to her from her godmother and namesake, Genevra DeVries. Aunt Genevra had never married. She’d had no children of her own and had always considered Genny the daughter of her heart.

      Now that Edward was gone, the supremely practical Eloise would see nothing wrong with Genny marrying her other grandson, the new heir. Genny only wished that she could be half as indomitable as Eloise.

      “Grandmother loves you,” Rafe said. “Never doubt that.”

      “I don’t. Of course I don’t....”

      He watched her steadily. She had that feeling she too often had with him. That he could see not only through her clothes to her naked body beneath, but even deeper, right into her heart and mind. And then he said, “Now. What are these ‘plans’ you need to discuss with me?”

      She stared at him, chewing her lip, trying to decide how to begin.

      He shook his head. “You had better just tell me.”

      “Ahem.”

      “I’m listening.”

      “Well, I’ve...I’ve been thinking that we shouldn’t actually come right out today and tell my parents that I’m pregnant.” He arched a thick black brow, but said nothing. She added airily, “I’m thinking we can do that later.”

      “When is later?”

      “Oh, well. You know, after we’ve settled in at Hartmore. One thing at a time, I was thinking...”

      He gave her one of his deep and oh-so-patient looks. “You don’t think they’ll wonder why the rush to the altar? Why you’re suddenly marrying me, of all people?”

      “What do you mean, ‘of all people?’” she demanded sourly, as though she didn’t know exactly what he meant.

      Edward. She was supposed to have married Edward.

      Rafe regarded her solemnly. “You know exactly what I mean.”

      She could almost become annoyed with him. After all, he was the one who’d asked her to wait until he was with her to speak of the baby. If she’d just gone ahead and told her mother that morning, it would all be out in the open now. Her mother would have told her father and it wouldn’t really be necessary to say much more about it.

      Now Rafe would be there for the big reveal. And her father, too. Dear Lord. She should have thought this through earlier. Because she realized now that she just wasn’t ready to sit in her mother’s office and look in her father’s face and tell him about the baby.

      He was a wonderful man, her father. He was the best. She couldn’t bear to think he might be disappointed in her.

      Rafe caught her arm and she realized she’d been swaying on her feet the tiniest bit. “Gen. Do you need to sit down?”

      She blinked up at him, all too aware of his touch, of the heat of him so close, of his tempting scent. Of the velvet darkness of his eyes. Carefully, she eased her arm from his grip. “Really, I’m fine.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Yes. I’m fine. I just want you to let me do the talking, let me handle it with my parents.”

      He studied her from under the heavy shelf of his brow. Evidently, he believed that she wasn’t going to faint, because he didn’t try to steady hear again, but only lifted one huge shoulder in a shrug. “You don’t want me to ask for your hand?” He was teasing.

      Or was he?

      She really couldn’t tell. “I... No, of course not. It’s already decided. We’re just sharing our plans.” For that, she got another unreadable look, one that had her waving a nervous hand. “More or less. Can we not overthink it, please?”

      He captured her hand as it fluttered between them and pressed his lips to the back of it. A warm, delicious shiver danced up her arm. For such a giant rock of a man, he did have the softest, supplest mouth. “As you wish, love,” he said.

      Love. He’d been calling her that forever—at least since she was thirteen or so. She’d always liked it when he called her that, and felt as cherished as a dear friend.

      Now, though, it only reminded her that she wasn’t his love in the way that she ought to be as his bride.

      She cleared her throat. “Ready?” He offered his arm. She took it. “All right, then. Let’s get this over with.”

      * * *

      In her mother’s private office, there was tea served in the sitting area with its long velvet sofa and priceless old wing chairs.

      At first, they endured the obligatory small talk—gentle condolences from her mother about the lost Edward, questions about Rafe’s injuries, inquiries about the health of Rafe’s family. He told them that his nephew, Geoffrey, whom Genny adored, had been sent up to boarding school in London “under protest.” Geoffrey’s mother, Rafe’s sister, Brooke, was getting along fine. His grandmother, he said, was in good health and as busy as always about the house and the gardens.

      Too soon, it seemed to Genny, the small talk ran out. Her parents looked at her expectantly.

      And she realized she had absolutely no idea how to go about this. She’d purposely not planned what she would say, telling herself not to make a big deal of it, that the right thing to say would come to her naturally.

      Wrong.

      All that came was a frantic tightness in her throat, a rapid pounding of her pulse and a scary generalized tingly feeling all over, a full-body shiver of dread. And her stomach lurched and churned, making her wonder if she was about to experience her first bout of morning sickness.

      “Gen.” Rafe said it so gently. His big, hot, strong hand covered hers.

      She looked at him, pleading with her eyes. “I...”

      And he took over, turning to face her parents, giving a slow, solemn dip of his large dark head. “Ma’am. Sir. I know this may come as a bit of a surprise. But I love your daughter with all my heart.”

      Loved her with all of his heart? Had he actually said that? Her throat clutched. She swallowed, hard, to relax СКАЧАТЬ