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The Unexpected Child
Kate Walker
FROM HERE TO PATERNITY He was only after one thing - her baby! Natalie had been in love with Pierce Donellan since she was eleven, and when he came knocking on her door again she just couldn't turn him away. But she hadn't considered the possible consequences. When he learned she was pregnant, Pierce insisted on a wedding.But Natalie's unexpected child was the only part of Pierce's heart she was ever likely to possess. Although Pierce did seem determined to make their marriage a real one… .FROM HERE TO PATERNITY - men who find their way to fatherhood by fair means, by foul, or even by default!
“I want my child, Natalie.” (#u037511bb-f432-59fc-a26d-3fa8ce6eab28)About the Author (#u3216a97a-7b81-591c-86f8-c89b603da57b)Title Page (#u136ab507-e0ef-5541-9e58-d5508d38ada5)CHAPTER ONE (#u9d70483b-9e2c-53b5-b791-11c44a7cc628)CHAPTER TWO (#u0fcf7fbc-9784-5a7f-b54a-47b121d0b81b)CHAPTER THREE (#u671d1f3c-be5c-5d02-a464-361466f8898a)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I want my child, Natalie.”
Pierce continued, “I want to know it, love it, see it grow up—”
“You want—you want!” Natalie flung at him bitterly. “Tell me, Pierce—what’s in this for me?”
“A husband who would support you—a home....”
No word of love, but then, what had she expected?
His child—that was all that mattered.
FROM HERE TO PATERNITY—romances that feature fantastic men who eventually make fabulous fathers. Some seek paternity, some have it thrust upon them, all will make it—whether they like it or not!
KATE WALKER was born in Nottinghamshire, England, but as she grew up in Yorkshire she has always felt that her roots were there. She met her husband at university and she originally worked as a children’s librarian, but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their three cats, and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theater and, of course, reading.
The Unexpected Child
Kate Walker
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
AS NATALIE let herself out of the house, the clock in the dining room struck the half-hour, making her stop dead at the sudden realisation that just twelve hours had passed since she had opened the same door on the previous night. Barely half a day, and yet the impact of that time on her life was immeasurable; it would never be the same again.
If she had stuck to her original impulse to ignore the summons of the doorbell, then this would have been just a normal Monday morning, her thoughts only of the coming weeks, with their lead up to Christmas and its pantomime, nativity play and all the other activities the school would be involved in. But the bell had rung again, more insistently, it seemed, and, realising belatedly that with the lights on and the curtain wide open she could hardly pretend not to be at home, she’d got to her feet reluctantly.
‘What is it?’
Impatience rang in her tone as she pulled the door open, letting in a blast of cold night air that made her shiver in spite of the warmth of the cherry-red tuniclength sweater she wore with black stretch leggings. An icy wind blew a couple of strands of her dark hair into her heart-shaped face.
‘Just what—?’
The words died on her tongue, her brown eyes opening wide, as the light from the hallway spilled out onto the tall, masculine figure standing at the top of the steps.
‘Hi, Nat.’
In spite of the painful familiarity of the voice, Natalie had to blink hard in order to convince herself that she really was seeing clearly.
‘Pierce?’
It was all she could manage, shock numbing her brain so that she found it impossible to think. More than ten years ago, she had been knocked completely off balance the first time she had ever seen Pierce Donellan, and since then she had never been able to recover any degree of mental equilibrium where he was concerned.
He still had the power to deprive her of speech, the impact of his forcefully male attraction positively lethal to any hope of composure. Even casually dressed as he was now, in worn jeans and a navy sweatshirt, under a black leather jacket, with his black hair blown wildly around his head by the wind, and raindrops scattered like diamonds amongst the jet strands, he had a heartstopping male beauty that closed her throat and drove coherent thought from her mind.
‘Nothing to say, Nat?’ That cool voice was threaded through with a note of mockery that she remembered with a sense of discomfort from the past. ‘That isn’t like you. You always seemed to have plenty of opinions, and were only too keen to make sure that I heard every one of them.’
‘You took me by surprise—you were the last person I expected to see.’
And that was the absolute truth. She had long since convinced herself that Pierce Donellan would never again be part of her life, and if some weak, impressionable piece of her heart had still retained the foolish hope that things could be otherwise, then the news that had set the whole village buzzing only the previous month would have put paid to that.
‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’
Pierce’s grin in response to her unsettled tartness was disturbingly boyish, even slightly shamefaced, the appeal of that lopsided smile winging its way to her frighteningly vulnerable heart and tugging at it sharply. After believing that she had lost him for ever, she couldn’t suppress the rush of joy that flooded through her to see him like this, and yet stern realism told her that she would only be laying herself open to more hurt if she let him just wander back into her life as he had always done before.
‘Would you believe I was just passing?’
‘No way.’
Still not sure how to take him, she tried to harden her heart against him, knowing with a sense of despair that it was a vain attempt. One more smile like that one and she was done for.
‘Not even you could be “just passing” Holme Road on the way to anywhere. For one thing, it’s a cul-de-sac, and for an—’
‘OK, I confess! I was on my way to hide out at the Manor when I realised that with my mother away at Angela’s there would be no one around. The housekeeper’s on holiday so the place will be deserted, the heating off, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to look up an old friend.’
“‘Old friend?’” Natalie echoed, injecting a note of scepticism into her words and struggling to make herself feel something of the same emotion—an effort that was weakened as Pierce moved more into the light so that she saw with some concern how pale and drawn he looked. Or perhaps that was just the effect of the moonlight draining all the colour from his skin.
‘Don’t you think that’s something of an exaggeration? The truth is simply that my mother was your family’s cook and housekeeper for some years and you occasionally condescended to speak to me.’
Oh, why couldn’t time have given her some degree of objectivity? Why couldn’t absence have put a distance between her and this man so that, if not exactly out of sight, out of mind, then at least she might have had a chance of facing him with some sort of confidence?
With anyone else, she could behave as the mature professional of twenty-four she was. But Pierce seemed to be able to strip away the intervening years with a glance, reducing her once more to the gauche and rather prickly adolescent she had been when they had first met, a situation that was made all the worse by the knowledge that her foolish dreams had been just that—fantasies, without a hope of coming true.
‘And you were never exactly a regular visitor even when you lived in Ellerby. That would be too much like slumming for the Lord of the Manor. I can’t imagine what brings you here—’
‘You know I always hated that nickname!’ Pierce’s words cut in on her, cold and hard as his expression. ‘If I’m not welcome, you only have to say.’
Already he was turning away. He was perfectly capable of leaving without another word, Natalie realised—prepared to walk out of her life as easily as he had strolled back into it, and with no further explanation. Stern common sense said she should let him go, but her heart cried out in protest at the thought. It was almost three years since she had last seen him. If he went now, would she ever see him again?
‘Well, now you’re here, the least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee!’ she said, pushing aside her hesitation as she opened the door wider. ‘Come in before you freeze, and...’
Her voice faded as she turned from closing the door to find him standing so close behind her that her arm brushed against his as she moved. In the dark confines of the hallway, he seemed somehow bigger, much more forceful than ever before, making her feel even less than her average five feet five. The lean, strong frame seemed to fill the small space so completely that she was suddenly gripped by the unnerving feeling of being trapped alongside some powerful jungle cat, with no idea when or even if it planned to pounce on its potential prey.
‘Go into the living room,’ she said hastily, knowing she sounded as disturbed as she felt. She could think of no possible reason why Pierce should seek her out like this after all this time. ‘there a fire in there; it’ll soon warm you up.’
The unexpected tension that had tugged at her nerves also drove her to switch on the main overhead light as she followed him into the room, not feeling at ease with the shadows cast by her small desk lamp. Her first sight of Pierce in the sudden brightness had her taking a step back in surprise.
‘Are you all right?’
He looked dreadful, she acknowledged privately, his skin drawn tight over the strong bones of his face in a way that etched lines around his mouth and eyes, and the pallor she had noted earlier and now saw was not just a trick of the moonlight made him look drained and haggard, an effect that was aggravated by the dark stubble that shadowed his cheeks.
‘Just tired.’
Pierce rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, but not before she had glimpsed, and worried over, the unnatural, almost feverish glitter that burned in their sapphire depths.
‘The motorway was hellish—the world and his wife seemed to be on their way to somewhere from somewhere tonight.’
‘Everyone would be trying to get home at the last minute after the holiday, I suppose.’ Taking her cue from his casual dismissal of her concern, Natalie tried to make her words sound light and more relaxed than she actually felt. ‘They’d want to be back in time for school tomorrow.’
‘Yeah, that’d be it—I’d forgotten it was half-term.’
The blue eyes went to the desk in the corner, the clutter of papers highlighted by the glow of the lamp, and he frowned swiftly.
‘Oh, hell—I’m sorry—you were working and I’ve interrupted you.’
‘Not at all! I’d just finished.’
Mentally Natalie crossed her fingers against the white lie. Every instinct she possessed told her something was wrong—because she didn’t believe that ‘old friends’ routine for one moment.
‘So—can I get you something to drink? Coffee?’
‘I’d rather have something stronger if you’ve got it.’
‘There’s only sherry.’
‘Sherry will be fine.’
It was as she handed him the drink that another thought occurred to her, making her wonder if in fact alcohol was the best thing for him.
‘Have you eaten?’ It was the question she should have asked before she had poured him the sherry, she told herself reprovingly.
‘Not since lunch. I didn’t want to waste time by stopping for food—I wanted to get away from London as quickly as possible.’
‘Was it as bad as that?’
‘You’d better believe it.’ Pierce took a swallow of his drink and she was glad to see that a trace of colour returned to his cheeks. ‘I broke the speed limit almost all the way here.’
Which seemed to imply much more than just a casual visit home—and Pierce’s beloved Porsche was capable of some very high speeds indeed. That thought had Natalie moving hastily to the window, twitching aside the curtain and looking down into the street, concerned for the safety of the expensive vehicle. This area of town suffered particularly from the problem of joyriders. As he watched her, Pierce’s mouth twisted sharply.
‘You needn’t worry.’ The dark irony of his tone stung bitterly. ‘I parked the car a couple of streets away. No one will know that I’m here.’
‘That wasn’t what was bothering me.’
‘Oh, wasn’t it?’
His voice was harsher now, dangerously reminiscent of the anger that had been in it on the night of her eighteenth birthday, the night that had finally destroyed any chance that she and Pierce could ever regard each other as anything remotely resembling friends.
‘According to you, you’re the one with the reputation to lose.’
If his earlier comment had distressed her, this one actually had her mouth opening on a shocked gasp, a rush of anger driving away any pain it might have brought.
‘And what about you?’ Natalie retorted. ‘Don’t you think it might damage your reputation to be seen calling on—?’
‘On one of the lowly peasants on the family estate?’
The coldly drawled question had Natalie taking an instinctive step or two backwards away from him. She had only ever seen Pierce in this sort of mood once before and it had frightened her then as it did now.
‘On the contrary, my dear Natalie, I would have thought that it would very much enhance my reputation if people knew I was here.’
His intonation had changed again. This time the words were smokily sensuous, seeming to coil round her thoughts, clouding them, mesmerising her.
‘What about the droit du seigneur that I’m supposed to lay claim to—the one thing I want from innocents like you?’
Inwardly, Natalie winced in response to his deliberate reminder of the words she had flung at him long ago, in a haze of hurt and anger. Then, as now, he had smiled as he spoke, but without any real warmth, his mood seeming light-years away from anything even vaguely resembling amusement, except of the darkest, harshest kind.
‘After all, Ellerby is positively medieval in so many of its attitudes—don’t you think that as Lord of the Manor I should be able to take my pick of the local village maidens?’
‘Pierce—’ Natalie tried huskily but he ignored her and, with that smile that made her think fearfully of a lazy tiger indolently surveying its prey, moved smoothly and silently to her side, lifting one hand to brush the backs of his fingers slowly down her cheek, making her shiver in involuntary response.
‘If I can find any—maidens, that is,’ he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They’re something of a rarity these days. Most modern girls are so knowing—sure of themselves—so—’
He broke off abruptly, staring down into her heart-shaped face with an intensity that had her drawing in a quick, sharp breath and holding on to it, afraid to let it go.
‘But not you, Nat—with those big doe’s eyes and that innocent face...’ A soft thumb brushed the fullness of her mouth. ‘You’re so very different.’
Suddenly he frowned, making her heart lurch in apprehension. In spite of the fact that he wasn’t even touching her now, she felt trapped, held transfixed, like a rabbit petrified by the headlights of an oncoming car.
And like that terrified rabbit she knew instinctively that her situation was filled with danger, that by staying still she was risking pain and destruction for herself. She had to do something to stop this.
But even as her mind recognised that fact and screamed frantic instructions to her limbs to run to safety it was as if the fear itself had paralysed her and she couldn’t move an inch.
‘But I don’t like the way you’ve started to do your hair,’ Pierce murmured, gesturing towards the neat coil with undisguised scorn. ‘It’s too tight—too controlled. You look like a schoolmistress.’
‘I am a schoolmistress.’
‘Not now—not at this time of night. Now you’re off duty, and so—’
Before she could realise what he had in mind, he had moved swiftly, his hands going unerringly to the pins that held the long, dark swathe of her hair confined at the back of her head. With two confident tugs he freed them, smiling with disturbingly sensual satisfaction as the ebony mane tumbled round her neck in waving disarray.
‘Much better,’ he declared, and then, to her complete consternation, he combed his fingers gently through the tumbled strands, smoothing them onto her shoulders with a touch so soft and gentle that it was all she could do not to close her eyes in languorous response, her lips parting to shape a murmur of delight that she only just choked back in time, realising it had been in the form of his name.
‘Now you look positively kissable—in fact—’
‘No!’ Natalie cut in swiftly, suddenly afraid to hear more. The bitter irony of the situation struck home like a poisoned knife with the thought that years ago, even just a month or two before, she would actually have welcomed the sort of things he was saying—or, at least, the things she thought he was saying. Because the way he spoke was so darkly sardonic, those brilliant blue eyes holding no degree of warmth, that she couldn’t be absolutely sure. But now, even if he did mean them, it was far too late. He was committed to another woman, and all his compliments should go to her.
‘Pierce.’ She tried hard to make it sound firmly determined but didn’t succeed very well. ‘You can’t say things like that when you don’t mean them.’
‘And how do you know what I mean and what I don’t? Have you suddenly become telepathic, so that you can see into my mind?’
The faint downward movement of his dark head was positively the last straw, bringing with it a bitter memory of the one and only time he had ever kissed her. The image sliced into the trance that held her still, shattering it with the realisation of the way she was tempting fate by not resisting.
‘And what would your fiancée think about that?’
