The Shock Cassano Baby

‘I did!’ Her reply came out in a burst of anguish before she lowered her voice in soft confession. ‘Of course I did.’

She turned her head to one side, but not before Orlando had caught sight of the flush of heat that had flooded her face. He waited, watching with cold interest as she struggled to find her composure.

‘I’m not denying that what happened between us was...mutual.’ The intensity of his gaze demanded more. ‘Was...good, in fact. But that was in the past. Circumstances have changed.’

‘Evidently.’

He didn’t have time for this. Orlando felt what little patience he’d had march out of the door.

Pushing back his chair, he drew himself up to his full height and looked down on this infuriating woman. ‘Look, Isobel, I’m not here to mess about or to play games. I’ve only got a short time in London and I thought it would be nice to spend some of it with you. Even if it’s just dinner. But I’m certainly not going to force your hand.’

Standing with his feet apart he folded his arms decisively across his chest.

‘If you have other plans, or would rather not, that’s fine too. Just say the word.’

‘Two words, actually, Orlando.’

Orlando narrowed his eyes, something about the tortured expression clouding Isobel’s face halting the pumped up pride in his chest, preventing any sharp retort from escaping. Instead he grew very still.

‘Go on.’

Isobel dragged in a deep breath and he found himself willing her to just damn well come out with it. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for the words when they eventually came.

‘I’m pregnant.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_90a5cbb5-2137-5eef-a8b7-f535edad7d12)

‘PREGNANT?’

Isobel watched as Orlando’s face turned to stone, his features hardening, his jaw clenching.

‘No.’ Getting to his feet, he stared down at her, his body rigid with tension. ‘You can’t be.’

‘It’s true, Orlando.’ Isobel heard her reply through the roar in her ears—flat, dull, as if spoken by somebody else.

‘And I am the father?’

Pain lanced through her. Did he really know her so little that he had to ask that humiliating question?

She sat up straight, bracing herself, meeting his penetrating gaze with icy contempt. ‘Yes, Orlando, you are the father. Considering you are the only person I have ever had sex with, I think we can take that as definite.’

Orlando’s eyes narrowed with stunned disbelief. ‘The only one? You mean...?’

‘Yes, exactly that. I was a virgin, Orlando.’

Darkness twisted his handsome features. ‘I didn’t know.’ Then, more harshly, ‘Why the hell didn’t you say?’

‘Why would I?’ Isobel replied, with a calm that threatened to shatter like glass. ‘It was irrelevant. It still is irrelevant.’

‘Not to me, it isn’t.’ Cursing under his breath, Orlando shook his head, then raised a hand to his brow.

‘And this pregnancy... You are quite sure about it?’

‘Quite sure.’

She let her eyes slide to the floor, to the pair of handmade Italian shoes that were planted in front of her.

The shoes moved a couple of steps away and, raising her eyes again, Isobel saw Orlando raking a hand through his hair, his expression one of abject horror.

‘The split condom?’ He fired the question at her as the spinning cogs of his mind whirred to find an explanation.

Isobel gave a small nod. ‘It has to be.’

She had been over it a hundred times, convinced this had to be the only answer. During one of their many mad, passionate, crazy lovemaking sessions on the island of Jacamar she had heard Orlando curse, then reach out for another condom before pulling her back into his arms. She remembered the raw panting of his breath, the pounding of his heart beneath his ribcage as he straddled her once more, intent on finishing where he had left off, taking them both soaring to the heights of ecstasy they’d so badly craved.

As she had fallen asleep in his arms, sweat-sealed and sated, her body still shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure, it had never occurred to her that the course of her life was about to change for ever.

Cursing again in his native tongue, Orlando turned on his heel, striding over to the wall of windows, where he braced his hands against the glass, resting his forehead between them. Isobel stared at the stark outline of his rear view, his stiffly held posture radiating tension.

‘How long have you known?’ He spoke the words over his shoulder.

‘I just did the test this morning.’

Orlando spun around. ‘So you haven’t had it confirmed by a doctor?’

‘I don’t need to, Orlando.’ Isobel knew she had to extinguish the look of hope in his eyes. ‘These tests are extremely accurate. And, besides, I can already feel the changes in my body. I’ve had my suspicions for a couple of weeks, but I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told you.’

Moving away from the window, Orlando came to sit down again, pulling up his chair so that he was positioned directly opposite Isobel, close enough for his knees to brush hers. Isobel crossed her legs tightly, pulled at the hem of her skirt.

‘Then we must figure out how we are going to proceed.’ Running his hand over his jaw, Orlando cupped his chin, his eyes narrowing with concentration as they searched hers.

How we are going to proceed. The words made Isobel’s skin prickle with alarm as she watched his wall of self-control slide back into place. Because she knew the kind of man Orlando was: powerful, ruthless. One who liked to make all the decisions, to bend others to his will. Who even now looked as if he was about to take command, address the problem of this pregnancy with cool detachment and deal with it as he saw fit.

Well, Isobel would never let that happen. She sure as hell wasn’t going to have him ruling her life, calling the shots. She had done the right thing by telling him she was carrying his child, but as far as she was concerned that was it. From now on the responsibility and the decisions were all hers. She needed to make that very clear.

Leaning forward, Orlando rested his splayed hands on his thighs, his dark gaze holding hers with brooding intensity. Isobel could see his mind racing as he tried to come to terms with this information, tried to shape it into some form he could control. He was so close now she could feel the air move with each steady breath, catch the faint scent of his cologne, see the amber flecks in his eyes.

She took in a breath to try and steady the pounding of her heart. This was what Orlando did to her. He messed with her head, made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She was still trying to fight off the effects of that earlier kiss, the burning ache that had spread through her body and continued to pulse low down in her abdomen. He shouldn’t have done that—it wasn’t fair...he had broken the rules. Because they both knew that what had happened on Jacamar—that crazy, heady cocktail of wild abandonment and mind-blowing sex—had to stay on Jacamar.

As he had pulled away from their final hug the message in Orlando’s eyes had been loud and clear. That was great. Emphasis on the was. And Isobel had played along, knowing it was the only way, ignoring the hard knot in her throat, covering up the wobble of her chin until she had been chugging away from the sunshine island with the wind in her face and horizontal tears leaking from her eyes.

Because she had known then, as she knew now, that she was going to have to fight against her feelings for Orlando with all her might. Losing her heart to this magnetic, masterful man would mean nothing but misery, that was a certainty.

Over the past couple of weeks—from the first creeping realisation that her period was late to the hideous certainty that she was pregnant—she had given serious thought to keeping the news to herself. That way she just might be able to protect her heart and control her own destiny. If Orlando didn’t know about the child she would be free to raise it as she liked. Financially it would be a struggle, but she could do it. It wasn’t as if she wanted anything from him. She wouldn’t be hounding him for maintenance. And she most certainly didn’t expect him to marry her.

But, tempting though it was to try and keep Orlando out of the equation, practically it would be a nightmare. And, more than that, ultimately she knew that her conscience would never let her go through with it. After all, it was a man’s basic right to know that he was going to be a father.

Which was why she was seated here now, fighting off the sweeping feelings of longing with sweaty palms and a deliberately steely stare.