In Bed With...Collection

“Yes. I’m afraid there is,” she said flatly, scarcely able to believe she had been so stupid, so wilfully, wantonly stupid.

“Bloody hell!” he said, not liking it any more than she did. He swung his legs off the bed and sat hunched away from her, his head in his hands.

Maggie drew up her knees, hugging them, feeling more alone than ever.

The silence was filled with pregnant things.

“Well, you can’t leave now,” Beau said tersely, twisting around to direct his decision at her. “Not with this hanging over our heads.”

Like the sword of doom, she thought, her heart sinking on the horns of their dilemma. She met his eyes, schooling herself to expect nothing. “Would you want the baby if I had one?’ she asked, hating the idea of forced acceptance.

“Of course, I would!” He stood up, stiff with indignation. “Do you think I’m the kind of man who’d abandon his own child?”

People did.

Who knew that better than she?

Maggie never would. She couldn’t. Impossible for her to trust anyone but herself to do right by her child. If she had one.

“I don’t know you,” she said. “I only met you today and you certainly haven’t struck me as someone I could trust and depend upon. I think you’d do what suits you.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” he declared, affronted by her opinion of his character. “And there’s plenty of people who’d back me up on that.”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I guess time will tell.”

“Yes, it will.”

He left her with that dark comment as he walked around the room collecting his scattered clothes.

Maggie sagged into dismal despondency. Maybe God would be merciful and let her get away with this one night of madness. When she did have a child she wanted to be in a true love relationship where abandonment would never be a possibility. She had no idea what kind of father Beau Prescott would make. Probably a resentful one and what good was that?

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to. In her mind he’d moved from being a possible mate to one who’d hate a lasting connection with her. Yet if he had fathered a child on her she couldn’t shut him out of their lives. Not if he wanted in. She couldn’t deprive her child of its natural father, couldn’t let it feel abandoned by him.

“It’s settled then,” he said decisively, having gathered up his clothes and hung them over his arm, still careless of his nakedness. The green eyes held steely resolution. “You stay, Maggie. At least until we find out if you’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” she agreed. It was the only sensible course to take.

Trapped, she thought.

Satisfied the matter was settled, he left, shutting her door on the most regrettable episode of her life.

CHAPTER NINE (#ud535c0fb-8216-5cc4-a273-7d8e9771b73f)

BEAU leaned back against the door to the Rose Suite and shut his eyes in sheer anguish at having committed the worst folly of his life.

Trapped!

Trapped by the oldest method in the world.

Impossible for him to shun a woman he might have made pregnant. What’s more, if she had his child he was tied to her for life!

And he’d walked right into it like one of those suicidal animals—lemmings—that threw themselves off cliffs. No rationality to what he’d done. No stopping for wiser consideration. His brain had fused and animal instinct had taken over the driving seat. He should have shot himself in the foot before going into Maggie Stowe’s bedroom. It might have kept him sane.

Summoning up the last shreds of his utterly depleted energy, he pushed away from the door and plodded down the corridor to his own suite. One hell of a day, he thought, and hell’s fires were still burning. He’d be damned lucky if he wasn’t scorched forever from this night’s work. Never in his life had he lost his head so completely. Never! He had no answer to it.

Sweet relief to reach his own bedroom and crawl between the sheets. He was wrecked. In every sense. Maggie, the cat, had clawed him inside out and finished up with a dish of cream that would never run dry... if she was pregnant and carried it through. Which she would. Beau had no doubt about it. The way she’d checked his attitude about fatherhood made that course a certainty.

Not that he’d want her to sneak off and have an abortion. His child was his child. Getting rid of it was not an option in his book. All the same, he desperately hoped there would be no consequences from tonight’s madness.

In all fairness to Maggie Stowe, he couldn’t say she’d planned it. There was no way she could have anticipated his visit to her suite. He had to believe her claim that she hadn’t expected to see him, so she hadn’t set out to seduce him by wearing the sinfully provocative slip of silk and lace.

No, she definitely hadn’t planned it, but she was a dead-set opportunist. Why else would she have flaunted herself in a sizzling challenge to him? It was a carnal come-on if ever he saw one. No protest from her when he’d responded to it. No attempt to stop him. She’d been right with him from the start, revelling in the whole mad ride.

For a moment, his body gripped with the memory of how fantastic it had been, the incredibly intense excitement of... But it still shouldn’t have happened. Giving great sex was fine but it wasn’t all he wanted in a woman. For the mother of his child he’d want a few other attributes, especially someone he could trust!

And what did he have in Maggie Stowe?

A woman from nowhere!

Still, worrying about what couldn’t be changed wasn’t going to get him anywhere, either. Sleep was what he needed. He’d face whatever he had to face tomorrow. Besides, there’d be time before the pregnancy deadline for him to get a handle on Maggie Stowe. She couldn’t stay a mystery forever. The more he knew, the better equipped he’d be to make the right choices.

Beau blanked his mind and slipped into sweet oblivion.

The first day after the night of the disastrous mistake did not start well for Beau. Maggie failed to appear for breakfast. It was an ominous sign. They might have come to an understanding about her staying on at Rosecliff but goodwill had not been established. Sedgewick subtly let him know this was not a situation he favoured. The cold shoulder continued.

After breakfast, Beau took refuge in the library, a private domain where he could get on with his agenda for the day. He settled himself behind his grandfather’s splendid mahogany desk—used more for the business of keeping his social diary and planning charity functions than anything else. The computer, fax machine and photocopier in the far corner of the room had also been used for these purposes but they were handy for Beau, as well.

Top priority was to telephone Lionel Armstrong and get another investigation started. Happily the solicitor was in his office and took the call immediately. Beau related the facts he now knew about Margaret Stowe and demanded immediate action. Urgent action. And reports coming in as fast as possible.

“I want those employers milked of everything they know about her. Character references, background, even impressions if they don’t have facts. Photographs, records...whatever can be dug up.”

“Beau...” A hesitation. “...Is all this necessary? I mean...why go to town on her at this point? Is there good reason for it?”

Beau gritted his teeth. Good reasons abounded! Maggie Stowe might be the mother of his child. And there was still the missing million.

“Just do it, Lionel,” he bit out.

A resigned sigh. “Vivian wouldn’t listen to my advice, either. Makes me wonder what it is about this woman.”

“The point, Lionel, is I want to stop wondering.”

Beau had no idea when or how a pregnancy test could be taken but he had the strong feeling he shouldn’t let the grass grow under his feet while he was waiting.

“Put two investigators on it. One for Zabini’s Circus, one for Wilgilag. Time is of the essence,” he said emphatically. “Reports within a week would be good.”

“It will cost...” the solicitor began to warn.

“Irrelevant. Tell the guys to fax or phone me here. I want progress reports. Is that clear, Lionel?”