As summer slipped silently into theedge of autumn, Theodosia kept her love for Roman silent as well. Although he seemed to enjoy her company, he’d never once spoken about his feelings, and so she could not bring herself to admit to her own.
But when time revealed a second secret to her, she knew it was one she could not keep from him. Her woman’s flow was more than a month late.
She had conceived Roman’s child.
If only Roman returned her love, she thought every time he took her into his arms. If only he’d marry her, take her to his ranch, and give her a dozen more children in the years to come. She’d forget every thought of Dr. Wallaby. Every thought of the Brazilian research.
Every thought but the one of Lillian and Upton. Her vow to give them the child they so longed to have haunted her.
Had bearing a child for them not been her plan for months?
She withdrew into herself for long periods of time, deliberating, rationalizing, trying her hardest to see and understand her dilemma in the right light.
And when the answer finally came to her, it caused her great sorrow. But even so, she knew it was the only possible one.
Roman did not love her. She couldn’t make him love her. He was not going to marry her, he was not going to take her to his ranch, and he was not going to give her a dozen more children.
He didn’t want a wife and family. He never had.
She had to concentrate on the well-being of the child she carried.
She did, and imagined Lillian holding the babe while Upton stroked its downy head. The image became so vivid and real in her mind that she could almost smell Lillian’s lemon verbena. Could almost see her sister’s brilliant smile.
The babe deserved to live in a loving home with parents who were not only married…
…but who were totally devoted to each other.
The child belonged with Lillian and Upton.
Roman ledthe way intoWillow Patch, a small town in which he would purchase needed supplies. As he dismounted and tied Secret to a post in front of the whitewashed hotel, he tried to ignore the persistent feeling that something was wrong with Theodosia.
But every time he looked at her, his instincts about her deepened. Somethingwaswrong, and whatever it was, it had been bothering her for the past two days.
He wouldn’t wait for a third day to pass before understanding the reasons for her quiet dismay, for he hated seeing her upset.
And he missed her smile and laughter.
They would spend the night here in the Willow Patch hotel, he decided, and he would confront her as soon as she’d settled in the room.
As it turned out, he couldn’t even wait for her to remove her bonnet before beginning the interrogation. “All right, let’s have it,” he said the second he’d escorted her into their room and closed the door. “I know damned well something’s wrong with you, and I want to know what it is.Right now.”
Her gaze darted around the room, sweeping past the gleaming mahogany bureau, the blue-and-red-braided throw rug, a collection of framed paintings, and the red ruffled curtains hanging on the two small windows. Parting her lips to speak, she unconsciously cupped her lower abdomen.
Roman watched her. Gently, as if afraid she would shatter into a million bits, she laid her hand on her stomach.
Realization crashed through him like a stone through glass. Stunned, he stared at her belly.
There, behind her hand, deep inside her, slept a tiny life.
His baby.
He could not have been more sure of its existence if he held it in his arms.
He raked his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to sort through the explosion of thoughts that took hold of him at that moment.
He thought of the lives he’d taken.
He’d never created one.
