The shadows in his eyes prompted her to change the subject. Much as she loved him sharing with her, she hated those shadows. ‘I never knew my father,’ she offered.
‘He died before you were born?’
She shook her head. ‘He was still alive when my mother was. But I don’t know his name. She never told me and it’s not on my birth certificate.’
‘That’s harsh. Did she—?’
‘She was afraid of him. That’s why his name wasn’t on the certificate. She thought it safer that way. Whoever he was, she spent her life hiding from him.’
Conall swore, his hold tightening. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I was lucky. I had a wonderful mother.’
Returning his concerned gaze, her throat constricted. He mightn’t love her, he mightn’t have wanted their child, yet he’d tried to protect them both. Every instinct screamed that Conall would have made a wonderful father.
Which made her yearn all the more for what couldn’t be.
Chapter Eleven
AWEEK LATERGreer was in Singapore, accompanying Conall on a business trip.
Negotiations on the investments he’d planned there were nearing completion. Over the last months Greer had put in almost as much work on the deal as he had.
She was working full-time again, though in the last week it had been mainly from his harbourside home. Despite the all-clear from her doctor, her husband was cautious about her not overdoing things.
Her husband. When it came to concern for her well-being, that was how Conall acted. Which made the way he respected her demand for space both admirable and frustrating.
She was glad he abided by her wishes, yet frustrated because her wishes were in direct conflict with each other. Intimacy with him again would be dangerous, because she craved a love he couldn’t give. Yet her craving forhimundermined everything else.
Did he feel the strain of keeping his distance as she did? A week ago she’d have said he needed her as much as she did him, physically at least. But now he made it look easy, maintaining his distance.
Was his attraction to her fading? She shouldn’t be surprised, after she’d walked out on him then held him off. And yet…
Greer looked at her bare ring finger, remembering the golden wedding band she’d left in his penthouse. And the solitaire engagement ring with the most stunning sapphire she’d ever seen.
Conall had returned them to her in Sydney but they were still in their boxes. Putting them on again would be a statement of intent she wasn’t ready to make.
Much as she longed to resume their relationship fully, she wasn’t sure she could cope with the idea of being Mrs Abercrombie. Not when she knew she could have his body and his protection but not his heart.
She remembered too that he hadn’t been in a hurry to announce their wedding, saying that she needed time before the press attention began. He’d done everything possible to hide their marriage from the world.
But she’d been convinced, given his tension and his refusal to inform his family, that it was because she didn’t fit his rarefied world. That she wasn’t the sort of bride he’d choose.
Fed up with her maundering thoughts, she lifted her head and admired the vista from her spot on a garden bench. Conall was playing golf with Mr Lee, the man with whom he was negotiating, so she had this afternoon to herself. She’d elected to visit Singapore’s orchid gardens, hoping the fresh air would clear her circling thoughts.
The place was glorious, with meandering paths and exotic plants. Orchids rioted everywhere in a profusion of colour, and as if that weren’t enough, jewel-coloured butterflies drifted and hovered. Greer felt her spirits lift in the warm sunshine. Being somewhere new and vibrant helped.
She nodded as a woman pushing a pram took the other end of the long seat. Two children with the woman danced about, chasing a turquoise-and-black butterfly that flitted around a nearby bush. Their laughter filled the air and Greer smiled. Was there anything as joyful as a child’s laugh?
Greer was turning her head away when her gaze snagged on the pram.
A pair of serious dark eyes regarded her from a tiny face. The baby wore a lace headband with a yellow bow. Her lips were a perfect rosebud that widened into a gummy smile.
Greer’s heart cleaved in two. She snatched a breath, trying to quell the pleasure-pain that swamped her.
One little arm lifted, a tiny fist opening, starfish-like, to bat against the pram’s mattress. Chubby legs lifted, kicking, and the baby gurgled, seeing the movement and clearly delighted. Then she looked at Greer, laughing.
It felt like every intense emotion Greer had experienced during her pregnancy, the awe, love, and finally the grief, rose in an engulfing tsunami. Her throat closed. The back of her eyes and her nostrils prickled. Tears welled.
