Page 123 of The Betrothal

When he touched me, his fingers traced the tears, scooping them up, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

“Your world is about to change, Isabelle,” he whispered, his fingers returning to dance across my tear-stained skin and down to cup my neck in warning. “There will be no more of this.”

I knew that by this, he meant my behaviour.

“You will fall in line,” he threatened, fingers digging into the sides of my throat.

My eyes widened at the threat before he stalked from the room.

He had returned not long after, a doctor in tow.

The pair of them loomed over the bed while the doctor took my blood pressure and checked me over.

“I want a pregnancy test.” Teddy spoke to the doctor.

“I’m not pregnant,” I protested.

The men ignored me.

“Miss Blackthorne,” the doctor began but Teddy whispered something urgently. “I’m sorry, Ms Fairchild.”

If I hadn’t been so disgusted, I would have laughed.

“When was the first day of your last period?” he asked.

The haze of horror shifted slightly. Shit, when was it?

“Before,” I answered to blank stares. “It was my birthday, around then.”

The doctor flipped through some paperwork. “I don’t have the full scope of your fertility and reproductive reports here.” He avoided Teddy’s hard glare. “Are your cycles usually twenty-eight days?”

Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. “Mostly, the odd cycle can be longer.”

“How long?” He snapped latex gloves on and began laying out medical supplies. A rubber tourniquet, vials and cleaning wipes.

I looked away, I never had a stomach for needles. “The longest was just under two months.”

“So, this could still be within a normal threshold, it doesn’t mean she is pregnant.” The doctor dared to look at Teddy but quickly looked away.

“Of course.” I attempted nonchalant composure but inside my heart hammered.

“I assume…” he floundered. “There’s reason to believe…” The doctor’s cheeks coloured, I knew he wanted to ask me whether I had been sexually active, but the tension rolling from Teddy was unbearable so he chose to continue in silence.

I grimaced when the tourniquet pinched into my skin, keeping my eyes averted as he withdrew the blood.

“I assume.” He steeled himself visibly as he spoke. “We don’t need any other checks?”

Teddy’s lip lifted, his body coiled with rage. When I thought he would tear the man limb from limb, he deferred to me.

It wasn’t a moment of victory; he was asking me if I had been willingly involved with another man. And the answer was yes.

I shook my head at the doctor. There was no need for any other tests.

Teddy’s rage hardened into something darker.

The doctor, sensing the deterioration of the mood in the room, sped up visibly, collecting vials of pills from his bag and placing them along the sideboard.

“These will help her to cope after the ordeal and help to ease her back into day-to-day life. One, maybe two, in the morning, first thing.” He lifted another bottle. “These are for any difficult episodes, the adjustment period is unlikely to be plain sailing.” His attention turned to me. “When you’re struggling, Ms Fairchild, these will help.”