He felt real and solid and warm and lax. The agitation had gone, as if some poison had been drained out of him and the hollow that had been left in its absence had been filled up with the feel of Anna’s body gripping his, her heat and her scent, the sound of his name in her smoky, sexy voice.
Let him go, Cedric …
His hand tightened in her hair. She was right, of course. She was right about all of it, he could see that now, and perhaps part of him had known all along. That in being so obsessed with having everything Vincent should have had, he’d kept his brother alive. Just as his father had in many ways. But his brother wasn’t alive. He was gone. And his only crimes were to have been born after Cedric and then to die before him.
So much anger over one dead boy. A boy he might even have liked if he’d gotten to know him. And as for his parents, well, maybe she was right. Maybe the fault lay with them, rather than a failing in himself.
It was something he’d never know for certain though, since they, like his brother, were gone. All he had left of them was a name and a title, and a house that wasn’t even his. Not yet.
No, not yet. But he would have it. And maybe once he did, he could finally let go.
Cedric ran a hand down Anna’s back in a long stroke, her skin damp and warm, and she shivered. Generous, warm woman. No, there would be no separate lives for either of them. She would sleep with him every night, here in this bed, because she was his now, completely and utterly. And if she wasn’t pregnant now, she soon would be. He’d make sure of it.
Gathering her in his arms, he left the chair and moved over to the bed. Then he laid her down on the mattress and stripped off his clothes and claimed her all over again.
_____________
Anna leaned against the bathroom vanity and took a slow, deep breath. The pregnancy-test kit sat on the smooth marble, the pink lines standing out neon bright on the white strip. Pregnant. She was pregnant.
She shouldn’t feel so shocked, not given how seriously Cedric had taken the task of conception over the past month, and she definitely shouldn’t feel a spiralling sense of panic either, not given how she’d known a child was required when she’d signed his contract all those weeks ago.
It just hadn’t seemed real then. It was very real now, though. She and Cedric were in his penthouse apartment in the city-he still didn’t spend a lot of time at Haerton, telling her that he was a busy man and being close to his office in the city was preferable. But she knew it wasn’t all about being busy.
He just didn’t like being at Haerton, which, given what he’d told her about his upbringing after they’d got back from France, she could definitely understand. The house had very bad memories for him, so no wonder he didn’t want to be there, and letting those memories go was obviously a struggle. But it did make her question once again why he wanted to keep it so badly. Wanted to so much that he’d married her and now was going to bring a child into the world just so it was his.
But then, it wasn’t really about Haerton, was it? It was about his brother. About his own neglected childhood. About the pain that she’d hoped to ease in him and yet it seemed as if she hadn’t. Of course, that kind of wound wasn’t going to magically get better with a bit of conversation and sex, she understood that.
It would take time to heal. Time and care.
Time she didn’t have. Because now she was pregnant, their marriage would be over. That was what she’d agreed to on the plane from France. They would be together until their child was conceived and no longer.
No.
Sudden tears filled her eyes, a bone-deep denial echoing throughout her entire body. The past weeks with him had been magical. Just being with him had been magical. During the day he went to work while she was left to her own devices, applying for places at some of her preferred universities, then exploring some of the city’s beautiful gardens and galleries. At night, when he came home, he would take her out to dinner to fabulous restaurants, where they had a wonderful time in each other’s company, before ending up back in bed in the penthouse, their clothes torn off and on the floor more often than not. It was perfect and she didn’t want it to end.
And now all she could think about was how much more perfect it would be if it was just them, and their child. Together.
A real marriage. A real family.
Her heart pulled tight and then something expanded inside her, a ripple of light, a pure, glittering thread. She knew what it was. It had been sitting there on the edges of her consciousness, just waiting for her to notice, though she’d tried so hard not to.
She couldn’t ignore it any more though.
The ripple of light spun harder, filling her, and for a moment Anna resisted, afraid of the intensity, afraid of the depth and strength of the emotion that tugged at her. But she wasn’t the Anna so afraid of her own emotions that she tried not to feel anything at all. She wasn’t that Anna any more.
She was different now. A woman who was perfect the way she was, and so she let the light spill through her, become her, burning away her fear, filling up her hungry soul with joy and happiness and strength. She hadn’t thought she wanted love, but here it was. It had found her.
Love for Cedric Blackwood and his passion. Cedric and his strength, his calm. His arms, his touch, the anchor that kept her from being battered by the storms. Cedric, and the child she now carried. His child.
She blinked back the tears, but there was no stopping them, the stick blurring on the vanity in front of her. It was pointless to resist. There was no escape. No trying to tell herself she didn’t want it, that she didn’t need it. She did want it and she did need it. She needed it with every fibre of her being. And their child needed it too.