His hand felt odd against her swollen belly. She started to speak at the same moment that the baby suddenly moved.
Tate's hand jerked back as if it had been stung. He stared at her stomach with pure horror as it fluttered again.
She couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.
"Is that…normal?" he wanted to know.
"It's a baby," she said softly. "They move around. He kicks a little. Not much, just yet, but as he grows, he'll get stronger."
"I never realized…" He drew in a long breath and put his hand back against her body. "Cecily, does it hurt you when he…" He hesitated. His black, stunned eyes met hers. "He?"
She nodded.
"They can tell, so soon?"
"Yes," she said simply. "They did an ultrasound."
His fingers became caressing. A son. He was going to have a son. He swallowed. It was a shock. He hadn't thought past her pregnancy, but now he realized that there was going to be a miniature version of himself and Cecily, a child who would embody the traits of all his ancestors. All his ancestors. It made him feel humble.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
He glared into her eyes. "Not with any help from you, let me tell you! It took me forever to track down the driver who brought you to Nashville. He was off on extended sick leave, and it wasn't until this week that anybody remembered he'd worked that route before Christmas."
She averted her eyes. "I didn't want to be found."
"So I noticed. But you have been, and you're damned well coming home," he said furiously. "I'm damned if I'm going to leave you here at the mercy of people who go nuts over an inch of snow!"
She sat up, displacing his hand, noticed that she was too close to him for comfort, swung her legs off the sofa and got up. "I'm not going as far as the mailbox with you!" she told him flatly. "I've made a new life for myself here, and I'm staying!"
"That's what you think." He got up, too, and went toward the bedroom. He found her suitcase minutes later, threw it open on the bed and started filling it.
"I'm not going with you," she told him flatly. "You can pack. You can even take the suitcase and all my clothes. But I'm not leaving. This is my life now. You have no place in it!"
He whirled. He was furious. "You're carrying my child!"
The sight of him was killing her. She loved him, wanted him, needed him, but he was here only out of a sense of duty, maybe even out of guilt. She knew he didn't want ties or commitments; he'd said so often enough. He didn't love her, either, and that was the coldest knowledge of all.
"Colby asked me to marry him for the baby's sake," she said bitterly. "Maybe I should have."
"Over my dead body," he assured her.
Tate's hand jerked back as if it had been stung. He stared at her stomach with pure horror as it fluttered again.
She couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.
"Is that…normal?" he wanted to know.
"It's a baby," she said softly. "They move around. He kicks a little. Not much, just yet, but as he grows, he'll get stronger."
"I never realized…" He drew in a long breath and put his hand back against her body. "Cecily, does it hurt you when he…" He hesitated. His black, stunned eyes met hers. "He?"
She nodded.
"They can tell, so soon?"
"Yes," she said simply. "They did an ultrasound."
His fingers became caressing. A son. He was going to have a son. He swallowed. It was a shock. He hadn't thought past her pregnancy, but now he realized that there was going to be a miniature version of himself and Cecily, a child who would embody the traits of all his ancestors. All his ancestors. It made him feel humble.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
He glared into her eyes. "Not with any help from you, let me tell you! It took me forever to track down the driver who brought you to Nashville. He was off on extended sick leave, and it wasn't until this week that anybody remembered he'd worked that route before Christmas."
She averted her eyes. "I didn't want to be found."
"So I noticed. But you have been, and you're damned well coming home," he said furiously. "I'm damned if I'm going to leave you here at the mercy of people who go nuts over an inch of snow!"
She sat up, displacing his hand, noticed that she was too close to him for comfort, swung her legs off the sofa and got up. "I'm not going as far as the mailbox with you!" she told him flatly. "I've made a new life for myself here, and I'm staying!"
"That's what you think." He got up, too, and went toward the bedroom. He found her suitcase minutes later, threw it open on the bed and started filling it.
"I'm not going with you," she told him flatly. "You can pack. You can even take the suitcase and all my clothes. But I'm not leaving. This is my life now. You have no place in it!"
He whirled. He was furious. "You're carrying my child!"
The sight of him was killing her. She loved him, wanted him, needed him, but he was here only out of a sense of duty, maybe even out of guilt. She knew he didn't want ties or commitments; he'd said so often enough. He didn't love her, either, and that was the coldest knowledge of all.
"Colby asked me to marry him for the baby's sake," she said bitterly. "Maybe I should have."
"Over my dead body," he assured her.
( Diana Palmer )
[ Paper Rose ]
www.QuoteSweet.com