To Love, Honour and Betray

“The question is—” his dark eyes glittered “—what are you doing, Callie?”

His voice was deep, with only a hint of an accent from his childhood in Spain. It was a shock to hear that voice again. She’d never thought she would see him again, outside of her haunted, sensual dreams.

She lifted her chin. “What does it look like I’m doing?” She jabbed her thumb toward the suitcases. “Leaving.” Her voice trembled in spite of her best efforts, and she hated Eduardo for that, as she hated him for so much else. “You’ve won.”

“Won?” he ground out. He slowly circled her at the end of the stoop. “A strange accusation.”

Beneath his gaze, her body shuddered with ice, then fire. She stiffened, glaring at him. “What else would you call it? You fired me then made sure no one else in New York would hire me.”

“So?” he said coldly. “Let McLinn provide for you. You are his bride. His problem.”

A chill went down her spine.

“You know about Brandon?” she whispered. If he knew about her coming marriage, did he also know about her pregnancy? “Who told you?”

“He did.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I met him.”

“You met? When? Where?”

Eduardo gave her a hard smile. “Does it matter?”

She bit her lip. “Was it a chance meeting … or …”

“You might call it chance.” His casual drawl belied the cold accusation in his eyes. He looked up at the expensive town house behind her. “I stopped by your apartment and was surprised to find you had a live-in lover.”

“He’s not my—”

“Not your what?”

“Never mind,” she mumbled.

Eduardo moved closer. “Tell me,” he said acidly, “did McLinn enjoy living here? Did he relish living in the apartment I leased as a gift of gratitude for the secretary I respected?”

She swallowed. A year ago, she’d been living in a cheap studio in Staten Island, so she could send most of her salary to her family back home. Then Eduardo had surprised her with a paid yearlong lease for a gorgeous one-bedroom apartment close to his own expensive brownstone on Bank Street. Callie had nearly wept with joy, believing it was proof that he actually cared. She’d later realized he’d only wanted to eliminate her commute so he could get more hours out of her.

“What could you possibly have to say to me now?” She frowned. She’d been home all week—packing boxes, directing the movers, being informed by the airlines that she was too pregnant to fly, calling car rental agencies. “When were you even here?”

“While you were in bed,” Eduardo ground out.

Her heart lifted to her throat.

“Oh,” she whispered. It suddenly made sense. She slept in the bedroom, while Brandon had the couch. “He never mentioned meeting you. But why? What do you want?”

His black eyes glittered at her. He was staring at her as if she were a stranger. No—as if she were a bug beneath his Italian leather shoe. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your lover? Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t!”

“You hid his existence from me. The very day after you moved into this apartment, you had him move in with you. But you never mentioned him, because you knew it would make me question your commitment and loyalty.”

She stared at him then her shoulders sagged. “I was afraid to tell you.” She swallowed. “You’re so unreasonable in your demand for absolute loyalty.”

His mouth was a grim line. “So you lied.”

“I never invited him to move in! He … he surprised me.” After Callie had called Brandon in North Dakota to tell him about the apartment her generous boss had just leased for her, he’d shown up on her doorstep the next day, telling her he was worried about her in the big city. “He missed me. He was going to get his own place, but then he couldn’t find a job….”

“Right,” Eduardo said sardonically. “A real man finds a job to support his woman. He doesn’t live off her severance package.”

She gasped at the insult. “He’s not like that!” Throughout her pregnancy, Brandon had cooked, cleaned, rubbed her swollen feet, held her hand at the doctor’s office. All the things that she’d have wanted her baby’s real father to do, if he’d been anyone besides Eduardo. She scowled. “In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many jobs in New York for farmers!”

“So why stay in New York?”

Soft, lazy raindrops fell around them, pattering against the hot sidewalk. “I wanted to stay. I hoped I would find a job.”

“And so you have. As a farmer’s wife.”

“What do you want from me? Why did you come—just to insult me?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention why?” His eyes were cold and black. “Your sister called me this morning.”

A chill went through her.

“Sami—called you?” Callie’s conversation with her sister last night had ended badly. But Sami wouldn’t betray her. She wouldn’t … would she? She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Um. What did she say?”

“Two very interesting things that I could hardly believe.” Eduardo took a step closer to her on the stoop and said softly, “But clearly one of them is true. You’re getting married today.”

Her body started to shake. “So?”

“You admit it?”

“I’m wearing a wedding gown. I can’t exactly deny it. But how does that affect you?” Her lips trembled as she tried to shape them into a mocking smile. “Mad because you weren’t invited?”

“You sound nervous.” He slowly walked a semicircle around the end of the stoop. “Is there something you are keeping from me, Callie? Some secret?” He moved closer. “Some lie?”

She felt a contraction across her body, her belly tightening. Braxton-Hicks contractions, caused by stress, she told herself. Fake labor, the same that had sent her racing to the hospital last week, only to have the nurses sigh and send her home. But it hurt. One hand went over her belly; the other went to her lower back as she panted, “What could I possibly have to hide?”

“I already know you’re a liar.” A beam of golden light escaped the gray clouds and caressed his handsome face, leaving dark shadows beneath his cheekbones and jawline as he said softly, “But how deep do your lies go?”

The wilted bouquet of wildflowers nearly fell from her numb fingers. She gripped them more tightly in her shaking hands. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Ruin—what—exactly?”

Her teeth chattered. “My … my …” My life. And my baby’s life. “My wedding day.”

“Ah, yes. Your wedding day. I know how you used to dream about it.” He looked down at her. “So tell me. Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

She felt painfully conscious of the used wedding dress, several sizes too large, with a lace and polyester bodice that kept sliding off one shoulder. She looked down at the wilting flowers, at the two shabby suitcases behind her.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice.