Carole Mortimer - A Champagne Christmas

She heard him come in behind her. His voice was suddenly gentle as he said, “But Grace, you’re ill.”

“It’s nothing—the flu—just go!” She wiped her mouth, looking back at him with eyes of fury. “I hate you!”

“Grace—”

“Just go! You liar, you back-stabbing bastard!” She grabbed a bar of soap and threw it at him. He ducked it easily, enraging her still more.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“If I’m sick,” she bit out, “it’s because looking at your face makes me want to puke! My skin crawls when I think of how I let you touch me.” She looked at him with eyes of ice. “You’re not a prince—you’re not even a man.”

She’d finally pushed him too far.

He stiffened behind her.

“Fine.” His lip curled. “Now that I know your true opinion of me, I won’t fight to keep you. I see now there is nothing for me here…”

Turning to go, he stopped.

Bending over the carpet, he picked up something that had fallen to the floor and rolled across the carpet.

The pregnancy test had fallen from the hole in her pocket!

She gasped, rising quickly to her feet. “It’s not what you think. It’s nothing…an old test…a friend’s…left here,” she stammered helplessly.

“You’re pregnant.” He looked at her. “You’re pregnant?”

She stared at him. She wanted to deny it, but the lie stuck in her throat.

“Am I the father?”

She gasped at the insult.

“You know you are! Although I wish to God you weren’t. I wish any other man on earth was the father but you!”

His eyes focused on her coldly. “And I realize now everything I ever thought about you was wrong. I thought you were special. You’re not. You’re selfish and deceitful. Jealous and controlling.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “More than your precious Francesca?”

“Francesca and I broke up because she tried to push me into marrying her. You did something far worse. You were going to let me walk right out that door, weren’t you? You were going to keep my child a secret. You intended to sacrifice our child’s need for a father, and live in poverty without even a home, all for the sake of your own selfish pride!”

He knew the house was in foreclosure? She gasped, feeling as if he’d exposed her vulnerable jugular.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“I told you. I protect what is mine. That means my child. That means his family.” His lip curled. “And whether I wish it or not, that means my child’s mother.” His eyes were cold as he looked down at her. “You will be my wife.”

His…wife?

She sucked in her breath.

His duty bride, the ignored spouse he would leave trapped in a lonely Muscovite palace while he continued to pursue the wickedly lovely Francesca in London?

“No,” she whispered desperately. She looked around the sunlit cottage. She desperately wanted her family to keep their home. Then she thought of the tiny life in her womb who needed to be protected. Better to remain in poverty in the warm sunshine of California, near family who loved her, than risk either of them anywhere near Maksim’s icy Siberia of a heart!

She shook her head hard. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want your money!”

“But now you will take it.” His voice was low, dangerous. His gray eyes glittered at her as he added maliciously, “As you will take my name. Today.”

“No! I won’t!”

He grabbed her painfully by the shoulders. “Apparently, I haven’t made myself clear. You have no choice.”

She was suddenly afraid of him, this dangerous man who seemed to control his anger with such icy reserve.

“Your wife in name only?” she whispered.

He gave a hard laugh. “And now you think to trick your way out of my bed? No. You will be my wife in every way. You will sleep naked in my bed and service me at my will.”

It was the final stab to her heart. He’d already made it plain he cared nothing for her. He expected her to surrender her body to his possession, without affection, without love?

“You’re worse than Alan,” she whispered. “A million times worse. Because, you’re not asking me to be your wife. You’re trying to make me your household slave, chained to your bed.”

He stroked her chin.

“I’m not asking you,” he said coolly. “I’m telling you. You are pregnant with my child. You will be my wife. Every jewel and home and luxury you could possibly desire will be yours. You are now mine.”

He was offering her money, in exchange for giving her body and soul to a man she hated—a man in love with another woman! “A gilded cage. You’re offering me the life of a whore!”

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard against his muscular body.

“Have it your way, then. You will be my pretty songbird in a golden cage.” He kissed her cruelly, punishing her. As she felt her lips bruise beneath his embrace, a whimper escaped her. He drew away with a hard smile, looking down at her with a gaze like frozen steel. “And, my beautiful one, you will sing only for me.”

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