Page 129 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
A baby conceived of her desperation for more.
And now she had more.
A slither of embarrassment heated her cheeks, but she squashed it. The why or the how, it didn’t matter anymore. She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother. But she couldn’t squash it. Not completely.
Their night, her words, her desperate need to be close to a stranger, were embarrassing. How hard she’d persisted. How he’d discarded her before she’d had chance to catch her breath. When she could still feel him inside her.
Heat gathered in her abdomen as she plucked another berry, pricking her finger as she did so.
She hadn’t gone back inside Eachus House that night. She’d run barefoot to the car park and found her driver. She’d given him the shock of his life as she’d climbed inside, sealed herself in the cocoon of the limousine, in a man’s jacket, drenched and barefoot.
She had been embarrassed then. And it had taken weeks for her not to cringe at the memory. For her heart to heal from such a devastating rejection. But she had healed. And so had her feet.
She picked more berries. A punnet’s worth. That should be enough for a pie, or a crumble. She would ask her cook to show her how. Cooking didn’t come naturally to Aurora, but she was getting better.
Aurora walked up the path to the house, bypassing the entrance into the main hall, and opened the French doors to the lounge.
She walked through the doorway, the sheer white silk of the curtains billowing around her as she did.
How she’d liked to pretend when she was younger, hiding behind these very drapes, that they were her veil and she was wearing a wedding dress. That her groom was waiting just beyond. A fanciful notion. She couldn’t imagine being tied to another now. Couldn’t imagine being held accountable to anyone but herself.
She was alone, and she was content to be so. For her baby. For the family she would make.
‘Aurora.’
She swivelled on her heel to the call of her name. Shock wrapped itself around her.
A man stood in front of the fireplace in dark jeans. He wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt, sunglasses nestled in the V-neck, a curl of hair poking out. Then her gaze rose to take him all in. His chestnut hair falling around his shoulders, his thick neck, his green-and-amber eyes. Eyes she knew, intimately.
Recognition flared inside her.
It washim.
She gasped. Released her skirts. The blackberries fell to her feet.
‘You.’
‘Me,’ he confirmed.
Her heart hammered in her ears in the deafening beat of a bass drum. ‘How did you get in?’
‘The door was unlocked,’ he stated simply before walking toward her with long, stealthy strides.
She felt the urge to retreat. To run. But Aurora was done running.
She told herself to calm down, to breathe evenly, to stand tall.
He stopped, looked down at her as she turned her face to look up at him. Her heart continued to hammer and her breathing quickened as she remembered all too well how a moment like this had unfolded between them so many months ago.
Heated images stole her breath. But she would not soften under his gaze. She wouldn’t let herself remember how good it had felt. She would only let herself remember the hurt of his rejection. Remember how much it still hurt.
A flash of anger burnt in her chest.
Her narrowed gaze returned to his. ‘What do you want?’
‘The baby, Aurora,’ he growled, ‘is it mine?’
He knew her name.
