Free The Water's Kiss by Harper Alibeck Page A

Claire. I promise we will be together.” He kissed one exposed nipple. “No matter how many times it takes.”
    Her laughter was louder than the waterfall’s rush.

    “What?” her father shouted, the sound reverberating down the hall and bringing with it the scurry of curious servants. Claire waited outside Papa’s closed library door, knowing Mama had just gone in to tell him the news.
    It was Mama who had confronted her yesterday; the servants informed her mother that Claire had now missed two monthlies (which meant the laundry girls had gossiped), and the only answer Claire could give to Mama’s terse question was a bowing of her head.
    She had told her it was Evan, and Mama had smiled an odd grin, almost a suppressed smirk, but simply said, “I see.”
    And now Mama took the brunt of Papa’s fury, though Claire knew he held plenty more in reserve to deliver to her. She glared at the kitchen maid and coachman who pitched their ears toward the door; they ran off when they saw her standing there, hands clasped in front of her belly, which roiled with nausea day and night, a new state that had just begun. Evan had warned her that it could take months to become with child, but within three months of their little bargain they had succeeded.
    Sadly, Papa had been swift in his work to match her to a prince and had all but finalized her betrothal to not Ludwig but a Kievan Rus, a man older than Papa who eagerly searched for a woman who could bear him a son. Though her belly did not yet swell, she touched it and smiled. Oh, I carry a child , she thought. But not yours .
    Hushed tones from Mama followed by groans and grunts from Papa were all she could hear. This went on for more than an hour, and she was nearly faint from hunger and nausea when Papa flung wide the library door just as footsteps rang down the hall.
    Evan owned the footsteps, slowing to a halt just as Papa opened the door and pointed at Claire. He smiled at her, then the grin faded entirely as he caught Lord Landsdown’s eye. “You!” the Earl bellowed. “Get in here!”
    Claire felt her knees give, but she held firm. How this day unraveled was yet to be known, but she had a sense of the inevitable. There was no question that Papa would let them marry; his only other choices were far worse. Rush her through a wedding to some unknown prince and hope she could pass off an impossibly-early baby, or make her cover the pregnancy and give the babe away. Both options chilled her, but she knew that hiding the pregnancy was now impossible given the servants’ knowledge.
    And no prince, no matter how ill-bred and primitive from a land of nothing but bleakness and peasants, would accept another man’s baby as his heir.
    Evan stood tall, his hair carefully coiffed, smart blue coat and high collar clean and perfect. She knew he planned to follow in his father’s footsteps; being a solicitor’s wife would do. His days in battle against Napoleon were now over; he’d served his duty as an officer and was ready to settle into country life with her.
    And, now, their baby. She admired how well his plan had worked. No confrontation with Father until now. No coachman and stable hand sent to kidnap her and run off to Scotland. No ugly fights or nasty, brutish encounters, setting the wagging lips of gossips aflame.
    No, Evan’s style was smarter, that of a chess master playing ten moves ahead of his opponent. And now, Father saw the trap that put him in check.
    And he knew it.
    Mama stood behind Papa, who was now seated at his desk. His mussed hair and wild eyes showed her how unhappy he was with the situation, but he was not a foolish man. He knew what needed to happen.
    “Proud of yourself, Michaelson?” he goaded. “And you!” He turned to Claire, his eyes so angry she wanted to catch on fire and burn to a tiny pile of ashes right there. “I expected better of you, little Claire.”
    She burst not into flames but into tears. “Papa!” she sniffed. Evan moved to