Free The Blackmail Pregnancy by Melanie Milburne Page A

no one. Her secret was locked away inside, where no one could touch it, but every single time she even heard the name Emma mentioned that secret part of her contracted painfully, reminding her of all she’d lost…
    Byron broke into her agonising reverie with a gentle call of her name.
    She looked up and stared at him, as if she were surprised to see him sitting opposite her.
    ‘Where did you go?’ he asked.
    ‘Go?’
    ‘In your mind. You had that faraway look in your eyes.’
    ‘Did I?’
    He reached for her hand, holding it in the warmth of his.
    ‘Tell me, Cara. Don’t shut me out.’
    She stared at her small cold hand, almost swallowed up by his large one. She thought about telling him, even imagined framing the words in such a way he’d understand, but then decided against it. She still didn’t know how he’d heard about her pregnancy. She wanted to find out but didn’t want to bring up the subject. It was just too painful, still too raw.
    ‘I was thinking about…about the colour of the rugs for the spare bedrooms,’ she lied. ‘And curtains. I was thinking about long ruffled pull-back curtains—swathes of fabric that offer privacy without obstructing the view.’
    Byron watched the movement of her eyes away from his and knew she was lying. Annoyance flicked along his veins. He wanted to get inside her head, find out everything about her. He’d never met a more complex person in his life and he hated the fact that she made it so clear she didn’t need him emotionally.
    He decided to let her get away with it this once. Something about the shadowed look in her eyes had alerted him to her fragility, and even though on the outside she presented a cool diffidence he was beginning to see it as a ruse. A very important, significant ruse.
    Their food arrived and he watched as she gave every appearance of enjoying her meal, even commenting on the various flavours once or twice.
    They left the restaurant in a companionable silence and Byron privately congratulated himself for not pushing her. She reminded him of a flighty horse who balked at the drinking trough. He’d have to think of some other strategy to get her to relax enough to drink.
     

    The house welcomed them with a warmth that secretly delighted Cara. The rugs she’d chosen for the marble floors took away their cold formality and added a cosiness that made the grand house feel more like a home.
    Byron poured himself a cognac and sat on the nearest sofa to look over the brochures she’d left on the coffee table. Cara sat opposite, her arms linked around her knees, answering his occasional query over availability.
    ‘I like this.’ He pointed to a large gilt edged mirror in one of the antiques brochures. ‘What do you think?’
    Cara couldn’t see it properly, so shifted to sit on the floor at his feet and read the details printed on the bottom. This close, Byron could pick up the sweet fragrance of her hair. She rattled off the details to him, but he wasn’t listening. He was imagining her hair splayed out on his pillow, her forehead beaded with the perspiration of spent passion.
    ‘And there’s one with a scrolled edge,’ she said, turning over the page and pointing to it. ‘I saw it the other day. It’s rather big, but I think the back wall of the dining room is large enough to carry it. What do you think?’
    She swivelled round to glance up at him and her mouth went dry. He was looking at her intently, as if seeing her for the first time.
    ‘It’s…it’s more expensive than the other one, but I think it’s worth it. I can order it tomorrow and have it delivered and…’ She swallowed the rest of her prattle as his hand came out and released the curtain of her hair from its clasp.
    He took her hand and she didn’t resist as he pulled her to sit beside him on the sofa. Her eyes met his briefly, before fluttering closed as his mouth came down towards hers.
    This time his kiss was gentle. He took his time, only increasing the