The Pregnancy Plan. Grace Green

do we have to go?”

      “Yeah.” Dermid stared out over the gardens below—Alice’s gardens, once lovingly cared for as he himself had been and now—like himself!—sadly abandoned. “I need to talk to your uncle Jordan about something.”

      “Couldn’t you do that over the phone?”

      Dermid lifted his gaze beyond the gardens, to the pastures beyond. Over seventy acres, home to his herd of alpacas and llamas. “No, this is something really important, something I have to discuss face-to-face.”

      “You make it sound like a matter of life or death!”

      But Jack had lost interest in the conversation as a lanky figure loped into view from the main barn.

      “There’s Arthur, I’m gonna get dressed and go help him muck out the shelters.”

      As Jack dashed away, his earlier comment echoed in Dermid’s head and he felt a wave of despair.

      Little did his son know how accurately he had assessed the situation, for the dilemma facing him truly was a matter of life or death.

      And the decision he had to make—the one that had been giving him nightmares now for so very many months—was surely the cruelest that any man could ever have to face.

      “Lacey, thank goodness you’re here!”

      Lacey Maxwell switched off the engine of her silver convertible. Taking the key from the ignition, she looked questioningly at her sister-in-law Felicity who had run down Deerhaven’s front steps and was hurrying to the car.

      Felicity came to a breathless stop just as Lacey was about to drop her keys into her gray leather bag.

      “Don’t put those away, Lace!”

      “No?” Lacey paused, her slender crimson-tipped fingers splayed over the bag.

      “I need to ask you a favor. Dermid called from the ferry a while ago to say there had been a long delay at Departure Bay so to save time he’d left the car at Nanaimo and he and Jack were on their way over as foot passengers. Jordan said he’d pick him up at Horseshoe Bay but he’s been detained at the office so—”

      “So you want me to do the honors.”

      “Would you, Lacey? I’d go myself, but it’s time for the baby’s feed and—”

      “Say no more. It’ll be my pleasure.”

      “You’re a godsend!” Flicking back her blond braid, Felicity glanced at her watch. “If you leave right now, you’ll be there just as the ferry docks.”

      Lacey slipped her key into the ignition. “This is going to be fun. It’ll make the laird beholden to me and he won’t like that one little bit!”

      “Lacey…”

      “Mmm?” Lacey’s smile was mischievous.

      “Don’t be too hard on him, will you?”

      “I’ll try my best, but he really does bring out the worst in me! Male chauvinists always do, and he’s the most flagrant offender I’ve ever come across.”

      Felicity chuckled, a melodious infectious sound that made Lacey chuckle, too.

      And as she spun her convertible away down the driveway, she thought—as she so often did—how lucky her brother Jordan was to have found such a perfect mate.

      His first marriage had been a disaster. His wife Marla had been a hard and selfish woman who had for many years been unfaithful to him. After her death, Jordan had met and fallen deeply in love with Felicity, who had not only been his daughter Mandy’s caregiver since infancy, she’d been more of a mother to Mandy than Marla had ever been. And after their marriage, Felicity had gone on to produce two darling boys, Todd and Andrew, and a baby girl, Verity, who was going to be the star of today’s christening party.

      It was going to be a lovely family get-together, Lacey mused as she raced the car along the Sea to Sky Highway toward the ferry terminal at Horseshoe Bay; the only fly in the ointment being, of course, Dermid Andrew McTaggart.

      And of course he wasn’t really family. Only by marriage. His family—his parents and two brothers and a slew of other relatives—lived in Scotland. And as far as Lacey was concerned, that was where he should have stayed, with the rest of his clan!

      He had never liked her.

      She had been prepared to like him, as she’d have been prepared to like any man her sister had loved because she herself had adored Alice. But the blinkered Scot hadn’t given her a chance. As far as he was concerned, models were vain empty creatures and he had no time for them.

      And she certainly hadn’t been about to grovel for his approval. She was neither vain nor empty but she had more than her fair share of pride. And if there was ever to be an end to the cold war between her and Dermid McTaggart, he would have to make the first move.

      And the earth, she thought with a dry smile, was more likely to move first!

      “I thought Uncle Jordan was going to meet us.” Jack looked around anxiously. “Where is he?”

      The village of Horseshoe Bay on this blistering hot day was jammed with tourists, buses, cabs, vehicles of all sorts. Holidaymakers thronged the sidewalks, window-shopping—looking at jade jewelry, carved totem poles, Vancouver sweatshirts. Others licked ice-cream cones and wandered aimlessly, enjoying the sea breeze and the spectacular view—the yachts bobbing in the marina; the vast white B.C. Ferry; the shimmering blue ocean.

      “Your uncle’s probably driving around trying to find a parking spot. We’d best stand right here, and wait for him. He’ll—”

      “Hello, Dermid.”

      The voice came from behind him, but he’d have recognized it anywhere. Light, feminine, flippant. Challenging.

      He turned, and there she was. His sparring partner. Stunning as ever, in a crisp white shirt and icy-blue linen slacks. And looking, amid the throng of perspiring sun-baked tourists, as cool as an iced drink in the desert.

      “Lacey.” His tone was faintly mocking. “Are you our chauffeur?”

      “Jordan sends his apologies, he couldn’t get away.” She shifted her attention to Jack, who was gazing up at her with the expression of a lovesick swain. “Jack, it’s great to see you.”

      “You, too, Aunt Lacey!”

      “I’ve got something for you, darling. A present. I got it in France when I was there last week…”

      Dermid felt a sense of irritation as he watched them chat.

      She had a way with men, no doubt about it. And with boys. She never talked down to Jack, never had; she always treated him like an adult. And he, poor sod, had been mad about her from the time his newborn eyes could focus, and he could see that sheet of ink-black hair, those green cat-eyes and that impossibly flawless creamy skin. Soon the poor kid would be old enough to notice the endless legs, the seductive walk, the sexy rear end, the—

      “Well, Dermid, shall we go?” She swung away toward the street, the movement sending a drift of her perfume into his space. To follow her, he had to walk through the mingled scent of gardenia petals and enough musk to make a red-blooded male howl at the moon!

      “I’m parked over here.” With self-assurance in every elegant step, she led the way into the parking lot. And stopped by her silver convertible, which had the top down.

      “Your car is so cool, Aunt Lacey!” Jack’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Can I sit in front with you?”

      “I don’t see why not,” she said gaily. “If your father doesn’t mind?”

      “Do you, Dad?”

      “No,” he growled.

      And within seconds they were on their way out of the