Claiming His Bought Bride. Rachel Bailey

hands over her waist. “I’m already pregnant with your baby.”

      Two

      Damon called up all his famed reserves of self-control to avoid swaying on his feet.

       She was pregnant?

      His head swam as if he’d been sucker punched. He supposed he had been. In all the preplanning and strategizing, he’d not once factored in this possibility. It had just never occurred to him that she already nurtured his baby inside her body.

      His gaze fixed on her stomach, searching for answers. He found none, just her flawless pale fingers stretched across the narrow expanse of her waist.

      Heart beating slower than usual with shock, mind trying to make sense of the new information, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. She stood very still; a serene mask covered her features. How could she be so calm after delivering news this momentous?

      Then it came—the crack in Lily’s veneer. She pulled one side of her full bottom lip between her straight white teeth and bit delicately down. He’d lost count of the number of people he’d played in his line of work, the number of meetings where he’d wrested control from unwilling board members. The key was always to wait until that small sign of unease appeared—to be able to recognize it—then to act without mercy.

      Yet he remained unmoving, emotions frozen.

       She was carrying his child?

      Then, as if time caught up with crashing reality, his body came back to life. Heart pumped hard, mind cleared, adrenaline flowed.

      He had a child. That baby in her womb belonged to him. He’d never considered children in his future, not until his uncle’s ultimatum, but now that the reality presented itself, he knew he’d never let that child go.

      Lily’s condition of separate bedrooms be damned. He hadn’t been prepared to sign his name to that idea even before her announcement, but now there was no way in hell he’d let her create distance between them. The baby and the woman carrying it were his and would stay that way no matter what he needed to do to ensure it.

      He glanced over at her. She was exquisite with her forest-green eyes, her alabaster skin, her silver-blond hair glimmering under the soft light. He desired her like no other. Even since first meeting her at a gallery fund-raiser, she’d gotten under his skin. And now she’d be forever tied to him.

      Unwilling to show her any of his innermost reactions, he spoke with little inflection to his words. “You played that card close to your chest, sweetheart.”

      “Not—” she cleared her throat “—not really. I suspected … thought I knew … but only had it confirmed by a doctor today. It’s why I came here tonight. To find you and tell you.” Her hands remained across her belly, almost protectively.

      “So you were pregnant when you left me.” His voice was flat, almost accusing, even to his own ears.

      She grimaced. “I didn’t know I was.”

      He raised a brow. The outcome was the same. And he had another question while they were on the topic. “Tell me honestly, Lily, why did you leave?”

      With shaking hands, she pushed a strand of hair behind an ear. “Is there any purpose in dredging this up now?”

      Maybe not, but the question had bothered him—pride had kept him from pursuing an answer. But now she was here in the flesh, he needed an answer. “We’re getting married. I think a short analysis on the breakdown of our past relationship has relevance.”

      She lifted her chin, but ruined the effect by biting down again on her full bottom lip. “Because I was too low a priority in your life.”

      That again! He’d prioritized her above almost everything, higher than a woman had ever been, and she still wanted more?

      Needing to move, to use some of the adrenaline hurtling through his veins, he strolled with controlled movements to look into a glass cage enclosing an ancient clay urn. Several museums had offered exorbitant amounts of money to buy the artifact, and yet here it’d stayed. Trapped by Travis in this mausoleum, the way Damon himself had been for many years.

      Nothing mattered more to him than reclaiming his heritage. He’d been made to feel like a poor, pathetic relation, when his father’s business savvy was the only reason Travis wasn’t still working as a junior assistant somewhere. It was time to restore rightful order to the world.

      He swiveled to face Lily, the only woman who’d ever sparked dreams that didn’t include BlakeCorp. The innate sensuality in the way she moved; her mouth, made for such sweetness and such sin; her heart, so untainted by the blackness that consumed his.

      But everything had changed. And he needed to be very clear about his priorities. This woman was the key to BlakeCorp … and his baby.

      “We’ll marry as soon as I can arrange it.” He stepped forward and grasped her upper arms, ignoring his body’s insistent response to her. His blood had heated the moment he saw her in the ballroom, and now his groin screamed for attention.

      He heard her breath catch at the touch but she tried to smother it, to deny his power over her, simply nodding her answer.

      He let his voice drop to the seductive timbre she always responded to. “No point hiding your reaction to me, Lily.”

      Her eyes narrowed in contradiction but her chest moved in rapid, shallow breaths.

      A smile of victory threatened, but he only let one corner of his mouth curve up. “Don’t worry, there will be time for that. A lifetime of opportunities.”

      Gasping, Lily stepped back, rubbing her palms over the skin he had held. “No, Damon. I agreed to marry you. I agreed to have your baby, which it so happens I’m already carrying. But I did not agree to share your bed. It won’t be that type of marriage.”

      The smile playing on his lips extended into a full-blown version. A challenge. He loved a challenge if the prize was worth winning. And this woman in front of him was worth bedding—he knew that well.

      He let out a slow, easy breath and sank his hands into his trouser pockets. “Let’s just see how things unfold.”

      “I know how things will unfold. We’ll be married in name only. We might live under the same roof, but we will be living separate lives. I let you hurt me before when I relied on you, needed you. And every time you had to choose between your business and me, you chose it, no matter how high my needs were or how minor the work issue. Be warned, I won’t be as naive this time.”

      He waved her claim away. “Ancient history. We’re starting anew. Something I’m very much looking forward to.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek and held out his arm to escort her back to the party. After a brief hesitation, she raised her chin and preceded him out the doors.

      He watched her go, appreciating the shape of her back, the sway of her hips.

      Nothing would stop him from claiming his child or his father’s company—they rightfully belonged to him. And he had a burning need to have this woman under him again. Fate had conveniently wrapped all the things he wanted in one neat, sweet-smelling package.

      All he must do was coax his bride-to-be back into his bed.

      The following morning, Lily wandered through the crowd of art-lovers as they milled around the display of Impressionist paintings her gallery was showcasing.

      This exhibition had been her special project—selecting the paintings she wanted to show together, arranging with interstate and international galleries to borrow artwork to complement their own examples of the style, organizing events with schools and the public to coincide with the opening week. And she’d loved every minute.

      She continued her stroll. The sounds of a busy exhibition always pleased her—the muffled footsteps on the tiled floor, voices raised or lowered in wonder and awe, an occasional guide sharing their passion.