Mark disappeared for the next couple days, so she took Becky along to the library. It took a great deal of searching, but she found the papers.

Doctor Poisons Wife

Dr. Mark Debonairo was arrested today for poisoning his wife Anna Debonairo. The woman was diagnosed with cancer six months ago. After multiple opinions from physicians, Dr. Debonairo, renowned obstetrician, took the matter into his own hands. He moved to a new town and kept his wife hostage for four months as he slowly poisoned her to death. Former employees say the woman suffered hair and weight loss in her final months, compounded with severe nausea and other complications. She was finally pronounced dead by Dr. Debonairo in the early hours on Sunday, May 21, in his home. His trial is scheduled for one week from today. He will not be permitted to attend the funeral, as he is in custody facing murder and insanity charges.

Another paper a week later continued the story.

Doctor Declared Insane

Former physician Mark Debonairo, accused of poisoning his wife Anna Debonairo to death and arrested a week ago, has been acquitted of murder charges. The Court declared Debonairo insane and released him to London Insane Asylum. He will undergo psychiatric testing and treatment. His license to practice has been revoked -

"What the hell are you doing?" A deep voice snarled from behind.

She startled and spun around in the chair. "Mark!" She jumped up to hide the papers behind her.

"Put that shit away. We're going home," he growled and threw a fierce glare at Becky too.

Everyone parted the way like the sea as he limped through the library. Not a single person present didn't look afraid of him.

He must've felt her studying him in the carriage. "I'm not going to kill you," he snapped.

"There's something missing in the story."

"What?" He growled, his expression dark.

"What was the poison?" She cocked her head.

"Poison is poison."

"Or a desperate treatment to save your wife from a fatal disease. And you didn't expect it to go very, very wrong."

His eyes flew to her, as if she hit close to home. "That's enough," he hissed.

So she let it drop. But one thing was for certain - the man sitting across in the carriage wouldn't risk his life to save an 'obligation' from kidnappers if he had intentionally poisoned a woman he loved.


Someone shook his shoulder. "Mark?" a soft voice whispered.

He startled and sat up in bed, looking around. A lantern on the nightstand that hadn't been there before glowed, illuminating Tanya's tear-soaked cheeks. "What? What's wrong?" Maybe the babe threatened to come again. He touched her belly.

"I had a nightmare. Can I sleep here?"

Lovely. And he'd drank a little too much last night after finding her reading those damn papers..and then fell asleep naked on top of the sheets. "Let me get something on." He moved to get up, but she shoved a robe at him and climbed in bed like a frightened child. He pulled on the robe. "What did you dream?" Then he tucked his legs under the blankets.

The woman burst into sobs. "About him." A branch tapped against the window. She screamed in terror and shot into his lap.

A nightmare about the assault. "Tanya, it's a tree." He moved her onto the bed. "Girl, you're quaking. He won't harm you."

She plastered against his side, her arms curling around, and sobbed on his shoulder.

Something in his chest pulled. It'd been so long since anyone had sought comfort from him. "I thought the nightmares were gone."

"I haven't had one when you've been here."

He frowned. "But you have the nights I've been gone late?"

She nodded.

It was a moment of weakness for female tears that made him say, "Do you want to sleep in my room at night?"

"Really?"

The woman looked at him with such big eyes and so much hope that he heard himself say, "Your room is yours during daylight and mine is mine. Lie down."

So she laid down.

He found himself slipping on arm under so she could lay her head on his shoulder and curl up to him. God bless it, this wasn't how to keep her out of his room.

"Thank you," she breathed and rested a delicate hand on his chest. Her belly rested on his hip. Goddammit, this felt so wonderful.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Her voice sounded so small from fear.

His chest puffed up - she needed to feel safe and protected. It goddamn wasn't his concern. His chest released but the words came out of their own accord. "I don't know, but the house is locked. The sheriff has men patrolling the grounds every hour." Silence for a few minutes. Maybe the chit went to sleep.

"Mark? Do you think I'm a bad mother if I get angry about the babe?"

He frowned in confusion. "As if you resent it?" How the hell should he know what made a good mother?

"Sometimes. Sometimes I can't stand having a piece of him inside me. I don't want to hurt the babe, but sometimes I just want him out."

The walls crumbled for the poor girl - that would be enough to make anyone go insane, much less the guilt of having a normal reaction like that. "He's part of you too. You'll be a perfect mother. Once you hold the babe, you won't think about anything else but how perfect he is." Tears pooled on his shoulder. "Tanya?"

She buried her face against him. "Sometimes it hurts so much I can't breathe."

Swallowing hard, he stared up at the ceiling. That kind of pain was all too familiar. "One foot before the other," he sighed and rubbed her arm. "Someone is going to be very lucky to have you. He'd give his life for you and the babe." The tears subsided after a few minutes, so he closed his eyes to sleep. It was so easy to fall into a deep, relaxing breathing with her draped over his body.

The woman seemed to think him asleep. She whispered, "I wish it was you." Then her body relaxed in sleep a few moments later.

He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, with her draped across his chest and the babe resting safely on his hip. Somehow once he fell asleep, he slept like a baby.


She woke up to being spooned. Oh dear, he must not be awake. His knee must be feeling better to not have to sleep on his back anymore. Basking in his unintended affection, she stroked her belly. The baby kicked. "Mark," she whispered and moved his hand down to cup the babe.

He stirred and then stilled when the babe kicked.

"Do you feel it?" She smiled.

"I think that's a foot." A smile softened his tone.

She blinked. The man didn't snarl or run away. Instead of running, he swept his hand over her whole belly and softly palpated. He didn't seem the least aware of something hard pressed against her bottom.

"Here's his head." He guided her hand to the right and pressed. "Here's...oops, he flipped." The man sounded so happy. "Here's a hand...is he stretching?" He sat and pulled up the sheets to bare her belly. A tiny lump moved across her belly.

She laughed. "Is that what it is? He does it several times a day." Something pressed up under ribs. "What's that?" She guided his hand up.

He smiled. "His bottom," he said as he leaned over her.

It was the first time seeing him smile. His face softened and perfect teeth glinted. But the happiness in his eyes chased away the clouds, leaving his eyes as clear as a lake on a summer day. He looked so beautiful. Her heart flip flopped. She smiled, unable to resist his infectious happiness. He looked down, and the smile faded from his lips but the clearness of his eyes didn't flee.

Those gorgeous blue eyes locked on her, and he lowered his head until his warm lips brushed hers. His kiss was gentle and soft and intoxicating. Her arms slipped around his neck as he eased down. Heat rushed between her legs and passion burned so hot as his sweet tongue dipped past her lips. A low growl vibrated his chest against hers and his hand cupped her thigh and guided her leg to wrap around his hip. Her heart thundered with need from the fire he lit. The room began to spin and yet she wanted more. His hand stroked her belly and he moaned deep in his throat, as if finding pleasure in the swells. Sweet heaven, she'd go up in smoke at any moment. Her other leg wrapped around his hip, causing his hardness to press just right. She gasped and arched at the sudden pleasure unlike anything felt before.

He was gone.

The man stood on the far side of the bed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair with a dazed and startled look in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. It - "

She got up before he could finish saying it was a mistake. "I lost track of time." Grabbing the burned out lantern, she headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" He sounded baffled.

"I have things to do today," she threw over her shoulder and escaped.

She leaned against her door once she was safely inside her room. "What are you doing?" she whispered to herself. She couldn't fall in love with the man whose ring she wore, with the master of this house...because he would always love a ghost.


He missed her, god bless it. She stayed in her chambers all morning claiming to have things to do. He couldn't concentrate on the ledgers - his mind kept wandering back to this morning. This beautiful morning when he likely would've ended up making love if she hadn't snapped him out of it.

"You look like a lovesick fool."

The daydreams shattered at the doctor's entrance. The irritating man grinned like a fool. "What do you want, old man?" he snapped.

"I came to check you knee and make sure you wife was still sound." He set his bag on the desk.

"She's fine, and I don't need you poking at me," he growled.

"So she is your wife now?" A twinkle brightened the bastard's eyes.

"I'm tired of wasting my breath arguing with you. But she's not my wife." Dear Lord, it would've been wonderful to make her one this morning. The damn woman took far too much of his time and he was behind on work today!

The doctor simply smiled. "You should be ready for the bandage to come off and start some range of motion exercises."

He sighed in irritation. "So you came for torture. Lovely." Heaving himself out of the chair, he grabbed the crutches.

Half way up the stairs with the doctor, Tanya appeared. "Are you alright?" She hurried down the stairs.

"He's here to be obnoxious," he grumbled.

She took the crutches. "Would you help him, sir?" The doctor got under his arm.

"I'm fine!" He barked the words. "I've been doing the stairs this way for days and don't need help!"

"We haven't had anyone here who could support your weight. Be a good man and let Dr. Englewood help." Then she started up the stairs with his crutches.

The woman was growing large enough with child that stairs weren't as safe. "Hold the railing," he barked at her back.

The chit turned a few steps up and smiled. "I was wondering if you'd start to worry about me on the stairs." Then she held the railing and continued.

"I'm not footing anymore medical bills," he growled, continuing the laborious ascent.

"Yes, Mark."

Her tone sounded like she was laughing at him! "Don't sass me, woman!"

She turned at the top of the stairs a few steps up. "Yes, dear. I shouldn't want a repeat of this morning as punishment." The brat beamed.

His jaw dropped and he stared, screeching to a halt on the stairs. Heat pooled at the memory.

The doctor's shoulders shook under his arm. "Why, Mark, I daresay this is a first of seeing you speechless."

At the top of the stairs, he yanked the crutches away that she offered, the smile still on her face. His scowl didn't seem to faze her, goddammit.

"Do you need help?"

"No!" he barked and hobbled down the hall.

Once the doctor closed the bedroom door, he grinned. "I'm glad I showed up late this morning."

He sat on the bed. "I didn't bed her," he snapped.

The doctor held up his hand not gripping the medical bag. "It's none of my business." But he still smiled.

"I didn't!" If the chit insisted on making everyone believe it, though, he might have to. Then she'd shut up and be too embarrassed to mention it. A good, long bedding to get this fire out of his blood if worse came to worse.


Mark was painful and in a bad mood the rest of the day, so she left him alone. After dinner, she went to her chambers. Sitting in bed in her nightclothes, she read a book. When the floor creaked, she looked up.

He stood in the doorway on his crutches with a scowl. Then he turned and left.

She frowned. "Mark? Did you need something?" Climbing out of bed, she stepped into the hall.

"No," he snapped over his shoulder.

"How is your knee?" She fell into step beside him.

The man just grunted.

"Do you want help with your exercises tomorrow?"

"No," he growled and turned into his room.

She stopped at the doorway.

He turned with a hand on the door, his eyes hard.

"Oh. Well, goodnight." Apparently he deeply regretted this morning.

Hurt flashed through his eyes and he slammed the door.

She blinked. Something happened. Opening the door, she stepped in. "What has you in a temper now?" She set a hand on her hip.

He eased onto the bed with a grimace of pain and rubbed his thigh. "Nothing! What are you doing in here if you're not going to sleep?" The words couldn't have come out more clipped.

A slight smile tugged. He was upset she wasn't sleeping in his room but too proud to say. "I wasn't sure if you meant what you said last night. I'll turn out my lantern and be back."

"Fine," he grumbled, his feathers not seeming so ruffled. "You aren't plastering yourself all over me like last night. I couldn't sleep a damn wink."

The slight shadows that usually kept residence under his eye were gone today. "Yes, Mark." She smiled and left to turn off her light.

In bed, she laid on her side facing him now that the babe was large enough to make laying on her back uncomfortable. He laid on his back but seemed restless with his leg, so she sat up and took one of the extra pillows. Then she pulled down the sheet and carefully lifted his leg, easing the pillow underneath his knee to bend it at a gentle angle. "Better?"

He nodded, the pinched look gone from his face. "Thank you."

She laid down and tucked her hands under her cheek.

His head turned to her and he laid a hand on her belly. "Is the babe sound today?"

An urge rose up to lay a hand over his in the intimate moment, but that would only make Mark pull away. "He's been quiet since you cut the adhesions. I feel so much better lately too."

The gentle strokes to her belly ended as he retracted his hand. "The middle of pregnancy is usually the easiest." He looked up at the ceiling in silence.

"Mark?"

A grunt.

"I like it when you touch the babe." She swallowed hard. Openness had to start somewhere. "It makes me feel less ashamed," she whispered.

His head turned to her, a tight look about his mouth. "You have a ring - there's no need for such nonsensical notions." He turned his head to offer his profile again.

Her heart fell at the rejection.

The man didn't look, but his hand moved under the blanket. Heat rested on her belly and his thumb stroked.

A big white elephant sat in the room.

"Did they truly send you to an asylum?" Her heart broke. Horror stories talked about the unspeakable in those terrible places. His hand stilled but he otherwise didn't move. "I think you were desperate to save her and tried an experimental treatment that didn't work. They labeled you a murder and insane, but I think you loved her so much that you were willing to try anything to save her. The day they're in the same shoes, then they can judge."

"Five months, one week, two days there," he whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Even if you go insane to the worst degree, I will never put you in an asylum."

"Was it horrible?" She set a hand over his on her belly.

"I'm tired, Tanya," he sighed and turned his head away.

"For what it's worth, I think your crime was loving her too strongly." She scooted closer and kissed his cheek. "I don't think the rumors are true at all." Then she hugged him even though he didn't move. "You're a good man."


The next day, his poor knee swelled from the exercises so much that he stayed in bed. And hardly spoke like he was so deep in thought.

"Here's your lunch." She sat on the edge of the bed with a fresh pack of ice as Brigands set the tray in Mark's lap before he quietly left.

"Hm? Oh." Mark's eyes drifted to the tray and then back out the window with disinterest.

She started slow strokes from his calf to thigh to help drain the swelling. "You miss her."

He visibly buried his emotions and picked up the fork. But he just stared at the food.

"The holidays are coming - it's normal to miss a lost one."

"When does it stop hurting?" He whispered and pushed the food around on his plate. "You don't seem to miss your father."

"I do on occasion, but it's hard to miss someone whom you disappointed."

"Your father was a moron," he growled.

Always her champion. She cracked a smile. Leave it to Mark to straight shoot it. "Perhaps. Anyways, when you allow yourself to grieve, it will get better. It'll never go away, but it'll get better."

His eyes met hers. "You deserve better than this."

She set the ice over his knee and kissed his cheek. "I will decide what I deserve. I'll be downstairs if you need me - use your set of lungs," she teased, throwing his words back at him.

"Tanya?" He was obviously caught in a moment of grief and vulnerable. "It's...it's comforting to have you around even though I complain."

A smile bloomed and she flushed. "You'll be irate over this, but...I'm fond of you, Mark." She held up her hands when he blinked. "I understand this is only a marriage of honor and that you love Anna. I will keep the boundaries you set. I'll let you eat in peace."

No expression.

She already regretted the words. Apparently he did too because he remained out of sight for two days.


Coming out of the library, she ran smack into a hard chest after breakfast. "Oh!" She grabbed her belly and caught herself. The man didn't budge from the collision.

"Are you alright?" he grumbled and eyed her belly.

"We're fine. You?"

He grunted.

She ducked around him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he snapped.

She turned. "Me?"

"Yes. You're always eating at odd hours and hiding." The man had a fierce look.

"You're locked in your office all day." She frowned.

"I'm working! I can't exactly ride a horse to work," he barked and swept a hand down to his knee that he could now put some weight on with his crutches.

"Yes...so I'm leaving you to work. Am I missing something here? Should I be interrupting? Because last I heard, I was keeping you from doing your job."

He didn't say anything.

"Precisely." She continued on her way.

"Did you mean it?" He called after her.

She stopped and turned. "What?"

He limped forward several steps on his crutches. "That you're...fond of me."

Her face burned. "I think we both got caught up in the moment."

"I didn't."

She blinked and then a laugh bubbled up. "Mark, you find me annoying, irritating, troublesome, an obligation...anything but comforting."

The man frowned severely. "You're telling me how I feel?"

"I'm telling you that you're not bound to a moment of weakness."

"Really? So, if I bedded you and then said it was a moment of weakness, you'd excuse me from it?"

Her cheeks burned. "Of course not," she said in embarrassment.

"Then I find you comforting," he declared. "You are retracting your words?"

"At this stage in our relationship, yes."

"What stage is that?"

"Tenuous."

He didn't bat an eye. "I see."

"Well, what would you say it is?"

He held up a hand. "It's only as far as the limit, so it's tenuous."

"Don't be like that. Is it farther? Frankly, with the cold shoulder from the past two days, I'd say I'm lucky to still be here."

He was as expressionless as stone.

"Mark, give me something! You say one thing but do another!"

He was silent for several moments. "Tanya," he began quietly, "I have not been around a woman for a long time. All I can say is I find your presence comforting and nice."

She stared at him.

"What?"

Putting a hand to his brow, she asked, "Are you feverish? Did you hit your head?"

The man pulled it off gruffly. "You'll eat meals with me," he ordered.

She smiled. "Yes, Mark."

"Don't get any ideas."

"No, Mark."

"And we already determined that you're to sleep in my room. So you don't have nightmares," he grunted.

"Yes, Mark." She grinned.

"Stop smiling," he snapped and went into his study.

She traipsed after him. "Did you do your leg exercises?"

"That's none of your concern," he grunted as he lowered into his chair.

She set his crutches aside for him. Before she thought about it, she bent down and brushed a kiss over his lips. "It is my concern when our rescuer got hurt saving us," she said softly and searched his eyes.

His chest puffed up slightly. "Go keep yourself busy. I have work to do," he replied gruffly and set her aside.

She smiled, headed for the door and turned. "Mark?" The man watched her, to her surprise. "I did mean it."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I know."

She slipped out. When he was agreeable, it was hard not to fall for him.


In her room, she was about to get up to go down for lunch when a knock sounded at her open door.

Mark stood there. "Lunch."

She set her quill down and walked over to him. "I know, I'm coming. Did you come up here for me?" She frowned. The man shouldn't be on the stairs.

"You didn't come." He offered his arm.

She smiled and took it. "I'm two minutes late."

"I hate tardiness."

"You shouldn't be on the stairs." She fretted and glanced at his knee swelling a bit again through his pantaloons.

"Then don't be late," he grunted. "Walk behind so I don't knock you down if I trip. Hold the railing - you're too heavy to take a tumble."

"What?!" Her jaw dropped.

"The babe."

"Oh." She flushed.

"Christ, you're too far underweight yet to be heavy." He snorted. "Your plate had better be cleared."

"Are you fretting over us?" A smile tugged.

"No," he grunted and descended. At the bottom of the steps, he stood there. "Well?"

"Hm?" She blinked up at him.

"Do I have to offer my arm every two minutes?" he huffed.

"Yes," she teased and took it. Glancing down, her hand splayed over his muscular arm and still didn't span it. "Was your father a large man?"

He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her. "My father?"

"Yes. You're quite a large man."

With a shrug, he offered his profile. "I suppose he was. Why?"

"Just curious."

"And you? You're small for a woman. Was your mother small?"

"Yes. Papa said Mama's parents are too. Papa wasn't large either to offset it."

He pulled out a chair for her. "Your grandparents are still alive?"

"Thank you. I suppose they are - Papa never said differently. They live in a tribe in the Americas and were furious that he took Mama away. When he wrote them about her death, he received a reply saying they wanted to meet what was left of their daughter - me."

"And he never took you?" He sat in his chair.

"No, he took to drinking after Mama's death. I was called a heathen as a child for running all around without anyone looking after me."

He frowned severely, as if offended on her behalf. "They knew of your heritage?"

She blushed. "You seem to be the only one who doesn't see me stick out like a sore thumb."

He frowned. "You exaggerate."

She turned to Brigands as he filled the plates. "Brigands, do I look English?"

"No, my lady," he said matter of fact. "You look Native American. Chippewa is my guess."

A hearty laugh of surprise bubbled out. "That's quite good! Yes, Chippewa." Then she turned to Mark.

The man blinked. "I don't really see it. You have high cheekbones, which many people do, and almond-shaped eyes..."

Brigands smiled. "Her jaw is soft, my lord. It is not angled like an English woman's. And her skin looks like she was kissed by the sun just a bit." He winked at her. "My wife is Russian - I don't favor the English women."

She smiled and then studied Mark. "You're pure English, but somewhere along the lines a Scot threw in the dark hair and blue eyes."

He nodded. "My great-grandfather."

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand, studying the man. "You do have lovely eyes."

Mark stared, as if speechless.

Brigands made a noise and she looked at him. He gave a fake cough. When she looked at Mark, the man glared at Brigands.

"If I'm not overstepping my bounds, my lady, may I say that I think the rumors are true?"

"You overstep," Mark growled.

"What rumors?" She looked from one man to the other, but Brigands bowed out.

She looked at Mark. "What rumors?"

He ate and grumbled, "That you're so beautiful men are speechless."

"Oh." What an odd lie to be spread.

Mark took a drink.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

The man choked and set down the cup, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. Then he cleared his throat. "One should not judge oneself based on others' opinions," he scolded.

"No, but I'd like to know how my husband sees me." She rested her head in both hands and smiled.

"Irrelevant." The dear man looked uncomfortable under her gaze.

"I don't think so, but I understand if you'd rather not have to deny it to my face," she sighed, sat back and picked at her food. It would've been better to not have asked and just remained ignorant. It must've been pent-up lust that had made him say she was nice to look at.

"For Christ's sake, I didn't deny it," he snapped.

She looked at him hopefully. "Then you think I'm beautiful?"

"Why in God's name does it matter?"

"Because it does." She waited with her heart beating faster in hope.

The meal finished in silence.


She stood before the window in the library and stared out. The first snowfall of the season painted a gorgeous scene as the hillsides dusted while in the blue glow of nightfall. A hand touched her belly and she startled.

"Sorry," Mark said softly from beside her. "The babe has grown."

She stroked her belly and looked down upon it with a soft smile. "Gained nearly three pounds this week."

"Good. You're starting to fill out. You're due for an exam again next week. I'll send for Dr. Englewood." He looked out the window.

"Why can't you?"

"I'm technically not supposed to...not being licensed and all that."

"But - "

"I can practice under a licensed physician's supervision only," he cut her off, as if embarrassed. "Being he seems to not be mysteriously unavailable anymore, he must resume your care. Did the seamstress ever come?"

She folded her arms over her straining dress self-consciously. "No."

"I'll send for her again; otherwise, we'll find another." He glanced from the corner of his eye. "I told you to stop stuffing in handkerchiefs."

Her face burned. "I've become indecent in the last week to not do so."

"It's simply me in the house tonight, and I promise to not ravish you," he said dryly, still only offering his profile. "Come, you look uncomfortable."

"My lord - "

"Tanya," he warned.

So she swallowed her embarrassment and pulled it out.

He cleared his throat, his voice taking on an odd, strained quality. "I'll, um, send for the seamstress in the morning."

She tucked it back in. The scars were even more unsightly as they stretched from the babe changing her body. "I...I would ask that you tell her to make the necklines high," she said quietly.

He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her. "Why can't you?"

She frowned. "Doesn't the husband tell a seamstress what he wants?"

He snorted. "I will not be wearing them, so I do not care."

"But I thought the husband must - "

He gave her a look. "As long as you do not go around half naked, it makes no difference to me."

How unconventional for him to not have some kind of say. "Oh. Thank you." She touched the ugly scar hidden under the handkerchief.

His gaze focused out the window. "Have the doctor examine your breast when he comes. I'll send for him tomorrow."

"My scar?" She asked in confusion.

"No, your breast is red like you're getting mastitis," he said tersely.

"Oh." Her cheeks burned as she stared out the window. "I'm seeing to it. You don't need to call him."

"I'll send for him tomorrow," he repeated.

She bit her lip. "Would you see to it? I'm not exactly comfortable baring myself to a man."

"And what am I?" he grunted dryly.

"My husband."

He looked at her. "Is there some kind of difference I'm missing?"

She met his eyes. "I know you."

"Tanya, he is a physician and a good man. You don't need to be nervous with him. He can see to you just fine."

She looked out the window, the nervousness and distress mounting. "Yes, Mark," she whispered in defeat and wrapped her arms around herself. Terrible memories tried to surface from months ago.

"You never protested him before."

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. "Because I was scared of you."

He blinked. "Me?"

"You have a temper and I wasn't sure how far that temper could go. The doctor is a patient man - I took the lesser of what I thought were two evils."

He frowned. "Now you are more comfortable with me?"

She looked out at the falling snow. "I feel safe with you now."

Those six little words were his undoing, punching a hole right through his chest. "I'll never hurt you, Tanya, and I won't let anyone else."

Her big brown eyes looked up at him. "It's the first time in my life that someone has taken care of me," she said gently and rested her hands on her belly.

She was the absolute picture of maternal gentleness that made protective instincts rear into full drive. His chest ached in an odd way, almost painful, that made him set a hand over his heart. And then it dawned what this unfamiliar feeling was - his heartstrings being pulled. "Let's go to bed," he said gently.