A/N: I knew y'all were gonna love that chapter. To Molly: You are the best reviewer by far! You give such good encouragement its ridic! To Kat: Oh yes I will most def finish this fic! To Opgyft: Yes there is another sex scene coming… maybe now. You'll just have to read and find out… and as far as rescuing goes, nobody knows she needs rescuing….yet. Muahaha!

Keep the reviews coming they fuel my mojo for this project! Also I love all the rest of you who have reviewed so far, even if I didn't have a chance to mention y'all by name! Muah! XOXO

One WEEK later

"The cruelest lies are often told in silence".

-ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, Virginibus Puerisque

Emily had been acting strange for days now. Ian couldn't fathom what could possibly have brought on this new façade but he couldn't help but feel suspicious of her. She'd been so… accommodating lately it was almost unreal. It was like the dreams he'd had of them in prison. Other than the ones that ended in her brutal murder, of course.

Ian sighed. She'd been so loving lately he assumed she wanted something, that had been his experience with women thus far anyways. He wished she knew he would buy her anything she wanted if she would only ask. On the other hand her mood swings had been astronomical. She would be the picture of lovely, one moment, and the next: bawling uncontrollably, screaming and throwing things at him. He'd thought for hours one night after she'd shown her evil side, what he POSSIBLY had done to piss her off. He went over their conversation word by word. He'd come up empty. He'd even offered to get a glass of wine and bring it to her on their private balcony, when she refused, he'd not pushed; he simply poured his own and walked onto the balcony. She as some Americans would say, "flipped the fuck out."

Not only had she started screaming like an uncontrollable banshee, she'd even thrown a glass book end at him. That had been the only time recently he'd laid hands to her, and he hadn't even really hurt her. He'd merely restrained her so she couldn't throw anymore breakable items at him. She'd lain there against the bed faced down as he'd pinned her arms behind her. He waited several minutes for her to calm herself, before glancing down and noticed why she was so still. She'd fallen asleep! He'd let her arms go, gently turned her over and put her to bed. Later when he crawled into bed after cleaning up the glass himself, instead of a housekeeper doing it, she'd snuggled into his chest as if all was good between them. He'd been irritated before, but how could he be with a beautiful woman sleeping, literally, in his arms?

Ian Doyle considered himself a smart man. But there were some things he could not understand. Women to be one of those things… He'd tried talking to her, but she shut him out. She refused to talk about herself. She didn't want to go shopping for herself anymore, saying she didn't like the way she looked in dressing rooms. She tried to spend as much time with Declan as he had been, but she wouldn't do some things like ride 4x Wheelers or any kind of physical activity other than riding her horse or walking. She was tired all time, taking constant naps. He was flummoxed. He would have attributed all of those behaviors with her menses, but he hadn't seen any evidence of that in the wastebasket in the bathroom, although she had been spending in inordinate of time in there.

She'd been trying to act like nothing was wrong, but he heard her crying on the balcony while she thought he was sleeping, or when she was in the bathroom when he was undressing for bed. She wasn't fooling him, he knew her enough to know when something was bothering her. He'd assumed it was because she missed her team….

He didn't know what was wrong with her. Then it hit him. Like the 3 ice cubes hit the bottom of his empty scotch glass. Like a tidal wave. Like Lauren had. She was pregnant. That's what she was hiding. She was lying to him with her silence. She was refusing to accept the truth. She wasn't drinking alcohol anymore, no rough activity outside of their bedroom walls. Always tired. Mood swings. Pregnant. Emily was pregnant. How could she have not said anything to him? He thought angrily. He looked into the bedroom where Emily was sleeping away in the dead center of the bed. He snorted. Typical.

He walked into bed slipping off his pants and down to his boxers and t-shirt and climbed into bed behind her. He would wait and see how long it would take for her to tell him the truth. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her snugly. He inhaled the lovely smell of her shampoo…Pregnant.