Chapter Twenty-Three
Wren
Everything changes after that.
The next morning, when we wake up, we stay in bed talking and kissing and just enjoying being with one another.
When Ruth arrives, Marcus goes out to collect breakfast and brings it back to bed, and we feed each other pieces of croissant and jam, drink our coffees, and then get back under the covers and cuddle up to kiss again.
We do rise sometime around lunch to take a walk and get some fresh air. The sky is clouding over a bit, and there’s a rumble of thunder in the air, so we’re happy to get back, grab the chicken rolls Ruth left for us, and return to bed.
As the sky darkens even more and the rain begins, we take refuge beneath the covers, lost in our own private world.
We talk about our future, discussing Marcus’s place at the company and what will happen there, where I see my career going, and our life together.
We talk about the house in Stanley Point and what we’d like to do with it, and I get excited as Marcus suggests we buy ourselves a bach—a beach house—closer to my sister so I can see more of Ben.
Gradually, I get used to the idea of being an Ashford wife.
I hope I never forget my roots, but equally it’s impossible not to be dazzled by the idea of belonging to such a wealthy family.
There are the personal benefits—the understanding that I’ll never go without again, that I can buy anything I want, be it clothes, cars, or anything for the house, fly to any country I want, go on vacation anywhere in the world.
And the thought that my child will never want for anything.
But also, Marcus explains that he’s willing to back any educational programs I’d like to get involved with.
If I decide to increase the scope of the art program I ran for the Masquerade Ball, he’ll give me the money to do it.
Or a reading program, or a push to get more technology into low-decile schools…
whatever I want, he’ll help me, and that, more than anything, touches my heart.
Lying there that evening, with his arms around me and his chest pressed against my back while we look out at the rain, I feel a calm, quiet sense of wonder. So much has changed in such a short space of time.
I know marriage has no guarantees. But Marcus saw something in me, in us, and he was willing to take a chance on it.
He’s offering me an amazing future—safety, security, love, passion, and a family.
And now I’ve decided not to let fear hold me back, I feel a newfound sense of freedom and excitement.
For the first time, I’m letting myself believe that it might—just might—work out. That he might really love me, and he might stay. And I’m scared to hope, but I’m going to do it anyway.
*
On Saturday we go and visit Ruth and the puppies, and we take a last long walk around the farm. On Sunday, we finally head back to the city.
I’m sad to leave the farmhouse, but excited too.
Next week I’m back at school, and the sale of the house at Stanley Point is close to going through, because there’s obviously no finance involved, and Marcus has already organized a builder’s report that has returned with no conditions.
So there’s lots to do, and I’m caught up in a whirlwind of activity.
Marcus is busy at work, too. The board is supporting Edward’s decision to back him, but there’s other news that has thrown a spanner in the works.
“The Rutherford Group has returned with a revised proposal,” Marcus tells me over dinner one night. “They’re offering a strategic partnership rather than a full acquisition. Capital injection, two seats on the board, and an option to increase their stake over time.”
I frown, because I can tell by his face how uneasy he feels about that. “What was the outcome?”
“Caesar said it’s a takeover in slow motion, and he’s right. Equally, the money they’re offering is hard to turn down. We’re taking some time to think about it. Anyway. Enough about board politics. We have something much more important to talk about.”
“I know.” I glow with excitement at the thought that the house sale goes through tomorrow. “I can’t wait.”
“Should happen mid-afternoon. As soon as we know, we’ll make sure everything’s signed and pick up the keys.”
Sure enough, at three p.m. the next day we’re standing out the front of our new home, looking at the beautiful villa with the keys in Marcus’s hand. Light- and dark-pink roses grow in bushes around the path. It literally has roses around the door.
“Come on,” he says, and he leads me up the steps onto the verandah and unlocks the door.
We go inside and, hand in hand, wander through the house.
It’s our first time here together, and we point things out to each other that we’ve missed before—the gorgeous bay window in the front room; the flower-shaped lights over the central island in the kitchen; the real fireplace in the master bedroom, which prompts him to pull me into his arms and nuzzle my neck as he promises to make love to me on the rug in front of the fire.
Giggling, I walk with him to the main bathroom, and we go inside. A large white bath with clawed feet stands to one side on a marble plinth. The high windows are made from stained glass, and they scatter jeweled light across the white tiled walls, which makes me catch my breath.
“It’s lovely,” Marcus says, looking around. His gaze comes back to me, and he sees me looking at him and raises his eyebrows. “What?”
I slip my handbag off my shoulder, open it, and pull something out. His eyes widen.
It’s a pregnancy test.
“Still no sign?” he asks, excitement lighting his eyes.
I shake my head. “I’m two days late. It’s not long… but the test can supposedly pick up pregnancy from the day of the missed period. I thought we could try the test now. I mean… I know it’ll be disappointing if it’s negative… but if it’s not…”
He pulls me into his arms and gives me a big hug. “If it’s negative, it just means we need to keep trying, and I’m hardly going to be disappointed with that. It’s going to be fabulous news either way.”
I chuckle and hug him back. “There’s usually a thirty percent chance of getting pregnant, right?”
“Yeah. Pretty good odds.” He cups my face and kisses me. “Go on, then. I’ll wait outside.”
He pops outside while I undo the box with shaking hands and pee on the stick. Then, as I wash my hands, he comes back in.
“Damn,” I say, “no towels,” and I dry my hands on a tissue.
Smiling, he takes my hands in his. Mine are trembling, and he rubs them, then hugs me again. “I love you,” he says.
“I love you too.”
“Whatever happens this time, this house will hear the patter of tiny feet,” he states. “It’s written in the stars.”
I nod, move back, and rub my nose. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“If there’s a cross, I’m pregnant. A line means I’m not.”
“Okay.”
I swallow hard. Then I pick up the stick and turn it over.
There’s a cross.
Marcus and I both inhale sharply. We stare at each other, and I see the realization light his eyes. His reaction is so indicative of unbridled joy that tears immediately spring into my eyes and I burst into tears.
He laughs, sweeps me up into his arms, and twirls me around in a circle. “We’re having a baby,” he says. “Wow!”
“I know.” I tighten my arms and bury my face in his neck. “I can’t believe it.”
I’m pregnant. I’ve wanted a baby for so long, the emotion is overwhelming.
And the fact that Marcus is the father is the gorgeous butter icing on the rich, moist cake.
I don’t have to have this baby alone. It’ll have a daddy, and a family, and it will never want for anything. Could it be any better than that?
He releases me and looks down at my belly. “I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a very lucky baby, whatever it is.” I try to wipe my tears away, unsuccessfully.
He leads me out into the bedroom, then grabs me, presses me up against the window, and gives me a long, passionate kiss.
“Marcus!” I groan as he slides his hand up my skirt. “Someone will see us!”
He brushes his lips up my neck and makes me shiver. “That’s what you get when you pick the wrong brother.” He sighs and nibbles my ear. “I’m so glad Caesar didn’t say yes.”
“Yes to what?”
“When you asked him to be a donor.”
I move back to look at him. “He did.”
He blinks. “What?”
“He did say yes. The day you came to my house for my answer to your marriage proposal, he’d already agreed to donate.”
He stares at me. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry, I assumed he’d told you.” I realize what it means. He thought I only accepted his offer of marriage because Caesar turned me down. For maybe the first time in his life, he feels that he didn’t come second to his brother.
Pleasure lights his features. He cups my face, and I can see how emotional he is. “I love you so much,” he murmurs. “Thank you for choosing me.”
I wipe my eyes. “It turns out you were the right brother all along.”
He kisses me then, a kiss that goes on for a long, long time, while the summer sun streams through the windows, filling the room with warmth.