His Nine Month Seduction Read online

  “Yes, really. I promise I’ll be on my least-aristocratic behavior.” He lifted his hand in a boy-scout salute that was oddly convincing.

  Imogen’s teeth sunk into her full lower lip. “I don’t know, Theo…”

  Something like frustration flickered in his gaze. “You think the first time I meet them should be in the hospital? When they come to see their grandchild and you introduce me to them as the father?”

  “Or maybe Watermelon’s first birthday,” Imogen muttered, dropping her gaze.

  “No.” He put a hand on her lap, his thumb running over her thigh. “They deserve better than that. So does our baby. So do you. And so do I. Obviously I need to meet them. It makes sense.”

  “But…”

  “I know.” He nodded, his smile encouraging. “You’re worried. Worried they won’t like me, that they’ll be cross at you for falling for my Lordly charms.” His wink was the last word in all those Lordly charms and Imogen’s heart stuttered into line with his.

  “Fine. But not here. Please not here.” She looked around his enormous, palatial home nervously.

  “Why not here? I don’t want you moving from this sofa.”

  “I can’t just sit down for two months, Theo. I have to walk. A little bit of walking is good. Exercise is good. I’m not talking about freaking running a marathon, but let’s at least go to the local pub for lunch with them.”

  “Fine. You’ll set it up?”

  And only then did Imogen realize how cleverly he’d played the situation. She lifted a finger to his lips and traced the outline. “Well, I don’t know,” she murmured. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Of course, if you want me to promise…”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, it’ll cost you.”

  His laugh was thick and throaty and she felt his desire flood towards her. “Oh, don’t worry, Imogen. In a few months, you’ll be beating me off with a stick.” He kissed her on the cheek and stood, running a hand down his pants. “I’ll get you a snack.”

  *

  “You don’t look at all like your mother,” Theo murmured, leaning closer to Imogen, his hand gripping hers beneath the table. Imogen’s eyes travelled across the busy pub, landing on her mother. Tall, slim and brunette, with a tanned complexion courtesy of her Spanish forebears, Didee Harper was nothing like Imogen.

  “No. I’m definitely more like dad.”

  Theo pulled a face. “That makes me feel distinctly weird for feeling like this,” and beneath the table he drew Imogen’s hand across his lap, glancing her fingertips over his rock-hard arousal.

  Her eyes flew to his and a small groan escaped from the back of her throat. “That’s not fair,” she muttered, bringing her hand back to him.

  “I wouldn’t touch me, unless you want things to get rather messy.” His wink had her stomach looping in knots.

  “Probably not the best way to make a good impression.” Two weeks had passed since his ‘no sex’ declaration and Imogen was burning up with need for him. “But later…”

  His eyes flicked to hers and he made a tut, tutting noise. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Oh, I plan on tempting you.”

  “You already do.” He kissed the tip of her nose and then shifted over a little on the banquette seat, putting space between them. And for emphasis, he reached down and lifted her handbag, settling it between them as a sort of barrier, his eyes smiling when they met hers.

  “I will say, Gen’s been very secretive about all this,” Didee said as she sat back down at the table. “Refused point blank to talk about the father.”

  Theo’s smile was tight as he threw Imogen a look of amusement. “She tells me I’m not at all what you’d hoped for her.”

  “Oh!” Didee’s face flushed and she reached over, batting a hand on Imogen’s. “That’s very rude of you, dear.”

  “I don’t believe in lying to make someone feel better,” Imogen flashed her long, curling lashes, grinning at Theo.

  “No, your daughter is honest to a fault.”

  Brian took the spare seat, handing some menus across before placing a bottle of wine between them. “I went for Pinot Gris. Trust that’s okay?”

  “Perfectly,” Theo nodded, reaching for the bottle and unscrewing the top, pouring three glasses before checking Imogen’s mineral water was still charged. “Shall we say a toast?”

  “A lovely idea.” Didee lifted her glass in the air, her large, brown eyes locked to Theo’s face. “What to?”

  “The baby. And the future,” he turned to look at Imogen as he said it and her heart throbbed heavily in her chest. Her smile was tremulous and, ridiculously, tears stung the back of her eyes.

  Their four glasses connected and Imogen reached for a menu, perusing it with a sigh.

  “So you’re planning to stay in London then, love?” Brian asked, the question quiet yet somehow loaded with depths Theo didn’t understand.

  Imogen nodded, her eyes lifting to her mother’s face first. “It makes sense,” she agreed slowly.

  “Of course it does,” Didee nodded. “Theo’s here…”

  “I’d have thought you could work from anywhere,” Brian pointed out.

  Theo nodded, his expression unchanging even as his brain worked overtime decoding the man opposite. He didn’t have a chance to reply; Imogen spoke first.

  “His offices are here.”

  “Couldn’t relocate?”

  “No,” Imogen shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair on Theo.” She lifted her gaze to his face, her smile calm. “He’d end up spending so much time commuting, he’d hardly ever see the baby.”

  Brian was about to respond but Didee forestalled him with a small shake of her head.

  Theo witnessed the interaction with curiosity. “My apartment has several guest rooms. You’ll be welcome to come and stay with us anytime and for as long as you’d like.”

  Us. The word was a gauntlet that they all heard. It sat in the middle of the table like its own little cyclone.

  “So you’re an item then?” Brian asked gruffly. “A couple?”

  “Yes.” Theo turned to Imogen and his smile held all the promises in the world. They clawed into her heart, burying themselves there. And then, staring at him, she remembered something that had been sitting at the very back of her mind since it happened. She couldn’t believe, actually, that she’d forgotten. He’d called her his fiancé. Hadn’t he?

  She frowned, trying to remember for certain, but the moment had been rushed and stressful and even then Imogen wouldn’t have bet money on her remembering with accuracy.

  She made a mental note to query it with him later. Lunch was a surprisingly relaxed affair after that. Imogen had the pleasure of watching Theo be his most charming, thoughtful, interesting self. There were only a handful of occasions that had her tensing and scanning her parents’ faces for a reaction.

  Like when he referred to falling into his own trout stream as a young boy. Or the story he told about going to the Rugby Union World Cup with the Prime Minister. And when they emerged from the pub and he pointed in the direction of the highrise that housed his penthouse.

  “Why don’t you come up and see the nursery?” He suggested. “We can have a coffee, or tea,” he said with a pointed smile at Imogen.

  “Oh, yes! I’d love that,” Didee said, linking her hand through Imogen’s arm.

  At the same time, Brian said, “Don’t want to keep you from work.”

  “I’m working from home until the baby’s born,” Theo said with a shrug.

  Imogen saw her father’s lips curl with disapproval and she knew exactly what he was thinking. Nice for some.

  Leave it to Brian Harper to be the only person on earth to see Theo Trevalyan as some kind of lazy, sponging ne’er do well, when he was the very definition of driven determination and work-ethic.

  “That’s good to know. This way?” Didee had no such concerns.

  But, as they neared the building, Imogen bent her head closer to her mother’s. “I
should warn you, Theo’s place is very…”

  Didee squeezed Imogen’s arm and looked over her shoulder, checking to see that the two men were a little way behind them. “Darling, stop apologizing.”

  “I’m not,” Imogen denied, though she had been.

  “So he’s rich. Who cares? I certainly don’t. Are you happy?”

  Imogen ran a hand over her full stomach, feeling its roundness. She nodded then. She was. Ridiculously happy. “Okay. So? He’s aristocratic. Divorced. Who cares? You love him, he loves you. What more is there to care about?”

  Imogen was so shocked by the summation that she almost lost her footing.

  Theo was there immediately, distance apparently no impediment to watching her like a hawk.

  “Imogen?” He put a hand around her waist, supporting her. She looked at him, words locked in her throat.

  She loved him?

  Did she?

  Her eyes swept closed as she looked into her heart and saw the truth written in such large letters it might as well have been sky-written. She did love him. She’d fallen completely, head over heels in love with the man who hadn’t even remembered sleeping with her. Her fingers curled into his shirt and she stared up at him, her expression unreadable.

  “What is it?” He asked urgently. “Is it the baby?”

  The baby. God. That’s why they were together, whatever her mother thought otherwise.

  She marshalled her thoughts, shaking her head, and trying to string together some words that made a semblance of sense. “I’m not… Everything’s fine. I just felt a big kick.” She fibbed.

  “Let’s get you back upstairs,” he said softly, pulling her to him and holding her tight for the rest of the way. It wasn’t far, just one block further and then they were moving into the large glass doors that led to the foyer of Theo’s exclusive building. There were two suited doormen on duty and they both greeted first Theo and then Imogen by name.

  Imogen didn’t look back to see her parents’ reactions. She was too busy trying to compute why it had taken her so long to realize.

  Had pregnancy made her stupid?

  How had she let them get into this situation?

  Sleeping together. Her being in love with him. And a baby on the way? This had the potential to explode in her face if she wasn’t careful. But her heart was braver than her mind and her heart was reminding her of all the delicious details that were easy to forget.

  He’d been perfect, since she’d moved in with him. A perfect lover, friend. Companion. Everything. He was the one who’d said he wanted to get to know her better; who’d suggested ‘dating’. He was looking after her impeccably and he had called her his girlfriend at the baby shop, and then his fiancé at the hospital.

  These were not the actions of a man who didn’t see a future for them.

  Didee stepped out first, her mouth a perfect ‘O’ as she spun on the spot and took in the details of subtle, overwhelming wealth.

  “Let me show you the nursery,” Imogen said quickly, her smile over-bright.

  “No.” Theo spoke firmly, surprising everyone. “You need to rest. You’ve overdone it.”

  His eyes held a warning that was both heart-warming and infuriating.

  “I’m fine,” she said quietly.

  “Imogen, think of the baby,” he pleaded, his eyes thick with some unknown grief as he implored her to be sensible and reasonable.

  She wanted to argue, but not in front of her parents. “Fine,” she said with a terse nod.

  His relief was palpable. His hands reached for her coat, sliding it from her, lingering on her shoulders for a moment as he bent down and said throatily, “Thank you.”

  How could she be annoyed at him? She tilted her head, smiling up at him, and then moved back to her sofa, taking up the same position she’d occupied for the better part of a fortnight.

  “Theo? Why don’t you show us the nursery?”

  Imogen watched as her parents followed Theo down the hallway, a smile playing about her lips. She settled further down on the sofa, letting her eyes whisper shut for a moment.

  Only Imogen was tired and given the enormous lunch they’d enjoyed, the warmth of Theo’s apartment, and the exhaustion that was seeping through her, it was impossible to stave off sleep.

  And she dreamed of Theo and their baby. A vivid dream. A dream that filled her soul with pleasure. She dreamed of him holding the child and then – terror was in her throat – as he turned and walked away. She called to him, over and over, her voice a shriek that he didn’t hear. Or didn’t respond to. She watched him walk away, holding their child, and suddenly he wasn’t Theo.

  She no longer recognized him.

  *

  The invitation arrived the next day, nestled in the midst of a heap of magazines for Imogen that Theo had insisted on placing subscriptions for. Addressed to Imogen, at first, she had no clue what it could be. Other than the folk at Condé Naste, who would possibly know that Imogen Harper was now living at Theo’s apartment?

  Her finger slid beneath the thick white envelope, perforating it at the fold and reaching in to pull the card from within.

  The presence of your company is required at a high tea to celebrate the impending arrival of the Trevalyen Heir.

  Imogen burst out laughing, but it was a weary laugh, tinged with disbelief.

  She waddled – there was no other word for it now – down the hallway, in search of Theo. He was in his home office, on a conference video call, but when Imogen hovered in his doorway, he cut it short.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, walking in and resting her hip on the edge of his desk. He frowned at the small gesture, his hand lifting to her rounded belly on autopilot.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I’m not sure.” She dropped the invitation in front of him, her lips twitching at the corners.

  “The woman’s unstoppable,” he said with a roll of his eyes heavenward. “Want me to cancel it?”

  “No,” Imogen shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s … sweet, I guess.”

  “Your mother is sweet. Mine is… I’m not sure.”

  “It’s fine,” Imogen reassured him. “It’s only a couple of hours.”

  He nodded, but his face showed wariness. “I’ll come with you.”

  “You’re not invited,” she pointed out, pressing her finger into the elegantly scrawled name at the top of the card. “Sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” he laughed. “You sure you can be bothered?”

  “I am the mother of Heir Trevalyen,” Imogen pointed out with another suppressed giggle.

  “Hell, I really hope your mother hasn’t got one of these. Your father would have kittens.”

  Now Imogen did laugh and Theo joined her, their eyes locking in such perfect understanding that she knew there was no possible way the strange dream she’d had the day before would ever have any bearing on them. It was a nightmare. That was all.

  Everything was going to be fine.

  He dropped his hand so he could pick up the invitation once more.

  “I remembered something yesterday,” she said quietly, her heart tripping in her chest.

  “What’s that?”

  “At the hospital,” she said quietly, the words fading off into the air as she paused to build her confidence.

  “Yes?” But something in his look showed that he knew where she was going.

  “You referred to me as… I think you called me…”

  “I did,” he nodded. “I thought it would get you speedier attention.” His eyes dropped away from hers. “I know that’s arrogant as all hell. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  Imogen’s heart flipped in her chest but she told herself it didn’t matter. He’d called her his fiancé, and he’d done it to help her. That was better than a slap in the face. Except her whole heart had begun to thrive on that very word. The very idea of being engaged to him.

  How foolish.

  “Right,” she said with a small nod. “B
ecause I didn’t think I’d forget the whole bended knee proposal.”

  His eyes lifted to hers and she had no clue what he was thinking. But uncertainty was ripping her apart now. “Is that what you want?”

  She shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear as a nervous gesture. “We hardly know each other,” she pointed out sensibly. “If we got engaged, it’d only be because of the baby, and that hardly seems right.”

  There was an infinitesimal pause as he digested this, and she held her breath, hoping, wondering if he was going to say something to reassure her. But he smiled, tightly, his eyes dark as they clashed with hers.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “WHAT TIME DO YOU need to leave?” Theo curled his palm around her ankle then pressed his thumbs into her bare soles. Imogen in any guise was beautiful, but like this, dressed in black with her hair looped in a bun, she looked like a beautiful young ballerina. A pregnant one. His eyes dropped to her belly and primal pride flared in his gut.

  His baby.

  What would it be like?

  “Not for another hour or so.”

  “Do you think we’ll finish by then?”

  Imogen flicked through the back of the book, counting the pages. “If you stop interrupting me.”

  He laughed at her cheek. He’d laughed a lot since Imogen had moved in. Happiness was everywhere.

  “You do realise this is only the first book,” she queried, lifting it higher, her eyes flicking to the pile on the coffee table beside her.

  “Uh huh. You’re going to be reading me Harry Potters until our baby turns one at this rate.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Imogen grinned. “Once you meet the Dementors, you’ll be begging me to read faster.”

  “Well then? Go on.”

  Imogen smiled at him over the cover of the book and settled back into the cushions with a sigh. The moment was perfection. He was perfection.

  *

  No effort or expense had been spared by Elana Trevalyen. The dining room of Claridge’s had been turned into the most beautiful venue known to man. Flowers were everywhere. Enormous arrangements on the periphery of the room, smaller bunches in the centre of the tables, and garlands had been strung overhead in delicate pastel shades of yellow and peach.