Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada. Katie Oliver
you say that? You have no right to tell me what to do. This is my child—’
‘Our child.’
‘‒and I can’t possibly have this baby! I have my education still to finish. And you’re a bit old to start another family—’
‘Well, thanks for that.’ He leant back against the seat and stared, unseeing, through the windscreen. ‘Is that how you see me? A man who’s past it?’ Anger – and hurt – darkened his eyes as he turned to face her. ‘Shouldn’t the decision to have another family ‒ or not ‒ be mine to make, as well as yours? Who the hell do you think you are?’
‘No – I think the real question is, who do you think you are?’ she snapped. ‘You slept with me, which got me kicked out of uni, and now you’ve gotten me pregnant to boot, and all you’re worried about is your...your male pride? Is that how you see me? As proof of your virility?’
‘No, of course not.’ He let out a short breath. ‘I love you, Caitlin, whether you believe it or not. This isn’t just some passing fling for me. Oh, I’ll admit it – it may have started out that way. But you...you made me fall in love with you. I’ve thrown away my marriage, and I’ve possibly ruined my relationship with my son – but I won’t let you throw us away.’
He reached out and took her hands, and his eyes searched hers. ‘I love you. I love this baby. I want you – both of you. Only say that you’ll marry me, Caitlin Campbell, and come back to Edinburgh, and be my wife.’
Caitlin snatched her hands back. ‘Have you lost your mind, Niall? You and me, married? It would never work!’
‘Why not?’
She shook her head in mingled bewilderment and fury. ‘Because we’d never be accepted as a couple, that’s why! Your Edinburgh friends, and especially your wife’s friends – they’ll hate the very idea of me and you. And they’ll like the idea of me and you and a baby even less!’
‘I don’t care what other people think.’ Scorn sharpened his words. ‘I never have. All I know is that I’m happy when I’m with you, Cait. You’ve brought colour back into my grey existence.’
‘You always did have a pretty way with words, Niall.’ Caitlin crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him. ‘But I have to be practical. Do you really want to throw your married life away, to be frozen out socially from your friends and faculty, in exchange for dirty nappies and two o’clock feedings and hostile Scottish in-laws?’
‘If giving up my old life means I that can be with you,’ he said earnestly, his gaze unwavering on her own, ‘then yes. I am. I’m more than ready to throw everything aside to be with you, and,’ he reached out a tentative hand and laid it atop her stomach as he affected a thick (and very bad) Scottish accent ‘our wee little baby.’
Natalie couldn’t believe it.
As the familiar, cramp-y feeling took hold in her stomach, she bit her lip and told herself it couldn’t possibly be true. After all these weeks, to find out that she’d been mistaken, that she wasn’t really pregnant...
...it was almost more than she could bear.
After weeks of cajoling, she’d finally brought Rhys around to share her excitement about the baby. He’d agreed to help her plan the nursery and suggested colours, and he’d even helped her pick out a few baby outfits online.
How to tell him now that there would be no baby? He’d be every bit as disappointed as she was.
But the pregnancy test kit definitely showed a blue line! she reflected indignantly. It said there was no mistake. So much for bloody technology.
Then she burst into noisy, hiccupping sobs.
Caitlin let herself back into the castle as quietly as possible and sagged back against the door.
At least Niall had agreed not to tell her mother and father about their plans to get married. Instead, she sent him back to Edinburgh and promised to call him once she’d smoothed the way with her parents.
While she knew her family would be relieved to know that Niall intended to do right by her, she also knew her father, and she had no doubt he’d have plenty of condemnation to heap on her future husband.
When dinner was over and everyone went into the library for drinks and conversation, Caitlin asked her parents to remain behind.
‘There’s something I need to tell you both,’ she said. ‘Something important.’
Penelope shook her head imperceptibly at Caitlin as her glance strayed to her husband. ‘Perhaps now isn’t the best time.’
‘No time will ever be “the best time”,’ Caitlin said firmly. ‘And Dad deserves to know.’
‘Know what?’ he growled. ‘What are you talking about, lassie?’
She took a deep breath, and as quickly and plainly as possible, Caitlin told her parents that she was pregnant, and that the baby’s father was a university professor who was married to someone else. ‘Mum already knows I’m pregnant.’
Archie turned to her. ‘You knew about this, Pen?’ he asked, his voice deceptively calm. ‘And you said nothing?’
‘Caitlin wanted to tell you herself.’
‘Niall’s getting a divorce,’ Caitlin said quickly, ‘and he’s asked me to marry him.’
There was silence after her pronouncement...just before all hell broke loose.
Her father thrust his chair back, overturning it in his anger. ‘D’ye mean to tell me this bastard who’s been carrying on with you – this man who’s got you pregnant - he’s married? And he’s getting rid of his wife for you, a girl half his age, and one of his bloody students, to boot?’ he thundered. ‘Have I got the right of it?’
With the words caught in her throat, Caitlin managed to nod. ‘You make it sound so bad! It’s really not—’
‘Get out.’
Caitlin stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Do ye not ken what I said? Get out of my sight this instant, lass,’ he warned her, his voice low but charged, ‘afore I lose my temper altogether, and throw you out of my house and into the snow on your arse!’
Without another word, Caitlin turned and ran, weeping, from the room.
‘Really, Archie,’ Penelope said evenly, anger plain on her face, ‘was that necessary?’
‘Aye, there’s much worse I might’ve said to her, believe me. The daft girl! Has everyone in this house taken leave of their bloody senses?’
He returned his chair to its rightful place at the table and stalked out.
‘Archie, wait!’ Pen strode after him, determined to finish the conversation, when the phone in the hallway rang.
She hesitated, then picked up the receiver. ‘Hello, Draemar Castle.’
Silence.
‘Who’s there, please?’ she asked with a trace of impatience. ‘Hello?’
There was no answer, just the crackle of a long-distance connection.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you keep calling here? What is it you want?’
She was about to ring off but something made her stop. A myriad of emotions skimmed her face – hope, doubt, disbelief – as she pressed the phone closer to her ear.
Could it be? After all this time, was it possible...?
‘Is it you?’ Pen whispered, the words catching in her throat. ‘My