November Harlequin Presents 2(48)

Had he ever felt anything for her? She’d thought he had. She’d imagined he must care when he’d cradled her against his warm body at night. If he had once, she’d snuffed out all hope of that today.

She’d let him down. She’d lied to him for the best part of two months, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. And then, to top it all off, he’d discovered she was pregnant in the worst possible way.

Was it any surprise he’d called her a consummate liar? Was it any surprise he had doubts that it was even his? Could she really blame him?

‘Nell asked you a question.’ She looked around to see Maverick staring at her, his features hostile, his eyes carrying a warning for her not to say too much. She knew he still expected her to make some kind of announcement about her pregnancy, and he had planned to seat her half a table away where she couldn’t whisper in Nell’s ear. But Nell had put paid to that the moment they’d arrived, grabbing hold of Tegan’s hand and telling her that she was sitting next to her. Maverick had insisted on sitting alongside her, as if guarding her.

‘Sorry, Nell,’ she apologised, back to reality. There would be no floating away with this man beside her. Maverick would happily see to it that she sank. ‘What was it?’

‘I asked what you wanted for Christmas.’

In spite of herself she couldn’t help but smile. Nell was so child-like in her delight of Christmas and all the trimmings that went with it. She’d tugged hard on at least half a dozen Christmas crackers, and had laughed wildly at all the jokes. Maybe Tegan should take a leaf out of her book and stop feeling so miserable. At least until lunch was over. It wouldn’t have been such an effort, though, if her stomach didn’t seem to feel so permanently queasy.

‘I’m not expecting anything special,’ she said. Not now, she thought, with more than a tinge of regret for how Christmas might have been if things had been different, and had she not made such a botched job of letting Maverick discover the truth. But then she was kidding herself. He’d never been going to take the news well, no matter how gently she’d informed him of her deception and the baby. Weeks of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, topped off with an unplanned pregnancy—it wasn’t the kind of news any man was likely to take kindly to.

Nell patted her hand, the touch of her leathery skin strangely soothing. ‘I just bet Santa’s got something special in his sack for you.’

Tegan smiled and nodded, but she knew that what she wanted for Christmas, she would never get. Maverick had snuffed out any faint hope that he might forgive her duplicity. There was no way he would ever want her love, let alone reciprocate.

‘I know what you need,’ Nell continued. ‘One of these lovely champagne thingies. Someone pass the wine. Vanessa’s glass is empty.’

Phil Rogerson cocked a quizzical eyebrow in her direction as he took a bottle of sparkling wine and topped up Nell’s glass before turning to Tegan’s. ‘No thanks,’ she said, covering her glass. ‘I’d rather not.’ Not when the thought of drinking anything with bubbles, be it alcohol or soft drink, filled her with dread. She didn’t need anything else fizzing in her stomach right now.

Phil shrugged and moved on to the next glass. Nell was suddenly watching her like a hawk, and Tegan used the excuse of reaching for her handbag to turn away and hide her face for a few moments, certain her colour was up. She should have let him fill her glass. She didn’t have to drink it, after all. At least this might provide a diversion.

She retrieved the small gift she had luckily remembered to bring in all the excitement. ‘I was saving this to give you when Christmas pudding arrived, but maybe you should open it now. It’s just something small, but I hope you like it.’ She held out the small package in the palm of her hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Nell.’

‘Oh, I love presents!’ said Nell, clapping her hands gleefully, an undisguised glint of joy in her eyes. ‘What is it?’

Tegan smiled. ‘Open it and see.’

Nell ripped off the paper like a six-year-old, and opened the small box with such a look of anticipation that Tegan couldn’t help but feel good, no matter what the man at her side thought of her.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ Nell cried. ‘Look, Maverick, look what Vanessa’s given me.’ Her gnarled fingers did battle to manoeuvre out the antique cameo-brooch from the box then undo the pin.

‘Here,’ said Maverick. ‘Let me.’ He took the brooch and pinned it to Nell’s neckline, where she’d indicated.

‘It’s over one-hundred years old,’ Tegan told her, delighted her find from an estate jewellers had been so well received.