“Maybe the test was wrong,” she said, grasping at straws. “That’s why they package two tests in the one box. Just in case you think you made a mistake.”
He looked skeptical, to say the least. “Ninety-eight percent accuracy rate,” he said, reading the advertising copy on the box.
“So’s the Pill,” she said, “and see what happened.”
He saw. “Then take the test again, lass, and see.”
She did, and the results were the same. A bouncing-baby plus sign winked up at them.
“So now we know,” she said, tossing the whole mess into the garbage. “I’m definitely pregnant.” And not just pregnant, but terrified and drowning beneath the weight of it all. And she heard herself saying all of that and more to him. The words spilled from her mouth, and there wasn’t one damn thing she could do to stop the flood.
Duncan listened as she spoke, and much of what she said touched a similar chord in him. The lonely child who feigned independence until that independence became a barrier between herself and the rest of the world. He understood it. He knew how it felt to watch your parents bounce from mate to mate, dead certain that the next love would be the last one. How it felt to want what every other child took for granted.
“I want so much more for this baby,” she said. “I wish—” She stopped and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I wish. I’m pregnant and nothing can change that.”
“Not every woman feels as you do,” he pointed out.
“I know, but that’s not my choice.” She met his eyes. “Sorry, Duncan, but like it or not, you’re going to be a father.”
“I like it.”
She felt a shot of adrenaline race through her veins. “You like it?”
“Very much.” More than she could possibly imagine.
“We barely know each other. We’re strangers.”
“Marriage will change that.”
“Now wait a minute.” She stood up. “That’s the second time you’ve said that tonight. You can’t possibly mean it”
“’Tis the perfect solution, Samantha.”
“Marrying a total stranger is the perfect solution? You’ve lost your mind.”
He stood up, as well, reclaiming the height advantage. Obviously he also knew something about strategic positioning. “Think about it,” he said. “We both know what it’s like to have parents whose main concern is the pursuit of romantic happiness.”
“The children take a back seat,” Sam said. “But what does that have to do with our situation?”
“We can see to it that doesn’t happen to our child, Samantha. A marriage based on a mutual goal rather than romantic love cannot fail.”
“What mutual goal?” There was something wrong with his thesis, and she was determined to find it.
“A family a child can depend on.”
Oh, God. How could she argue that? It was the one thing she’d prayed for as a little girl. “That sounds wonderful, but I don’t see—”
“I want my child to know his father,” he said bluntly. “The child will inherit Castle Glenraven one day and all that entails.”
“And what if the child is a girl?” she asked.
“That makes no difference to me, lassie. My child will inherit. A legal marriage between us would guarantee it.”
“Are you suggesting I marry you and move to Scotland?”
“Aye,” he said.
“That’s crazy,” she said, not quite as forcefully as she might have liked. Think about it, Sam. An entire ocean between you and six months of nosy questions and unsolicited advice.
Her expression softened, and he moved closer. “We’re not as backward as you might think, lass. We have fine doctors and modern hospitals, too.”
“I never said you didn’t.” She paused as an idea— a crazy idea—began to take shape. “I see what you stand to gain by this marriage, but I’m not sure I see what I stand to gain.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand to stop him.
“What we need,” she said, “is some kind of agreement to spell out the terms.”
He nodded. “I’m listening.”
“The best arrangements are the ones that are beneficial to both parties.” She was on a roll. Making deals was what she did for a living. She could almost feel her confidence returning. “Let me see if I understand your terms. You want a legal marriage and you want the child to be born in Scotland.”
“Aye,” he said, no longer certain where she was taking this.
“I see where that benefits you, but I don’t see what it has to offer me.”
“What is it you want?”
“You,” she said, then realized how it sounded. “What I mean is, I want the same thing I wanted when I flew to Scotland to track you down. I want you to design for Wilde & Daughters.”
“Lassie, I work on a grand scale. I can’t imagine—”
“I know it will work,” she interrupted. She mentioned one of his earliest pieces. “Imagine it in silver, maybe on a marble pedestal. A limited edition, numbered—it’s a win-win proposition, Duncan. We get to be your exclusive dealer, and you get your name out there in front of millions of people who wouldn’t have known a thing about you otherwise.”
“And for that you’ll marry me?”
Put up or shut up time, Sammy.
“Yes,” she said, then said it again in a louder, stronger voice. “If we can agree to terms, I’ll marry you.”
Chapter 7
It took all night. Duncan drank two pots of coffee while Samantha settled for milk. They argued the little points and negotiated the big ones and by the time the sun came up in the eastern sky, they had themselves a deal.
Sam looked at the stack of papers on the kitchen table. “You drive a hard bargain.”
Duncan polished off the last of the coffee and pushed the cup away from him. “Aye, but no harder than you, lassie.”
She’d approached it the way she approached any other business deal because that was exactly what it was. They were both practical, down-to-earth individuals who understood the terms of the agreement they’d hammered out. First and foremost, was the happiness of their child. Without that, they
