EVEN at the last moment, Nicole hesitated, the sealed and addressed envelope still clamped between her finger and thumb as it hovered over the slot in the postal box. It had to be done, she told herself. It wasn't right to deny Matt King knowledge of a child he'd fathered. By the time he received the letter she'd be long gone, although once the baby was born, she would notify him again. Then if he wanted contact...their child had the right to know its father.
That was the really important truth.
She could not turn her back on her child's rights.
Whatever happened with Matt King in the future she would learn to cope with it...somehow. This had to be done. Her finger and thumb lifted apart. The envelope dropped.
Nicole hurried back to her car. No turning back on this course now.
All week she had fretted over it. A weight seemed to shift from her shoulders as she settled herself in the driver's seat. There was nothing more that had to be done.
It was almost five o'clock. She'd bought a packet of barley sugar to suck on the trip tomorrow in the hope it would keep any sickness at bay, plus bottles of mineral water to stop dehydration. Only one more night at the castle...
She drove around the town one last time, knowing she would miss this place, wanting to remember everything about it. Maybe, sometime in the future, her child would come here for visits, if Matt King wanted that. It was a heart-wrenching thought. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away and drove up to the castle, wanting to catch the sunset from the tower.
Rosita was in the kitchen when Nicole carried in the bottles of water to put in the refrigerator overnight. "I have made my special lasagna for your dinner," the motherly housekeeper announced.
Nicole didn't feel like eating anything heavy but she smiled, knowing Rosita wanted to give her a last treat. "I'm sure I'll enjoy it."
"I will pack a picnic box for you to take in the morning." Her kind eyes searched Nicole's in hopeful concern. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, thank you, Rosita. You've been marvellous to me. I'm just going up to the tower now to watch the sunset."
"Ah, yes. It is a fine view from the tower. Take care not to fall on the steps. They are very old and worn."
Nicole took away the strong impression that Rosita knew what she'd tried to keep hidden. Or at least suspected it. All the fussing over her, the admonitions to take care... but nothing had been said. Sadness dragged on her heart as she climbed the steps to the tower. She would miss Rosita's motherliness. Having been motherless for so many years, it had been nice to be fussed over, cared about.
There was so much she would miss.
Many times she had come up here to the topmost level of the castle, having finished work for the day and needing a relaxing break before dinner. The view was fantastic to every horizon, the sea, the mountains, the endless sky, all the colours beginning to change as the sun lowered.
She walked around the tessellated wall, taking in the many vistas one last time, stopping finally at her favourite view over Dickenson Inlet where the boats came into the marina, the cane fields on the other side of it stretching out to sea, and beyond them the darkening hills behind which the sun would sink.
It was so calming, peaceful, beautiful. She thought of her employer's mother, Marguerita Valeri, standing here in the old days, watching the ships come in from the sea, watching the cane fields burn at harvest time, watching the sun set, and for the first time it occurred to Nicole that her child—Matt King's child—was part of the same pioneering bloodline that had built this castle and so much else up here in the far north.
She herself might never belong anywhere but her child had deep family roots. A real history. A history she would write so it would always be known. It was something good she could give. And maybe Matt—if he truly felt the responsibilities of fatherhood—would provide their child with a solid sense of belonging.
* * *
Matt reached the top of the tower and halted, gathering himself to do what had to be done. Nicole was standing at the far wall, her back turned to him, her gaze seemingly fixed on the view his grandmother liked best. Her tall slender figure was completely still, wrapped in a loneliness he knew he had to break.
The setting sun gave the frame of her fiery hair a glowing aura. The shining of inner strength, he thought, though the rest of her looked fragile. The urge to simply take her in his arms was strong, but he sternly reminded himself that taking was not keeping and Nicole would resist force.
Only the truth would serve him now.
His anger at her keeping everything to herself had dissipated hours ago. His pride was worth nothing in the face of losing this woman and the child she was carrying. If Rosita was right about the pregnancy, he had to win both of them. He had to reach Nicole with the truth, make it speak for him, make it count.
One chance.
He couldn't afford to mess it up.
Matt took a deep, deep breath and called to her. "Nicole..."
Her heart leapt.
His voice.
She turned with a sense of disbelief, having already relegated him to the past, and the far future. He wasn't supposed to appear in the here and now. Yet he was striding towards her, large as life, the force of his vital energy making her pulse flutter and spreading a buzz of confusion through her entire body.
"What are you doing here?" she cried, her mind struggling to accept a reality she didn't want to face.
He slowed his step, his hands lifting in an appeal, his dark eyes begging her forbearance. "Sorry if I startled you. I came by after work to see my grandmother. She mentioned you were leaving us tomorrow."
"Yes. Yes, I am. I don't need to stay here to do the writing," she gabbled out, belatedly remembering he worked in the KingTours offices on Fridays and cursing herself for not foreseeing the possibility of a casual visit to the castle. Although why he had to come up here, seeking her out...
"Is it because of me?" he asked, coming to a halt at the tessellated wall right beside her, barely an arm's length away, and turned to face her, an urgent intensity in the eyes searching hers.
Her heart thumped wildly. "Why would you think that? I told Mrs. King..."
"There are more kinds of heat than the weather," he said with savage irony, "and I know I'm guilty of subjecting you to them, Nicole."
He was doing it again right now.
She turned her face to the sunset, hoping the red glow in the sky would somehow hide the tide of heat rushing up her neck, scorching her cheeks. Her mind literally could not come up with a dismissive reply. It was drowning in the truth he'd just spoken, a whirlpool of truth that had swept her around in tormenting circles ever since she had met Matt King.
"I've been very wrong about you," he went on quietly. "And I regret, very deeply, making you feel...threatened by me. I wish I could take it all back and we could start again."
Impossible. What was done couldn't be undone. The new life she carried forced her to move on. And regrets didn't change anything. Though at least his admission of being wrong about her might make a rapprochement between them easier in the future.
"I'm glad you don't think badly of me anymore," she said, steeling herself to look directly at him one more time. "Let's leave it at that."
His gaze locked onto hers with compelling strength. "I can't. I don't want you to go, Nicole."
She shook her head, pained by the raw desire in his eyes, in his voice.
Her stomach was curling in protest. She placed her hand over it, instinctively protective. "Please...it's no good."
"It can be good," he argued vehemently. "The two of us together...it was good. Better than anything I've known with any other woman." Sex!
She recoiled from him.
"Wait!" His arm lifted in urgent intent to halt her retreat. "I know I've messed up everything. It was stupid, trying to negate the truth of what I felt, trying to sidetrack it. I didn't want to get...hooked on you."
"I'm not...not...bait!" she cried, horrified at the image his words conjured up.
"I thought my grandmother..." He broke off, venting a sigh that carried a wealth of exasperation.
"What about your grandmother?"