It’s another three weeks before we can hear the heartbeat.

Xavier’s called Dr. Winthrop about fifty times in the interim with all sorts of ridiculous questions. Should I be eating a special diet? How limited should my activities be? Should I, in fact, be on bed rest? That question came after a knock-down drag out fight between us when he tried to keep me in bed for two days straight after she left the first time.

Xavier had shown her the little bit of blood on my underwear and she’d calmly explained that light spotting happened in twenty to forty percent of first-trimester pregnancies and that, with such a small amount, it was nothing to be worried about. It most likely meant the fertilized egg was implanting in the uterine wall.

Xavier wasn’t impressed with most likely. He wanted her to do the ultrasound but she stood her ground and said she could, but it wouldn’t show much at this early stage and the wand might irritate the cervix and cause more bleeding.

That shut him up.

Instead, she just did a physical exam with her hands and determined that everything looked perfectly normal.

That didn’t stop Xavier from going crazy commando about my health right after she left and all but chaining me to the bed. When he found me wandering the resort looking for good books, he ordered me straight back to bed.

The first day I didn’t mind. I’d been working my ass off for a week. A day of R&R being pampered, resting in bed, and reading? Sign me up.

But it turns out that over the past two months I’ve gotten accustomed to being active. I only lasted half a day before I suited up and joined Xavier out in the stables.

Or rather, I tried to join Xavier.

He scooped me up and trotted me right back to bed.

Annoying, stubborn, mule of a man.

He turned the goddamned cameras back on me and threw a shit-fit if I got out of bed for more than a five-minute bathroom session.

Yeah, that lasted a whole half-day more before I’d wait until he got back out to the stable before getting up to go downstairs. He’d see me on the camera and come to drag me upstairs. Then he’d go out to the horses again… and repeat. Until finally a nice shouting match ensued and I finally got him to call the doctor and ask her opinion.

And ha! She said that regular activity was important at this stage in my pregnancy. As long as it wasn’t too strenuous. So no more lifting huge feed bags. Naturally Xavier wasn’t going to let me even carry water buckets. Or muck stalls.

Basically I was relegated to grooming duties.

Okay, so I couldn’t say I minded about not having to muck the stalls anymore.

Plus, Xavier suddenly thought I needed all the sleep I could get.

So now I get to sleep in past sunrise. Miracle of miracles.

I feel lazy watching him doing all the hard work while I just basically hang out with Sugar and Hot Lips in the pasture or spend long hours watching him continue his training with Samson—which no longer seems boring.

I know, it shocked the hell out of me, too. But I keep wandering over to the front training paddock. The transformation of Samson is truly an amazing thing to behold. Over the past few days, Xavier has taken to tying a dark handkerchief over Samson’s eyes. His eyes. The horse is blinded by the handkerchief but he still confidently follows Xavier’s lead. Even when Xavier leads him out of the paddock and out into the unfamiliar field beyond.

Naturally, Xavier makes me go back to the stable and watch from afar for this part, but still, even as I squint, I can see that the horse never makes a misstep or falters under Xavier’s confident leadership.

Which makes me wonder more and more about the small tidbit of information he gave me the day we found out about the pregnancy.

Men under my command made a mistake that cost a lot of people their lives.

I’ve been dying to ask him more about it.

But with as tense as he’s been about the pregnancy, I can never seem to find a good time to bring it up. The only time he relaxes is with the horses. Even at night with his arm wrapped protectively around my stomach, he seems to radiate tension.

Twice I’ve had to wake him from nightmares. Both times I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He simply grabbed me close and closed his eyes again, murmuring about me needing sleep.

The truth is, we’re both trying to act like everything’s all right, but I know we’re each nervous about the doctor’s visit. Sometimes over the past few weeks, I’ve caught Xavier pensive, face dark as he stares out across the pastures. It scares me how far away he seems, lost in some dark place. Whenever I call his name or get his attention, he pretends like everything’s fine and he wasn’t just a million miles away.

I’m glad when Dr. Winthrop arrives an hour earlier than expected, right after I manage to get down a few bites of toast—a feat for me. Morning sickness has just started being a bitch the last week. One morning I sat up in bed and immediately had to run to the toilet.

Apparently, it’s better if you eat a couple saltines before you even sit up. We’ve been trying that. I still feel like throwing up whatever I ate the night before, but sometimes I can manage to keep it down.

And calling it morning sickness is a total joke.

It’s all day sickness. I feel awful all the time.

I guess it does ease up a little bit at night. Which means Xavier tries to stuff me full of all the food he can manage to get down my gullet because he’s constantly worried about me and the baby not getting enough nutrition. Explaining to him that the baby is the size of a pea doesn’t seem to matter.

Xavier sets down the piece of toast he’s feeding me when the doorbell rings. He’s taken to feeding me my breakfast in bed each morning. He figures if a few crackers can help settle my stomach, why not just keep me in bed for the whole meal? And glaring at me when I only manage the few bites I can choke down.

His constant refrain is, “Just one bite of the eggs? Not even for our son or daughter?”

Guilt trips are his new favorite manipulation tactic and he uses them relentlessly to get his way. If I thought being pregnant would earn me some leniency from his controlling tendencies, ha! No, it’s just won me Xavier 2.0.

He loves barking orders at me and while I still get the nice long showers at night, there are no longer any of the perks. Just a quick wash and off to bed now. It’s starting to get insufferable.

Sometimes I wonder if I matter to him at all anymore or if I was always just a vehicle to get him what he really wanted—a kid to carry on his name and his genes.

Part of me thinks: duh, that’s obviously all he wants, it’s the whole reason he brought you here.

Right???

Because even though I swore I never wanted to be a mother, now that it’s a reality, I can’t imagine anything different.

Me. Xavier. This baby. Our baby and the little family I keep envisioning every time I close my eyes. But what if I’m deluding myself? Fear about it all is almost enough to keep me up at night—except I’m constantly exhausted so I always drop off as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Dr. Winthrop knocks briefly on the door and then steps through. She has the large, hard-backed, black suitcase with her again, and today she immediately sets it on the bed and opens it.

Oh. The whole thing is a machine—a portable ultrasound machine, I imagine. The top half of the case holds a monitor and the bottom a keyboard and what I assume is the rest of the machine. Along with a wand attached by a long wire that the doctor begins to uncoil.

She looks up at Xavier as she pulls out a cord from the other side. “Do you have somewhere I might plug in?”

Xavier hurries to drag the cord to a plug near the bed and soon the machine is beeping to life and the doc is sticking what looks like a condom over the wand and then up my hoo haa it goes.

She pokes it this way.

Then that way.

Then, holy shit— Is that—

A swift, steady wheeoo-wheeoo-wheeoo sound fills the bedroom.

My hand shoots out to the side where Xavier’s sturdy fingers grasp mine.

Wheeoo-wheeoo-wheeoo-wheeoo-wheeoo-wheeoo.

“That’s a strong, steady heartbeat,” Dr. Winthrop announces, smiling as she looks between me and Xavier.

I expel a relieved breath and then look up at Xavier. His eyes are glued to the screen where the doctor goes on to point out a small circle she says is a gestational sac and a little dot that’s apparently our baby.

“Since you’re so regular,” she smiles at me like it’s a personal accomplishment, “we can confidently say you’re seven weeks along.”

Seven weeks. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!

Xavier’s hand squeezes around mine and I wonder if he’s having the same internal reaction. Like, yeah, I’ve been thinking—okay, obsessing—about the fact that we’re having a freaking baby. But it’s still been a kind of esoteric idea.

All of the sudden it feels real. Like, holy shit, this is actually happening. To me. I’m going to be a mom and Xavier a dad and holy shit!

I look at Xavier again with what probably looks like an insane Joker’s grin from the mix of excitement and terror running through my veins.

He’s looking at me this time and I have to swallow hard at what I see.

There’s a sheen over his eyes that he doesn’t bother blinking away. Instead he pulls me close and crushes me to his chest. He kisses the top of my head. “Precious,” he whispers barely loud enough for me to hear.

Oh my God. We’re having a baby. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.

Which means I’m not like my mother after all. I do have the capacity to love this baby. I can do everything differently.

Except…

I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.

I pull out of Xavier’s grasp and turn to Dr. Winthrop. “Ok, so tell me everything I need to know. What are the dos and don’ts? What do I need to do so I don’t fuck up this kid while he or she is still inside me?”

If she hears the sudden panic in my voice, she doesn’t let on. She just ticks things off in a calm voice. “No highly strenuous physical activities. No running or jogging unless that’s already a part of your normal routine,” she pauses and I nod along.

“No high impact aerobics,” Xavier takes up where the doctor left off, listing them off on his fingers. He’s obviously already memorized this stuff. “No saunas or hot tubs—anything above 102 degrees can be unsafe.” No wonder he’s switched us to showers lately. God, he could have just told me.

But still, the fact that he’s already studied up on all this stuff kind of makes me want to jump him right here. Speaking of…

I look back to the doctor. “What about sex?”

She pauses in discarding the wand condom and looks up at me, mouth dropping open slightly before she closes it and resumes her professional manner. “Um. What about it?”

“When can I have it again?”

“Oh.” She looks surprised. “There’s no reason for you to have stopped, um…” her gaze shoots briefly back and forth between Xavier and me, “relations. Your cervix might be a little tender during your first trimester and there might be light spotting, but you’re perfectly healthy. It won’t cause any risk to the baby.”

My mouth drops open and I swing my head around to look accusingly at Xavier. “I thought she said we couldn’t—”

His mouth is a flat line. “I never said that. I just didn’t think it was a good idea considering—”

“I’ll be heading out now,” Dr. Winthrop says, probably wisely as she sees the daggers I’m shooting Xavier’s way. She wants to get out before the hormonal pregnant woman loses it on the baby daddy. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting or other books like it are a good resource to answer your questions and of course my line is always open to you.”

She closes up her machine, then takes it and her bag and makes a quick exit.

I’m left glaring at Xavier.

“You’ve been denying me for no reason at all? Not even any orgasms? I thought she’d told you the muscle spasms would be bad for the baby or something!” Maybe it sounds dumb now that I say it out loud—but I haven’t had access to Google.

I chuck a pillow at his head and he deftly dodges out of the way. Ugh! Annoying quick-reflexed bastard!

I throw another one but I’m quickly out of ammo.

“The doctor says you shouldn’t engage in strenuous activity,” he has the gall to respond.

“You heard her, she said aerobics and hard-core jogging. She probably meant weight-lifting and stuff like that. Besides, she specifically just said sex was safe.”

He heaves out a heavy breath. “Well, there are other things that aren’t.”

I throw up my hands. “Like?”

He steps forward until he leans over me where I sit in the middle of the bed. “No contact sports and no horse riding.”

I’m about to object to the last one when he silences me. “Even the most experienced rider can take a tumble. I will not take the risk with you and our child.”

Well, that shuts me up. Me and our child.

So… am I not the only one picturing Daddy and baby and me makes three?

It’s been a big enough hurdle getting accustomed to the idea that I actually want to be a mother. I haven’t wavered since the initial realization. That’s not how I work. I’m not sure if it’s a strength or a weakness—but once I commit to a course of action, I’m in it, come hell or high water.

So, me and this motherhood thing? I might have never changed a single diaper in my life or have any clue what the hell I’m doing, but this kid is mine.

Thing is, that wasn’t part of the contract.

Neither was falling for Xavier.

I want them both.

Life has proven a tricky bitch when it comes to giving me what I want, though.

“What happens after the baby is born?” I ask, moving to the edge of the bed. I need my feet on solid ground for this. My need to know suddenly outweighs my fear of his answer. “Are you still planning to ship me back to New York and keep our baby for yourself?”

My arms cross over my stomach protectively and I lift my chin. “Because you can go to hell if that’s what you think. I don’t care about the stupid contract I signed.”

There it is. My line in the sand. I’m not sure if I’m saying that when push comes to shove, I choose our baby over him, but I do know there’s no goddamned way he’s pushing me out of this child’s life.

Xavier’s face goes hard and his blue eyes icy as he stands above me beside the bed. “I will chase you and our child to the ends of the earth if you ever try to leave me.”

“What? That wasn’t even—”

He lifts me by the armpits onto the bed and then drops on top of me, covering my body with his own. His eyes are still dangerous. He hovers several inches over me but it’s no less intimidating. “If you ever so much as think of leaving me, I’ll tie you to this bed. You’ll think those couple days in the dog kennel were a walk in the park compared to the chains I’ll lock on you while your belly gets fat with my son or daughter.”

“Just while I’m pregnant? Can’t bear to let your precious cargo out of your sight, huh?” I struggle underneath the slight pressure of his weight that he uses to hold me down with and he grabs my wrists, pinning them to either side of my head. I scream in frustration, then spit out, “Was I ever anything more to you than a goddamned walking incubator?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away after my outburst, knowing I’ve revealed too much. Exposed my raw insides.

When I feel his large fingers underneath my chin, I resist his pulling my head back toward him. Naturally, I lose the struggle and finally give in.

“Look at me,” he orders.

I keep my eyes stubbornly shut.

“Look at me.” He gives my chin a firm shake.

Goddamn him, I know he won’t give up until I do as ‘Master’ commands, so I open my eyes, flashing them furiously. Anger is my best shield at the moment.

I expect to see him looking just as hard and angry.

What I’m not prepared for is the softness that takes over his features. Or the way his eyes flick back and forth between mine like he’s searching for something.

“I never saw you like that.” He speaks the words softly. “I’ve been training you because I wanted you to stay. For you to choose to stay.” The blue of his irises has never seemed more vibrant. “So I could keep you.”

I— Does that mean—

I blink. I’m not sure if he means ‘training me’ like training me to work with horses or training me like he trains the horses.

So I could keep you.

In the end, it doesn’t matter which way he meant it. I’m in far too deep.

“I love you,” I blurt.

His eyes widen and then he crushes his lips down on mine.

I feel like I could fly.

I feel like—

He rolls us on the bed so that I’m on top of him. His hands roam down my body.

I feel like—

“Gotta throw up!” I yelp and shove away from him.

“Shit,” he mutters but immediately moves into action, jumping off the bed and helping me to the toilet.

After he’s held my hair back and I’ve lost the little bit of toast from earlier, I’m laughing and crying as I hunch over the freshly flushed toilet bowl. “Consider this no reflection on my feelings. I really do love you.”

He wraps one arm around my waist and drops his forehead to the small of my back, hugging me tightly. His deep chuckle echoes around the bathroom.