Siobhan attended two craft fairs that weekend, and her failure to sell a single one of her jewels lowered her already unusually low spirit. She was working long hours and her usual energy seemed strangely absent.

In recent days she had made more than her fair share of costly mistakes while she worked.

But then her emotions were eating her up because she was still so angry with herself for sleeping with a man like Angus.

Meeting Angus and falling victim to his charms had forced her to accept she had more in common with her birth mother, Margaret Faulkner than she had ever wanted to know. Margaret had been very prone to following casual impulses with men she’d never taken the time to get to know, and she had called those urges, love, and their fulfilment, spontaneity.

In comparison, Siobhan was less kind with her labels and over the past week and a half she had at various times called herself terminally stupid, reckless, and naive.

But she couldn’t get him out of her head, day or night. It was as if she had caught a virus for which there was no cure.

A firm knock at the door shook her from her reflections. Her heart leapt; could it be him? No, that was ridiculous. But ridiculousness seemed to be the order of the day lately, and she pressed a hand to the warm butterflies which suddenly filled her gut as she hurried to the door.

“Oh! Allen!” Her heart dropped like a stone, heavy with disappointment and trepidation. What on earth is he doing here?

“Siobhan,” he said with a curt nod. “May I…?”

“Oh, yes of course, come in,” she said quickly, trying to recover her footing.

Her cozy space suddenly felt claustrophobic. Allen wasn’t a big man, but the energy he exuded felt heavy and suffocating. She offered him a chair and he sat for a mere second before rising to his feet again. He shoved a hand through his hair and paced like a caged animal, setting Siobhan’s already fragile nerves on edge.

“Would you like anything?” she asked, to break the silence. “Water? Tea?”

“No,” he said sharply. Then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

Siobhan sat, making herself as small as possible, folding her hands in her lap as she waited for him to work his way around to why he was there.

“I consider myself a patient man,” Allen finally began. “A good boss. Tell me, Siobhan, have I done anything to you? Offended you in some way?”

“What? Of, of course not,” she stuttered.

“Then maybe you can explain why you have set out to ruin me.” He stopped pacing and turned to her, a dark and pained expression on his face.

“Why…what?” Her brain wasn’t processing. A cold terror blocked every thought from connecting—the sort of terror which had filled her each time her life had been upended.

“You left the party,” Allen filled in for her. “No word, no note, nothing. Just left. Not to mention that embarrassing display at the wedding. Really, Siobhan. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to get sacked.”

“Sacked...wait, no!” She found herself on her feet at once, reaching out as if to snatch her job back from the jaws of destruction. “Allen, I’m sorry. I..I haven’t been quite myself lately, but I promise tomorrow—”

“What you do tomorrow is no business of mine,” Allen interrupted. “And my business is no longer any business of yours. I’m sorry I have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice. You’re fired, Siobhan.”

“But…no, you can’t…”

“I can’t?” Allen whirled on her, his eyes flashing. “I will tell you what I can’t do, Siobhan. I can’t kiss enough royal ass to make up for your flighty behavior. I could overlook your subpar performance, but I will not overlook your blatant disregard for professional propriety.”

He stopped to catch his breath and shoved his hat back on his head. He started toward the door, then stopped when he heard her sniffling.

“Listen. I like you. You’re a good kid. But you need to understand something. You cannot bring your personal problems into your job. You’ve done that with me and I fear it’s done damage to my business. I hope this will serve as an important lesson for you, painful as it may be. I wish you the best.”

“Um…Allen…” Siobhan’s throat threatened to close over the words. “My…my salary for this month…”

“You’ll not be paid for the last two events.” Allen growled. “I’ll issue a check for the rest of your time—from before you turned reckless and irresponsible.” Allen spun on his heel and stormed away.

Siobhan was frozen where she stood until she heard Allen slam the front door.

Then she crumpled and tears rained down her face. Even while she fought to get a grip on herself, all the pent-up emotions of recent days were taking their toll and overflowing.

Jaxon emerged from the hall where he had stood listening and entered the room. Unused to seeing her cry, he wrapped his arms around her. After a moment, he asked, “What happened? What did you do to get fired?”

After that, the whole story came tumbling out.

Before her reddened eyes, Jaxon’s expression grew more and more censorious. Although he said nothing and uttered no criticism, his surprise at her behavior spoke volumes and pierced her pride. He was, however, a good deal more vocal when it came to Angus.

“A girl like you doesn’t belong in a limo.” Jaxon saw her wince and hastened to add, “A bloke with that kind of money could only be messing around with you because he’s bored with his own kind.”

Jaxon had a shrewd streak about people that Siobhan respected but when he added, “I hope you didn’t forget to use protection,” Siobhan settled dismayed eyes on him.

She hadn’t given a single thought to protection. And due to her lack of a love life, she wasn’t taking any contraceptive precautions either.

She now wished she’d thought about it. She told herself the risks of pregnancy were low, it had been just one night, and her cycle was not very regular.

“If I end up with a baby, my whole life and all my prospects go right down the tubes. I’ll never stop struggling to survive.”

“Well,” Jaxon let out a huge breath. “You did this to yourself…”

“Don’t say any more,” Siobhan urged. “All you’re doing is reminding me that getting involved with Angus was like giving way to a sudden attack of madness.”

“Let’s hope for the best,” Jaxon advised stonily, his face tightening while he considered that possibility. But then he pointed out in a tone of practicality, “No point beating yourself up about it. That won’t change anything.”

She began feeling incredibly tired at about the same time as she started feeling nauseous. Anxiety took over her, because she feared the worst and the shadows below her eyes deepened while she lay awake at night fretting. She was planning to go out and buy a pregnancy test when Jaxon persuaded her to go to the doctor instead to get a more reliable diagnosis.

* * *

Paranoia permeated the very air of the Lektenstaten capital. Tabloids and news stations alike had only stoked the fire, each presenting a different theory. As Angus moved through his endless meetings and conference calls, he noticed the sideways looks and tight lips of his people as they evaluated their friends, colleagues, and acquaintances through the lens of formless suspicion.

Through the tinted glass in the back of his limousine, Angus watched with dismay as a restaurant owner tossed a Romani out on his ear, gesturing apoplectically and jabbing a furious finger at the tabloid he held in his hand.

This is unsustainable. He picked up the same tabloid from the stack beside him. He had expanded his news sources since the attack, if only to understand what the general public thought it knew.

Wild Gypsies Attack Parliament! the tabloid exclaimed. With a heavy sigh, he flipped to page forty to read the story. Conspiracy theories, conclusion jumping, and blatant racism. Disgusted, Angus tossed the magazine away, wondering how anyone with half a brain could believe that drivel.

“I suppose basic critical thinking isn’t necessary for life,” he muttered, as he picked up the next magazine. “Though perhaps it should be.”

Dowager Princess Driven Mad! the tabloid informed him.

Mildly amused, Angus flipped to the page.

Dowager Princess Catriona Cristina Braxton-Lenox has finally lost her mind. But who could blame her? As the royal family tree dwindles under the King’s reluctance to marry and produce an heir, the Dowager Princess has become criminally desperate. Sources tell us it was she herself who commissioned the bomb which attacked Parliament only a few short days ago, as an act of revenge against her rebellious son.

Angus stopped reading and burst out laughing.

“These clowns will reach for anything. Ah...but that was not all they said, was it,” he realized with a frown. “It seems my mother’s displeasure has reached the ears of the masses at last.”

He flipped through a few more magazines, but did not absorb anything he read. His country was falling to pieces before his very eyes; worse, he could not seem to figure out how to stem the rising tide of chaos.

“What you need is a night of mindless relaxation,” he told himself. “A bit of primal stress relief, perhaps?”

Siobhan’s image rose obediently in his mind, her naked breasts brushing tantalizingly against his imagination.

He pulled out his mobile and texted his aide-de-camp: Find me a break in my schedule. I need to go to London asap.

Then he dialed Siobhan’s house but the call went unanswered. Her recorded voice served as a tease. “Siobhan. I wish you were there. Even more, I wish I was there. Well, hopefully soon. This is torment to have one night in heaven and never knowing when I’ll experience it again. I need to taste you again. Everything else is dull by comparison. Call me.”

* * *

The doctor was very thorough and he assured her there was no doubt she was pregnant. Although Siobhan had believed she was prepared for that possibility, she was devastated—and strangely, at the same time elated—when her biggest fear was confirmed.

Her heart thundered until she could feel it jumping into her throat and she swallowed hard, looking around at a world suddenly frozen like a fly in amber: the doctor’s smile; the nurse’s congratulations; even the rain falling outside—all was suddenly still, and the only audible thing in all the world were the sounds of her own breathing and the echo of that word: Pregnant.

She managed to close her mouth, but she was numb from head to toe. It was as if the doctor was talking from a mile away and she was having a surreal out-of-body experience.

A baby—a real living, breathing, crying baby—would be looking to her for total support in less than nine months’ time. And she had no money, no job, no future.

She walked out of the clinic in a daze.

Jaxon phoned her from his workshop to ask the result as she was walking back home and she gave him the news in a deadened voice, staring at her reflection in the shop windows she passed while she tried and failed to imagine her slender body swollen with pregnancy.

With Angus’s baby. The guy who promised they’d see each other again soon, but they never did. The guy who was having an affair with a beautiful, wealthy blonde.

As screwups went, this one was epic.

* * *

When Jaxon came home from work, he joined her in the kitchen. “How do you feel?”

“Like I want to kick myself for being so stupid,” she told him truthfully.

“Have you told him yet?”

“I…no. I texted him but although he had seen it, he didn’t call—not that I expect that will make much difference to my plans—”

“You already have plans?” Jaxon queried.

“Just getting on with life as best I can,” Siobhan muttered dully.

Because at the moment, she had no idea what she was going to do, but she was keeping the baby.