Trouble: An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Lane, Ellen (11)

Chapter 6: Family Secret

 

Michael expected all hell to break lose as soon as he arrived home, but he didn’t expect it to do so in such a spectacular fashion. Luckily enough for him, Elias slept almost the entire journey home, which meant that he didn’t have to worry about the man harassing him. His sister, however, was a different story. It wasn’t that Alice felt the need to remind him of what faced him back in Britain, but rather that she kept shooting him warning looks that made him uneasy.

To distract himself, he tried to think of something else. The patients he would see to when he returned to the hospital in the country, medical papers he might write – but inevitably, his mind always strayed back to Rose.

She disappeared the moment he emerged from the bedroom and hadn’t come back since. Part of him wanted to go check on her after her coughing fit, but he refrained. Things were different now with Alice and Elias in such close quarters. Their little isolation had ended – and their flight back to Britain was just a reminder that the summer was half over.

Instead of trying to chase after Rose, Michael settled on a couch and nursed his bottle of whiskey. Despite what he told Alice, he did plan to get well and fully drunk before facing his mother. It might be the only way he could bear to deal with her arguing. He could only hope she didn’t decide to bring his father into things.

Heaven forbid.

He managed to get pretty thoroughly soused by the time they reached Heathrow, but the confrontation wasn’t to come until they returned to the manor. Perhaps it was that he knew a row with his mother was coming, and perhaps it was simply that Rose inched as far away from him as she could on the seat, but by the time they actually pulled up the drive of Tate Manor, every muscle in Michael’s body was stiff and sore with tension.

The moment the car came to a stop, Rose all but leapt from it, hurrying to the front door of the manor. When Alice cast him an almost accusatory look, Michael just glared at her. Christ, all at once, all the women in his life were against him.

“I’d say something about being beholden to your mother at your age,” Elias drawled from across from him, “But I doubt you need to hear it right now.”

“Thanks.” Michael’s response was dry as he slid from the car, shutting the door behind him and trapping Elias in the Rolls. He was sure the architect would enjoy his few moments of solitude.

A look over the other cars in the drive revealed to Michael that not only was his mother present, but his father as well. For the first time all summer, an additional, gleaming Rolls Royce was parked in the driveway along with his mother’s horrid pink Mercedes.

Taking a deep breath, Michael steeled himself for the worst. He had no idea what his parents could possibly have to say to him that he couldn’t rebut as a grown man, Nonetheless, he never liked it when his mother made scenes – and he liked it even less when she got his father involved.

This wasn’t going to be good.

Edgar was nowhere to be found, and so Alice used her keys to let them into the manor. Once they were inside, Alice cast her brother a glance before taking Rose’s arm and spiriting her off towards the kitchen with suggestions of tea. Elias arrived half a minute later, closing the door behind himself with a somber snap. He knew better than to speak, instead casting Michael a somber thumbs up before heading towards the back gardens.

His mood turning even sourer, Michael quickly crested the stairs to the second floor. His parents had an entire wing of the house to themselves, and it was there he found the door to his father’s study standing open.

Inside, the décor was decidedly more somber than that of the library downstairs. The walls were covered in dark wood paneling, and bookshelves were lined with uniform volumes that looked as if they’d never been touched.  The moment Michael stepped into the study, his mother sprang from her seat near the door. Michael was surprised to see that she looked almost haggard – that was, as close to haggard as Angela Tate possibly could. Her hair was drawn back into a simple knot at the base of her neck, a few gray strands falling free around her face. The dress that she wore was slightly wrinkled, and she wasn’t wearing heels. Immediately, she rushed to him, wringing her hands.

She appeared the most genuinely distressed that Michael had ever seen her – so much so that, for a moment, he felt genuinely guilty.

“What were you thinking?” She didn’t hug him – didn’t try to touch him. Instead, Angela Tate just stared at her son with a look akin to betrayal in her eyes. “You would have been killed, Michael! Killed! And then where would we be!?”

Michael just looked at her, somewhat confused. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but in his opinion, it was quite clear where they would be if he were killed: he’d be dead. Dead on a charity mission and they would mourn him. One would think that might inspire a little more concern and a little less guilt on his part. He was, after all, a grown man. He’d known exactly what he was doing.

“Mother, I apologize for leaving without telling you, but I’m fine.” His voice was calm with a slight edge of irritation. After over twenty-four hours of travel this was, after all, one of the last things he wanted to deal with. “Assuredly alive.”

“What your mother is trying to say, Michael…is that you couldn’t possibly comprehend the danger you put all of us in.”

Of course, his father couldn’t even offer him a proper greeting. But then, when Earl Johnathan Tate was involved, half-hearted greetings were the least of Michael’s worries.

If Michael had to give credit to either of his parent for raising him, he would have to paint his mother the more responsible party. Even though she herself had been too wrapped up in the trappings of nobility to pay much attention to him, at least she’d been present. Michael and his sister were lucky to see their father three or four times a year, and it always seemed to be when they were in trouble.

The Earl spent most of his time travelling around Britain and Europe – solidifying his status as head of one of the region’s wealthiest and noblest families. When he was younger, Michael had been disturbed by the fact that he saw his father so little – but by the time he reached his teens, he’d made peace with the idea that his father really had no interest in his children. It was a fact that had only given him the impetus to become self-sufficient in his own right. The last thing he needed was to subsist of a name that he barely knew.

Of course, Michael had no problem remembering what his father looked like physically. His pictures were plastered all over the place – regal and, presumably, intimidating. Even coming into his late sixties, the man stood stiff and proud, not a speck of dust on his impeccably tailored suit. His gray hair was slicked back from his wide brow, and he had worn the same wire spectacles for the past twenty years. When it came to his appearance, the Earl’s wealth was quiet – almost understated. If you didn’t look hard, you would miss his gold and diamond cufflinks and the leather shoes that cost thousands of dollars. But all that mattered to him was that those with money knew who he was - and that was never a problem.

Now, Michael turned to face him warily. He was taller than his father, but size had nothing to do with the battle of wills that now took place. The man’s dark eyes bore into his own and Michael stood stock still, wondering precisely what the hell all of this was about. The tension between them was palpable and the minute he waited for his father to speak first seemed to last an eternity.

“Michael, do you know what the Tate family name stands for?”

Michael arched a brow. They’d called him back eight thousand kilometers for a lecture that could easily be delivered over the phone? Somehow, he didn’t believe that.

“What does the Tate name have to do with me going to the Congo? I would presume that you’d be happy to have your name associated with charity. I went to help those poor people.”

“And in helping them, you put your own life at risk. God knows what might have happened if we didn’t send Alice after you.”

At his father’s response, his son’s eyes narrowed. “I hardly need babysitting, father. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, assuredly,” The Earl nodded curtly, “You’re grand at taking care of yourself. Self-made and established. A veritable ecosystem of singularity.” Stepping out from behind his immense desk, the man advanced slowly on Michael, his gaze hard. “Do you ever stop to think about your family? The titles we’ve worked so hard to build over the years?”

His temper was rising again. Michael did his best to try and swallow it. He could give a flying bloody fuck about titles, all told. He was doing his best to try to appease his parents as things stood, but he refused to be the precious, pampered heir to the Tate name. Michael would build his own destiny, and that was that.

“Father, you don’t need me to solidify that family name. You’ve done that efficiently enough yourself.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Michael stared the older man down. “I don’t understand the upset. I’m still alive and well.”

“That’s exactly what the problem is, Michael: you don’t understand. You never have. And, perhaps that’s our fault.”

If he’d been confused before, now the doctor was outright confounded. He could think of nothing to say, and so he merely waited for his father to continue, his stomach oddly tight. “Michael…you’ve always been a smart boy. Smarter than I ever was, I’ll give you that.” The Earl’s lips pulled together into a tight line. “I take it, that in your quest for knowledge, you might have discovered a certain book in our library.”

All at once, Michael’s guts did an odd little flip flop as he paled. Though there was no way he could know what his parents spoke of – there were, after all, thousands of books in their library – somehow, he did.

Great Expectations . The copy that Rose had brought with them on their trip. Michael had no idea how, but he knew that was the book his parents referred too – and that knowledge must have reflected in his eyes. The Earl sighed, reaching out to take his shoulder in a firm grip. The gesture surprised Michael. He could count on one hand the number of times the Earl had voluntarily touched him in the past year. “Michael…I assume you saw our family lineage in that book?”

How could he have missed it? The elaborate family tree in the front cover was probably the first thing anyone saw when they opened the book –the names of all the Tates that had ever lived in flowing gold scroll…right down to him and his sister.

But, of course, his name hadn’t been as elegant as the others. His name was written in blue – and hastily. Almost as if someone had inserted him into Tate history at the last moment…

“Michael, we must talk frankly about a number of things.” The moment the words left his father’s lips, the countess let out a cry of alarm.

“Johnathan, no! Now’s not the time! We swore we would wait-”

“Hush , Angela!” The Earl silenced her sharply, warning clear in his gaze. “My son must understand what’s at stake here. For his entire life, we’ve let him do as he pleases. It’s time he understands how much we’ve put on the line.”

It took a great deal to make Michael feel uneasy, but at this point, the doctor was headed from uneasy towards downright discomfort. His parents were rarely every so indirect with him. If they had an issue, they addressed it head on – he suffered a lecture and then got on with his life. This…this was unquestionably strange.

“Michael, your mother and I thought…well, we hoped we might not need to divulge this information to you. But certain circumstances have forced our hand.” He continued to stare at his parents, waiting with bated breath.  When the Earl next spoke, his gaze and tone were both unwavering. “Michael, your status as the Tate heir is contingent upon your marrying and being able to provide a child to carry the family name.”

Michael merely exhaled the long breath he’d been holding. It wasn’t as if that particular ultimatum was one he hadn’t expected. Of course, a part of him – a large part – was hurt. These were his parents, and Michael had hoped that they’d be human enough to see beyond titles – to refrain from forcing him to do something he didn’t want before he was ready.

Obviously, he’d been wrong on those counts.  Running a hand through his auburn hair, Michael merely scowled. “You’re telling me that I don’t get my inheritance if I don’t marry soon?”

To his surprise, the Earl’s face took on an almost guilty expression. Johnathan twisted lined hands together before taking a deep breath of his own. “Michael, I’m telling you that, unless you marry into a British family that’s noble by blood, then your adoption paperwork will be rendered null by the government.”

Michael’s heart stuttered in his chest as his eyes widened. For a long moment, silence spread throughout the room, stifling in its thickness.

Had he…heard correctly?

Had his father just told him that he was adopted?

He was almost certain that he hadn’t heard correctly. After all, this wasn’t the kind of thing you sprung on a grown man, and almost certainly not on a Tate. All his life his parents had impressed on him how important the family name was – how he had to be upstanding and make sure he never tarnished the Tate title. His life had all but been lived for him until he was an adult, and all because of his last name.

Now, his father was telling him that he wasn’t really a Tate. That he had never been a Tate.

It was enough to make Michael’s head spin.  As shocking as it was to hear, he supposed that the jarring detail made a strange kind of sense. It was why his name was written in blue instead of black in the family registry. Why he didn’t look terribly like his mother, father or sister – why his parents had always tried so hard to instill in him what it meant to be a Tate – as if his birth wasn’t enough.

Because it wasn’t. He wasn’t a Tate by birth.

Which begged the question: Who the hell was he? And why on earth had his parents adopted him when they could produce an heir of their own? There was no question of Alice’s parentage, was there? That much was evident in her looks – in the family tree. So why him?

“Michael, we love you.” His mother’s voice seemed to ring almost distantly in his ears. “We loved you from the moment we saw you, and we knew that we had to save you.”

“Save me?” The words left him in a rush as he stared at the Countess incredulously. “Save me from what ?” He knew he was raising his voice and he hardly cared. He couldn’t stand to think that the people he called mother and father had adopted him out of pity – that he was another charity to attribute to their lives.

“Michael, please, hear us out.” His mother took his hands in hers, and Michael had to force himself not to yank away. Now wasn’t the time to be rash. He had never been rash – and he couldn’t let this be the start. So, instead of insulting the woman he called mother, he merely looked down at her expectantly. “My darling,” She cupped his cheek, stroking gently. “You were born in Russia…your birth name was Anton Melkin, and you are the child of Yentov Melkin and one of his mistresses.”

Bloody hell.

The fucking Russian Minister of Defense? Bloody fucking hell!

“He would have had you killed, but your father and I happened to come across you when we were visiting Russia on holiday. We agreed to take you away – to save you. Your father thought you dead and we brought you back to England to raise as our own.” The Countess took a shuddering breath. “But being a Russian citizen….back then…there were some conditions on your adoption. One of which being that the paperwork would not take full effect until you married and provided a child to carry on the family line.”

What kind of antiquated malarkey was this? They lived in the twenty-first century! Michael wanted to be infuriated – to throw something and rage that he hadn’t chosen to live the life that he did – and he refused to be defined by some ridiculous regulation penned almost forty years ago.

But the words wouldn’t come out. “It makes no difference where you come from, Michael,” the Countess cupped his face, looking up at him with due affection. “You are our son…and the moment you marry, it will be official. Can you not see why we were worried? That you went off to such a dangerous place without telling us?”

Unspoken words hung in the air like poison, and Michael’s eyes slowly narrowed. There was more at work here than affection and adoption. His mother was attempting to catch him in the crosshairs of his own emotions to distract him, but her husband was right.

Michael had always been smart. “You’re not worried about me,” he rebutted flatly, his gaze cool. He gazed from the Earl to the Countess and then back again before continuing brusquely. “Let me be sure that I understand everything here: Unless I marry an actual British noble soon then I give up my inheritance and Tate name.” Slowly, his mother nodded, tears beginning to rise to her eyes. Michael’s heart remained cold as he continued. “But I’m not the only one losing something, am I?” Both of his parents stiffened as he continued. “If your precious and lauded heir suddenly disappears, there will be questions, won’t there? And if word gets out about my actual parentage, there’ll be questions about that too, I assume. Do stop me if I’m on the wrong track here.”

The Earl and Duchess remained stolidly silent. “You called me here to tell me how I’ve put your line, your precious name in danger, and I’m not even an actual Tate!? Bloody hell…you have some actual nerve to speak to me like this now.”

He had no idea what to do. Michael knew what he wanted to do – and that was to get in his car and drive as far away as humanly possible. But even if that meant leaving behind the Tate name, it also meant leaving Alice. Leaving his practice. Leaving everything he’d built for himself.

Despite how angry, how betrayed he felt…he was stuck.

Turning on his heel, Michael yanked the door to his father’s study open and left without a word. For once, he let himself go beyond his gentlemanly tendencies and slammed the door so hard behind him that it rattled on its hinges.

It made him feel no better.

Michael wasn’t sure where he was going. He was only dimly aware of hurrying down the stairs and out the back veranda into the gardens. The sun was setting – it would soon be far too cool to be outside. But he found he didn’t care. His mind was too full to be rational – with his parents, the new revelations they visited on him…and atop all that, he couldn’t help but think of Rose.

Rose.

His mother had brought her here in a last ditch attempt to force him into marriage. Of course, then, she hadn’t been issuing any ultimatums, but anyone with eyes could see how hell-bent she was on forcing them together. Rose was his parents’ trump card – their ace in the hole.

Had they somehow known how different she was?

They couldn’t have. If they had, they might know it was she who had convinced him to go gallivanting off into the African sunset with no regard for his own life. And that, they would never allow.

But Rose was different….

Different than anyone he’d ever met.

For the first time since he’d begun speaking with his parents, Michael allowed his mind to fill with thoughts of the blonde heiress, and, surprisingly, a miracle occurred: his heart rate slowed. His anger ebbed. Just picturing her serene gray gaze in his mind’s eye was enough to calm him.

And worry him.

What had happened between him and Rose in the Congo…he hadn’t had time to give it much proper thought. He offered to take her there in hopes that it would impress her – bring him close to the forbidden fruit he so inextricably longed for. And, for the briefest of moments, he had it. Rose opened up to him- she allowed him close and she showed him her world. She was most comfortable away from the rigid, ridiculous rules of the nobility in Europe. The only lady he’d ever seen who was happier barefoot than in a pair of Louboutins.

Though the two weeks they spend in the Congo had been stressful – work day in and day out with lives on the line – they had also been, in a way, idyllic. Neither of their parents around to pressure them, no need to be anyone but themselves with people who were grateful for their mere presence…it was invigorating.

But then, of course, it all had to come crumbling down. In truth, Michael could have quite contentedly whiled away the rest of his life with Rose there in that tiny village. It was silly to contemplate, but those weeks with her were some of the first in which he’d been truly happy.

That was enough to let him know that he had developed feelings for her. Against all odds, he’d come to see the woman as more than his parents’ bid to get him to settle down. She was a beautiful, headstrong, intricately fascinating woman. One who he’d come to admire and respect – not to mention desire to no end.

And even now, he still desired her.

Therein lie his problem.

Michael now found himself facing circumstances as ridiculous as they were convoluted. He was an illegitimate heir to his family’s titles, and marrying Rose was the only way that he could keep the information from being discovered. That he could save his parents….the people who selfishly considered their own political gain instead of their son’s best interests.

Truly, he didn’t know what to call them anymore.

But he couldn’t simply abandon them. No more than he could abandon Alice. Which meant that, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he contemplated giving in to their wishes and merely allowing them what they wanted.

Somewhere.

But there were other factors to consider. Of course, principal among them was that he still had no wish to be married. He cared for Rose – found her very alluring. She piqued his interest more than any woman ever had. But that didn’t mean he was ready to spend the rest of his life with her.

He dared say that, should he even decide to ask the young woman, she would turn him down flat. Rose was an independent figure. If anything, both of them had made it clear, at the beginning of the summer, that their parents’ plans of marrying them were bloody horseshit. They wouldn’t comply.

Were things really so different now? If Michael defied his parents, wouldn’t they be getting what they truly deserved? Scandal and chaos…he had to admit that it was more than a little tempting to turn their lives upside down…especially in the wake of how they treated the “delicate” matter of his adoption.

But the Tates weren’t just his parents. They were his sister. His Aunts and Uncles and all the Tates before them. Did he really know enough about those people to shame them so profoundly?

Michael didn’t think he’d ever been so torn in his entire life.

“Mike?”

His head jerked up in surprise and he screeched to a halt mere inches from the very round, very pregnant form of Catherine, Elliot’s wife. The doctor’s eyes widened in surprise when they met her vivid green ones. Pregnancy, he decided, suited her well. Her cheeks were rosy, her ebony hair glossy and, indeed, a kind of glow seemed to emanate from her.

In that moment, from nowhere, a completely unbidden thought pierced his psyche: What would Rose look like in such a state? Her blonde hair glowing golden, cheeks flushed, belly heavy with child.

His child.

The thought was enough to send him reeling. He had to force himself to shut it out before Cat thought him completely out of his mind. “Are you ok, Mike?” Her expression was concerned as she stepped forward to touch his arm gently. Though Elias often teased his wife about her “uncultured” American tones, at this particular moment, Michael found them soothing.

“You look a little pale.”

Just pale? Well, he might as well be relieved then. Michael felt conflicted enough to rip up several nearby trees. “Cat.” He forced himself to smile as he bent to kiss her cheek gently in greeting. “Elias didn’t tell me he’d brought you.”

At the statement, the spunky young woman scowled, holding a hand protectively over her belly. “He takes me everywhere . He never lets me leave his side. The man’s a maniac, I swear. I was glad he went to get you. I never get a break.”

Despite the many emotions churning in his gut, Michael couldn’t help his low chuckle. That sounded like Elias, alright. The man took overprotective to new levels.

…Similar to how he himself had all but jumped in front of a rifle for Rose.

“I’m fine,” he exhaled, lowering his gaze as he searched in vain for something else to discuss. “How’s the baby?”

The perfect subject.

Immediately, Cat’s gaze softened and she smiled radiantly. “Oh, he’s wonderful. Two or three more weeks before we get to meet him, according to the doctor.” She rubbed over her belly fondly, and her gaze was a thousand miles away.

Which was all Michael needed at the moment.

As Cat continued to chatter about her child, the doctor lapsed back into his reflection. He had stormed out of his parents study before he had all the details, but he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to hear. In truth, little of what they said mattered overly much to him. So he’d been born in Russia. He’d been raised in England. As far as Michael was concerned, he was British. He remembered nothing of Russia or the scandal that had surrounded his birth. Likewise, it mattered little to him that he wasn’t really a Tate. He’d been trying to escape the social expectations that surrounded him his entire life. 

What most shocked him was how willing the Tates had been lying to him – to claim him as one of their own so long as it benefitted him. He was torn between believing them to be the only parents he’d ever known and cursing them every way he knew. The decision was something that he’d have to rectify if he was ever going to get his head straight.

And as much as he hated to admit it, Rose was at the middle of everything. So, the question was: What was he going to do now? Try to tempt a woman he wasn’t sure how he felt about into marriage? Or say fuck it all to everyone and tarnish the Tate family name to make his own mark?

It wasn’t exactly a question he could answer on the spot.

In fact, the only definite was simply that Michael wasn’t quite sure who he was anymore. He knew who he had tried to be…but how much did that matter anymore?

“There you are.” Michael was pulled from his self –contemplation by Elias’ proclamation. The architect stepped into view on the garden path. It was obvious that he’d showered and changed clothes since they arrived at the manor, and he appeared as refreshed as Michael felt haggard.

At his appearance, his wife arched a brow. “Who, me?”   The pointed at herself, her tone dryly amused.

In reply, Elias simply smirked, sidling up to her to pull her into his arms and kiss her cheek intimately. “Of course not you. I know exactly where you are at all times.” Catherine merely rolled large green eyes.

“And that’s not creepy at all …”

But Elias merely ignored her snide comment, releasing her in favor of approaching Michael, his gaze curious. “I meant you. I’ve been looking for you. What was all that commotion upstairs?”

Michael scowled deeply. “We can speak about it later.” H glanced in Cat’s direction, thankful that the young woman quickly busied herself with looking over a batch of particularly delightful primroses. “It requires an entire evening and several bottles of alcohol.”

Elias arched a brow in surprise and intrigue. “That bad? Well, I look forward to it.” He appeared to reconsider his words at Michael’s unchanging expression, before lowering his tone and voicing another, more serious inquiry. “Does it have anything to do with our dear Lady Lithgall?”

At the sound of Rose’s title, Michael’s stomach clenched in a sensation close to physical pain. It had hardly been forty-eight hours since the last time he’d touched her, and, already, he wanted her again. And not only sexually. He wished, more than anything else, that he were free to talk to her about matters like this. To divulge his deepest, darkest fears and share his ultimate triumphs. But he and Rose were hardly close enough for that….were they?

Besides, Michael had no doubt that if he told her the real reason his parents wanted them to marry, she would run for the hills without the slightest of regrets. And he didn’t know if he was ready for that quite yet. No, he was selfish. He’d like at least the last few weeks of the summer to be close to her.

That was enough time to wait before all hell broke loose.

**

She was exhausted.

To her merit, Rose hadn’t known how truly exhausted she was until she flopped onto the bed in her room in the Tate manor. It was the first time in a long while she’d been on a proper bed, and, despite her reservations about the uppity bourgeois and their comforts, she appreciated it. As she lay there, the weight of her trip and all that happened weighing down upon her, her eyes began to drift closed.

Her sleep was long and dreamless. In fact, it was the most relaxed she’d been since they’d left Britain two weeks prior. Rose only began to rouse from her slumber at the sound of distant voices. Her eyes fluttered open and the dark room before her swam into focus.

The voices, however, remained.

They were faint, but whoever was speaking had to be all but yelling at the top of their lungs for their voice to carry in a house as big as this one. As she came back to full wakefulness, the young woman strained slightly in an attempt to hear what was causing all the ruckus. All she discovered was that she couldn’t hear anything clearly.

The revelation was enough to make her frown. Surely the Tates weren’t having such a violent row over Michael going to Africa? She’d sensed that the Countess would be upset. If that wasn’t the case, she wouldn’t have sent Alice – but a screaming match? Rose couldn’t think of anything less befitting of the Tate title. Besides, Michael never lost his temper. Not like that.

She flushed slightly as she caught herself.

Who was she to think that she knew so much about Lord Michael Tate? Simply because they’d slept together a few times she was supposed to be the authority on him? She could hardly be so naïve. The summer was half over, and, as far as Rose was concerned, that meant she was six months closer to being off scot free. Six weeks more of…slight madness, and she’d be free to go to Thailand for two years .

She couldn’t recall being away from England for so long since she’d been in the Peace Corps. She’d be far away from the influence of her parents, far away from all the rigid, ridiculous expectations of her station, and far away from Lord Michael Tate.

Curiously, at the mere prospect, her stomach gave a little twinge of anxiety – one Rose considered completely inappropriate for a woman of her age. She was far too old for butterflies and fluttering hearts. She had long since learned of the reality of things. She was lucky that this reality included as much of Lord Michael as it had. The man had shown her that she herself could have an insatiable sexual appetite sometimes, and that was no small feat. He’d shown her that some men could be more selfless than others – that he’d obviously earned his title through all the hard work he’d put in and that he could be absolutely insane when it came to protecting other people.

She would always be honored to know him – but that was where their association had to end. Now that they were back in Britain and the Tates, it seemed, had even more guests than before, they couldn’t be sneaking around with one another. Rose fully planned to stick to her own bed, and she could only hope that Michael was of similar sensibilities.

…and that would be that.

Exhaling a long breath, she rose from the bed to stretch, wincing at her stiff muscles. A bath would do her good. After a long, hot soak, she’d feel right as rain. 

But Rose didn’t feel any less ill at ease after her bath. In fact, while she soaked, she looked over her newly tanned skin and marveled at the darker spots of bruising – even teeth marks – left by the man she’d allowed to be her lover while they were in the Congo. With every fresh mark, she found, Rose remembered how Michael touched her – how he kissed and licked every part of her until all she could do was beg him to assuage the ache between her legs.

And as she remembered that ache, it came back. She arguably stepped out of the tub wetter than when she’d stepped into it, and Rose cursed at the discovery. Stolidly determined to ignore the warmth between her thighs, she set about unpacking her things and preparing to do her laundry. After tossing a few cotton dresses onto the bed, she paused upon the discovery of the book she had borrowed from the Tate library.

Rose only hesitated a moment before flipping through the pages to find the picture nestled in the back chapter. The baby in black and white was just as adorable as he’d been the first time she saw him. Sighing, the young woman traced a fingertip over his tiny eyes and nose, wondering how on earth it must feel to have created another human being.

She could hardly fathom.

Almost unconsciously, her hand dropped to her own belly. She couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to be pregnant. To have a child that you loved more than life itself. Certainly, she had nothing against children. Rose had always loved children…but having her own was a different matter entirely. It meant giving up the life she loved to care for her child…add a father to that equation and things just got…convoluted.

Yes, that was a good word for it: convoluted.

Her lips pulling into a frown, she slid the picture back where it belonged. As tempted as she was to keep it, it didn’t belong to her. She would return it along with the book. Maybe slip back into the library when she was sure all of the Tates were sleeping and…

Oh bloody hell , that wouldn’t do at all.

Was she some kind of coward? Afraid to face a man simply because she’d slept with him a few times. She had, Rose realized, been avoiding Michael the entire way back from the Congo. Perhaps this was the time to march right up to him and put the book in his hands – to show him that she wasn’t intimidated by him or what he could do to her.

Of course, that didn’t mean she’d be discourteous. She and Michael were friends, after all. Mature adults who could appreciate and respect one another. She’d go to see him with those ideals in mind.

And nothing else.

Steeling herself, the young woman dressed in a conservative button up and denims with slippers before making her way from her room, headed towards Michael’s suite. When she arrived, however, she found the door open and the man himself absent. Annie was inside, busily making his bed, and when Rose asked, the housekeeper said she hadn’t seen him since he returned. Her expression contemplative, the blonde then ventured downstairs and began to search for the man. Michael was huge – it couldn’t be very hard to find him. Especially in his own house.

He was absent from the darkening kitchen, nowhere to be found in the gardens, and the only person Rose found in the formal living and dining rooms was the butler, who was busy setting the table for dinner. When Rose finally ventured into the library, she was beginning to think perhaps he’d left for the evening.

When she entered the vast space, however, she was surprised to find it already occupied. Rose’s eyes widened at the sight of Alice lounging on the sofa with a cup of coffee as she flipped through what appeared to be a design book. Though Alice had already looked impeccable on their trip back to Africa, now she looked even more so in a lovely emerald colored sheath and a soft cashmere sweater. She was the picture of refined elegance, and Rose found she felt a bit dowdy.

Not something she usually afforded herself.

She was intent on leaving the room before Alice could notice her, but the younger woman looked up as she was attempting to shut the door quietly. “Rose?”

The blonde flushed slightly. “Alice! I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Immediately, she sat up, a small smile playing about her lips. 

“You’re not intruding. I dare say you’re the best pre-dinner company I could ask for. Please sit down.”

Things had been…odd between them on the plane, if nothing else, and so it was with no small amount of wariness that Rose ventured into the library. What was it with the Tates? The Countess, Rose found she could deal with easily. The woman was as shallow and capricious as her own mother. When it came to the children, however, everything tended to get terribly confusing.

As she sat across from Alice, her companion poured her a cup of coffee gracefully. “Cream or sugar?”

“Both,” Rose replied, automatically, and Alice smiled. “I do love a spot of coffee before dinner. I know I’m not being authentically British by not having tea, but one must dare to be different every now and then, wouldn’t you agree?”

In that moment, Rose realized that she knew precious little about Alice Tate. From what she’d seen, she was far more realistic and grounded than the Countess, but she had the tenacity to command her elder, very persuasive brother. Rose would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit curiosity.

“I suppose so.” Taking her coffee, she sipped at it, trying to remember her original goal. She was supposed to be finding Michael to return his book. Perhaps she could just give it to Alice instead. It wasn’t cowardice, Rose told herself, if she simply ran into his sister before him. It was convenience. “I was…I was just looking for Michael. I borrowed a volume from the library and I wanted to be sure he knew I returned it.” She set the book on the table between the two of them and Alice arched a brow. Reaching forward, she thumbed through the first few pages.

“Great Expectations? I can’t imagine you’re reading this on Michael’s recommendation. He’s never had anything good to say about Dickens.”

Rose sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. “Well, we can’t all while away our days reading complicated medical journals, can we?” She realized far too late that she might have spoken out of turn – but was surprised when, instead of reprimanding her for speaking ill of her brother, Alice only laughed.

“You’re very right there. You know,” she sipped at her coffee thoughtfully, “He’s been interested in those dreadfully boring things since he was seven or eight years old.”

Rose’s brows leapt upwards in shock. “That young?”

“He’s always known what he wanted to do, I suppose. It drove Mum and Dad crazy. They’d give him a volume of French to study with his tutor and he’d sneak off to read about Tuberculosis and Polio.” She chuckled fondly.  “Absolutely off his nut. But it helped him in the end, I imagine. He’s amazing at what he does.”

Rose nodded enthusiastically. “He is. I don’t ever think I’ve seen a doctor with such a steady hand.” Her mind drifted back to the first time she’d seen him perform in the surgery. It had been obvious that other doctors and attending nurses were nervous, but Michael had never so much as batted an eye. He remained calm and unruffled throughout the entire procedure, despite holding someone’s life in his hands. Since then, he’d only demonstrated a similar command of his art in the Congo. “He’s so…intense when he’s working.” Rose found herself musing. “So focused…almost as if nothing else around him exists. And he treats each and every patient like they’re his only patient. He’s utterly fearless.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” Alice’s reply surprised her. As she poured herself another coffee, she merely smiled at Rose’s expression. “Perhaps he’s good at hiding it from you, but there are many things Michael fears.”

“Like what?” Rose was caught the moment the hook was dangled before her. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to know everything she could about the man. After all, in six weeks, they’d be parting ways completely, wouldn’t they?

Alice laughed softly. “If you tell him I told you, he’ll wring my neck.” All at once, the atmosphere between the two women was entirely different. It had gone from tense, to wary, to companionable, all in the space of twenty-four hours. Rose hadn’t realized how much she had missed having a woman her own age to talk to until she was faced with Alice.

“He won’t find it out from me.” She reassured the younger woman, and Alice’s smile turned fairly conspiratorial.

“Alright then. For one: He’s frightened of the mantle he’ll be forced to take up someday. He’ll be head of the Tate family within a decade, I’d say, and he doesn’t like to talk about it. I’m sure the pressure gets to him.” Her words made Rose stiffen slightly. She knew all too well what it was like to have the future of a family riding on one’s shoulders.  “For another, he doesn’t like being alone very much.”

Rose took a sip of her own coffee to hide her snort of amusement at that one. If Alice meant that the man sought out women for his bed when he didn’t have one in close quarters, she could believe that. He had a voracious appetite once loosed….and yet…the thought of Michael sleeping with other girls…it was nowhere near pleasant for her. “And I don’t mean physically alone,” Alice continued, forcing her attention back to the present. “He lives alone, doesn’t keep very many friends…but he’s lonely. I can see that much whenever we meet. He’s convinced that no one understands him. And he might very well be right.”

A low, insubstantial ache began to make itself known in Rose’s chest as Alice explained, and she fought the urge to squirm. That couldn’t be true. A man like Michael was one of the easiest to understand. Unlike most men, he was straightforward with his desires and expectations. He was earnest and kind. He was honest and forthright. “Michael isn’t untenable at all!”

The words burst from her before she could stop them, and, immediately, Rose flushed deep scarlet. Alice, for her part, only stared across the coffee table at her, her expression intrigued. 

“Isn’t he?”

Bloody hell. She’d gone and done it now. Why the hell couldn’t she seem to keep silent when it came to Michael? Her mouth was going to get her in a world of trouble if she wasn’t careful. “That is…I mean to say…” Rose scrambled for a way to recover. “I just…feel as if he’s a very simple man. He wants to help people. There’s nothing wrong with an earnest cause.”

For a long moment, a poignant silence hung between them. Alice’s dark eyes seemed to be watching her intensely – waiting for something. Rose had no idea what that something was, but she sensed that if she backed down now, she would lose any respect she might have gained from Alice. As much as she wanted to excuse herself and flee to the safety of her room, she remained on the couch.

Slowly, a smile began to spread across Alice’s face anew. She set her coffee cup on the table before rising from the chaise lounge and rounding it to take the seat next to Rose gracefully.

“He is earnest, isn’t he?”

Slowly, Rose nodded. She couldn’t prevent her own small smile of assent. “He most certainly is. Just like you, Rose.”

She immediately shook her head. “Oh no . I…I just want…I only meant to-”

“Michael wouldn’t have helped you get to Africa if he didn’t believe your cause was a noble one. He wouldn’t have defied our parents and endured his dressing down if he didn’t think you were doing what was right. Do correct me if you think I’m wrong.” Rose could do little more than gape. At this, Alice’s smile only grew wider. Reaching out, she took Rose’s hand between her own.  “Rose, I’d like to help you make the most of the time you have left here at the manor.”

Rose now found herself quite flummoxed. She had no idea what Alice was referring to.

“You…do?”

“Of course. I have to admit: I find your cause quite admirable. Refreshing in a world where all that matters is money and how those who have it choose to flaunt it.”

“I…thank you.” Rose didn’t think she’d ever encountered someone quite so direct. Even Michael had been a bit skeptical at the way she turned her nose up at spending money.

“I’m going to take a few weeks off from work. I can’t risk returning to the office so soon anyway. If Ferragamo finds out, he’ll choke me.” She seemed to wince at the very prospect. “So, instead, we’ll focus on something that can keep us both occupied, shall we?”

“And…what would that be?” Rose hoped Alice wasn’t going to ask her to be a model for one of her designs. She hated being put on the spot. Worse yet, however, might be if Michael’s sister asked her to design something herself. Rose had never been very artistic, and she had no wish to embarrass herself.

When Alice finally revealed her aim to her, however, Rose’s eyes lit up, her heart all but humming with excitement.

“We’re going to throw a benefit for the Congo. And you’re going to host it.”

Chapter 7: The Benefit

 

Rose liked Alice. Really, she did. The younger woman was the epitome of the unexpected. She said and did things that no real British Noble would condone, and for that reason, Rose found her fascinating. Of course, Alice’s shunning of the rules and regulations that governed her came more in her refusal to touch her own trust fund. She had made her own way in the world, and unlike many of her financial peers, she went out of her way to educate herself on the plight of those less fortunate than herself.

All of this, Rose learned, of course, when Alice went into detail about how they would run the coming benefit. She didn’t have to teach Alice how to organize things. It was evident that the young woman had already been in contact with the Congolese embassy and had, in fact, been planning this for a while. In fact, she seemed so absorbed in the task that she pulled Rose in right along with her. For a few hours, at least, the blonde heiress forgot the turmoil in her chest and the argument she’d overheard upstairs.

By the time dinner was announced, they had a concrete plan for the benefit that they wanted to execute – and Rose found herself so enthusiastic she almost skipped to dinner. When she took her seat, however, and noticed that Michael seemed to be absent, she began to backslide.

Even with a notepad full of ideas she’d scribbled down in Alice’s company, Rose found herself wondering what on earth had happened to him. It wasn’t like him not to be at dinner. Even if he, like her, preferred not to spend overmuch time in the company of his parents, he usually put on airs for the sake of evening meals and muddled through things.

That day, however, he was absent. Rose didn’t spot Elias either, and as a result, it was simply she and Alice eating with the Countess and, for the first time all summer, the Earl himself.

Somehow, Rose didn’t find him nearly as impressive as she might have imagined. He was shorter than his son, and when he introduced himself to her, she found his grip weak and half-hearted. In fact, as they all ate together, the Countess chatted incessantly while her husband remained silent. Almost as if she was trying to make up for his unwillingness to make conversation.

Though Rose told herself to dwell on the matters of the Tate family, she did. She dwelt on them all the way up the stairs and to her room, and she continued to dwell on them as she readied herself for bed. Where on earth was Michael, and why had he disappeared so suddenly? Why did his parents seem so uncharacteristically ill at ease? Why was Alice suddenly so enthusiastic about endorsing the cause of another, and why…why did she care so much?

Pulling the coverlet over her head, Rose squeezed her eyes closed and tried to tell herself that she didn’t. She couldn’t.

She had to stay the course. Only six more weeks.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side, hoping she’d be able to drift off. She’d be lucky, she supposed, not to have any nightmares about the Congolese militia.

And even luckier not to wake up drenched in her own desire for the absent Lord Michael.

In the end, Rose was lucky enough to experience another bout of dreamless sleep. She slept so well, in fact, that when she woke the next morning, she was astounded to find it was almost eleven o’clock. She had promised to meet Alice in the garden for tea at eleven thirty to discuss their benefit plans, and her eyes widened the moment they fell on the clock.

As she leapt out of bed, a very unladylike curse escaped her. The young woman rushed to shower and throw on a silk top and slacks before hastily raking her damp hair up into a ponytail. She was sure that, next to Alice’s elegant form, she would look a fright, but she hardly cared. They were planning, weren’t they? This wasn’t a social call. And Michael had disappeared so she didn’t have to concern herself with what he thought of her appearance…

The moment she was dressed, the young woman dashed down the stairs and out to the gardens. There was a pavilion about fifty meters away from the rose hedge in the back, and that was the direction in which she headed. By the time she arrived, she was slightly out of breath –

And more than a little shocked.

It wasn’t just Alice who waited for her at the pavilion. Sitting around an elegantly set table were Elias, a very pregnant woman she assumed must be his wife, and no other than Michael himself. At the sight of him, her heart all but leapt out of her chest, and Rose had to force herself to catch her breath immediately. She could have sworn everyone present could hear her hammering heartbeat.

“Well, Good morning, sunshine.” At the sight of her, Elias smirked, raising his teacup in her direction. “We were wondering when you’d show up.”

Rose was slightly mortified. It was that Michael should see her looking so harried, but the other guests? She found she would have been quite content to sink into the ground and disappear at that precise moment. Alice met her gaze apologetically, and Rose was certain, in that moment, that she was exactly as conniving as her brother.

Speaking of which…She chanced a glance at Michael out of the corner of her eye. If Rose had expected him to behave himself, she was sorely disappointed. The man was looking at her as if there wasn’t a full tea tray right in front of him, his dark gaze ravenous. Rose felt a flush spreading from her hairline downwards and she forced herself to look away. She was in no mood to recall how much she had missed sleeping next to him at that moment – none at all.

“You must have been sleeping wonderfully , Rose. I feel guilty for calling this meeting.” Alice’s smile was radiant, and as Rose looked from her face to her brother’s, she realized the actual lack of physical similarity between them. Where Alice’s hair was dark and glossy, her brother’s was deep red with auburn streaks. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, and his were a dark hazel. Michael’s facial structure was all angles, with a strong jaw and cheekbones, while Alice’s features were soft and aristocratic. Alice, Rose decided, looked more like the Earl and Countess, while Michael had a rugged allure all his own.

Since they’d returned to England, he’d trimmed his beard and he’d regained his close-shaven, gentlemanly appearance. But Rose would never forget how he’d handled her in Africa. Despite their exhaustion the man had her in every way it was physically possible to have someone…and she had adored every moment of it.

At that moment, Elias cleared his throat poignantly. “Have a seat, darling. The tea will get cold.”

…Had she really been staring at Michael like an utter idiot for the past five minutes?

She quickly sank into the empty chair between Elias and Alice, hoping she didn’t look as embarrassed as she felt.  “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Catherine.” Seemingly oblivious to her discomfort, Elias formally introduced the woman at his side with a smile more genuine and fond than any Rose had seen him wear since she met him. On the whole, she rather disliked him as a person…but she had to admit, a man that looked at his wife like that couldn’t be all bad.

“Call me Cat.” The young woman reached across her husband to shake Rose’s hand warmly. She was clad very comfortably, in a large maternity shirt, denims, and what appeared to be converse – and she looked more radiant than any of them in their fine clothes. It just went to show that a woman creating new life was one of the loveliest things in creation.

…There she went with those uncharacteristically romantic thoughts of hers again.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Rose,” Alice graciously poured her tea. “I invited the others to join us because I thought we could use their input.

“Of…of course” Rose managed, serving herself a scone with clotted cream and hoping that she didn’t look a complete fool. From where she was sitting, it was impossible to keep from looking at Michael right across from her, no matter how hard she tried. The man had set his tea aside and was leaning over the table, his chin resting against his knuckles as he stared straight at her. Was it Rose’s imagination, or did the man have dark circles around his eyes. Wasn’t he sleeping properly?

Or had the row he had with his parents somehow disrupted his schedule?

“Cat happens to be a brilliant event planner,” Alice grinned at the woman in question, “Elias, I suppose, has his uses insofar as helping us pick out the location,” when she cast a scathing look at the architect, he merely blew her a kiss, “and my darling brother will be the financier.”

“No! ” The word burst from Rose before she could stop it, drawing all eyes at the table to her. Realizing how vehement she must have sounded, she quickly tried again. “I mean, I couldn’t possibly impose, I’m a guest in your household…”

“I wouldn’t worry yourself too much,” Elias cut in with a shrewd smirk. “I impose on the Tates all the time.”

“To my great dismay,” Alice groaned dramatically, before taking up her own pad from the previous night. “Now, Rose and I already discussed a few must haves-”

“Alice, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Rose wasn’t about to let this happen. She couldn’t . She was already in a huge amount of debt to Michael as it was. Was he trying to crush her under the weight of her indebtedness? “But I can’t allow Michael to fund this affair. I’ll do it if I have to. I’ve already asked so much of the Tates-”

“Don’t , Rose.” The imposing Lord managed to silence her as he typically did – in one succinct command. “There’s no way you’re going to change my mind. Alice has already asked and I accepted. That is…unless you want to halt the benefit, and redistribute any money that might go back to Elisee’s village.”

The bloody bastard .

For a good minute, Rose glared at him. She looked at Alice, who had the grace to look somewhat sheepish, then back to Michael again. The man merely stared her down infuriatingly. Rose was going to strangle him as soon as she got the chance. “Alright. Fine.”

Elias looked as if he was having a field day and Cat was clearly confused. “Alright, then.” Alice was the only one that continued to beam brightly. “Let’s discuss then, shall we?”

**

She was upset. In fact, upset might be an understatement. Four days after their meeting to discuss Alice’s benefit idea, Rose was still avoiding him like the plague. Michael didn’t know what was worse: having Elias around to offer useless advice from his playboy days or being unable to decide for himself what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

He wanted her. Of that, there was no question. He had always wanted Rose, even when he didn’t know why. Now, even though he was fully aware of his impetus, Michael didn’t understand his desires any better.

To say the least, his personal life wasn’t in the best of states.

Since his parents had spoken to him about his adoption, they’d attempted twice more to speak to him and he’d all but barred them from his room. He had nothing more to say to them and would have nothing to say until he decided how he was going to act. So far, he had shared his secret with no one. The only thing he had done was returned to the library to look over the book Alice told him Rose had returned.

He couldn’t deny that it drove a knife into his heart to gaze upon the Tate family page. His parents professed that they loved him – but did they? Or did they simply expect him to bow under the weight of their expectations? If that was the case, they would find themselves sorely disappointed.  Michael had never been cowed by any situation in his life. Given pause, maybe, but never cowed. 

He supposed that, in a way, he was lucky that Alice had suggested this little venture. It gave him something to think about besides his troubles – insurmountable as they seemed. However, Michael couldn’t help but suspect that Alice had ulterior motives. Certainly, she had never neglected to help him when he really needed it, but to suggest something in his favor without any suggesting he subjugate himself to her?

That was unusual indeed.

He was deep in thought on the subject after a shift at the hospital when she found him reclining in the library, staring not at his book, but at the ceiling. He was in the midst of remembering a particularly lovely light in the Congo when Alice’s face popped into his line of vision, startling him.

“Fuck .” He sat up immediately, almost colliding with her, and his sister smirked.

“Language, language , brother.” The title made him wince inwardly. How on earth would Alice feel if she knew the truth about him and their family? “You’ve been a recluse for the past few days so I came to find you and cheer you up.”

She extended a bottle of port to him and Michael couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from his throat. “Dessert wine?”

“Hey, don’t discount it. It’s fourteen percent, and there’s no Macallan’s in the house so don’t be picky.” Taking a seat beside him, she uncorked the bottle and poured him a glass before doing the same for herself. Grinning, she extended her beverage towards him. “Cheers.”

Michel sighed, raising his own glass. “What are we toasting to?”

His question garnered him a mischievous smile. “My genius in accelerating your love life.”

Michael almost choked on his wine. Her what ? He immediately looked over at her, his expression incredulous. “What are you on about?”

Alice only grinned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re that dense, Michael. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re over the moon about Rose, and she’s trying to run the other direction. Does it really surprise you that I came up with this idea to bring the two of you back together?”

For a good two minutes, Michael could do little but gape at her. He couldn’t decide whether to throttle her, to kiss her, or to storm from a room in a incensed rage. Since when had his little sister decided that she could take over his life? Since when had she discovered that she was a matchmaker extraordinaire? “Don’t look at me like that, Michael.” Alice sipped her wine placidly. “You may be upset now, but in a year you’ll be thanking me. You’ll have the woman you’re pining over, our parents will be happy and the Tate name will live on, blah-blah”

“I’m not a Tate!”

He couldn’t help it. Michael found himself so overwhelmed that the words slipped out of him on an aggrieved note that almost pained him. This was a bit much for him to handle right now – as if every individual shit was hitting the fan all at once.

If he expected Alice to be at all shocked by his little outburst, however, he was sorely disappointed.

His sister, ever cool, only arched a brow at his outburst. “Aren’t you? Do tell?”

And Michael realized that he had to. If he held this lunacy inside him for one more day, he might very well go mad. He’d been keeping his business to himself because he didn’t particularly feel like unburdening on Elias. As happy as he was that his old friend had come for a visit, Elias had all his attentions focused on his child, who would be making in appearance in roughly two weeks time. How could Michael justify dumping something like this on an already burdened man. Rose was out of the equation because she was part of his quandary. In trying to reconcile his feelings for her, he only found he both missed and wanted her, which did nothing at all for his concentration.

And then there was Alice. Alice, who, despite being unsure of his family’s authenticity, he had never doubted. Alice who he had discounted because she seemed like the kind of woman to create drama rather than soothe it. And, up until that point, that assessment was mostly true.

But, just now, Michael needed to talk to someone .

And his sister was there.

The entire story spilled out of him. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster as he fell into a rhythm. He refilled his port glass twice while he spoke, and never once did Alice’s attention waver. She watched him with rapt attention and a neutral expression as he told her about him and Rose. How they had first come to be together and how things had been between them in Africa. He told her how the woman had seemed to be avoiding him since then, despite the fact that he longed for her more than he had any woman. With no small amount of hesitation, he told her about their parents and the secret they’d hidden from him. He told her of the condition upon his inheriting the family name and title, and why their mother had brought Rose so suddenly to the manor. He finished on the note of his uncertainty – his stomach twisted into knots as he searched the face of Alice for a single sigh – any indication that she was disgusted with him. Annoyed – that she no longer felt a single obligation to call him her brother.

With a sigh, Alice only reached for the Port bottle, pouring herself a second glass. Her answer was a single word. “So ?”

So?

What the bloody hell did she mean, so? Before he could demand more, Alice’s expression became suddenly angry, her eyes flaring as she rose from the couch to stand over him. “So what , Michael? If this is the reason you’ve been bloody pouting around the house all week, I should bludgeon the ever loving piss out of you.” She paused long enough to take a swallow of her drink before continuing. “So Mum and Dad adopted you? Who gives a flying fuck? You’re still my brother. You could have been born in bloody Atlantis, for all I care, and you’d still be my brother. So bollocks on whatever namby feelings of isolation you’re harboring. I’m here, aren’t I? I took my arse all the way down to Africa to retrieve you, didn’t I? You think I did that because Mum told me to? Fuck no. I did it because I was worried you’d bollocks up. And I was right, wasn’t I?” The young woman took a deep breath, continuing to glare at her dumfounded brother as she continued. “Personally, I’m of the opinion that they tarnished the Tate name by lying to you. You’re more Tate than either of them…which is why you’re going to inherit the bloody title and all it entails without doing anything you don’t want to.”

Michael had never been so proud and frightened of his sister in his entire existence. He realized now how wrong he’d been to assume that she might feel the same way as his parents. He and Alice had always stuck together – through thick and thin. And nothing was going to change that. But now, here she was, in a predictably Alice move, insisting he could have it all without giving up anything. 

Instead of saying anything, Michael merely folded Alice into a tight hug. For a moment, she stiffened against him – he knew how sensitive she was about wrinkling her designer clothes. But then, the moment passed. She leaned into his embrace, winding her arms around his neck. “You fucking idiot.” She murmured in his ear, squeezing him hard. “What’s in a name? Nothing, really?”

Michael chuckled, his heart full. How could she possibly be cheering him up at a time like this? The universe had gone absolutely barmy.

Eventually, he parted from her, releasing her to sink back onto the couch and nurse the rest of his wine. “Now…” He continued blithely, “How on earth am I supposed to achieve the world and all the rest of this nonsense you’ve suggested?”

Alice’s triumphant grin was back as she flopped down next to him.  “I’d have thought that would be simple, even for you: You marry Rose.”

The doctor immediately leapt to his feet once more. “Are you insane ?”

“Clinically? No.” Alice replied cheekily, merely crossing her legs primly as he looked down at her incredulously “Just perceptive.”

“How the hell am I supposed to ask her to marry me? We’ve only known one another for six or seven weeks!”

Alice promptly sipped on her port before fixing him with an infuriatingly innocent look. “So?”

There went that word again. Michael was beginning to hate it. “We agreed that neither of us were out for marriage,” he went on in a rush, his face reddening in frustration. “We both have things we plan to do! Lives we plan to lead! Marriage isn’t a part of any of that!”

“Let me tell you what I’m not hearing, brother dearest,” Alice cut in with infuriating primness. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to marry her because a: you can’t stand her,” she began to tick off additional reasons on her fingers, “b: you’re incompatible, c: you find her unattractive, or d: you’re not in love with her. Do any of those things apply here?”

Michael found himself momentarily speechless.

His sister was batty – absolutely out of her mind. To suggest that he marry Rose so that they could have some…happily ever after…it was just...just…

“Do you love her, Mike?” The question was enough to make his heart skip a few beats. Michel stared down into his sister’s earnest eyes as she looked him over, and wondered what, exactly, it was that she saw.

It was a question he’d never asked himself – or rather, one he’d never allowed himself to ask. Why would it even come into question? He and Rose had, after all, only known one another for two short months. Just because he adored the way her blonde hair fell in waves around her face didn’t mean he loved her, did it? Because he liked to make her angry just to see the way she flushed and the gleam in her eyes…that wasn’t love. How he liked to watch her fall asleep, adored her selflessness and drive, and enjoyed every experience they had together simply because it was with her…that didn’t mean…

Fuck.

Fucking fuck .

He was in love with Lady Rose Lithgall.

When the hell had it happened? He had been so careful…so exceedingly careful…telling himself it was just the physical things he would be involved in. Just kissing. Just sex. Just risking the wrath of everyone who loved him by gallivanting off to a third world country…just stepping in front of a loaded gun.

He was questionably crazier, even, than his sister. Certifiably off his rocker. After an entire lifetime of telling himself that when he settled down, he would really be settling , Michael found himself doing quite the opposite. He was in love with a woman who skirted around him on tiptoe – who was intimidated by and equally infuriated by him. She didn’t seem to mind sleeping with him, but when it came to anything beyond that, she could get supremely defensive.

“Does it matter?” He finally asked, his chest strangely hollow.  “I don’t think this is the right time to pop the question, Alice?”

“And why not?” The girl replied blithely. “You’re both in the same place at the same time…terribly convenient, don’t you think?”

“That’s not it,” Michael growled dangerously in reply, his gaze narrow. “She’d never be receptive to the idea. You don’t know her like I do…she’s single-minded when it comes to her life and her causes.” He sank back down onto the couch with a sigh, leaving the remainder of his Port untouched. “In her mind, I would only keep her from her goals.” Rose certainly wasn’t the kind of woman to let anyone stand in her way.

It was only when he got close to her- really close – that she melted. When they were alone, far from prying eyes, Rose opened up in a way she never let anyone else see. If there was ever a time he thought she might have feelings for him, it was then. When she was at her most vulnerable.

“Michael, I hate to burst your self-deprecating bubble, but that woman has it bad.”

The doctor’s gaze jerked to his sister’s gaze, warning in his eyes. “Don’t , Alice. Don’t bait me.”

“Why the hell would I bait you now?” She demanded brusquely. “With everything on the line? Do you really think me so cruel, Michael?”

She was right. Though Alice was prone to teasing, outright misdirection wasn’t her style. It had never been. Which gave him a glimmer of hope he didn’t dare entertain. Not yet. “Explain.” He demanded lowly.

At his command, her sister merely rolled her eyes. “You could ask a little more nicely-”

“This is my future , we’re talking about, Alice. Don’t hang me out to dry.”

“Alright, alright.” The young woman took a deep breath. “Don’t you think there’s a reason she’s running away with you? Why she avoids you? From what you’re telling me, a woman like Rose wouldn’t waist her time beating around the bush if she didn’t have feelings for you. She’d just tell you and be done with it. Why do you think she hasn’t done that?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, and then shut it. Alice had a reasonably good point.

Rose never hesitated to make herself known when she had strong opinions about something. When she was conflicted or embarrassed, she practiced avoidance.

Like she was doing now.

The realization was enough to make him want to march up to Rose’s room and break the bloody door down. He wanted to see her. He needed to…but he would have to act delicately here. It was unfortunate that delicateness wasn’t his forte.

“Calm down, Michael.” Once again, Alice helped to ground him. His sister squeezed his shoulder gently, her gaze reassuring. “You’ve done surgeries harder than this. I trust you’ll handle it wisely.”

So, no pressure then.

Michael smiled wryly, shaking his head. Despite how ridiculously convoluted everything had seemed, his outlook had suddenly changed. An hour-long conversation with his ridiculous sister had given him the countenance he needed to figure everything out.

Well, almost everything. There were a few actions that only he, alone, could take.

First and foremost, he had to find a way to get Rose to speak with him. If he could do that…then maybe, just maybe , he could manage the rest.

God willing.

**

It was going to be a grand affair – but then again, when weren’t benefits grand affairs? For the past few days, Alice had been helping Rose to solidify the details. Elias was able to give them his perspective on the best spaces for the events, and Cat, despite her pregnancy, refused to be left out of the many errands that needed to be run. Of course, Elias insisted upon accompanying her everywhere she went, and so, she was never out of his sight. A veritable relief for everyone involved.

The plans were coming along nicely, of that there was no doubt. But there was no way they could continue in the same fashion with her avoiding Michael the way she was. Eventually, she wouldn’t be able to rely on Alice and she’d have to confront the man face to face. 

As things were, Alice was out with her brother making arrangements for the venue. Cat and Elias were talking with caterers and the Earl and Duchess were preparing for some party or the other. Meals for the last day had been strained, to say the least, and Rose found herself wondering if there was some unseen drama unfolding in the Tate household. The more she tried not to trouble with it, the more she wondered, until she found she was losing sleep.

With a sigh, the young woman laid her head back against the bench she reclined on, her eyes sliding shut. It was a gorgeous, clear summer’s day outside, and she was all alone. She finally had a moment to think.

“What are you hiding, Michael?” She murmured lowly, drumming fingers over her lower belly absently.

“Am I hiding something?”

A low cry of surprise escaped Rose as she bolted upright, her eyes flying open, She found Michael standing over her, his expression mildly amused as he stared down at her. The lounge woman found herself immediately and extremely self-conscious. It was an inborn habit that she couldn’t shake, and she found herself yanking down the skirt that had hiked high on her thighs as she sat up properly. “I…I thought you went with Alice!”

“I was going to.” He looked utterly mouthwatering today, clad in a short-sleeved polo shirt that exposed the taut muscles of his arms and form-fitting trousers. “But I realized I had some details to attend to here first.”

“Oh.” Rose hoped she didn’t look as disappointed as she sounded. “I see. Well,” she attempted to look busy as her tone lost its surprised edge. “Don’t let me keep you.” She scribbled nonsense down on the pad in her arms as her heart pounded and she waited with bated breath for him to move away.

A beat passed and Michael made no motion to leave. He exhaled a long breath before taking a seat next to her. The bench was so narrow that their thighs touched and heat flared immediately through her. Rose resisted the instant and powerful urge to fling herself into his arms. The heat of him so close to her, that darkly alluring scent of his…it was going to drive her absolutely insane.

“Rose, you are those details.” The young woman’s gaze jerked to his in alarm. Bloody hell, what had she done now?  “Why are you running from me?” The question came brusquely and without warning. “Surely I can’t frighten you that much?”

It had nothing to do with her being afraid of him. Not one bit. If anything, Rose was terrified of herself and the way her sensibilities flew out of the window whenever she was near him. It had been bad enough before she got to know the man, but now her desires were nearly unbearable. Far from being forced to attend work with him, she now found herself wanting, more than anything, to tag along with him to work every day. To watch him work his magic and execute that marvelous healing gift of his. She found herself wondering about all his female coworkers and which of them were catching his eye, and she despised the sick feeling that rose in her.

“Michael....I…this isn’t really the best time.” She tried to deflect him as best she could. “We’re in the middle of planning for the gala, and I had hoped we wouldn’t-”

“Just answer my question, Rose.” Michael replied firmly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Do I frighten you? Is that why you can’t stand to be in the same room with me after all we’ve done together?” Reaching out, he cupped her jaw, running a thumb over her slightly parted lips so the young woman shivered. What on earth was she supposed to say to the man? She could hardly form words with him touching her the way he was.

“That’s…not it.” She managed, swallowing thickly as she fought the urge to lean into his touch.

“Then what?” He countered. For the first time in almost a week, his face was inches from hers and Rose wanted to kiss him so desperately it hurt.  “Tell me.”

She didn’t know what to tell him. “You…you confuse me, Michael. You turn everything all topsy turvy and I can’t think straight when I’m around you,” she murmured softly. “How am I supposed to tell you something I don’t know?”

“Let me help you?” He replied, his tone low and silky. “Have dinner with me tonight, just the two of us.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he wouldn’t let her. “We can go back to your soup kitchen, if you like. I’ll go anywhere you want, as long as it’s with you.”

Goddamn him. The man knew exactly what to say to melt her defenses away. “Alright.” The words left her on the barest whisper and the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. His mouth was on hers and there had never been anything so right or perfect in the entire bloody cosmos.

Rose devoured him hungrily, her fingers threading through his thick auburn hair as if it had been an eternity since she touched him. She wanted any and all of him at that exact moment, and each slide of his tongue against hers threatened to steal more of her sanity.

As much as she might want him to, however, Michael didn’t strip her clothes off and have his way with her on the bench, right there in the gardens. Instead, he lifted his mouth from hers to gaze down at her, his dark eyes bright with desire. “Be ready to go out at seven. I’ll take you in the Rolls.”

The face Rose made was automatic and it drew a chagrinned smile from her lover. “You’ll survive.”

And she would.

Nothing, not an ostentatiously fancy car, an expensive restaurant or any outlandish price tag would be able to temper the excitement she felt at being on Michael’s arm once more.

Letting the lingering sensation of his lips on hers propel her, she made her way upstairs to ready herself for the evening. Each time she tried to reason with herself – that her rational mind threatened to intercede in her fantasy world, for once, Rose ignored it. Michael wanted her in his arms again, and this time, she wouldn’t be so foolhardy as to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Running was exhausting. Hiding was even more exhausting. Which was why she was going to allow herself to enjoy this evening, as well as the next five weeks. After all, they’d be planning the benefit together. They were under the same roof – why torture herself?

Why deny herself, when Michael’s kiss made her feel more woman than she ever thought she could?

Around seven, the young woman came floating down the stairs in a midnight blue dress that was probably a little too scanty for her usual tastes. However, Rose barely had time to reconsider her choice before Michael’s appreciative gaze was eating her up, taking her in from head to toe. Without a word, he extended his arm to her and led her to the waiting car in the front drive.

When they drove, she decided she didn’t give a damn where they were going. What did it matter, after all? She was more absorbed with the feel of Michael’s thigh nestled snugly against hers than she was with their destination.

Or at least she was until they reached it.

Rose found herself surprised when the car drove down a narrow country road into what appeared to be very real British wilderness. They drove through the darkness for a full ten minutes before she contemplated raising her voice, but just then, the trees round them fell away and her breath caught in her throat.

Before them was an immense lake, sparkling beneath the light of thousands of stars. On the edge of that lake was a small cabin, its windows alight with a warm glow, silhouetted on the banks of the gorgeous body of water.

As the car pulled to a stop, Rose gazed at the sight in wonder. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Michael had left the car until he had opened her door and extended his hand to her.

“Shall we?”

For some inexplicable reason, Rose felt her heart begin to pound. She took Michael’s hand and stepped from the car, allowing him to lead her to the quaint little cabin. Swiftly, the tall man produced a key from his jacket pocket and let them in.

Inside, there wasn’t much space – but the small living area had been converted into an elegant dining room with candlelight and soft music playing in the background. Rose glanced at the man next to her. “Alright, Michael. If you’re trying to be romantic, you’ve accomplished it.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind them before he crossed the small room to pull out her chair for her. “You’ve no idea how much your approval means to me, my lady.”

With a soft laugh, the young woman sank into her seat, glancing over her shoulder at him. “We’re back to titles now, are we?”

Michael merely winked at her before shrugging out of his suit jacket to place it on the back of the chair across from hers. At his action, Rose watched a brow. Said brow continued to raise as she watched Michael make his way to the small, rudimentary kitchen and begin to pull items out of the fridge.

“Are you…cooking?” She inquired, surprised and incredulous.

Michael merely smirked at her. “The best braised rack of lamb you’ll ever taste.”

Slowly, Rose began to shake her head, a smile of genuine amusement curving her lips. “I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

The doctor merely chuckled. “I accept that challenge.”

Rose had to admit, she was slightly awed by the man’s skills in the kitchen – even a tiny one. Having never been much of a cook herself, she was much more inclined to order take away or visit a restaurant. Michael, true to his word, seemed to know his way around the kitchen. Rose watched as he braised, boiled and sautéed their dinner into fine form. When he brought it to the table, she still couldn’t quite believe he’d made it all before her eyes.

“You thought I was a spoiled little princeling that couldn’t fend for himself.” Michael poured her a glass of red wine with flourish, his smile smug. “I live alone, you know. How do you think I feed myself?”

“Takeaways, like a normal person,” she answered smartly. In return, Michael popped a roasted vegetable in her mouth and Rose savored the crisp, herby flavor.

Michael was an untold talent, it seemed. “Does Annie know you can cook like this?”

“You are not to tell her.” Taking a seat across from her, the man pointed his fork at her threateningly. “Or it will be my head.”

Rose laughed softly. “Alright, alright. Understood.”  With that, she dug into her meal. After having lost her appetite for a few days, she found she was ravenous and tucked in enthusiastically. In less than half an hour, she had polished off her food and two glasses of wine, and was feeling quite proud of herself.

“I almost forgot,” Michael perked up as he put down his own knife and fork. “Dessert.” Rose was tipsy enough to think she might not mind having him for dessert as the man stood and returned to the kitchen. His behind was utterly divine in those slacks and her fingers itched to uncover the muscular length of his body.

She watched with rapt attention as he pulled two pastry boxes wrapped in twine from the refrigerator and brought them to the table. “I cannot claim to have made these,” he admitted, with a chuckle, “But I have been guaranteed by the purveyor that they are worth every cent I paid.”

As he placed a box before her, Rose merely gave him a skeptical look, “Please tell me you didn’t pay three hundred dollars for a cake.”

At the question, Michael’s eyes took on an odd gleam. “Not cake.”

That was enough to pique her curiosity. Delicately, rose sliced through the pastry twine with her knife before opening the box. Inside was, oddly enough, another box. This one, however, was made of chocolate and sat on a layer of wax paper. Reaching into the pastry box, Rose removed the thin, elegantly carved chocolate lid.

And stared.

Inside the chocolate box was an unquestionably gorgeous chocolate dessert. It looked to be mousse of some kind, piped into the box with layers of sponge cake and whipped cream. But it wasn’t the dessert that made her heart stop. It was the dressing.

Atop the elaborate confection was a breathtaking white gold, diamond ring that shone in the candlelight. It had to be at least five karats, set in a band encrusted with minute diamonds covering half its diameter. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she had ever laid eyes on.

But Rose was at a loss for why it was atop her dessert.

And so all she could do was stare.

“Rose?”

She dimly realized that Michael was calling her name, and she looked over to see that the man had sunk to one knee before her.

He was on his knees .

Dear Lord, she’d finally lost it. She was dreaming. This couldn’ t be happening. It couldn’t!

“Rose Gwedolyn Lithgall…Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Rose couldn’t speak. Her heart was fluttering so fast she was short of breath, and she couldn’t make it stop. “How…” she finally managed breathlessly. “How do you know my middle name?”

At that, a soft, almost nervous chuckle escaped Michael. “That’s what you want to know? Of all the things you could ask right now?”

His amused words helped to snap her from her shocked trance. Rose swallowed thickly, looking from the ring to the man kneeling before her and then back again. “Michael…this…this isn’t funny. Not at all.”

“Of course it’s not,” He replied lowly, reaching over her desert and pluck the ring from atop its chocolate throne. “I’m absolutely serious, Rose. I want you to marry me.” His gaze locked with hers and Rose found no mockery there.

“Michael…this is…” She struggled to find the words. “We barely know one another! We both agreed that this…this isn’t what we want!”

“We agreed that this isn’t what we thought we wanted,” he corrected her gently. “You want to travel the world and make people’s lives better, Rose. I have the skills to help you do that. We worked marvelously together in Africa, you can’t deny that. I have no intention of holding you back if you’ll allow me the same courtesy.”

The young woman opened her mouth before shutting it. She tried opening it again, but no words came out. What on earth was she supposed to say? That this was insane? That he was insane? The smartest thing would be for her to leave him here, return to the car and demand the driver take her home.

So…why couldn’t she? Why was her heart so terribly full to bursting with something that seemed so much like elation that she could barely keep the moisture from rising to her eyes? This was wrong . This wasn’t the way she had pictured her life. She wasn’t ready. Michael had caught her completely off guard and-

“Your favorite color is silver.” At first, she didn’t understand what Michael was saying, but the more he spoke, the clearer his words became. “You wear it all the time because it compliments your skin and hair.– and because it reminds you of the moon. You like chocolate but detest vanilla – you believe it’s entirely too boring for you because you’re always seeking something new and interesting. You like the Beatles but would rather have Seal serenade you at night – I know because that’s the last song you listened to on your Mp3 player. You read to escape from everyday life when you can’t physically escape it, but when you can, you feel as if the weight of the world is lifted from your shoulders. Taking on the burden of someone less fortunate frees you in ways people can’t imagine and you’ve lived your whole life thinking that is the one thing people will never understand about you.” Rose inhaled a shuddering breath as tears began to slip down her cheeks. “But I understand. It’s one of the things I love about you, Rose. One of many things. And I’m prepared to spend a lifetime discovering them all.”

The bloody bastard.

Rose sobbed as he took her hands in his. She watched him slip the ring, still slick and sticky with whipped cream, onto her finger. “Say yes. You know you want to.”

The blonde snorted in laughter through her tears. “Still cheeky as hell at a time like this? I despise you, Lord Tate.”

“You love me, Lady Lithgall.” Michael drew her down from her chair and into his lap. “That is why you’re going to marry me.”

Slowly, Rose nodded. She could do nothing else.

She watched as a slow, triumphant smile spread across Michael’s face the moment before his gaze turned heated. With her watching, he raised her ring finger to his mouth to envelop in warm wetness as he suckled the digit clean of the dessert’s leavings. Rose gasped, only able to ensure a few seconds of the teasing before she slipped her hand from his mouth and replaced it with her own.

With a groan, Michael’s tongue slid brusquely between her lips to tease her own to life as his hands curled around her thighs and he raised both of them from the living room floor. Rose’s moth never left his, tasting him desperately as he carried her down a single, narrow hallway to the tiny bedroom. It had, of course, been made up for them, but Rose didn’t take the time to appreciate it.

Instead, she tore at Michael’s clothes as he set her down on the knitted coverlet, popping the buttons on his shirt before urging it down his arms to bare his chest to her. A soft moan of appreciation escaped her as she peppered the well-muscled flesh with kisses and bites. In quick order, however, the man pushed her back against the bed, quickly snaking her dress up and over her head. When their mouths met again, their bodies connected, skin to skin. Rose groaned, trying to embrace him, but Michael merely pinned both of her hands above her head, his gaze dark and promising. “Tell me you missed me,” he demanded on a low growl.

Rose compiled almost immediately. “I did.” Her words had never been so earnest. “So much I ached with it.”

“You need me.” He followed immediately against her ear, before biting at her neck hungrily. “Tell me you need me.”

Rose’s eyes fluttered shut as he kissed and sucked at her throat and collarbone hard enough to leave marks for all to see. She could care less. “I need you,” she breathed lowly, her body throbbing with want. “So badly …”

Michael released her hands only to cup one pale breast through her wispy bra as his other reached for the lace of her panties to move it aside eagerly. He bent to kiss her again, and when he did, Rose felt the press of his glorious erection against her already drenched entrance. He slid home with an ease that took her breath away, and Rose arched against him in an effort to take him deeper.

Nothing had ever felt so good. So right.

“You love me.” Rose’s eyes widened as Michael lifted his head to look down at her, his gaze unexpectedly vulnerable. Even now, she realized, she could leave him. Reject what he offered her – what she feared. Go back to her perfect, controlled life and leave him out in the cold.

“I love you,” She swore, meaning it with every fiber of her being. “I love you, Michael .”

He groaned, loud and low, against her neck, withdrawing slightly to thrust deeply into her. Her hands now unfettered, Rose clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist as every motion of his hips pushed her deep into the mattress. Here, far from civilization, there was no one to hear her moans, her cries, her screams of pleasure as the man she loved marked her for his own.

The man she loved …the words sounded much less ominous than she might have imagined. In fact, Rose reveled in saying them over and over, as Michael drove both their bodies to new heights of pleasure.

When he finally came, it was with her name on his lips, and Rose shuddered in delectation as his seed flooded her womb. One day, she knew, they would have a child – and in that instant she wanted it so much that she trembled at the notion. Michael’s child growing inside her…the prospect was both frightening and awe-inspiring.

Instead of leaving her, Michael pulled her close while he was still inside her, rubbing over her back in slow, gentle strokes until their breathing evened. Cupping her face, he drew her gaze upwards to meet his. “I love you, Rose.” He murmured, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. “No matter who or what I am, I will always love you.”

The young heiress laughed softly. She could never imagine Michael being anything but what he was – a Tate, a Lord and a Doctor. The man she loved. The man she would soon marry.

How the world could change.

**

If Lord Michael Tate thought he was busy before proposing marriage to Rose, what came after was a veritable litany of activity. Of course, Alice was the first to know that his machinations had gone according to plan, and after triumphantly claiming that she had always told him so, his sister congratulated him with a warm embrace for both him and his bride to be. She and Rose, he found, were getting along swimmingly, which could only bode well for the future.

Of course, Elias and Catherine were the next to find out. Cat all but danced in joy – at least, as much as she could dance a mere two weeks away from her due date. Elias didn’t seem overly surprised, merely citing that he was proud that his best friend had grown some balls. Michael owed him one for that, and he had plans to torture Elias specifically at his Stag party.

Then, of course, there were he and Rose’s parents. Michael found himself quite somber when he spoke with the Earl and the Countess, if for no other reason than because he knew he was playing into their hands. It was quite convenient for them that he had happened to fall in love with the woman they picked, and he made it clear, on no uncertain terms, that they might very well have lost him in trying to pigeonhole him into his “duties”. Furthermore, he announced, there would be no Tate heirs until he was good and ready.

He enjoyed the look on their faces. Michael considered it payback for the hell they had put him through. They could stay on pins and needles for a couple years more. It might take just that long for him to forgive them.

Rose’s parents, for their part, garnered more joy from the match, seeing as though their plans had been slightly less of an ultimatum for their daughter. At the news of Rose’s engagement, they came to visit and celebrate personally with the Tates, and it was the first time in a while that Michael got drunk with the gentry that made him so uneasy. Rose apologized uneasily, over and over, for her mother pinching Michael’s cheeks and calling him ‘son.’ For his part, the good doctor merely threatened to cut off her brandy for medical reasons and she sidled away reluctantly. For this, Rose called him a wonder.

And in bed that night, he showed her how wondrous he could truly be.

Of course, with news of the engagement, the benefit evolved. Over the next few weeks, it became as much of an engagement party for Michael and Rose as it did a cause to raise money for Congolese in need. Instead of wedding presents, Rose urged their prospective guests to give monetary gifts to charity, and they obliged handsomely.

By the night of the actual event, they had close to four million pounds in donations, and the number only continued to grow.

Michael had hardly left his bride’s side since their engagement, but on the night of the benefit, she begged off to visit Elias and Cat in the city. The couple was busy with helping in the gala preparations and adjusting to life as new parents. Baby Liam had arrived just a week after Michael and Rose’s engagement, and Rose was eager to help Cat dress him for the party.

Which left Michael completely alone for the first time in four weeks.

After he’d showered, he took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. Tonight, he would see Rose in her element – happy and working towards a cause close to her heart. In six months, she would be his wife. His forever.

So why did he feel a twinge of guilt when he thought about his beloved fiancée?

On the night they had celebrated their engagement with their parents, Rose’s very inebriated mother had whispered to him:

“You know she had plans to leave us? Vietnam, Thailand or some pitiful other country like that. She held it over our heads for weeks when I insisted she would love you if she just met you. And look, I was absolutely right!”

Rose had turned immediately scarlet and shushed her mother. Michael, of course, thought nothing of it until she spoke of the matter later on, in his arms.

“I told them that I was going to Vietnam once things fell through with this. Made them promise to double the time I stayed after I proved you were wrong for me. I was stubborn…it seems juvenile now but…no secrets, right?”

No secrets.

It was quite the reasonable request. They were going to be sharing their lives together, after all, and the fact that Rose trusted him enough to tell him something so trivial humbled Michael.

It just further solidified his determination that she should also know the truth.

It was impossible the count the number of times over the past few weeks Michael had tried to tell Rose about his true parentage- about the ridiculous stipulation his parents had placed upon him. No matter how he spun it, the story sounded ugly. He could never quite bring himself to let it spill out. What he needed was the right place and the right time.

Both had seemed to be in short supply with how busy they’d been lately.

But he would tell her. Michael swore that, before they were married, he’d tell her everything .

With a sigh, the man splashed water on his face as he contemplated himself one last time. Tonight was all about Rose. He wouldn’t concern himself with other, more trivial matters.

Michael dressed quickly and impeccably. Despite the traffic, he made it to London in under two hours and arrived at the venue – a breathtaking museum that Elias had designed years ago – right on time. While the driver went to park the car, he greeted the paparazzi as graciously as he could before hurrying inside.

There were hundreds of well-dressed, extremely moneyed guests bowing and kowtowing. Of course, these types of social events usually made him uneasy, but this one he would bear for Rose’s sake.

The ballroom was decorated exquisitely, with silver and purple streamers strung wall to wall and a light display to imitate the starry night sky. Michael checked with the doorman to make sure most of the guests had arrived on time before moving into the crowd in an attempt to find familiar faces.

Rose told him that she would be wearing a silver gown, and so he looked for her eagerly. Instead, of finding her, however, his eye was caught by several big-screen, LCD TVs broadcasting live news events from the Congo. Thankfully, there was nothing too macabre running, so he turned his attention back to finding his fiancée –

And almost ran headlong into Catherine.

At the sight of her, Michael grinned. He almost didn’t recognize her without her pregnant belly. Instead, she carried a minute infant, dressed in a tiny tux. Anyone who saw baby Liam loved him immediately, and Michael had to admit that he wasn’t immune to the boy’s charms either. “I was worried you might not make it in the traffic.” Cat beamed, bouncing Liam gently. She looked radiant in a red dress that set off her green eyes and Michael promptly pecked her cheek in greeting.  “And how are you , Liam?” He lowered his voice, taking the pro-offered child from Cat’s arms to cradle him gently. The warm weight made his heart unexpectedly light as he rocked Liam back and forth. “Are you behaving for Mummy? We wouldn’t want you taking after your father, would we?” At that, Cat snickered.

Liam yawned, opening his tiny mouth wide – and promptly spit up on the sleeve of Michael’s jacket.

The doctor winced as Cat immediately flushed in embarrassment. “Oh Jesus, Michael, I’m sorry. I burped him earlier-”

“It’s fine,” He brushed off her apology with a crooked grin, depositing Liam back in her arms. “I’ll just clean up in the toilet. Be right back.”

“Rose is waiting for you by the buffet!” Cat called after him. “I’ll tell her you’re here!” With a smart nod, Michael turned and began making his way towards the bathrooms. Thankfully, people made way relatively quickly in the face of baby soil, and he made it to the men’s room fairly quickly.

The stain, however, wasn’t quite so accommodating. Michael removed his jacket and rubbed at the sleeve devotedly for five minutes with no improvement. He was, in fact, still rubbing when the door to the men’s room opened once more.

“Michael?”

His head popped up to see Elias in the doorway and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I might have to forfeit my jacket. This stain is impossible-”

“Mike you need to get out here, right now.” Elias’ expression was grave – on the edge of panic – and the moment Michael realized, he rushed from the bathroom. The moment they were back on the ballroom floor, the first thing he noticed was that silence had fallen over the crowd. The only sound was the voice of a TV reporter. The volume from the TV had been raised, and every guest watched the screen with rapt attention.

“-We have here a man who is part of the Freedom Militia. In the wake of a visit to the Congo by British nationals, he has pressing information to share about the sanctity of Congolese soil.”

Michael’s mouth fell open as the reporter on screen extended her microphone to none other than the man from whom Michael had taken a gun. He had meant to kill him on that dusty, hot day in the Congo, but Michael turned the tables. The Doctor would never forget his filthy teeth and cruel smile.

“This man…he call himself Doctor,” The militant trilled in broken English. “He is no doctor. He is not even English.” To Michael’s shock, the man waved a handful of Polaroids in front of the cameras. They were pictures Rose had taken of the Tate family tree to help children read...along with a copy of what he now knew to be his own baby picture. “I have proof here ,” the Congolese man continued. “Proof that he is not English. He is RUSSIAN. We let this man onto our soil and he could be a spy or something just as bad! ” He leered into the camera, clearly glad of the attention as he continued. “I have the papers here. I research him. He is from RUSSIA. His father is bad man. Very bad man. He only pretends to be English. And why, you ask ?” Michael felt nausea begin to turn his stomach as the man held up a picture of Rose. Lord and Lady Lithgall’s audible gasps echoed around the room. “I have information that he is marrying THIS woman. Rich woman. How can he have money if he not English? He wants to marry rich lady and take her money. Take her name. ”

This idiot had everything all wrong. …but he was close enough to being right that Michael’s mother and father were beginning to look alarmed. Even Alice’s face had flushed from where she stood close to the punch bowl.

“If you do not believe me, ASK him. ASK this fake Englishman. Ask and you will see, he is a DEMON…”

Michael couldn’t bear to hear any more. He forced himself to shut it out. To shut everything out. The questioning stares shot his way, his parents’ desperate, pleading gaze. He needed to go back to the bathroom – to take a minute to think-

“Michael?”

He froze.

All at once, she was there, in front of him. Rose – a vision in silver silk and pearls. Her gray eyes were wide and questioning as she looked from him to the TV and back again. “What bollocks is he on about?”

Michael swallowed thickly. This was not how he wanted it to happen. Not now. “Rose…I…” Michael’s parents were making their way towards him in a panic – the Earl was all but shoving his way through the crowd in an attempt to get to his son. “Listen to me, Rose: this isn’t what it seems.”

“Then what is it?” She replied, her voice somewhat mild, as she gazed up at him.

“Not here .” Michael grunted as his arm was suddenly taken in an iron grip. He glanced back to see his sister had taken hold of both his and Rose’s arms and propelled them away from the ballroom. Within a trice, the woman found an exhibition room and shoved them both inside.

In an instant, the door was shut behind them, and Michael found himself staring down at his very lost-looking fiancée.

The woman he loved.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?

Chapter 8: Bound Together

 

“ He’s lying, isn’t he?” Rose’s voice rang out through the empty exhibition room as she stared up at Michael in the semi-darkness. “Just a bid for attention. He went back to Elisee’s village, and did God knows what to get those photos, and now he hopes to someone infect the international community with his lies. ”

Michael’s heart ached. He didn’t know what hurt more – the realization that evil had, once again, found the village they had tried so hard to help or that he had no idea how to explain things to Rose so they made sense.

“Rose…there is some truth in what he says.” Even in the dim light of the room, he could see her face fall. Rose searched his expression almost desperately, as if she expected him to soothe the alarm rising in her mind. “I am Russian by birth. I didn’t know until very recently…I’m sure you might have seen the Tate family tree in the book you borrowed.” The young woman merely gaped as he continued. “I was adopted…apparently the love child of a Russian minister and his lover. My parents told me they wanted to save me, but I’m sure what they wanted was a trump card they could use later, so they took me away and raised me as a Tate. But I’m not a spy. I didn’t even know about this until a few weeks ago. How a man with the resources of a Congolese militant discovered the details is beyond me.”

He didn’t think his chest had ever been so tight. Rose stared up at him, her attention focused on him until he finished speaking, When he trailed off, she stepped forward, her expression unreadable. “Is that all this is?” She inquired softly, her fingers curling into his shoulders. In her earnest gaze, she begged him to be finished – hoped with every fiber of her being that that was all there was to this misunderstanding.

And Michael knew that he had to tell her all of it. He couldn’t marry her unless Rose knew the entire truth.

“That’s not all.” He had hoped for better circumstances than this, but in that moment, it occurred to Michael that maybe the magic scenario he was waiting on would never come. “There were certain…conditions placed on my adoption. As I was a Russian citizen almost forty years ago, the way things were done was…antiquated. Ridiculous.”

“How ridiculous?” Her fingers were now curled so tightly into his arms that he could feel the tips of her nails through his shift. Her eyes were hard on his, and Michael’s heart hammered heavily against his ribs.

“It was required that I…marry. Into a true British noble family. The marriage license would secure my status as a Tate and my ability to provide heirs, completing my citizenship and assuring my inheritance, as well as the familial line.”

Rose froze, every muscle in her body going visibly stiff. Michael could see the cogs in her mind working and rushed to reassure her that it wasn’t what she thought it was. “Rose, this means nothing . I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you-”

“When did you find out about your inheritance?” She cut him off sharply, her eyes blazing defiance. “Tell me.”

Bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell. Michael swallowed thickly. No secrets. “The week before we were engaged.”

Rose staggered back from him as if he’d physically struck her, her expression horrified. Michael made to go after her, only to have Rose throw a hand up in warning. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you bloody touch me! ”

“Rose.” He could feel his heart being torn into a thousand pieces at the betrayed expression on her face. “Please believe me.”

“Believe you?” She replied incredulously, her voice trembling. “You want me to believe that you want to marry me after knowing me for six weeks? That you’re madly in love? That this just happened to coincide with the knowledge that everything would be taken from you if you didn’t marry posthaste.” She began to shake her head slowly in disbelief. “I can’t believe I fell for it…that I almost…” A choked sob escaped her, and Michael’s eyes slid shut. He could hardly breathe.

He had to gather the wherewithal to tell her. To make her understand that this had nothing to do with money or titles. That he’d never felt the same about any woman he’d ever known. But the words wouldn’t come. All he could see was the devastated expression on her face. 

All at once, there was a soft tinkling sound and Michael’s eyes popped open as a small object struck the ground at his feet. His eyes widened when they fell on Rose’s engagement ring before jerking back to her face in horror.

The woman’s expression was stony, absolutely cold – even as her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “You can take your bloody hope diamond and shove it up your arse.”

With that, she turned on her heel, flinging the door to the room open before storming out.

Leaving Michael utterly alone.

His face a mask of disbelief, the Doctor bent to pick up the ring at his feet. As he raised it to his line of vision, it glimmered in the low light. Michael remembered the look of shock on Rose’s face when she first laid eyes on it. Remembered how she’d trembled as he slipped it on his finger. He had never imagined he might feel any greater emotion than he had in that moment.

But now, he knew better.

The weight of tragedy was far heavier than the elation of triumph.

He floated through the rest of the event on a blurry haze of automatic responses as gentlemanly airs. He had long learned to mask his real feelings behind politeness, and now, for the first time, he welcomed the anonymity .Of course, his guests wanted to know what had happened. What the Congolese man on the television had been talking about – but Michael allowed his parents and sister to field their particular concerns. He himself focused as best he could on running the benefit.

Even though Rose had long fled. He couldn’t answer guests who asked him where she was, so, instead, he redirected their interests. He pandered their fundraising and, by the end of the night, they had raised almost ten million dollars in relief funds.

And he felt absolutely nothing.

Michael left as soon as he was able, despite Elias’ demands that he tell him what had happened. He drove the Rolls Royce himself, not back to his parents’ manor, but to his own apartment in North London.

Though he was sure the maid had been in frequently, the place seemed oddly musty – and completely empty. Where Michael had once enjoyed his solitude, he now found it almost overbearing. In the past few weeks he’d spent with Rose, he’d grown used to having her at his side. Used to the thought of having her forever .

But he’d blown all of that.

Bloody fucking hell if he’d just been honest with her from the get-go…maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe she would still be here with him…

But it wasn’t going to help him to dwell on maybes and what could-have-beens. Right now, he needed to get good and fucking drunk. That was the only thing that was going to help him. With a sigh, he tossed his jacket on the couch and retrieved a bottle of Macallans from where Elias had placed it in the cabinet months ago. He started to get a glass but ultimately decided that he didn’t care and began drinking straight from the bottle.

Rose.

He lost her.

He lost her.

He couldn’t ever remember feeling so desolate.

Michael drank until his senses were dulled – until the sharp pain in his chest reduced to an excruciating ache and his vision started to run together. He had never been a heavy drinker, but right now, he needed, more than anything, to block out the gravity of his mistakes. He hadn’t the wherewithal to deal with them with his usual grace. No, right now, if he were sober, he would throw things. Break them. Be completely and totally idiotic.

So he needed to drink.

He was, in fact, so inebriated, that he didn’t notice his phone buzzing in his pants pocket. When he fumbled to pull it from his slacks, he noticed that he had no less than ten missed calls. Some were from Elias, more than a few were from Alice, but five were from his parents.

They had enormous bollocks to be trying to contact him right now. They’d spent the entire evening of the benefit bowing and scraping, reassuring people that the Congolese militia man who’d tried to shoot him was lying through his teeth in an attempt to cause an uproar – and, luckily enough, almost all of the Benefits patrons believed them.

How fortunate they were to just be able to erase their mistakes. A snap of their fingers and they were gone. While he was looking over his calls, his phone began to vibrate once more, his mother’s name scrolling across the screen.

Michael contemplated merely tossing the device in the toilet and flushing it down, but on impulse, he answered.  “Hello, Mum.”

“Michael, thank goodness you’re alright!” The Countess immediately gushed with the typical drama. “We were worried sick about you! Where have you gone?”

“Home.” The Doctor took a swig of liquor from the half-empty bottle on the table before him. “I won’t be coming back to the manor. You can have Annie pack my things and send them back to my flat.”

“…Darling, that’s ridiculous! You need to come back to the manor and speak to Rose! She’s packing all her things to leave and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of her engagement ring. What happened , Michael?”

The diamond was hard in his pocket, pressing against his thigh. When he first saw it in the shop, his only thought was how beautiful it would look on Rose’s delicate finger. Now, without her, it was just a rock, threatening to cut into his flesh. “There is no engagement, mother.”

The Countess inhaled so sharply that Michael was surprised she didn’t swallow her mobile phone whole. “Rose knows all about the adoption and the stipulations. I told her everything at the benefit.”

“But…but darling!” Countess Angela Tate had a bad habit of stuttering when she was nervous. She almost never did so, but now, she was quite panicked.  “W-why would you do s-such a thing! You two were s-so splendid together!”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” he replied flatly. “Better to tell her now then have it come out in the wash later.”

“But she broke off the engagement? Michael, d-dear, that means…you only have another y-year or so before-”

“Fuck the titles, mother.” Michael’s words were sharp and piercing, designed to hurt. “Fuck the inheritance and fuck the Tate family reputation. This is your doing. You wanted your bloody heir but you didn’t think about your son, did you?” Rising from the couch, he picked up the bottle to carry with him as he began to pace furiously, years of frustration pouring from him. “You were never willing to accept me for what I was. You only wanted to mold me in your image – and now look where it’s gotten you. You’re only worried about a bloody fucking marriage for politics sake and, you know what? You won’t get it.” He took another swallow from the bottle, quite pleased to hear his mother all but hyperventilating over the phone. “I’m not touching another woman. Ever. No marriage, no children – nothing. And when the year is up, everyone will know the truth of what you’ve done. It’s the least you deserve.”

For almost a full minute, silence reigned between them. When the Countess finally spoke, her tone was meek and pleading. “But, Michael, you could just as easily find another…there are p-plenty of beautiful, willing ladies-”

Michael snapped. Regardless of the drink intended to dull his senses and the desolation that consumed him, his mother’s selfish request was enough to slam his temper to the forefront.

“I love her! ” He roared into the receiver, sending the half-full bottle of Macallans hurtling against the opposite wall to smash in a fountain of glass and liquor. “I love her and your bloody machinations have ruined my chances with her! How can you be so fucking cruel as to imply that there’s another! I would rather fucking die than inherit your name you selfish crone! ”

His phone went the same way as the bottle, smashing into tiny bits and pieces against the marble of the kitchen counter. Once it was decimated, Michael sank down onto his haunches behind the sink, his breathing ragged.

Goddamn it. Goddamn it .

Inhaling long and slow, he attempted to force himself to calm down. He’d always had a hold on his temper - never let it rule him. But this…this was too much.

He knew he’d been harsh with his mother. Somewhere down deep, she probably loved him s truly as she purported to. But that love was buried in a place he couldn’t reach. Somewhere deep beneath selfish aspiration and superficiality.

Well, he would have no more part in it. None .

Trembling in fury, the man rose to his feet and padded back to the liquor cabinet, heedless of the shards of glass that cut into his feet.

He needed another bottle like he needed air to breathe. Maybe if he drank enough, he would stop seeing her face.

His precious, precious Rose.

The next week was hell. At least, it was when he wasn’t drunk. After attempting to go to the hospital on Monday and being sent home by superiors shocked at his haggard appearance, Michael consciously decided to drink himself into a constant stupor. Why not? It would be a while before he could get his mind together enough to practice again, so why not fill his head with drink.

At least, that way, he didn’t have to think of her.

But even with the constant IV of alcohol running down his throat, Michael couldn’t forget Rose completely. When he lay in bed, he remembered how she felt next to him when she slept. He remembered how she nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder and pressed soft kisses there until he shuddered and gave into her desires.

He remembered the way she gazed defiantly up at him when he challenged her and the way she spoke her mind, regardless of what anyone else thought. How long, he wondered, would it take his vivid memories to fade?

Funny, in the end, he and Rose had parted at the end of the summer. Only Michael had never imagined that it would be like this.

Sequestered in his apartment, Michael went through a bottle of Macallans a day. When he ran out, he ordered more. When he needed to eat, he ordered takeaway – which only served to remind him how highly Rose thought of a good takeaway.

His parents continued to try and contact him, and his mother even tried to visit, but Michael wouldn’t buzz her up. He wouldn’t even listen to her pleas for forgiveness. They were the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment.

Elias got a little further. Michael actually allowed him into the apartment and offered him a drink. When the architect instead merely commented on how shitty he looked and how he needed to hurry up and return to his old self, Michael merely stared at him blankly. After an hour of insulting, cajoling and ultimate frustration, Elias stormed out with a threat to send Cat and the baby over to guilt him into conceding.

But Michael knew that he would never follow through. A good father would never send his wife and child into a dark apartment littered with empty liquor bottles – no matter who its occupant was. So he was safe in his solitude.

Or so he thought.

On Monday of the second week, Alice came to visit him. He had, of course, ignored all her calls, and so when she arrived, she merely let herself in with a spare key. Michael was lounging in his living room, starting his daily bottle, when she appeared before him. As always, Alice looked breathtaking without a hair out of placed. Juxtaposed with his newly dingy flat, she looked even more radiant.

For a long beat, she merely gazed down at him, her expression disgusted. Then, she rounded his coffee table to snatch his bottle away from him before he could take his next sip. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Michael merely glared at her, groping for his Macallans. “Give that back.”

“Like hell. You look a mess.” His sister scoffed, giving him a withering once over that might have once made him cringe. Now, Michael found he hardly cared. When he failed to answer her, she merely took his bottle with her when she stalked away from him to the drapes covering the windows. When she flung them open to let in the bright sunlight, Michael cursed.

“Fuck, Alice. What are you doing?”

“No, what are you doing, you bloody idiot?” She countered sharply, setting the bottle firmly out of his reach. “Sitting here in your apartment, drinking yourself into old age. Don’t be such a pouting little cunt.” From Alice, the insult had an effect it hadn’t from Elias and Michael’s eyes narrowed in affront.

His gaze never leaving his sister, he rose from the couch to make his way to the liquor cabinet, from which he retrieved another bottle of whiskey and proceeded to open it in front of her, with flourish. “Did you just come here to insult me?” He took a long swallow and Alice reddened.

“I came to get you off your arse.” Alice snapped, visibly irritated. “Seeing as how no one else seems to be able to.”

“What if I don’t want to get off my arse?” He replied scathingly, sinking back down onto the couch obtrusively. “What if I just want to be alone?”

Alice merely glared at him scathingly for a long beat before she spoke again. “Why didn’t you come home the night of the benefit, Mike? You could have spoken to her. Reasoned with her. Instead, you just came skulking back to your apartment like a brat.”

Michael’s chest tightened as his glare intensified. “Alice, don’t.”

“I heard her, Michael. She was pissed, yes. She was packing up to leave but she was sobbing . I heard it every time I passed by her door. I wanted to go in and try to make her feel better, but I had no business. It could only have been you. But you weren’t there . She was upset and you weren’t there to comfort her.”

“Stop it.” He cut in sharply, his stomach twisting viciously. No amount of liquor could help him drown out the pain Alice’s words brought. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“God knows where she is now!” Alice burst, throwing up her hands in frustration. “Long gone! All you had to do was talk to her. Use that exceedingly big head of yours and find a solution, but you’re so wrapped up in your own horse shit-”

“Shut up! ” Michael bellowed, his voice echoing through the emptiness of his apartment as he held his ground against Alice for perhaps the first time in his life. After all, this was no petty squabble they were speaking of. This was his life and he wouldn’t have her belittle it. “Shut up and get out of my house! I don’t want you here!”

Alice’s reaction was instantaneous.

She struck him, hard, the loud smack ringing to the ceiling as she stood before him, trembling in anger. For split second, Michael was shocked. It was the first time he’d felt anything but anger and desolation for almost a week, and it broke through the cloudy haze of his depressed, drunken stupor. As his cheek smarted sharply, he touched the injury gently, before looking to his sister in surprise.

“First of all,” Alice’s tone remained just as curt as before, “You don’t ever talk that way to me. Ever . Next time you’ll get a knee to the scrotum for your troubles. Second…” the young woman paused a moment before she stepped forward to wrap her arms around him and pull him into her embrace.

In that moment, Michael realized how exhausted he was. Exhausted from being angry, from being upset – from being everything under the sun except the one thing he had once prided himself on: rational. The moment Alice’s arms were around him, he melted, sagging against her as the bottle in his hand clattered to the floor. With a sigh, Alice rubbed up and down his back comfortingly. She was the only women he knew who could slap him one moment and be embracing him the next. “It’s going to be alright.” Alice murmured softly. “You can fix this. I know you can.”

A hopeless, hollow laugh escaped him. “How? You told me that she was gone. After I left her alone, she spent an entire night crying and then took off. How am I supposed to find her now? How am I supposed to make her believe me?”

Alice looked up, cupping her elder brother’s face so she could gaze into his hazel eyes. “You made her fall in love with you once. Now you just have to make her remember why.”

He groaned.

Alice made it sound so easy. God knew she was quite the authority on love for never having actually encountered it herself. With a groan, Michael turned away from her, raking a hand through his unkempt hair. God, how long had it been since he’d showered or shaved? An eternity it seemed like. He realized, for the first time, how odious his mouth tasted

God, he had been such a fool.

“Please tell me you’re not going to let your pride stand in the way of going after the woman you insist you love.”

When Alice goaded him needlessly, Michael turned on her, his expression fierce. “I do love her! More than anything in the entire cosmos!”

At that, Alice merely grinned, crossing her arms over her chest in obvious satisfaction. “Prove it.”

**

One month later

She was an idiot. An utter and complete fool.

Sitting on a mound of warm sand, Rose curled her toes into the grains beneath her as she stared out at the ocean. It seemed as if it could go on forever – and endless, glassy plain of blue that she could lose herself in.

That she wanted to lose herself in.

There were worse places she could have come, really. Ultimately, she had stuck to her plan. She came to the place she professed she always would: Thailand. Now, sitting on a remote beach about one hundred meters away from the village where she’d taken up residence, Rose tried her utmost to feel the sense of serenity and fulfillment that enveloped her the last time she had come to this place.

Tried and failed.

But then…nothing had been easy since she’d left England. Nothing had turned out the way she wanted it to.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to remember the events of a month prior and was quietly ashamed that tears still welled in her eyes. Why on earth was she crying? She had rid herself of a man who used her – found out just in time to keep from being a pawn in his plan to maintain wealth and power.

Why wasn’t she elated ?

Christ, what a complicated question.

Sucking in a breath, Rose forced her eyes open. If she opened them, she wouldn’t have to think about what could have been.

But sometimes…sometimes she let herself remember.

Those two weeks in Africa. They should have been absolute hell. She and Michael had been in a war torn country trying to save people with little chance of success. Ultimately, she didn’t know what had become of Elisee and her people after she and Michael left. But, while they were there, they had done some good. They helped people.

They helped each other.

For her entire life, Rose had believed that the concept of love was a lark. A lie designed to trick women into settling when they could be so much more. Her parents had been hell bent on pressing her into marriage because it was the “proper” thing to do. Proper her arse. She lived in the twenty-first century. She was her own woman and Rose was hell bent on doing only what she deemed worth her time.

Africa had been worth her time. Not only because of Elisee and her people, but because of Michael. He was the first person she’d ever met who she truly believed understood her. So much so that he put his own life on the line to get her to a place he had never gone and used his skills to help her cause.

No one had ever done anything so selfless for her before.

So, yes, their time in Africa had been dangerous. Ultimately, Michael’s sister Alice had arrived to take them away before they were killed.

But those two weeks had been bliss. Rose had been able to keep a promise and help people who needed her…and she had also gotten to know Michael intimately. She watched him work his magic on the people in the village – the man was a medical Messiah. He could practically lay his hands on someone and heal them. His skills were unparalleled, not only in a plush hospital in a first world country, but also out in the middle of nowhere – where it really counted.

She had really, truly believed that she cared for him.

The way he touched her…the way he held her…God, she had craved him. She still did, if she were honest with herself.

Was that why she couldn’t let him go?

Or was it because he had lied to her? Because he had allowed her to believe that he was a kind, selfless soul when, really, he was no different from the rest of them?

He had really had her fooled. The way he so easily cast aside the trimmings and trappings of nobility to enter her world. How much of it, she wondered, had been an act? Had it all just been an act? The soup kitchen, the trip they took…even the night he proposed to her in the cabin on the lake.

She could still recall how shocked she’d been. How the rational side of her warred heartily with the part that had fallen head over heels for the man without she herself even realizing it.

She hadn’t known him for very long, but Lord Michael Tate was the only man she ever loved. The only man who saw her for who she really was.

And the only man to hurt her so completely.

Rose remained on the beach, close to the water, until the sun went down. Only when the last magenta streaks of light had disappeared from the dark sky did she return back to her village to help make the evening meal.

In all honesty, she barely remembered leaving England. Everything was a blur. After Michael revealed his deception to her, the only thing she could think about was getting away from him, even as some weak, clinging part of her wished that he would come after her. Tell her it was all a joke. That he did love her…

But he hadn’t come.

She spent the entire night flinging things furiously around her room, sobbing, refusing to talk to the Tates and readying for her departure.

Of course, her parents demanded to know what had happened when she told them the engagement was off. They wanted her to come home and discuss things – to be rational. But Rose was far beyond being able to listen to them. She booked the first ticket to Bangkok she could find and left the next morning at dawn.

The only person awake to see her off was Alice.

Of course, Rose meant to leave the house without anyone’s knowledge. In a perfect world, she would never talk to another Tate as long as she lived.

But fate hadn’t been on her side recently.

Alice caught her on her way out the door. The dark-haired woman was still clad in her nightgown and robe when she approached Rose, and it was only out of civility that Rose even spoke to her at all.

“Please, wait.” It was the only time Rose had ever seen Alice anything other than calm and composed. Her expression was worried, her lovely eyes ringed with dark circles. “Wait for him, Rose. He’ll make things right.”

Like hell she would.

Rose had forced a small smile onto her face and dipped her head to kiss Alice briefly on the cheek. “Thank you for everything, Lady Tate.”

Those were her last words in Tate manor. Rose had gone straight from Northern England to Heathrow airport and been in Bangkok within ten hours. She had hoped that the strain of travel would help her to forget the humiliation she endured, but she hadn’t been so lucky.

It had taken her two days to reach the isolated village of Phi Ao in Southern Thailand. It was where Rose had spent her tenure in the Peace Corps, and she remembered it intimately. Despite the fact that she hadn’t formally told any of the residents she was coming, when she arrived, they greeted her with open arms. She was welcomed as if she had never left, and in that, she found some small measure of comfort.

She hoped she would heal.

And, one day, she knew she would. But for now, as she helped to serve children the rice their mothers had cooked them, the pain in her heart was still enough to temper any joy she might feel. Where, she wondered bitterly, was Michael now? Had he already moved onto the next unsuspecting, moneyed woman in London? How quickly would he get her to agree to his proposal of marriage?

Though the idea of Michael being with another woman made her physically ill, she forced herself to relive it over and over. It was the only way she would be able to distance herself from him.

Rose managed to last until after dinner before she hurried to the edge of the village to empty the contents of her stomach miserably. It seemed that ever since she left London, she could barely keep anything down. Of course, she had often heard rumors of someone being so heartsick that it made their body physically ill, but she had never believed them.

Not until recently.

That night, she lied awake on her cot, staring up at the thatched roof of the hut she shared with a woman named Pri and her small daughter Lau and wondering when she’d be able to forget. When she would be back to her old self again and be able to move on with her life.

Hopefully, being in Thailand would help. It had to. If helping these people didn’t hasten her journey back to the real world, she wasn’t sure what would.

The days seemed to pass at a snail’s pace for Rose. Every morning, she awoke early to help the children on their way to school. In the small but cleanly space, she did her best to help the teacher educate them. Of course, her best subject was English, and after four weeks in Phi Ao, she was proud to discover that almost all of the children knew their alphabet. Rose also wasn’t too shabby in arithmetic, and so she helped where she could when the teacher fell short.

Her afternoons were spent helping to harvest food and fish – a sport she used to enjoy heartily but now she found she could barely muster the strength for it. By the time she went about her evening duties and into dinner, she was exhausted, all but crawling into bed. It seemed she grew more and more tired by the day, but Rose wasn’t convinced she was anything but profoundly depressed until one of the village elders was found dead in her hut one morning.

A quick diagnosis by one of the only trained nurses among them proved that it was a particularly virulent strain of Malaria, thought to be confined to the north of the country. Almost immediately, the news spread through the village. Everyone was warned to wash their hands with soapy water, make sure food was thoroughly cleaned and cooked, and, most of all, to make sure that mosquito bites were dealt with quickly.

Of course, it was impossible to avoid the buggers altogether. Rose herself had been bitten hundreds of times in the month she’d been in the village. Ultimately, she told herself that putting anything on her skin was fighting a losing battle.

At least until the Malaria outbreak started.

Despite their best efforts, the people of the village sickened, one by one. First, the small children fell ill, and then their mothers, in an effort to care for them. Then those tending to the sick were infected until, finally, in only two weeks’ time, over seventy percent of the village was sick. Numerous pleas were sent to larger cities to send a doctor, but so far, no one had come. Rose did the best she could to keep up with the demand for care, but when Lily, the nurse who had diagnosed the first case, died, she found herself swamped with work. She ran from hut to hut from dawn until dusk, barely stopping to eat and sleep for a few hours every night. Even as exhausted as she was, Rose told herself that if she just pushed through it, things would come out better on the other side. These people needed her and she couldn’t let them down.

That thought kept her going right up until she collapsed in the village square one morning, not a single hour after getting up.

It came without warning. One moment, Rose felt hot and dizzy and the next she was coming to on the ground, a host of concerned faces hovering above her. “Rose?” Pri’s voice was faint, almost as if she were half a world away. “Are you alright, Rose?”

“I’m fine,” Rose tried to speak, but her words came out in the weakest of whispers. Why couldn’t she lift her head? All of her limbs felt like lead and her mouth might have been full of cotton. Her expression alarmed, Pri raised a hand to feel Rose’s forehead and drew back in shock. “She’s burning up! Get her into one of the houses, quick!”

Burning up?

Was she sick? But she couldn’t be sick! She had work to do…

However, there was little Rose could do as the few healthy people left in the village pooled their strength to carry her to one of the only remaining free beds. As the villagers bustled around her, she finally allowed her exhaustion to overwhelm her and felt herself falling into darkness.

**

Phi Ao.

When the man Michael had paid to see him through Thailand first told him that the village would take two days to reach, he’d been skeptical. But he forced himself to let Coby do his job. After all, he hadn’t come this far to quit now.

As he sat in the back of a car racing towards the closest village that would allow them access to the jungle beyond, the tall man stared out of the window, his expression intense.

He wished he could have come sooner.

In truth, he would have come the moment his sister managed to snap him out of his drunken stupor, but he had encountered more than his fair share of obstacles. He had, of course, needed first and foremost to find Rose, and the only people who knew where she was were her parents.

Rose had once told Michael that their parents weren’t very different. They both came from noble families that prized wealth and prestige over anything else. However, when he had arrived at the Lithgall family estate, Lord and Lady Lithgall had laid into them not because he had bollocksed up the marriage they had so meticulously planned, but because he had driven their daughter away.

They were incensed, convinced – and not wrongly so – that Michael was the reason Rose had fled the country. They expelled him from their house and barred him from returning – which meant they also refused to divulge where their daughter had gone.

Thanks to Lady Lithgall’s drunken rant, Michael already knew it was somewhere in Thailand – but unless he got a more specific location, he might very well spend the rest of his life in the Southeast Asian country trying to find her. He needed to Lithgalls to help him, and, to say the least, they hadn’t been very accommodating. Every attempt Michael made to see them only resulted in further defiance until finally, shockingly , his parents had stepped in.

Predictably, Michael hadn’t wanted their help. He wanted nothing more to do with his family’s selfish bids to rule British nobility. Almost as if in tandem with the Lithgalls, he stolidly refused to see either of them until, finally, his mother got through to him.

Alice, nearly as shocked as he himself at the news, told him that her mother had come clean about everything. She had all but announced to British society the exact plight of Michael’s birth – that he needed to be married by the time he was thirty-seven in order to maintain citizenship and his family ties to the Tates…and how wrong she had been for accepting the terms set upon his adoption.

Of course, the latter profession had garnered Michael’s attention – enough that he agreed to see his mother.

Angela had met him tearfully, and to his complete surprise, revealed why she had outed their prestigious family’s secret.

“I love you, Michael. Perhaps I was too stubborn and foolish to have been so selfish until now, but I’d like to make up for it. Whether you marry or not…whether you can ever forgive me or find yourself unable to, I will always be your mother, and you my son. I will fight for you.”

Even now, months later, Michael was still reeling from her profession – from the tightness of, perhaps, the first earnest embrace she’d given him in her entire life.

His renewed faith in his parents allowed him to accept their health – and that was when the Tates began to pressure the Lithgalls. Admittedly, it didn’t take much for them to crack. The threat of social isolation in London was enough for them to grant Michael the meeting that led him to Southern Thailand – and the village in which he hoped to find Rose.

Coby and he arrived at An, the closed village to Phi Ao , around midday. From there, a village fisherman told them it was a full day’s trip through the jungle to reach Phi Ao , and that it would be better to wait until the storm brewing on the horizon had passed.

Michael had seen no storm, but true to the fisherman’s words, the next day, the sky opened up and rain poured down on the small village and rivulets. Michael and Coby were driven inside their own rented hut to wait out the storm, and every minute that ticked by only infuriated Michael more.

It rained for a full two days, and by then, all Michael’s clothes were soaked through with a mixture of perspiration and humidity. By the time he and Coby finally left, he was itching to escape the small confines of their hut.

Of course, the jungle was hardly any more kind. Their fisherman guide helped them to avoid some of the more dangerous animals and took the lead on a well-worn path through the foliage. Even so, Michael found it hard to keep his footing. The ground was uneven and the bags he carried weighed on him more with every step he took.

To keep his confidence, he reminded himself that Rose lie at the end of his journey. When he saw her, he would make up for all the pain he had caused her. As Alice had directed him, he would prove that he loved Rose more than life itself.

And he would win her back.

They got only a precious few hours of sleep that night, and when they awoke, the fisherman announced they were a scant four hours from Phi Ao. Michael had to resist the urge to shove the man aside and run the entire way. Instead, he kept to the path and followed the fisherman and Coby until the path finally ended. In the clearing beyond lay a very picturesque little Thai village against the brilliant backdrop of the sea.

Though Michael knew that it was in Rose’s nature to want to help people, he was sure it had helped her decision to come here that the place as absolutely beautiful.

As drew nearer, however, Michael noticed that something seemed…off. It was midday, and yet he couldn’t see a single inhabitant of the village milling about.

“We’re sure this is it?” He inquired skeptically to Coby. “It’s inhabited?”

“For sure.” The Thai man replied succinctly. “Fisherman are in and out all the time.”

So why did it seem so utterly deserted?

Michael didn’t see any signs of life at all until they were literally in the thick of the village itself. It was only then that he began to hear soft moaning – low wails of discomfort and almost inaudible sobbing.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. What on earth was happening here!?

All at once, two women and a man appeared in the doorway of a house not three meters in front of them. Between them, they carried a makeshift stretcher, and upon it was the body of a recently deceased teenage girl.

Michael’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t fight impulse and immediately raced to them. “What happened?” He demanded immediately, almost shocking the two women into dropping the load they carried.  “How did she die?”

For a long beat, all three villagers only stared at him and Michael cursed. They probably didn’t speak English. Luckily, Coby and the fisherman came to the rescue. Coby spoke to the trio in rapid Thai before turning back to Michael. “I told them you are a doctor. They say she died of Malaria. Most of the village is infected.”

Michael’s blood ran cold. “Ask them if they knew an Englishwoman living her. Her name is Rose. She might be helping with the sick.”

Coby nodded, immediately translating for the trio of villagers. One of the women’s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Rose’s name. “Rose?” She repeated in English. “Rose?”

“Yes, Rose!” Michael burst impatiently, taking the woman’s hand gently. “Do you know where she is?”

Quickly Coby convinced the fisherman to help him take the woman’s burden from her. The moment she was free, she wrapped strong fingers around Michael’s wrist and dragged him towards a line of huts in the rear. “She pointed to one of the last ones on the right and Michael thanked her quickly before breaking away and sprinting towards it.

Within a moment, he was inside the dim space. And the sight that met his eyes almost brought him to his knees.

Rose’s lithe, slender form lay on a narrow cot, paler than he’d ever seen her. Every inch of her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and she seemed to be struggling for breath. Next to her, a middle-aged Thai woman held her hand tightly, rocking back and forth with an anxious expression.

“Rose .” The word escaped him on a rush and Michael barely made it to her side before he collapsed to his knees. The woman next to him leapt to her feet. “Who are you!?” She demanded in perfect English. “What are you doing here?”

Michael could hardly speak. He took the hand the woman had dropped and felt the weak pulse at Rose’s wrist. Any elation he might have felt at being reunited with her was sapped from him at the sight of her struggling so hard to take her next breath. She was very, very ill.

But he had to keep his composure. It was one of the things Rose had so admired him for. If he couldn’t do that now, he wouldn’t be able to help her or any of the people in the village.

And he would have come here for nothing.

Somehow, he managed to speak. “I’m here to help.”

And it was the honest-to-God truth.

Michael had seen far too many epidemics in the past year. They were ugly things, products of isolated settlements and governments who cared little for their people. Luckily, in Phi Ao, there hadn’t been many deaths yet.

But there might have been. Had Michael not arrived when he had, who knew how long the villagers might have gone without medical care. He got to work within minutes of finding Rose’s barely breathing form, calling Coby, the fisherman and every able-bodied villager to him to give them direction.

He sent two of the villagers and the fisherman back to An in order to take a car and secure supplies from the nearest hospital. Coby and the others set on to work with the limited supplies he’d brought with him. For now, emphasis was placed on keeping people well hydrated and conscious.

But Rose was well beyond that. Though he knew he had other patients to tend to, Michael couldn’t bring himself to devote his full attention to them. Not with Rose clinging to life the way she was. According to Pri, her companion, she’d been bedridden for about a week, but the older woman suspected that Rose had been sicker for far longer. She’d been exhausted and listless almost since she’d arrived at the village, and now, it seemed as if she had lost the will to live.

Michael made her as comfortable as he could. He fed Rose a thin gruel, made sure she drank as much as she was able and mopped her fever moist skin. But until drugs arrived from a hospital in the closest city, there was little else he could do but pray.

Michael absorbed himself in his work. All in all, there were about thirty sick villagers, but most of them were still conscious. They could walk and feed themselves, and with Coby and the other villagers to help him, Michael could split his time evenly between Rose and overseeing their recovery.

For two days, he barely left her side. Michael did everything for her, helped the villagers cooked and clean, and prayed to whatever deity existed that he hadn’t come all this way just for Rose to slip through his fingertips.

Ultimately, his prayers were answered. Thirty-six hours after Fisherman Li had gone, he returned with the other two villagers on four wheelers with cases of anti-malarials. Everyone in the village was duly vaccinated, and those who needed them were given IVs. From then on, it was a simple waiting game.

One Michael hated playing.

To distract himself, he looked over Rose again and again Committed to memory features that he thought he might have forgotten. The way her hair curled over her shoulders almost to her waist, the soft pout of her lips and her incredible milky skin. He checked her pupils and vitals, especially her heart rate, which was up since she’d been vaccinated.

And that’s when he discovered it.

A second heartbeat.

For a moment, Michael thought that he was imagining things, but it was there. Light and faint – but growing in strength, a scant six inches from its mothers.

He could only stare, his mind awhirl.

Michael learned from the other villagers that Pri was Rose’s liaison. She didn’t speak Thai, and so Pri was both her friend, translator and confidant. She had said nothing about this, which led Michael to believe that she didn’t know.

Which meant that Rose didn’t know.

Dear sweet God …he’d left her alone here…she and the new life within might have died and he’d never have known…

Michael took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly as his heart filled until he could barely breathe. All he needed now was for her to wake up…and for the stitches that bound them to be completed for the last time.

**

Hers was a world of haze and half shadows. For the longest time, Rose wasn’t sure if she was asleep or awake. She was hot, then cold, then hot again. Somewhere in her dreams she heard the voices of Pri and the villagers, but found she wasn’t strong enough to respond. She knew she couldn’t be awake because, a few times, she heard Michael’s voice mingling with the ones she knew.

Even when she was barely conscious, she couldn’t escape him. Funny, it was also this half-awake state that allowed her to find her situation almost amusing. Lost somewhere between sleeping and wakefulness, pining for a man that cared nothing for her.

And then, one day, the dream ended.

And Rose woke up.

It happened very suddenly. One moment, she was swimming in darkness and the next she was staring at the thatched ceiling of an unfamiliar hut. She blinked at the bright light streaming in through the window before turning her head to gaze at her surroundings. The moment she did, the woman beside her leapt to her feet, tears in her eyes as she clutched at Rose’s limp arm. “Miss Rose! You’re awake. Thank God!”

Before Rose could ask anything of her, the woman released her hand and raced from the tent, leaving the young woman in a haze of confusion. Where did Pri go? Hopefully to get water because Rose was unbelievably parched.

She needed to get up and ask how long she had been sleeping. What happened to the villagers? Who was still sick?

“Rose.”

Her heart stopped.

Slowly, her gaze rose to the doorway of the hut, and for a moment, Rose was convinced she was still sleeping. That was the only way that Lord Michael Tate could be standing before her, in Thailand, thousands of kilometers away from home. “You’re finally awake.” She watched his expression in a mixture of awe and desire so sudden and fierce that it was almost enough to galvanize her into motion.

Why was he here? This man had hurt her. He had lied to her and ripped her heart from her chest. Why wasn’t he back in Britain, finding her replacement?

Slowly, Michael stepped into the tent, filling it with his presence. He looked tired – as if he hadn’t slept for days. But that made him no less devastatingly handsome – and hurt her heart no less. Those eyes…God , those eyes could undo her. “How do you feel?” Michael’s tone was carefully neutral, but his fists were clenched at his sides, and Rose found herself following thickly.

“Tired….awful, really.” She managed, her gaze never leaving him. “Like you look.”

That earned her a ghost of a smile, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You’re recovering from Malaria. I arrived a few days ago to find over half the village out with it. Luckily enough, we managed to acquire some anti-malarials from Phuket Everyone should be right as rain within the next week or two.”

She should be elated. The village would survive – Pri and her family would be fine. But, instead, Rose found herself nervous. She was too weak – too afraid to keep herself from asking the questions that rose to her lips.

And so, she didn’t. “Why did you come here?” Her voice barely rose above the rush of the waves beyond the window of the hut.

Without a word, Michael looked over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Rose was suddenly acutely aware of how haggard she must look. She’d been in a bed for what must have been days, she was covered in a sheen of sweat, and her mouth tasted awful.

And yet, Michael stared at her as if she were a priceless treasure on exhibit at the Louvre. Like he could want nothing more than to covet her for the rest of his life.

But…she had to be imagining the emotion in his eyes. It couldn’t be real. Believing that it was had gotten her into trouble. She couldn’t fall for his game again.

If it was a game he was playing , her rational mind piped up drily, why did he come all the way here from the UK? It was an awful long way to come just to satisfy a requirement far better suited to women close to home.

“I came for you.” Taking a step forward, Michael raised his gaze to hers, and the adoration she saw there, took her breath away. “Rose…you…you can’t imagine how I felt the moment I saw you lying there…clinging to life.” Another step forward brought him just inches from her bed, and Rose was terrified of what would happen if he came any closer. “I came here to find you…to convince you that what I feel for you is real but I didn’t know how real until I thought I might lose you.”

To her shock, the man dropped to his knees beside her bed, taking her hand. Rose let him. In fact, she reveled in the warmth that radiated from him – his gaze, his scent. It was everything about him she missed. Everything she denied herself. “Rose I love you. Without titles, without rules and regulations, I love you more than life itself and I will do anything…anything to prove it to you.”

She couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes. Rose wanted to be strong – to reject him and protect her heart, but she couldn’t. Not this time.

“Rose…listen to me. Before you say anything,” Reaching forward carefully, Michael rested his large hand on the flat expanse of her lower belly. “You’re with child.”

Rose stopped breathing.

Even as she wanted to deny the possibility – to insist that she had been protected, a part of her had known it was true. Even before she fell sick with Malaria, she had been constantly lethargic. Sick to her stomach. Her breasts had recently grown tender and she was hard pressed to remember her last cycle. She’d been so wrapped up in the shambles of her life that she’d attributed all the symptoms to stress…but deep down, she had known exactly what they were.

A baby.

She was pregnant with Michael’s child. “I heard the second heartbeat while I was examining you,” Michael continued, his voice tremoring slightly over the words, “you’re going to be fine. The baby is fine. Rose, all I heard was the most minute of flutters…I thought I was imagining it, but I knew….and I wanted it. I want you, Rose. And I want our baby.” Reaching up, the man cupped her cheek and Rose felt a heart she was sure had been shattered irreparably starting to piece itself together. Against her will, her love for him enveloped her in a warm blanket. One that told her that, no matter what happened, everything would be alright.

That she would get her fairytale.

And still, Rose fought. She had always been a fighter. “So what now?” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she searched Michael’s face for answers. “I go back to Britain with you and the baby? We all become Tates and live happily after in a society that gives aid only to the people it deigns worthy?”

If she expected Michael to rise to her jibe, she was disappointed. Instead, his hazel eyes merely gleamed with good humor. “Well, I suppose, eventually, that our parents might want to meet their grandchild. But that doesn’t mean we have to live in Britain. In fact, my entire status as a Tate is up in the air right now.”

Rose’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean?”

Michael chuckled softly. “My mother is challenging the adoption regulations. If she wins, I’ll be a Tate regardless of where I came from or who I marry. If she loses, I’ll be just an ordinary British citizen.” Leaning down, he brought his face close to hers, so that his lips were a bare hairsbreadth away from her own. “Do you think you could love an ordinary man?”

Rose’s eyes slid shut, tears sliding down her cheeks. What he said was absolute bollocks, of course. She knew enough about Michael do know that he had amassed his own fortune from his practice, along with wise investments that both his best friend and sister helped him to make. And even if he were dirt poor , Michael could never be an ordinary man. It was impossible. He was extraordinary . Willing to risk life and limb for people who could do nothing for him in return – he was a gentleman even without his title. A brilliant Doctor, philanthropist, lover…and the man she wanted more desperately than she needed her next breath.

“So we’ll go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. We never have to go back to London, as far as I’m concerned. Mind you,” Michael grinned teasingly, “I’m sure Catherine and Alice would be dreadfully upset if they never got to see you again.”

Rose couldn’t help it. She laughed through her tears, reaching up to cup Michaels face between her hands. She hadn’t felt this light - this elated – in what seemed like an eternity. He was here. Really here…and he wanted her and only her.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Michael shifted carefully to withdraw an object from his pocket, and, in a trice, a very familiar ring was winking before her line of vision. “This is yours. I’ve been holding onto it for safekeeping.” Taking her hand gently, he gestured to her in permission. “Do you mind if I return it?”

Beyond words, Rose shook her head slowly. She watched as Michael returned the lovely ring to where it belonged. She would never take it off again – not for as long as she lived. Once the ring was in its proper place, Michael kissed her palm warmly, and then, his mouth found hers.

Delirious with joy, Rose kissed him back, devouring every whispered praise that left his lips. “I love you, Rose Lithgall. I love you so much I can’t stand the thought of living without you.”

“You won’t have to.” Rose drew back for long enough to gaze into the eyes that had won her heart – at the man who had touched her like none ever had. “We’re bound together, you and I. And nothing will ever break us apart.”

Epilogue

 

4 Months later

“Are you sure this is going to be alright?”

It was the fifth time in less than an hour that Michael had asked her, and this time, instead of answering him, Rose merely glared at him in warning. Michael, despite his intimidating size, knew when to take a hint from his fiancée. He shut his mouth and nodded, merely taking her hand to help her up from where she lounged in her seat.

Their flight was about to start boarding, and it seemed as if they’d been at the gate for hours. Of course, before that, they went through the long journey back from the small village they’d spent the last four months in back to Bangkok – no easy feat. Of course, when Rose had arrived at the beginning of the summer, she thought very little of the grueling journey.

Things were a little different when she was five months pregnant.

Mind you, she hadn’t transformed into a complete whale just yet, but it was harder to get around with her newly rounded tummy, aching feet and protesting bladder. There were a few points on their journey where she was sure Michael was going to lose his temper with her. She must have asked to stop for bathroom breaks at least eight or nine times during a three-hour car ride.

But he had never risen his voice – never gotten irate with her. Not once had he even sighed in exasperation. The man was a marvel, and when Rose remembered that she would soon be marrying him, her heart all but floated out of her chest.

Marriage . She had once viewed the concept with such contempt, certain that it was just a ploy to tie women down in their prime – but Michael had taught her otherwise.

Even if he was a tad bit overbearing. When Rose suggested that they return to London for a few months, she surprised him. The young woman knew because she had surprised even herself. Even after learning of her pregnancy, she had been bound and determined to remain in Thailand – to give birth in Bangkok before returning home.

But things had changed once she and Michael told their families about their plans. Neither set of parents had attempted to manipulate them – they learned the hard way just how well that worked out for them. Instead, they apologized thousands of times over for their behavior and begged to be present for the momentous occasion of their grandchild being born. Michaels mother assured him that she had steamrolled through the committee that had opposed his becoming a full-fledged Tate unconditionally and that he was always welcome at the Estate. She did not, however, impress on him the stress of his status as heir – and for that, she earned Rose’s respect. Michael would do as he pleased and, in time, he would cooperate with his family – this much he made clear to her.

But he would do it on his own terms.

And Rose couldn’t be prouder of him.

So, it was off to London for the last trimester of her pregnancy – and she had to say that, for the first time, she found herself excited by the prospect. When she and Michael returned to London, they would be doing so of their own volition. They would face no pressure from their families to marry or act accordingly.

In a way, by finding one another, they had finally won their freedom.

The irony didn’t escape her.

The flight back to England was pleasant enough – Rose slept almost the entire way under Michael’s watchful eye, only coming too groggily half an hour before they landed. It was another caveat of pregnancy, she discovered, that she was literally tired constantly. It was quite annoying for someone who was used to keeping busy every moment of every day.

Their parents didn’t greet them at the airport. Rose knew better than to expect that. Both the Lithgalls and the Tates were too high profile – and too busy atop that – to welcome them on their grand re-entry. Instead, they received a decidedly more modest welcome from Cat and Liam.

Upon spotting them near the baggage claim, the raven-haired woman made her way other to embrace Rose warmly, shifting Liam to her hip. Rose barely got a chance to kiss the little cherub before Cat was gushing over her own swelling belly and congratulating her and Michael on their coming bundle of joy.

Rose, for her part, was caught up in cuddling Liam until Michael came over with their bags and redirected her with a gentle kiss. “Don’t monopolize him, darling. We’ll soon have one of our own, don’t you worry.”

At the reminder, Rose’s lips turned up into a dreamy smile. It seemed like her days lately were marked by bliss. Everything Michael did only made her want to kiss him – or else tumble him into bed. Another thing pregnancy had done to her ever-changing body was increase her sex drive.

Dramatically.

Not that her fiancée was complaining. Michael gladly took everything she had to give and returned in tenfold. In fact, the way the man currently eyed her promised her that, once they returned to his flat, he would have his wicked way with her.

She couldn’t wait.

“I certainly thought it would take longer for you lot to get through customs. I’m lucky I made it on time!”

Rose’s head swung around in surprise at a very familiar, posh accent, and she immediately grinned. Alice stood not ten feet away, looking magnificent as always. Though Rose had never been overly concerned with wearing the latest fashions, she was keen on trying some of the maternity clothes Alice promised to design for her.

“Alice!”

“Don’t you dare run, I’ll come to you.” Alice closed the space between them in two elegant strides to pull Rose into a hearty embrace. “Welcome home darling. So good to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Rose beamed as Alice stepped back to touch her swelling stomach gently. “And hello to you too, little princess. Your auntie is going to spoil you rotten, never you worry.” The blonde didn’t doubt it for a moment. Alice spoiled everyone in her immediate vicinity. She was already going on about how many clothes she planned to buy for her niece.

“Nice to see you as well.” Alice feigned disinterest as Mike and Cat approached, choosing to first hug the dark-haired woman and her son before all but flinging herself at Michael. The enormous man caught her without any hesitation, grinning as he hoisted her into his arms.

“Michael, please, you’ll wrinkle the Gucci!”

“To hell with the Gucci. I’ve missed you.”

Alice’s returning smile was warm and genuine as her brother lowered her to the ground. “I’ve missed you too.”

Alice was, Michael informed Rose, the only one in his family who he could ever really trust. The one who stuck by his side through thick and thin – and the one who had snapped him out of the funk he was in before he chased her to Thailand. Rose was sure she’d never be able to thank her enough. As for Michael, his gratitude was evident in the love in the adoration in his gaze.

“Come now, we’re having dinner downtown.”

“We?” Michael inquired wryly. “I got us a reservation at Pendleton. No easy feat, let me assure you – not for ten people at least.”

“Ten !?” Rose’s eyes widened in surprise.

Alice grinned in amusement. “Of course, silly. Michael, myself and you. Elias, Cat and Liam, and our parents.”

She had actually gotten both the Lithgalls and the Tates to take a break from their busy social lives to have a family dinner?

Alice truly was a marvel. Rose realized that she probably didn’t give her enough credit.

As Alice picked up one of their bags to prance off as if it weighed nothing, Michael sighed, shaking his head in amazement. “She’s a gem, that one. Almost as lovely as you.” When he kissed her neck, she sighed in contentment.

She couldn’t agree more.

**

Dinner was a large, but intimate affair. Of course, with so many world-famous personalities gathered in one place, the restaurant all but shut down at the number of paparazzi trying to get inside. It wasn’t until Elias threatened to sue half of them that they backed off, and Michael had a good chuckle into his aperitif.

As much as he had loved Thailand, it was good to be home.

It was strange, however, seeing all his friends and family sitting at a table, being cordial to one another. Usually, they skated around each other, making appointments when they should be interacting seamlessly – but just now, it seemed effortless. Lady Lithgall chatted with his mother over their wine, while the Duke and the Earl smoked cigars – well away from the children and Michael’s pregnant fiancée.

Elias expounded on the quality of his steak, stopping every now and again to take Liam from Cat and bounce him on his knee. Michael didn’t think he’d ever seen an expression as soft as the one Elias used with his son. Liam was the final chink that undid his armor completely, and he couldn’t imagine the architect having any regrets.

For half of his own meal, Michael couldn’t eat much. He was entirely too transfixed by the woman at his side. As Rose spoke and laughed with Catherine and Alice, he took in every inch of her – from the glowing tendrils of hair across her hair to her lovely eyes and pert mouth – to their child growing slowly inside her.

He hadn’t known it was possible to love someone so much. Rose filled his heart as no woman ever had before her – and no woman would after her. When he was with her, nothing else mattered – not his titles, his money, or even what he was doing the next hour. She was everything he could have wished for – even if he had to fly halfway across the world to get it.

Rose accepted him for who he was – marveled at his medical skills without implying they were the product of anything other than his own determination. She admired his drive without attributing it to his family name, and she loved him regardless of how much he was worth, or where he had been born.

It was the kind of love he was convinced only existed in children’s stories and yet, here it was, in the palm of his hand.

“Oh, bloody hell ,” Elias griped, after trying to engage him in conversation for the umpteenth time. “If you’re up for a round with her, go on then. You’re spoiling my meal.”

Michael merely rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. “I’ll make sure to remember that the next time you ogle your wife from across the room.”

Elias had very little to say to that particular comment, and so, Michael thought it was an excellent time to make a toast. Clearing his throat, he stood from the table and raised his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast: To family, past, present and future.”

On that, it seemed, everyone on the table could agree.

“To family!” Alice smiled, raising her glass as the others followed suit.

As Michael sipped his wine, he caught Rose’s eye. Though she had no wine, she raised her water glass, and the moment she put it down, he tugged her to her feet to kiss her soundly before everyone present. In that moment, he didn’t care who was watching. Rose was his – and she and their child would be his entire world.

Once, Michael had never imagined that his title would garner him anything but strife. But now, with the woman he loved in his arms, he was willing to admit that maybe, just maybe he owed his mother a thank you.

After all, it wasn’t every day that your salvation dropped into your lap, and filled the void in your soul.

 

THE END

 

Thank You!

 

I wanted to start off by just saying thank you for choosing one of my books. I know that there are millions of romance books out there and I know how valuable your time is so I am really grateful that you took the time to read my book.

If you would like to read a deleted scene that didn’t end up being a part of the final book edit, and also be informed about new book releases, special previews, book promotions and exclusive giveaways, please subscribe to my email list. 

I hope that you enjoyed my story and I will do my very best to keep writing stories that you LOVE to read.

With love,

Ellen Lane

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