His Woman, His Child

“You’re Pregnant With My Child. I Think That Means There’s Something Going On Between Us.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Epilogue Copyright

“You’re Pregnant With My Child. I Think That Means There’s Something Going On Between Us.”

Hank cupped Susan’s face between his two big hands. “I’ve tried to deny the attraction. But trying to ignore it isn’t going to make it go away.”

“Please.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

He kissed her forehead. “Do you think I want to feel this way?” He kissed one of her cheeks and then the other. She trembled from head to toe. “Do you think it’s easy for me to admit that I want my best friend’s widow?”

Susan opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a choked gasp. Tears spilled from her eyes, ran down her face and onto his hands.

“You want me, too, don’t you, honey?” He urged her face upward until she met his gaze. “You’re as hungry for me as I am for you.”

Dear Reader,

April brings showers, and this month Silhouette Desire wants to shower you with six new, passionate love stories!

Cait London’s popular Blaylock family returns in our April MAN OF THE MONTH title, Blaylock’s Bride. Honorable Roman Blaylock grapples with a secret that puts him in a conflict between confiding in the woman he loves and fulfilling a last wish.

The provocative series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE BRIDES continues with Leanne Banks’s The Secretary and the Millionaire, when a wealthy CEO turns to his assistant for help in caring for his little girl.

Beverly Barton’s next tale in her 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS miniseries, His Woman, His Child shows a rugged heartbreaker transformed by the heroine’s pregnancy. Powerful sheikhs abound in Sheikh’s Ransom, the Desire debut title of Alexandra Sellers’s dramatic new series, SONS OF THE DESERT. A marine gets a second chance at love in Colonel Daddy, continuing

Maureen Child’s popular series BACHELOR BATTALION. And in Christy Lockhart’s Let’s Have a Baby!, our BACHELORS AND BABIES selection, the hero must dissuade the heroine from going to a sperm bank and convince her to let him father her child—the old-fashioned way!

Allow Silhouette Desire to give you the ultimate indulgence—all six of these fabulous April romance books!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

His Woman, His Child

Beverly Barton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BEVERLY BARTON

has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated copy of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, she began writing at the age of nine and wrote short stories, poetry, plays and novels throughout high school and college. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, she chose to be a full-time homemaker, a.k.a. wife, mother, friend and volunteer.

When she returned to writing, she joined Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. Since the release of her first Silhouette book in 1990, she has won the GRW Maggie Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award and has been a RITA Award finalist. Beverly considers writing romance books a real labor of love. Her stories come straight from the heart, and she hopes that all the strong and varied emotions she invests in her books will be felt by everyone who reads them.

In loving memory of Christine Byrd Hardin,

who had a passion for books.

And to precious little Hannah Christine Files,

named in honor of her great-grandmother.

One

I’m pregnant.

Hank could hear Susan’s voice inside his head, telling him the one thing he hadn’t wanted to hear. He’d been so sure the first try hadn’t been successful, that fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

When he’d arrived at the funeral home last night and gone straight to her—his best friend’s widow—she had taken his hand and squeezed it firmly.

“Thank you for coming, Hank,” she had said, her voice quivering. “Lowell loved you like a brother.”

Pain had sliced through him as if he’d been stabbed with a dull blade. But he hadn’t flinched. Holding Susan’s hand securely in his, he’d wished he could think of something—anything—to say that would lessen her sorrow. But there were no words to soothe the agony of a woman who had just lost her husband.

“Lowell was the finest man I’ve ever known,” he had told her. “I’d have done anything for him.”

“Yes, I know.”

Their gazes locked and held, the unspoken message a secret each held within their hearts. They had both loved Lowell. They had both wanted to give him the one thing he’d longed for and couldn’t have.

With her hand still in his, Susan had led Hank aside, leaned close and whispered in his ear, “I’m pregnant. We just found out two days ago. Lowell tried several times to call you.”

Hank had felt his muscles freeze, his heartbeat accelerate. His mind had screamed, No. A thousand times no. Not now. Not when Lowell wouldn’t be around to take care of Susan and the child.

“I was away on an assignment,” he’d told her.

Before he could comment further on her announcement, Crooked Oak’s mayor had grasped his shoulder. “Damn shame about Lowell. A finer man never lived. We’re all going to miss him.”

Now, as he stood with Lowell’s family and friends at the grave site, the October wind whipped through the nearby trees, flapping the partially bare branches and loosening the dying foliage. The colorful autumn leaves flew across the cemetery like birds in flight. Thunder boomed in the distance. A fine mist of rain moistened the canopy under which those close to the deceased had congregated to say their final farewells.

Numbness had encased Hank ever since his brother Caleb had phoned to tell him that Lowell Redman had been murdered—killed in the line of duty as sheriff of Marshall County. Although he hadn’t lived in Crooked Oak since he’d graduated from high school, Hank had remained best friends with Lowell. He’d even been best man at Lowell’s wedding to Susan two years ago.

Susan. Sweet, quiet, gentle Susan. He’d thought she and Lowell a perfect match. Both good people.

She had asked him to sit with her today, but he had declined, using the excuse that the other ladies attending should be the ones seated. He stood across from her, on the opposite side of Lowell’s casket. She sat stiffly, her face pale, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Dear God, the pain she must be suffering!

Every instinct within him wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her. Comfort her. Assure her that she wasn’t alone. To promise that he would take care of her.

But how would she react if he touched her? More importantly, how would he react? Knowing she was pregnant brought all his primeval, protective instincts to the surface.

He’d known Susan Williams Redman all her life. She’d been one of his sister Tallie’s best friends. But back then he’d never thought of her as anything but a quiet, shy, plain little girl who used to stare at him with big blue eyes. Then he’d seen her at Tallie’s wedding several years ago and realized that the plain little girl had grown into a lovely young woman. If she hadn’t been dating Lowell at the time, he would have asked her for a date while he was visiting Crooked Oak.

The next time he’d seen her was at her and Lowell’s wedding—and he had envied his best friend. Not that he’d wanted to get caught in the marriage trap—he certainly wasn’t the marrying kind. And not that he wanted to trade lives with Lowell. He had only wanted happiness for Lowell and his new bride.

The minister ended the graveside service with a prayer. The rain grew heavier and more intense as the wind increased, blowing the moisture inside the canopy enclosure. He watched as his sister Tallie helped Susan to her feet and Caleb’s wife, Sheila, held an umbrella over her as they led her toward the governor’s limousine.

Grateful that Susan wasn’t alone—that his family had rallied around her—Hank stayed at the graveside until the crowd cleared. The attendants from the funeral home waited while he stood over Lowell’s casket, placed his hand on the cold, damp metal and made a silent vow. I promise you that I’ll take care of Susan and the baby.

As he walked away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw his younger brother Caleb.

“Are you all right?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah.”

The two men walked side by side toward Hank’s rental car. The rain soaked them, plastering their hair to their heads.

“I’ll ride with you,” Caleb said. “I think Peyt’s limo is full, with Peyt and Tallie, as well as Donna and Sheila in there with Susan.”

The brothers got into the Taurus and sat silently for several minutes before the cars in front of them began to move. Hank shifted into drive and followed the procession out of the cemetery.

“Never thought the sheriff of a quiet little hick county like ours would wind up getting himself murdered.” Caleb shook his head.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s not much crime around here, is there? Lowell wasn’t the type who sought out danger or wanted anything more than to keep the peace.”

“Ole Lowell always reminded me of TV’s Andy Taylor without Barney.” Caleb chuckled. “God, he was a good man!”

“The best.” Hank felt a knot of emotion tighten in his chest. He had cared for Lowell Redman the way he cared about Caleb and Jake, as if he’d been another brother. They’d been friends since first grade. Hank had always been the leader, the instigator, the one daring Lowell to take risks with him. And Lowell had been the faithful follower, the accessory to their boyish pranks, the quiet, bashful boy who didn’t have an adventurous bone in his body.

“I hope they find the son of a bitch who shot him,” Caleb said. “Damn dopehead! That Carl Bates has always been a worthless piece of trash.”

“Bates can’t run and hide forever,” Hank said. “Usually guys like him wind up coming home and looking for help. We’ll get him. You can bet on that.”

Within minutes Hank pulled the Taurus up outside Susan’s house, but didn’t kill the motor.

Caleb turned to him. “Aren’t you coming in? Susan will expect you to be there. Half the town will come through those doors before nightfall. I know it would mean a lot to her if Lowell’s best friend was at her side.”

The last thing Susan probably wanted was for him to be at her side all evening, while friends and acquaintances paraded in and out to pay their condolences. She had to be as numb as he over losing Lowell and as stunned and uncertain as he about her pregnancy. But the odd thing was, he really wanted to be there with her. She had looked so fragile, so vulnerable, during the funeral. Small-boned and slender, Susan came just to his shoulder. More than once since he’d seen her last night, he had wanted to lift her into his arms, take her away from the endless horde of people trying to console her and keep her safely under his protection.

Hank killed the motor. “You’re right. I need to be with Susan.”

Her entire body was as numb as her emotions. She’d been on display for hours last night and then again today at the funeral and the graveside service. Tallie and Sheila had suggested that she lie down for a while, but Donna had been the one who had fended them off when she’d insisted on staying to meet every person who came by to share her grief. Donna was a widow herself, having lost her husband over five years ago, and she was the only one of her close friends who understood exactly what she was going through today. The last thing Susan needed right now was to be alone, lying down in the quiet, dark bedroom she had shared with Lowell.

Susan saw him the minute he entered the room. Tall, whipcord lean, with shoulders that looked five feet wide in his tan trench coat. His jet-black hair was damp, one strand curling down over his forehead. Hank Bishop. Her husband’s oldest and dearest friend. The man who had been best man at her wedding. The man she’d had a secret crush on during her teen years. The man she had fantasized about more than once when Lowell made love to her.

She shivered as guilt washed over her. She had no right to think of Hank Bishop in that way. No right whatsoever. She had loved Lowell. Who wouldn’t have? Lowell Redman had been the kindest, most gentle and loving man she’d ever known. And he had given her a good, safe and secure life as his wife. She’d been past thirty when they’d married, well past the age of expecting Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet. Besides, she knew herself well enough to know that anyone daring enough to sweep her off her feet would frighten her to death. Susan wasn’t a risk taker when it came to men and to life in general.

Lowell had been safe. Hank Bishop wasn’t.

Hank was dangerous to her. He always had been and he always would be. Just because in her secret fantasies she dreamed of being ravaged and claimed by Hank, didn’t mean she had actually wanted the man in her life.

He was walking toward her, his dark eyes seeking her out from the crowd. Her stomach quivered. Her heart fluttered. She wanted to scream at him, tell him to go away and never come back. She couldn’t bear to have him so close to her. She was afraid of leaning on him. More than anything she wanted his strong arms around her, wanted him to promise that he would take care of her and make everything all right. But no one, not even Hank, could make things right again. Her safe and secure life had been utterly and completely destroyed. The future with Lowell as her husband and father of her child had vanished like smoke in the wind. Somehow she had to find the strength to raise this child alone—this sweet little baby that Lowell had wanted so desperately.

The same moment Susan laid her hand over her abdomen in a protective gesture, she noticed Hank watching her more intently, his gaze moving downward from her face to her hand. The look in his eyes frightened her. Protective. Possessive. Predatory.

“There’s Hank,” Sheila said, slipping her arm around Susan’s waist. “Maybe he can persuade you to eat a bite and then get some rest.”

“I told you that I’m fine,” Susan said. “I wish you and Tallie would stop hovering about as if you think I might pass out at any minute.”

Leaning over, Sheila whispered in Susan’s ear, “Does Hank know you’re pregnant?”

Susan nodded solemnly. Biting down on her lip, she forced herself to stay calm, not to lash out at her friend for being concerned. “I told him last night at the funeral home.”

“Good. He should know the situation.”

“Who should know what situation?” Caleb asked as he and Hank approached.

Susan felt heat suffuse her face and prayed no one would notice, or that if they did, they wouldn’t guess the reason.

“Hank.” She cleared her throat. “Hank, you should know that you’re probably going to be offered Lowell’s job. Several people have already mentioned that they’d like to see you come home and take over the investigation into Lowell’s murder.”

“They want me to be sheriff?” Hank asked.

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “Some of the commissioners mentioned to me that they’d like to have you appointed to finish out Lowell’s term so you could bring his killer to justice. There’s about a year left on his current term. They’re hoping you can take a leave of absence from the Bureau.”

“But I don’t—”

“If you accepted the appointment, you’d be around to help look after Susan and—” Sheila said, stopping abruptly when Susan jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.

“I don’t need anyone to look after me!” Susan realized too late that not only had she spoken sharply, but she’d practically shouted her comment. Several people within earshot turned their heads and glanced in her direction.

Afraid he would see the fear in her eyes, she looked everywhere but at Hank. “I’m sorry,” she told them. “I suppose I am tired. Maybe Sheila’s right. Perhaps I should go lie down for a while.”

She moved past Hank quickly, not sparing him even a glance. What would she do if he stayed on in Crooked Oak? He wouldn’t do that, would he? He couldn’t!

“Susan’s not herself,” Sheila said by way of explanation to the onlookers. “Y’all must know what losing Lowell has done to her.”

People nodded in agreement and quickly began talking among themselves. Commissioner Kelly threw up a hand in greeting, then waved at Hank, motioning him to join his circle.

“Here it comes,” Caleb said. “Get ready to be offered Lowell’s old job.”

“I can’t take Lowell’s job!” And I can’t take on his wife and child. “I don’t want to be sheriff of Marshall County.”

“Then you’re going to have to tell them that.” Caleb patted his brother on the back. “But I must admit that I’m surprised you aren’t willing to take a leave of absence and come back home long enough to put things right for Lowell. He left an unfinished job and a pregnant wife who’s going to need someone to lean on.”

“I didn’t realize you knew Susan was pregnant,” Hank said.

“Sheila told me this morning. But how did you know?”

“Susan told me last night at the funeral home.”

“See, she told you because she knows she’s going to need you. She’s going to need all of us to get through these next few months. Knowing you, I figured you’d think you owed it to Lowell to see his killer brought to justice and to take care of his wife and child.”

“I owe Lowell my life,” Hank admitted. “But I’m not sure that staying here in Crooked Oak is the right way to repay him.”

The brothers walked together toward Commissioner Kelly, who had been joined by two other county commissioners in a corner of the room that proudly displayed Susan’s old-maid aunt’s antique dining room suite. A feast, brought in by friends and neighbors, covered the mahogany table and desserts of every kind lined the ornately carved buffet. Dalton Kelly sliced off a bite of apple pie with his fork and lifted it to his mouth.

Rufus McGee shook hands with Hank. “Good to see you again, Hank. Just hate that it’s under these circumstances.”

After washing down the pie with a swig of black coffee, Dalton swiped his mouth with his hand, then said, “Has Caleb told you what we want to ask of you?”

“Yes, he just mentioned it,” Hank said.

“And what do you think, boy?” Rufus narrowed his eyes, staring directly at Hank. “Are you willing to take a little time off from the FBI to come home and settle things for Lowell? We’d be mighty grateful if you would.”

“Why me?” Hank asked. “I’d think y’all would be talking to Richard Holman about the job. I know Lowell trusted Deputy Holman completely and felt he was the best man he had working for him.”

“Richard’s young and doesn’t have enough experience,” Dalton said. “Besides, it’d only be for a year, just until next year’s election. You could give up a year for Lowell, couldn’t you?”

“The whole town is expecting you to come home,” Rufus said. “They’re sure you’ll want to be the one to capture Carl Bates and bring him to justice. And they’re expecting you to take care of Susan for Lowell. We know her delicate condition is suppose to be a secret, but well—” Rufus grinned “—Lowell’s chest was so swelled with pride the day they found out about the baby, he was popping buttons off his shirt. He told a few friends, and you know how word spreads around these parts.”

Hank’s stomach knotted painfully. He’d been on assignment when word reached him of Lowell’s death. When he’d checked his answering machine on a quick stop at his Alexandria apartment, he’d heard Lowell’s happy voice asking him to call him as soon as possible. No doubt Lowell had wanted to tell him about the baby.

“I’ll need some time,” Hank said. “I’ll have to go back to Washington and...I’m not sure this is the right thing to do, but—”

“It is, my boy. It is,” Dalton assured him. “Just think about what Lowell would have done if you’d been murdered in the line of duty, leaving behind your killer on the loose and a pregnant wife who needed somebody to lean on. Wouldn’t he have done everything he could have for you? He’d have put your killer behind bars. And he’d have taken care of your wife and baby.”

Hell! He was caught dead to right. The whole town knew that not only were he and Lowell best friends, but that he owed Lowell his life. When they’d been teenagers—he thirteen and Lowell fourteen—they’d gone swimming at the old abandoned rock quarry, as they had so often that summer. But he had gotten a severe cramp and would have drowned if it hadn’t been for Lowell’s quick action. The event had sealed their friendship for life, and to this day, Hank felt he owed his life to his friend.

He’d do anything for Lowell. Even now. The way he saw it, he really didn’t have any choice but to put his career on hold and return to Crooked Oak. Was a year of his life too much of a sacrifice to come home and settle his best friend’s affairs? No, of course it wasn’t. If only those affairs didn’t include Lowell’s pregnant wife!

Once this crowd cleared out, he’d have to talk to Susan—alone. Lowell’s death had placed them in an awkward situation and the last thing he wanted was to complicate his life or cause Susan any unnecessary pain.

Susan sat on the bed in the quiet, semidark bedroom that she had shared with Lowell the past two years. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to sleep in this room again, not unless she completely renovated it and bought all new furniture. Everything in the large, airy room reminded her of her husband. The smell of his spicy cologne still lingered on the bed linen. His clothes filled the left side of the closet. Their wedding photograph sat like a sentinel on the nightstand.

If only she could cry. Dear Lord in heaven, she silently pleaded, let me cry. But she was beyond crying, the pain too severe, yet tempered by the blessed numbness that cocooned her.

A shudder racked her body. Ricky gazed up at her with his big, black Boston terrier eyes, as if questioning her. She scratched his ears and whispered, “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Seeing that his mistress was paying attention to Ricky, Fred waddled across the room, hopped up onto the bed and parked his fat little bulldog body alongside Ricky. “Oh, so you’re jealous, huh?” Susan rubbed the other dog’s ears, then heard a soft, subtle purring. Resting at the foot of the bed, Lucy, a red tabby, and Ethel, a white longhair, mewed for their share of attention.

A sigh of relief escaped Susan’s lips. Relief that something remained normal and unchanged in her life. Her animals were now, as they had been all her life, a source of companionship and comfort. She loved animals and they her. She supposed that was another legacy from Aunt Alice—the old-maid great-aunt who had taken her in and raised her after her mother’s death. She’d been six when she’d come to live with Aunt Alice in this big, old Victorian house filled with priceless antiques, several spoiled cats and one feisty Boston terrier pup, Ricky’s grandmother. Susan had grown up around animals, so her job at the animal shelter was a natural career choice.

In the darkest, loneliest hours of her life, her animals were at her side. Loving her. Supporting her. Comforting her. She lifted both dogs onto her lap and hugged them tenderly. A lone tear escaped from her eye and trickled down her cheek. Then another followed. Her lungs swelled. Her chest ached. She gasped for air. Her shoulders trembled. And then the tears began in earnest. Filling her eyes. Flooding her face. Moistening her chin and neck.