His Texas Baby. Stella Bagwell
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intend to shove my baby aside and let someone else do the hands-on care. I intend to love and nurture it just as any mother would do. But no matter which one of us is physically caring for the child, we’ll have to have a nanny’s help.”
He reached for his water glass. “I understand that. I—Well, clearly you weren’t expecting a child to enter your life at this stage and neither was I. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want the best for this baby.”
She nodded. “I totally agree.”
“What about Will—did he know about the baby before he died?”
Regret settled on Kitty’s shoulders and she looked at her half-eaten salad rather than meet his probing gaze. “No. A few weeks before his death I wasn’t feeling well. But my cycles have always been irregular, so pregnancy never really crossed my mind. I thought I had some sort of stomach issue caused by stress. By the time I saw the doctor Dad had the heart attack and then it was too late.”
“Hmm. I wonder what he would have thought about the baby.”
She rubbed fingers against the tiny throb behind her forehead. Her father had adored Liam. No doubt he would have been thrilled about the baby. “I think about that a lot, Liam. And you can’t imagine how much I wished he’d known. He—Well, he might have been disappointed that I was bearing a child out of wedlock, but I feel sure he would’ve been excited to be getting a grandchild. He’d pretty much given up on Owen giving him any. And he figured if I had to choose between a man or a horse, I’d always choose the latter.”
The grimace on Liam’s face had Kitty studying him more closely and what she saw fairly took her breath. He’d always been a striking figure of a man, but it seemed as though the past year he’d become even more attractive. Maybe that was because he’d let his hair grow down on his collar, or because he sometimes avoided shaving and the dark brown stubble on his face added to his rough-hewn features. His clothes, at least at Hollywood Park, had become more casual, too. Most of the time, he was dressed in blue jeans, boots and a Levi’s jacket.
Liam Donovan might be considered royalty, but he wasn’t one of those trainers that went around in a suit and tie with every hair in place and did all of his work over the phone. No, he was a hands-on type of guy who wasn’t afraid to get dirty and often did.
“I don’t expect he would have been very proud of me,” he said with a measure of self-contempt. “He was a mentor and I feel as though I let him down.”
His remark had her looking at him with dismay. “You let him down? How do you think I feel? He was my father. I did let him down. In more ways than one.”
He didn’t press her to explain that comment and Kitty was glad. She didn’t want to explain how she’d let her father down by refusing to marry Steve Bowers or how she’d embarrassed him by throwing Roger Grove’s engagement ring back in his face. Over the years, her father had held his own ideas about who she should love and marry and she’d disappointed him by rebelling, by questioning his judgment. But try as she might, neither of those men had been the sort she’d envisioned spending the rest of her life with. As a result, she’d ended both relationships. It was ironic, she supposed, that the only time her father had picked out the right man for her, Liam had refused.
She’d never told Liam that she’d learned of her father’s effort to get him to date her. And she wasn’t about to reveal it to him now. It was all too humiliating. Especially now that she was carrying his child.
Trying to shove those miserable thoughts away, she looked around with relief to see the waiter arriving with their main courses. She needed to eat and escape to her hotel room where she could go to bed and hope the weariness in her body and soul would disappear, at least for a while.
After the waiter had left behind Kitty’s shrimp scampi and Liam’s stuffed crab, he said, “Will understood human nature. He didn’t expect people or his horses to be perfect.”
She picked up her fork. “Dad expected it of me.”
Disbelief appeared on his face in the form of a frown. “I never noticed that whenever I was around the two of you.”
She sighed. Willard Cartwright had been a likable guy with a warm, jovial personality. He’d made friends easily and she doubted he’d died having even one enemy. Unless she counted her mother, Francine. As Willard’s wife, she’d refused to allow him to dominate every aspect of her life and because of that they’d gone through a bitter divorce and an even nastier custody battle over Kitty. With his family members, Willard had been a different man, one who’d loved fiercely, but had also fought to be in control. Now he was still trying to control Kitty from the grave.
She said, “Families always behave differently at home than in public.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “But I always got the impression that you adored your father.”
“I did adore him. He was wonderful to me and Owen in so many ways. But he was demanding and controlling and because of that we often clashed—sometimes very loudly.” A bittersweet smile suddenly touched her lips. “Still, he was bigger than life and I wanted to be just like him. At least, like the good parts,” she amended. “Now—well, now I just miss him like hell.”
“If I lost my father, I’d be devastated,” he said solemnly.
Kitty had met Liam’s parents, Doyle and Fiona, about two years ago at Sunland Park near El Paso. They’d had a colt running in the Sunland Derby and most of the Donovan family had traveled to West Texas to view the event. Fiona had been breathtakingly beautiful, classy and very approachable. In looks, Doyle had been an older version of Liam, but the elder Donovan had seemed to be a genuinely happy and jovial man, whereas Liam was usually serious and all business. She’d liked his parents and his family. In fact, she’d been envious of their close-knit bond.
“So how are your parents doing? Do they plan to come out to Hollywood anytime during the meet?”
“They’re doing great. And as of now they’re planning on coming for the Big Cap and maybe, later on, the Gold Cup. It depends on what’s going on with their schedule. They say they’re retired, but they’re busier now than they’ve ever been.”
Feeling suddenly pensive, she pushed the food around on her plate. “You were just wondering what my father would have thought of our situation. Now I’m wondering what your family is going to think?”
“Does it matter?”
Her gaze lifted from her plate to settle on his face. “I suppose it shouldn’t. We’re not teenagers. We’re grown adults, financially secure and settled in our careers. If we’re not capable of raising a child, then I don’t know who would be. But …” Looking away from him, she released a wistful sigh. “I’ve got to be honest, Liam. Their opinion of me does matter. After all, this will be their grandchild.”
He reached across the table and touched his fingers to hers. The simple gesture sent a wave of emotions rushing through her. She blinked and swallowed and prayed she could keep her tears in check.
“Believe me, Kitty, my parents will welcome you into the family with open arms.”
A confused frown pulled her brows together. “You mean they’ll welcome the baby with open arms,” she corrected. “He or she will be a part of the Donovan family. Not me.”
A faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “The baby is already a Donovan. And so will you be—just as soon as you become my wife.”
Chapter Three
The grip she had on the fork loosened and the utensil fell with a loud clatter to her plate as she stared at him in stunned fascination.
“Your wife!” she gasped. “Are you serious?”
A frown furrowed deep lines in his forehead. “You didn’t expect anything less of me, did you?”
Amazed