Modern Romance May 2016 Books 1-4. Julia James
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not just a few hours after he’d left. It was as she’d said: he wanted to maintain a connection with her so that when the baby was born, she wouldn’t be able to deny him access to the child.
There was no doubt that finding out he was going to be a father had shocked him. For heaven’s sake, it had shocked her, and she’d at least had some warning of what was happening to her body.
She bit her lip. He probably thought at this time of the evening, she’d be more responsive to his persuasion; more willing to believe his protestations of love.
Love? Her lips twisted. No way.
Harley was growling now, pacing back and forth before the door that led onto the stairs, and she felt a moment’s apprehension.
What if it wasn’t Luke? The dog wasn’t usually suspicious of Luke, but surely even the retriever couldn’t detect a person’s scent from so far away.
She hesitated, glancing down at the silk kimono she was wearing over her nightshirt. She certainly wasn’t dressed for company, but then who else would turn up without even a word of warning?
It had to be Luke, and she had to send him away before Harley woke the whole street.
Opening the door, she switched on the light, and allowed the retriever to precede her down the stairs. He was still growling when he reached the bottom and she took a deep breath before calling stiffly, ‘I’m not going to let you in, Luke. I’m sorry if you’ve had a wasted journey, but—’
‘It’s not Luke, Ms Lacey.’ The man interrupted her, his voice oddly choked, but familiar. ‘It’s Felix. Felix Laidlaw. I work for Luke.’ He paused. ‘There’s been an accident, Ms Lacey. Luke’s been hurt and he’s asking for you.’ Another pause. ‘Will you open the door?’
Abby’s lips parted in dismay.
Her hands went automatically to the lock, but then she drew back, pressing the tips of her fingers to her lips. How did she know he was telling the truth?
There was no way of knowing, and the door was old, so it didn’t have a spyhole.
‘Ms Lacey? Abby?’ Felix—if it was Felix—spoke again. ‘Please, I know you must be suspicious. But I’m not lying. Luke’s in hospital. In Bath.’
‘In Bath!’ Abby swallowed. ‘I don’t understand. What’s Luke doing in Bath? I understood he was going back to London.’
‘He was, but he was going to see his father first.’ He sighed. ‘Couldn’t I tell you what happened when we’re on our way? I need to get back.’
Abby bit her lip. ‘I’m not even dressed.’
‘I’ll wait.’
Abby hesitated. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘You don’t.’ Felix’s tone was flat now. ‘But are you prepared to let a man die, without even trying to save him?’
Abby gasped, and, without any more hesitation, she had the door open in seconds. As she’d expected, Felix was outside, his face pale in the light from the hall behind her.
‘Luke’s dying?’ she choked, dragging Harley back as he would have surged outside, and Felix expelled a weary breath.
‘Not yet,’ he said honestly. ‘But he’s badly hurt.’
‘Hurt? How?’
‘His car was in collision with a farm vehicle,’ replied Felix heavily. ‘The fool driver of the combine harvester pulled into the road right in front of him. It’s lucky he wasn’t killed outright. Now, can you get dressed and come with me?’
‘Oh, God!’
Abby didn’t say another word. Leaving the retriever to his own devices, she turned and raced back up the stairs, hurrying into the bathroom. She was feeling sick again, but she couldn’t consider her own condition now.
She didn’t hesitate and tore off her kimono and nightshirt and pulled on the shirt and shorts, not bothering with any underwear.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, both Harley and Felix were waiting for her in the living room.
‘I hope you don’t mind.’ Felix was apologetic. ‘But your dog was threatening to run off, so I brought him inside.’
‘That’s fine. Thank you.’ Abby moistened her lips. ‘I’m ready.’
‘You’ll need a sweater,’ said Felix gently. ‘It’s cold outside.’
‘I’m fine, honestly.’
Abby thought she’d never feel cold again, and, with a resigned gesture, Felix started for the door.
LUKE OPENED HIS eyes to a blinding white light, and quickly closed them again.
His head was throbbing, and he could hear the hum of what sounded like electrical instruments all around him. The steady drip of liquid was almost deafening to his ears.
He risked opening his eyes again and saw the strip of neon in the ceiling above him. That was what was blinding him.
Why didn’t they turn the damn thing off?
Was he in a hospital? The pain of applying his brain almost caused him to lose consciousness again. But if he was, how the hell had he got here? He didn’t remember a thing after getting into his car.
The smell of Lysol and pine disinfectant was sickening and he gagged. His mouth was so dry, he felt as if all his saliva glands had given up in protest.
There was a man standing beside his bed, when he opened his eyes again. He didn’t think it was a doctor. Doctors were supposed to wear white coats, weren’t they? Unless they’d taken to wearing worn canvas trousers and sweaters. Anything was possible in this surreal world he was existing in.
His eyes drifted upward to the man’s face, and he expelled a relieved breath. He recognised him.
It was his father. But what was his father doing here? Oliver Morelli’s face looked strained and anxious, but so familiar Luke wanted to reach out and touch him.
But he couldn’t move.
When he tried, an agonising pain knifed into his ribs, and he couldn’t deny a groan of anguish.
Oliver Morelli saw his son’s eyes open and gave a cry of relief. ‘Luke,’ he exclaimed fervently. ‘Oh, dear God, I’ve been so worried about you.’
Luke stared at him. He tried to say his father’s name, but no sound emerged. His mouth was too dry, his lips too parched to form the words.
But Oliver Morelli didn’t seem to notice. ‘Do you remember anything of the last twenty-four hours?’ he asked, pulling a chair out from beside the bed and dropping into it.
‘You were conscious when they first brought you into the hospital, but then—’
He broke off as if he didn’t want to say what had happened next, and when he continued, it was in a very different vein. ‘How do you feel? Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?’
A drink?
Luke tried to speak, but all he produced was a guttural sound, and, looking alarmed, Oliver got to his feet again.
‘I’ll get the nurse,’ he said, but somehow Luke managed to get a name past his lips.
‘Ab—Abby,’ he breathed hoarsely, and his father, who had hurried across the room, turned back from the door.
‘Abby?’ he said. ‘Oh, you mean the young lady who was here when I arrived?’
Luke absorbed that with some difficulty. Abby had been here? But