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right? Why have you come? Do you need anything?”
    She looked up at him. Her eyes were bottomless, and circled with thin, blue-shadowed skin. Her cheeks were pale, and for a moment he thought he saw her shudder. He put out his arm to steady her, but she backed away.
    â€œClaire, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    S HE HAD KNOWN , OF COURSE , that he’d be stunned—and upset, too, especially when he realized what she wanted to do about the pregnancy. She wasn’t a fool. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him to hug her and start passing out cigars.
    But she could never have imagined the look of pure, unadulterated horror that fell over his features. It was as if someone had announced the end of the world.
    Strange how painful it was to see. Her face burned as if she’d been slapped.
    However, she had to pull herself together. She had intended to be strong and businesslike, presenting her facts and her demands unemotionally. She was furious with herself for suddenly coming across all weak and weepy. It must be the hormone fluctuations the doctor had warned her about.
    And maybe it was also the confusion of entering this house, which had always been the symbol of unassailable power in Heyday. She’d felt uncomfortable even ringing the bell, like some unfortunate chambermaid come to tell the lord of the manor he’d done her wrong.
    She’d always known Kieran was rich and important. Everyone in Heyday knew that. But knowing an abstract fact and seeing him here, dressed in atuxedo, his handsome face and imposing physique so at home against the marble and the tapestries and the sheer impressive magnitude of his mansion, were two very different things.
    She straightened her shoulders. Damn it, she wasn’t the chambermaid. And he wasn’t a lord. He wasn’t even the Saint everyone had always called him. He was just a guy who’d slept around once too often and gotten himself caught.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said, keeping her voice cool. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt. I know it’s a shock, but—”
    â€œYes,” he said. “It is.”
    â€œIt was for me, as well. But it’s true.” She let her fingers rest against the black purse that hung at her side. She realized they were trembling. “I brought documentation from the gynecologist, in case you—”
    He squinted and put out his hand, as if to stop her, though he didn’t actually touch her arm. “For God’s sake, Claire. I don’t think you’re lying.”
    â€œOkay. Well, then, I assume you’ll want some proof of paternity. I haven’t looked into that yet. I thought it likely you’d rather work with doctors, or laboratories, of your own choosing, to ensure an unbiased—”
    He shook his head tightly. “If you say it’s mine, I believe you. It’s just that I had thought that we— I mean I did—”
    â€œYes, you did. But we both know that’s not exactly a one-hundred-percent guarantee. Again, if you have any uncertainty, I’m perfectly willing to let you establish—”
    â€œNo.” He was still holding his cuff link. He wasopening and closing his fist over the thing compulsively. Other than that, he was so motionless he might have been one of the sculptures that stood at intervals along the walls of this formal foyer. “I told you, if you say this is my problem, I’ll accept that.”
    Heat flashed through her. “You must have misunderstood me. I didn’t say this was your problem. I said this was your child. ”
    He flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just that—I need a little time to absorb…”
    He raked his fingers through his hair, which seemed to be damp. He must have showered recently. And the tuxedo. Suddenly she realized she