That night, Alaric Davenport returned. He slipped quietly into bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her.
She held her breath, perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.
But he knew she wasn't. He whispered into her ear, "If you want this child, then have it. I can provide for it."
His voice was a little hoarse as he spoke. He had waged a great internal war, but it was her child. And he loved anything that was hers.
"As long as it's yours, I'll raise it."
Rosalind Lowell's eyes flew open. A single, scalding tear slid down, landing on the pillow with a soft DRIP.
'He's telling me to have the baby, but he still doesn't believe me.'
Her lips parted slightly, then closed again. 'Then again, I was missing for over a month. It's only natural that he wouldn't believe me.'
Even so, she was heartbroken.
She turned over. "Alaric Davenport, this child is yours. Do you believe me or not?"
"I believe you." He pulled her tighter into his embrace.
