Was that where the problem lay? Her loyalty? To Burton, maybe? He was her boss. Even as the idea bloomed in his mind he cast it aside. No, he had seen no indication of loyalty in Shanal’s behavior when Burton had come to take her away. Loyalty to her family, maybe? Raif had been shocked to see her father accompany her down the aisle in a wheelchair. Someone had whispered something about his illness, motor neuron disease, in hushed tones as they’d gone past. Raif had had no idea Curtis Peat was in such bad shape.
Was it desperation to be married before her father died? Was that what drove her? Surely she knew Raif would offer marriage himself if they had a baby on the way. Ideas tumbled around in his head until he was almost dizzy with them. Perhaps it was her parents who had loyalty to Burton, who had chosen him as Shanal’s suitor? But while Mrs. Peat was traditional in some ways, Raif couldn’t believe she’d push her daughter into an arranged marriage. Not when it was well known that the Peats themselves had been a love match.
Yet Raif couldn’t help thinking that her parents were the key to understanding the situation in some way. Shanal was close to her parents, there was no question of that. But what would be so important to their happiness that she’d sacrifice her own to ensure it? It couldn’t be money. The Peats were an affluent family. Before her father’s early retirement he’d had a very successful private practice as a cardiovascular surgeon.
So what the hell was it?
It was growing dark when he finally moved and got himself something to eat from the kitchen. But food did little to fill the aching sense of loss at the idea of a child gone before he could know about it. He scraped off his plate into the garbage, most of his meal uneaten, and shoved the plate in the dishwasher before heading to bed.
There, he lay in the dark of a starless night, lost in the many variables and possibilities that presented themselves. Vignettes from his and Shanal’s time on the river rose in his thoughts again and again, to torment him. Her trust in him from the start, her asking him to stay. The night they’d spent together locked in passion so deep, so everlasting—at least he’d thought so at the time—that it had left an indelible imprint on his heart.
He loved her. It was pure and simple. And he wanted her in his life, forever. She could be clinical and almost scarily intelligent, but then on the flip side she was warm and compassionate, as well. No matter how he viewed the woman he’d known for half his life, he couldn’t see her doing what Burton had suggested.
Which meant that possibly, hopefully, she hadn’t gone through with it. Maybe Burton had it wrong. Maybe she still carried his child. There was only one person who could tell him, and he’d make certain she did as soon as he could see her again.
Thirteen
Shanal took her time getting ready to go out to The Masters for dinner. She’d initially turned the invitation down. It was a weeknight, she’d protested when Isobel had phoned to ask her to come over, and she was very busy at work. But Isobel had cut straight through her objections and to the heart of why she didn’t want to go, and had told her that while Raif would be there, he’d been warned to be on his best behavior and not leave her in the same state she’d been last Saturday when he’d gone.
She lifted a hand to apply her eyeliner, having to pause and take a breath when her fingers shook slightly at the prospect of seeing him again. Could she do it? Deep down, she craved the sight of him, but every time she saw him made it that much more unpalatable to think about going through with her marriage to Burton. But surely she’d be able to keep her distance from Raif for just one night. The whole Masters family would be at the gathering. She knew them all well, and as Ethan’s friend, had been a part of these types of gatherings for years. How difficult could it be? she reasoned with herself. Either way, Raif could hardly abduct her from his family home in front of his relatives.
Last Saturday, he’d said he wouldn’t let her go. What exactly had he meant by that? If he intended to try and change her mind again, he was definitely running out of time. Her rescheduled wedding was in only three days’ time.
Her tummy did that all too familiar flip at the thought, warning her that she was going to be sick. She fought back the nausea, gripping the bathroom basin until her fingers ached—their pain distracting her from the roiling sensation deep inside.
She heard the whir of her father’s chair as it passed the bathroom.