When the pain lessened, he unbuttoned her gown and helped her out of it. Turning to him, she smiled and touched his cheek. "Don't look so fierce, Alex. This is surely a happy occasion, for tonight I'll hold our child."

Her excitement astounded him. She looked determined and unafraid, completely trusting in him. Her tender blue eyes promised fulfillment of the hopes and dreams that had lain dormant within him for too long. He wanted to tumble into her warmth, to believe she would stay with him forever.

Then the pains struck quickly, mercilessly. As morning wore into afternoon, Helen uttered not a word of complaint, begging only a sip of water now and then, or asking him to massage her back. In between, she told him how much she wanted their baby to grow up here in the wild beauty of the Highlands. She talked of seeing him take his first steps and going on picnics. She would start a school so their child could learn in the company of the village children. With incurable longing, Alex wanted to believe her idyllic plans. But a part of him doubted. She could not truly mean to spend her life here.

By sunset, her resilience began to flag, and she closed her eyes between the waves of pain. Her golden lashes enhanced the delicacy of her flushed skin. During each contraction, she clung tightly to his hand, and Alex would have sold his soul to ease her agony. Surely the pains had been too close for too long. Experience told him there were differences in each woman's labor, that one baby came easily while another proved difficult. But the worries crowded in on him. She was so small, so dainty, and he was a big man. What if the infant were too large? What if he lost Helen?

Though the room was warm, a cold sweat caused him to tremble. He mastered himself with effort. It was stunning to realize how empty his life would be without her smiles, her chatter, her endless optimism. Somehow, she had become as vital to him as air.

At that moment, she uttered a fierce cry, her fingers knotting in the bedlinens as she strained to expel the baby. When he sprang to examine her, he saw to his relief the crowning of the head. He encouraged her to focus all of her strength into bringing their child into the world. She did so with great fortitude, and within moments he held a slippery, squalling baby.

" 'Tis a boy," Alex muttered, half dazed with elation.

The next moments passed in a blur. His actions automatic, Alex tied the cord and delivered the afterbirth, then washed up while Flora wrapped the baby in a blanket and brought him to his mother. Helen cuddled the infant in her arms and laughed with joy. "Oh Alex, we've a son. Isn't he beautiful?"

Alex sat down beside her. "Aye," he whispered.

He could trust himself to say no more. Reaching out, he touched the boy's still-damp black hair. He'd always found red-faced, squalling newborns rather ugly. But this one made his eyes burn with fierce, protective ardor.

Helen's radiant smile enveloped him. Seeing her cradling his son, Alex felt giddy, love-daft. Impelled by a powerful impulse, he leaned forward and gently kissed her. For one sweet moment, their lips melded with tenderness and hope.

He knew then that it was too late to fight his feelings for her. He wanted the three of them to be a family. His life-his son's life-would be incomplete without Helen.

But he didn't know how to hold her.

Chapter Ten

"I haven't been to Scotland since Justin and I wed at Gretna Green," Isabel said. "Oh, it's such a lovely place."

Sitting on the porch steps, Helen shared a smile with her half sister. The mountainous vista enhanced the delight of enjoying Isabel's company again. With the sun glinting on her loosely upswept copper hair, Isabel looked too young to be the new Duchess of Lynwood. "I'm glad you and Papa came to visit," Helen said fervently. "I've missed you both ever so much."

"And I wouldn't have missed meeting your husband and little Ian for the world," Isabel declared. "I've never seen a man dote so on a baby."

It was true, Helen knew. In the past weeks, Alex had proven himself a fine father, never hesitating to change a nappie or rock Ian to sleep. Now if only he would pay half so much attention to her. Deliberately, Helen deflected the conversation away from Alex. "Speaking of doting," she said, "Papa certainly dotes on his grandchildren."

She shaded her eyes to watch Lord Hathaway standing beneath the old oak tree, pushing Isabel's four-year-old daughter in the swing while Isabel's son toddled after the dog. The trill of childish laughter floated across the park. They had been here for a few days, having come six weeks after baby Ian's birth. Justin was due to arrive tomorrow after tending to estate business. And Helen would see Justin and Isabel hug with the tenderness she herself longed for from her own husband.

She felt the soft touch of Isabel's hand on her arm. "Helen? I don't mean to pry, but is everything all right between you and Alex?"

One glance into those sympathetic sherry-brown eyes cracked the dam around Helen's emotions. She spilled out the story of how Alex resented their forced marriage, glossing over the details of who had seduced whom. "We can't truly be a family until he loves me," she concluded with a sigh.

"Oh, but he does! I've seen the way he looks at you. As if he were a starving man and you were a feast."

Helen doubted that. Her throat ached as she remembered their tender kiss after Ian's birth. Other than that brief closeness, Alex had remained aloof. Sometimes he vanished for the entire day, as if he needed time alone.

She turned her gaze to the distant loch, and the deep blue reminded her of his eyes. "You must be mistaken. If he truly loved me, he would want to…" Reluctant to reveal their lack of intimacy, she bit her lip.

"He hasn't shared your bed for a while," Isabel guessed. "Do you know, Justin had a peculiar notion after our first was born. He swore he wouldn't subject me to the rigors of childbirth again. So I had to seduce him."

She didn't know that Helen had already seduced Alex. Twice. "I wish it were so simple."

"It is simple. A man likes to pretend he has a strong will. But he can't resist a determined woman-especially not the woman he loves."

"Och, there ye are, m'lady," said a voice from behind them. Smiling broadly, Flora held out a basket. "Perhaps 'twas forward of me, but I packed a feast of the laird's favorites. I ken ye two need some time alone."

"A picnic!" Isabel exclaimed. Her eyes sparkling, she shooed Helen up from the step. "What a perfect idea. Papa and I shall watch Ian for the afternoon. While you take your husband on a picnic."

Half an hour later, Helen stepped into Alex's office. In her damp palm she clutched the basket of food. She didn't quite understand how Flora had come to appear at the right moment, but it all seemed part of the magic of hope. In a flurry, Helen had fed Ian and then put him down for his nap before changing into a rose-pink gown, cut low over her newly maternal bosom. All the while she had trembled to imagine Alex caressing her. Perhaps Isabel was right. If they found pleasure in each other's arms again, perhaps intimacy could mend the terrible rift in their marriage.

He sat writing at his desk, the window open to the balmy August day. As she approached, he looked up sharply and her heart sank. In his rough features she could see no sign of unrequited love. Instead, his dark brows were lowered as if he resented being disturbed.

She would not let him drive her away. Not today. "We're going on a picnic," she said firmly. "Just you and I."

He stared, his eyes enigmatic. She braced herself for a refusal, but he merely said, "On one condition. That I choose the place."