It was not one she would entertain.
“What other things?” he inquired as he returned his cloak to his shoulders and clasped her elbow.
“Do you ever think maybe Atticus knew about our relationship, and that’s why he sent you away instead of adding you to his trophy room.”
Ashby’s handsome features hardened at the mention of Atticus, and his green eyes swung back to her. “Yes,” he admitted.
“Do you believe it to be true?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed aside a branch for her so she could duck under it. “We will never truly know what he thought. His mind was rotten from years of a driving thirst for vengeance. Perhaps there was still some of the man he once was in there, but there wasn’t much of him.”
Melinda stopped when she came face to face with a massive boulder more than twenty feet tall and fifty feet wide. She frowned at it before beginning to make her way around the rock. “That’s what I think too, but I like to believe he did have some kindness left in him.”
Ashby drew back on her elbow, turning her to face him. Brushing back a strand of her hair, he bent to kiss her. Melinda had just relaxed against him when he pulled away and cupped her face. “Then I will believe it with you.”
She smiled at him and rested her cheek against his chest. With everything that had been going on, Jack’s wedding to Hannah, William’s return with news of this rising threat, their rushed evacuation of Chippman, and now this attack, she hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the baby. She hadn’t wanted to take anything away from Jack and Hannah’s day, and had planned to wait until they were back at the palace before revealing it to him, but now she knew there may be no returning to the palace.
Her brother was dead. Her heart clenched at the reminder, and fresh tears burned her eyes. She’d never been close to Braith after Jack had returned her to the palace. He was far older than she was, distant and reserved. He’d always been polite to her, but he’d been polite to everyone without ever getting close to them. Then, Ashby had accidentally blinded him in the rebellion of the aristocrats against Atticus. Afterwards, she’d stayed further away from Braith out of guilt over her relationship with Ashby and fear of their affair being discovered.
Since Braith had discovered Aria and broken out of the role Atticus had relegated him to, they had grown closer. She’d come to consider him her friend as well as her brother, and now he was gone. Aria was gone now too, not only to lead their new enemy away, but she would be lost to them if Braith didn’t come back from death—a feat she would have believed impossible before Aria had stated that she believed the vampire threatening them to be Sabine. Now Melinda held out hope that Aria was right. She’d come to love Aria as a friend and sister; she would mourn her loss the same as the loss of Braith.
After the events of today, she knew they had no idea what awaited them in their future, and there would never be a perfect time to tell Ashby, at least not anytime soon.
Ashby went to turn away from her, but she took hold of his hand and drew him back. “What is it?” he inquired.
“I’m pregnant.”
He couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d told him she’d grown a tail. His mouth parted, and his eyes held hers for a minute before falling to her still-flat stomach. His mouth closed, then opened again; his hand extended toward her stomach before dropping away. She clasped hold of his hand and pressed it against her belly.
“Are you sure?” he croaked out.
“Yes. I know this wasn’t planned—”
She never got a chance to finish before he lifted her into the air. Melinda bit back a laugh as he spun her around. They couldn’t draw attention to themselves, but the radiant smile on his face and the glow in his eyes made her almost scream with joy. He crushed her against his chest, his hands smoothing back her hair as he rained kisses across her face. She giggled as she hugged him close.
“How long have you known?” he inquired when he set her on the ground and clasped her cheeks.
“I’ve suspected for a couple of weeks now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“I was waiting until after the wedding, until we were home, but now we may never make it home.”
The growl rumbling through his chest surprised her. His good-natured ease, roguish charm, quirky smile, and whistling habit were some of the things she loved best about him, but he was not a willing fighter.
“We will make it home,” he grated. “We will grow to see our child play in the gardens with his many cousins over the years to come.”
The joyful image of such a thing filled her mind; she could practically hear the laughter of all the children, but as the image rose, it died away. There may never be cousins if something were to happen to Jack too.