Emilie Rose - The Price of Honour

“What if I asked you to choose between her and me?”

“Don’t.”

The inflexible word crushed her hopes and dreams. The idea of her man—the one she adored immeasurably—making love to her while planning to marry someone else made her want to howl and throw things. And she wasn’t the tantrum-throwing type. He might as well rip out her heart and grind it beneath his custom-made Italian shoes.

She would not be the other woman. She would not beg for his attention or settle for the crumbs his wife allowed him to toss her way.

And what about the baby she carried?

What of her career?

Her home?

Everything she’d counted on had been completely upset by his engagement. Panic clawed at her. She needed to think, to plan, to try to find a way out of this mess, and she couldn’t do that with Xavier watching her.

She tossed the towel aside. “I have to get to the stables.”

“Megan—”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now. I have horses and clients waiting for me.”

“Tonight, then.”

She barely managed not to snort in disbelief. Did he honestly believe she’d come home after work and casually share dinner the way they always did? Dinner. Then bed. Then lie in his arms all night and think about her? No way.

She raced into the bedroom. The fact that he didn’t come after her spoke volumes. She shed her running clothes and yanked on her riding attire. Her hair was damp and she probably reeked of sweat from her run, but she didn’t care. A shower was the least of her worries. She stomped into her boots.

Her cell phone blinked on its charger, indicating a new voice mail message. Unable to deal with whoever had called now, she snatched up the device and shoved it into her jacket pocket without checking caller ID.

She bolted from what until this morning had been her paradise, a fairy-tale cottage, part of the fairy-tale life she and Xavier had created. She heard the helicopter’s blades in the distance. Xavier had already left, as if this day—the one where he’d shattered her dreams and wrecked her life—were as routine as any other.

She’d sprinted half the distance to the stable before stopping beneath a tree—and out of sight of the rising chopper—to gather her shattered control. Struggling to catch her breath, she leaned against the rough bark and wiped the moisture from her face. Tears, not sweat. And she never cried. Never . Tears were useless and they never fixed anything. But, damn him, Xavier had driven her to tears for the first time since hearing about the plane crash that had killed her family.

She took big gulping breaths, but she couldn’t seem to stem the flow. She was pregnant. And the only man she’d ever allowed herself to love, the father of her baby, was going to marry someone else.

He had made it clear he wouldn’t want this child.

Do you?

Given the circumstances—the new circumstances—she didn’t know.

Part of her relished the idea of holding the proof of her love for Xavier in her arms. But her logical side argued that children and the Grand Prix circuit were not a winning combination. Only a few riders juggled parenthood and competition successfully, and they did so with the help of nannies and understanding spouses. Could she make it work without Xavier’s help?

She worked crazy long hours, often seven days a week, and the travel was grueling. What kind of mother could she be with that schedule? Her child would suffer without a second parent to fill the gaps. Single parenthood would be nothing like the merry band of gypsies she, her brother, mother and father had been before the crash.

Continuing the pregnancy would be incredibly complicated. Even if she booted Xavier’s gorgeous butt and his horses to the curb, how would she hide her condition from him if she stayed on the continent? She was almost two months pregnant and it wouldn’t be long before she’d start to show.

Would he try to talk her into an abortion or fight her for custody on principle? This was Xavier’s baby, and what Xavier owned Xavier kept. Would he feel as territorial about an unplanned love child?

It didn’t matter. Megan wouldn’t risk having her child raised by his wife—someone who might not want it, love and cherish it. Someone who might resent the hell out of the onerous duty thrust upon her.

Been there. Done that. After her family had been killed, her childhood hadn’t been the greeting card kind. Even though her uncle had taken her in, he’d made sure she always knew she was an unwelcome burden. An outsider. That woman’s child.

And what about her cottage—the house Xavier had bought for her? Even if he’d let her, she couldn’t stay there after he married someone else. Especially since her place had a clear view of the driveway to his estate. She’d see his wife coming and going. And that would destroy her.

She bent over double, hands on her knees. What are you going to do?

Panic tightened like a noose around her neck. She had to focus on the present rather than worry about what might happen months from now. Deal with today. Then the rest .

The birth control failure couldn’t have come at a worse time. She was on the verge of realizing her dream of making it to the top as a Grand Prix rider and trainer on the European circuit. Not only were her horses racking up credentials, but she’d been signing more and more exclusive clients each season. She rode over a dozen horses any given day. And she had a reputation for being the “go-to” girl when a rider sustained an injury and needed a temporary replacement.

But she couldn’t do any of that while she was expecting. Taking time off for a pregnancy would mean losing ranking and income from the horses other owners contracted her to ride and show. And then what?

Straightening slowly, she hugged her middle. Termination would be the least complicated route, she acknowledged with a heavy heart. But could she do it? She didn’t know. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of crushed dreams and a potential career crisis.

But whether or not she had the baby was her decision. She had the most to lose either way. As for Xavier … what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Until she made up her mind about her future she couldn’t risk him finding out about her condition. She had to get as far away from his influence as possible. But where could she go? Where could she hide?

Before she could flee to lick her wounds and reorganize her life she had to make arrangements for her horses and those she trained for other owners. Because no matter how this ended, she was a professional and she wanted to have a career to return to after … whatever happened.

She pulled out her phone, determined to get business out of the way so she could focus on the multitude of changes ahead. Hannah’s number popped up as the missed call. No surprise. Somehow her cousin always knew when Megan needed her, and Hannah would support her no matter which choice she made. Hannah would give her refuge while she tried to make sense of her future.

That took care of the where-to-go problem. It was time to go home to North Carolina—the state and country she’d fled a decade ago—and get as far away from Xavier Alexandre as possible.

Three weeks of silence weighed heavily on Megan’s nerves. She hadn’t heard from Xavier. He hadn’t called, emailed, texted or responded in any way to her email informing him that she wouldn’t be returning to France.

She’d expected … something. And yes, it shamed her to admit she’d hoped he’d miss her, come after her, apologize and propose. He was a fighter, not a quitter. His company’s rise to the top in the global perfume market proved his ambition and tenacity.

It was hard to accept that the most exciting time of her life, her love affair with the man she’d believed perfect, was over. Finished. And being dismissed so easily hurt in ways she never could have imagined. It was as if she’d never mattered to him and as the cliché said, she was out of sight and out of mind.

But life went on and this morning her cousin Hannah—not Xavier—had accompanied her to her first prenatal appointment—a bittersweet moment filled with both joy and pain.

She’d never planned to have children. But those plans had changed somewhere over the Atlantic when she’d remembered Hannah’s mother’s favorite saying. The end of something is always the beginning of something else .

The words hadn’t meant anything to Megan as a child, but they couldn’t be more apt now. This baby was the beginning of her new life. And if she couldn’t have Xavier, she could have a family of her own.

With her attention only half-focused on the rider in front of her, she thanked heaven for her cousin. Hannah had not only welcomed her and provided her with a home, but she’d helped find experienced riders to keep Megan’s horses in shape. And she had made a place for Megan at Sutherland Farm as a trainer and riding coach. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying or challenging as riding, but for now, it would pay the bills.

It was only when she wandered through the silent guest cottage—her new home—at night that Megan got caught up in the what-might-have-beens. But she and her baby would survive without Xavier Alexandre.

The sound of a rail clattering down jerked her attention back to the student cantering through the intermediate jump course. Megan signaled the rider—her last lesson of the day—to meet her at the gate. She was used to assessing her competition, analyzing their weaknesses and using those to trounce them in the ring. Finding a constructive way to share a rider’s faults and coach them into a better performance wasn’t a skill she’d mastered yet. But she was working on it.

“Do you know why that last rail came down, Terri?” she asked as she stroked the big chestnut’s glossy neck. The Hanoverian mare had heart and scope. That was half the battle. If only her rider were half as talented.

The girl grimaced. “I rushed it. I was already racing for the time line before I cleared the last vertical.”

“Exactly. And your distraction confused your horse. Otherwise, that was a good run. You could lean a little more forward as you approach, but you can work on that between now and your next lesson.”

“Got it. I’ll see you next week, Megan. Thanks.” Terri waved and trotted off on her mare.

Megan’s energy flagged. The combination of restless nights combined with her pregnancy was kicking her butt. The course needed resetting for tomorrow’s advanced students, but she just couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for the task. It would have to wait until morning. Right now she needed a moment to soak up the peace and quiet of the fading day.

She turned her back on the barn and the paperwork waiting on her desk, braced her arms across the top of the white board fence and parked her boot on the bottom rail as she savored the way the setting sun turned the sky sherbet colors as it disappeared behind the tall pines. The sweet aromas of honeysuckle and gardenias permeated the humid air. There was a stillness in the ring just before dusk, a tranquillity that centered the universe on the rider and her mount.

Megan missed riding like an amputee would miss a newly severed limb, and not being able to pit herself and her horse against time and obstacles left her empty and adrift. She’d been a rider since her father had bought her first pony for her fourth birthday. The show ring had been the one place she’d excelled, the only place she’d always fit in, and her last link to her father who’d been a great competitor. But she wouldn’t risk hurting her baby—not even for a short ride.