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to trample anyone and anything that even remotely upsets the poor dear.
    “She’s lying. She must be.”
    I knew the minute the words left my mouth that I was only lying to myself. Rob, while being a great bloke and jolly good fun, is and has always been a cad of the first order.
    Dad joked that Rob must be blessed because he’s never knocked one up through all his fifteen years of philandering.
    Until now.
    If she’s to be believed.
    “We’re here, sir.”
    I look out of the window and grimace when the dreary stone façade of St. Mary’s stares back at me, the dark grey mortar giving the place a sad air of desperation.
    “I’ll be out shortly.”
    The inside is no better, having that classic poor lighting that seems to make up such establishments.
    “Hey, you can’t come in here. Only women allowed.”
    I tower over the short, frumpy receptionist and glare for all I’m worth, silently crossing myself in case she’s a nun and raise a brow.
    “My name is Cameron Stone. I’m here for Shaw Mallory. She’s expecting me.”
    I grin when the little mouse scuttles away and comes back minutes later, followed by a short, thin corpse instead of the plump plain Jane I’m expecting.
    Shaw Mallory must be sick because no healthy person can carry that pallor and still be walking.
    “Mr. Stone?”
    Her voice is so relieved and hopeful that I tense and force myself not to react outwardly in any way. Never show them emotion and they won’t have weapons to use. It’s my creed and one that has served me well for the ten years since I’ve taken my family’s business—and not only saved it but turned it into one of Britain’s leading telecommunications firms.
    “Miss Mallory. We have a doctor’s appointment. Please collect your things and come with me.”
    Her eyes go wide at the command, and I see a spark of rebellion there before she squashes it and nods once.
    “I’m so glad you believe me. I only have two more days left here before I have to find another place to stay.”
    I don’t say a word until she’s collected her two bags and is seated beside me in the car.
    “I would like to inform you that if you are indeed lying about the paternity of this child for the purpose of extorting money from my family that I will personally end any semblance of a life that you have, Miss Mallory.”
    Her gasp gives me a short-lived spurt of satisfaction, and I thin my lips to keep from smiling.
    “The doctor will be doing tests which will either confirm that you are lying or that the child you carry is a Stone. If you’re telling the truth, I will make arrangements for your care. If not, I will be setting my legal team on you and believe me, that you do not want.”
    Those eerie lilac-blue eyes focus on me for the longest time before she turns her head away and stares out at the misty drizzle.
    “I’m not lying, but then it doesn’t seem as if that will matter much until you have your proof. I had a decent life before your brother. I had a good job and a chance at the life I worked hard to get. He fooled me into believing something that wasn’t true and then left me to deal with the fall out.”
    Her words are a shot of acid to the open wound in my chest, and I react poorly, pinching her chin between fingers that are too hard and too forceful against such delicate skin.
    “You will never speak of him that way again. Understand? You are nothing more than a down-on-her-luck con artist, and when I prove it, I am going to make you eat those words. Now shut up. We have nothing to say to each other till I have my proof.”
    If her wounded eyes tear the slightest bit, I refuse to notice, and if the dark circles under her eyes, coupled with the sunken hollows of her cheeks, make me feel like a brute attacking a weak, sickly female, I refuse to admit it.
    All I know is that this woman has made my already grieving mother insane with grief over a child that likely isn’t one of ours. If that is the case, I will finish