Liam’s arm tightened possessively around Peta’s waist, tucking her up against the warmth and strength of his body.

‘I chose Peta as my wife, didn’t I? We’re the perfect combination of breeding and money.’

He made it sound like a joke, and clearly Stephanie took it that he meant it flippantly, but deep inside Peta felt something twist sharply at the thought that in fact he had spoken nothing but the truth. The Hewland family, whose only daughter Liam’s mother had been, were long-established landowners in the county. But by the standards of her own family, they were newly wealthy. The Lassiters could trace their ancestry back to the Norman Conquest, but as a result of too many death duties and some desperately unwise speculation on the Stock Exchange they were cash poor.

That was why her parents and Liam’s grandfather, who had been friends for years, had come up with the idea of a marriage that united their two families. That way, they’d reckoned, they would have the best of both worlds.

‘Breeding?’

A new masculine voice took up the conversation. Tony, Stephanie’s husband, had joined them, catching the tail-end of Liam’s remark.

‘Who’s talking about breeding? Liam—Peta—have you got some news we should know? Or has my wife been letting you in on our little secret?’

‘News? No.’

Peta answered hastily, looking anywhere but into Liam’s face. She could feel the colour ebbing from her own cheeks as her conscience stabbed at her painfully, reminding her of the deception she was practising on her husband. It didn’t matter that she had very good reasons for doing so. Liam would never see it that way. He wouldn’t understand her motives; the way things had changed so much since she had realised just how she really felt.

‘N-no—no news.’

‘But we have!’

Stephanie didn’t have to explain just what her news was. It shone out of her eyes, was there in the glow in her face, her smile. Peta’s stomach lurched painfully. Her friend had been married only half as long as she had. Just six months ago she and Liam had been guests at Stephanie and Tony’s wedding, and now her friend was announcing the fact that she was pregnant.

‘Congratulations, Steph!’

She made herself say it, praying that her hurried movement forwards to hug her friend, the way that her face was muffled in Stephanie’s tumbling blonde hair, would explain the catch in her voice, the jerky unevenness of the words.

She’d married Liam to have children. But as her own feelings about her husband had changed, so had her thoughts on bringing a baby into this marriage. And now here, right in front of her, was the image of exactly why she had felt forced to take the decision she had. Stephanie and Tony were so obviously deeply in love. They were a couple in a way that she and Liam could never be, the sort of parents that she dreamed of providing for her own child when the time came.

‘That’s wonderful news.’

She couldn’t even make it sound genuine, Liam reflected bitterly. Oh, perhaps someone who didn’t know their private background might be convinced. They might actually just take the words at face value and not hear the bleak emptiness that threaded through them, draining them of any real warmth and delight. But to someone who was as sensitive to everything about this woman as he was, it was obvious that her heart wasn’t fully in her response. That there was something at the back of it, throwing a dark shadow over her happiness.

And she wouldn’t even look him in the face. Couldn’t meet his eyes. Ever since he’d made that damn stupid remark about breeding she had been avoiding him quite obviously.

He could have bitten his tongue off as soon as he had said it. It had come too close to the truth. To the sort of dynastic marriage their families had wanted and that, at first, they had both been so determined to resist. He had trampled right in, reminding her of one of the reasons—apart, of course, from fancying the pants off each other so that they couldn’t keep their hands, or other parts, to themselves—for their union. And now Stephanie had reminded her of the fact that he had failed to deliver on his promise.

Luckily at that moment the announcement of the fact that supper was being served proved a very welcome diversion. For once he was grateful that the formality his grandfather insisted on for these occasions meant that he and Peta, as the guests of honour at this event, had to lead everyone else into the dining room where the elegant buffet meal was laid out.

‘What can I get you?’

‘Oh—anything—I’m not really hungry.’

She still seemed distracted. Still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Okay, then—you go and sit down and I’ll bring you something over. I think I know what you like.’

Did she have to look so relieved to be given the chance to move away? It was obvious that she had chosen a table on the far side of the room, where she could sit on her own, away from everyone else. People would be thinking that they’d had a row—not the best possible image to present on their first anniversary, particularly not when they wanted everyone to believe that theirs was a successful, happy marriage.

‘What’s up with that pretty wife of yours, then, my boy?’

Joshua Hewland’s tones sounded gruffly behind him, making Liam wince inwardly. He supposed that compared to his grandfather’s eighty-two years just turned thirty must seem young, but he had never quite adjusted to the way the old man kept referring to him as ‘my boy’.

‘Nothing’s wrong. She’s just a little tired, that’s all.’

‘Tired?’ Joshua’s response was a blatant snort of disbelief and disapproval. ‘Tired!’

The old man’s watery blue eyes looked sceptical and the glance he turned in Peta’s direction was frankly disapproving.

‘Tired! At her age! Young people these days have no stamina! Why, when I was—’

Abruptly he came to a halt and Liam groaned inwardly as he saw the disapproval fade and a newly speculative expression take its place.

‘Unless, of course… Do you have something to tell me?’

Ruthlessly Liam squashed down the angry retort that rose to his lips. Telling his grandfather that it was none of his business was not the way to handle this, even if it was the reply he most wanted to give. Joshua’s obsession with the Hewland line, the inheritance of the great house and the acres of land that went with it, was positively feudal. It was something that Liam normally respected, something he partly shared, but right now it touched on a very uncomfortable spot indeed and was not something he wanted to talk about, particularly not in such a public place.

‘When and if we do have “something to tell you”,’ he declared stiffly, ‘we’ll tell you in our own good time and not before.’

His grandfather wasn’t pleased. The way the thin old mouth clamped into a tight, hard line made that only too clear. That and the way his bristling white brows drew together in a disapproving frown.

‘Well, don’t mess about with this, lad!’ he ordered brusquely. ‘I’m not getting any younger and I don’t have many years to waste waiting for you to provide me with an heir.’

‘Don’t you mean a legitimate heir?’ Liam snapped back, anger flaring almost out of control.

It had been impossible to come to terms with the way that his grandfather had never fully accepted him, and when the old man harped on about having an heir to Hewland Hall it simply drummed home the way that Joshua was prepared to dismiss the fact that he had once had a daughter. Liam’s mother. But Anna Hewland had offended her father’s old-fashioned principles by having a baby and not even staying with, never mind marrying, the father.

‘At least this child will be born into a legal marriage,’ Joshua returned coldly. ‘Though of course that wouldn’t matter if only your mother had had a child by the man who had the decency to put a ring on her finger.’