"Hey! What are you—I can walk by myself!"
"Don't move," James commanded coolly.
Clara settled obediently in his arms, thinking, 'This guy isn't so bad after all.'
'Oh right—he's probably feeling guilty about last night. That's why he's being nice.'
She recalled waking to find James clutching her hand, as if afraid she'd disappear. Had he actually been worried about her?
James glanced down. "Don't read into it. I just don't want complications with the baby."
Clara's momentary warmth vanished. 'He's only being nice to protect his inheritance.'
She shut her eyes against his stern expression, but being this close—breathing in his cotton scent, remembering last night's passion—a flush crept up her cheeks. She buried her face deeper against his chest.
The simple gesture made James' heart
