And the Bride Wore Prada by Katie Oliver

brow. ‘Why not?’
    ‘You hardly know her, for starters. And from what I’ve seen of her so far,’ he added darkly, ‘I don’t think I much
want
to know her.’
    ‘Oh, she’s actually quite nice,’ Gemma said airily, and picked up her mobile phone. ‘We had a lovely chat yesterday evening. She really
is
nursing a broken heart, you know.’
    Dominic couldn’t imagine the red-haired ball-breaker having anything approximating a heart in the first place, but he wisely kept his opinions to himself. ‘Really? And what poor bloke did she tangle with?’
    ‘An older man, apparently. Very dashing, she said, and wealthy. But he turned out to be a complete shit. Caitlin says he used her and tossed her aside like a crumpled tissue.’
    ‘Imagine that.’ Privately Dom thought it must’ve been the other way round, but he said nothing.
    It didn’t matter, at any rate, he noticed with a flicker of irritation, as Gemma wasn’t listening, anyway.
    She was far too busy posting updates about her upcoming wedding and her silk, hand-beaded Prada gown to notice much of
any
thing where he was concerned.
    ‘Pregnant,’ Rhys muttered after he’d shown the doctor out, and went into the library to pour himself a stiff drink.
    ‘What’s that, old boy?’ Tarquin asked affably as he entered the library in search of a good book.
    Rhys looked up, startled. ‘What? Oh, nothing. Just...thinking out loud.’
    ‘I understand Doctor MacTavish was here earlier to see Natalie,’ he added. ‘I do hope she’s all right?’
    ‘Yes. Yes, she’s fine.’
    ‘Glad to hear it. Any idea what was wrong?’
    ‘He seemed to think it was a...reaction to something she ate. Prawns, possibly.’ Rhys disliked lying to their host; but until they could be certain, there was no point in saying anything. Besides, it wasn’t something he felt ready to share, just yet.
    He needed to come to grips with the news himself, first.
    When Natalie awoke the next morning, Rhys was already up and gone. She rolled on her back and stared up at the ceiling with her thoughts in a tangle.
    So I’m pregnant, possibly...yet how could that be? I’ve taken my pill every day without fail. And those pills are 99.09 percent accurate, aren’t they?
    Natalie sighed. It was that .01 percent that always got you...
    She pushed the covers aside and got up. Her handbag sat on the armchair where she’d tossed it yesterday; she riffled through it now until she found her pill case and took out the instruction sheet tucked under the lid. With a frown, she skimmed it.
    ‘...pill must be taken at the same time every day...’
    Well, I’ve done that
! she thought indignantly.
    ‘…if a pill is missed, take two pills the following day…’
    Well, I’ve done that, too, once or twice
, she admitted.
    ‘...be advised that allergy medications may negate or lessen the effectiveness of the pill...’
    Natalie stared at the words on the folded sheet of paper in her hands with dawning dismay.
    Her allergies! Of course, that explained it. She’d taken a couple of allergy pills on the way here to Scotland to curb her sneezing fits. She lowered the bit of paper in her hands and bit her lip in consternation.
    On the one hand, she was thrilled – elated! – to be pregnant. She’d longed for a baby of her own ever since she’d held her sister Caro’s little girl in her arms and smelt her sweet, baby scent. She couldn’t wait to do up the nursery and shop for strollers and cribs, and some of those darling little baby shoes and outfits...
    On the
other
hand...there was Rhys to consider.
    He hadn’t said much last night after Dr MacTavish left them – in fact, he hadn’t said
any
thing apart from ‘goodnight’ and ‘we’ll talk about this in the morning’. But he’d looked decidedly shell-shocked as he’d got into bed.
    Now he was gone off God-knew-where in this enormous castle, and she didn’t know quite what to do.
    Natalie frowned. She couldn’t share her happy news with