Ronan looked at the shredded rear tire of the SUV. It had not blown from the crash. The sidewall had been punctured cleanly. Shot, most likely, before she left the road.
“I understand more than you think,” he said.
She studied him then, really studied him. The beard. The scar along his temple. The old wool coat. The rifle. The shoulders built by weather and work instead of gyms and tailors.
“You live up here alone?”
“Yes.”
“By choice?”
“Most days.”
A laugh broke from her, too sharp to be happy. Then her face crumpled in pain again.
Ronan reached for her arm.
“Elena, I need to get you inside.”
Her grip tightened around the document case.
“No matter what happens, this stays with me.”
“Fine.”
“If I pass out—”
“You won’t.”
“If I do, take the case. Not the baby. Not me. The case.”
Ronan looked at her.
“Elena.”
She glared at him through tears.
“Promise me.”
“No.”
Her expression faltered.
“No?”
“I’m not choosing paper over a woman and her child.”
“You don’t know what’s in it.”
“I know what’s in front of me.”
For one long second, she looked as if she had forgotten what kindness sounded like when it was not trying to buy something.
Then her strength went out of her.
Ronan carried her up the mountain.
She was not light. He would have hated himself if he had thought it mattered. Her body was warm and shaking against him, her breath ragged in his ear. More than once, she whispered that she was sorry. Sorry for being heavy. Sorry for slowing him down. Sorry for the blood on his coat. Sorry for the storm, as if she had caused that too.
By the time the cabin lights came into view, Ronan was breathing hard.
Elena heard it and tried to push away from him.
“I can walk.”
“You can’t.”
“I’m too much.”
Ronan stopped at the porch and looked down at her.
“You are a woman in labor in a blizzard after a car crash. You are not a burden. You are a miracle with terrible timing.”
Her mouth opened.
No answer came.
He carried her inside.
The cabin was small but warm. One room downstairs, a loft above, a narrow kitchen, a stone hearth, a bed against the far wall that Ronan had not shared with anyone in years. He laid Elena there and moved quickly. Towels. Boiled water. Lanterns. Medical kit. Clean sheets. The storm buried the windows in darkness.
Elena clutched the document case as he checked her pulse.
“You were a medic,” she said.
“Army.”
“You know what you’re doing?”
“Enough to know we are not getting to a hospital tonight.”
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No. I can’t have him here.”
“Him?”
Her hand moved over her belly with fierce tenderness.
“Theodore. Theo.”
Ronan paused.
“You named him already.”
“Jasper did.” Her voice broke. “He said every child deserves a name before the world starts arguing over them.”
Ronan softened despite himself.
“What does Malcolm want?”
She stared at the ceiling.
“The Harland trust.”
“That’s a lot of trouble for a trust he probably already has lawyers circling.”
“He controls part of it. Not all.” Her breath trembled. “If Theo is born alive, Jasper’s shares pass to him. Malcolm becomes temporary guardian only if I’m declared unfit. If Theo is not born alive, Malcolm controls the voting block outright.”
Ronan went still.
Outside, thunder rolled over the ridge.
Inside, the fire popped.
Elena’s eyes filled, but the tears did not fall.
“They told everyone grief made me delusional. They locked me in the west guest house. Took my phone. Sent doctors who asked questions like they already knew the answers. Then Malcolm told the staff the baby might not be Jasper’s.”
Ronan said nothing.
Elena turned her face away.
“I was a pastry chef at one of their resorts. That’s how I met Jasper. I wasn’t an heiress. I wasn’t thin enough for their parties. I didn’t know the rules. His mother called me a sweet mistake. Malcolm’s wife once said I looked like someone had invited the dessert table to dinner.”
Ronan felt something old and dark move in his chest.
“Elena.”
She gave a small, ashamed laugh.
“Everyone said I was too wide to wear the Harland name. Too plain. Too soft. Too hungry. Too loud when I laughed. Too much of everything a Harland wife was not supposed to be.”
“He married you.”
“Yes.”
“Then he knew exactly what he wanted.”
That made her look at him.
“They never forgave him for that.”
Another contraction hit before Ronan could answer. This one bent her body like a bow. She cried out, fingers digging into the sheet.
Ronan had seen enough births in field hospitals to know when time had run out.
No ambulance.
No doctor.
No road.
The child was coming.
“Elena,” he said, voice steady. “Listen to me. Theo is coming now.”
Panic swallowed her face.
“No. No, not here. Not like this.”
“Yes, here.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I’m too tired.”
“I know.”
“I’m scared.”