considered what might happen if something was wrong.
Sienna hadn’t asked for this baby, hadn’t wanted it or the marriage that Rafe assumed must go hand in hand with its existence. But if something was wrong with the baby, if he wasn’t getting the package deal he was expecting, there was every likelihood he wouldn’t want her any more.
Just for a moment, just a fraction of a moment, she almost let herself wish for the worst.
It hit her unexpectedly then, a hitherto unknown maternal guilt that she could be so cruel to her unborn child, tumbling and crashing over her in a wave that had her clamping her eyes tightly shut as she tried to blot out the possibility that something could be wrong. Because none of this was the baby’s fault. She had no right to wish away this brand new speck of life just to solve her own problems. No right at all.
And suddenly, as the scanner slid across her skin, all that mattered was that her baby was healthy. Whatever else happened to her, it didn’t matter, she would somehow cope.
But please, God, let her baby be healthy!
The radiographer seemed to be taking forever, biting her lip as she stared at the screen. She said something in her native Velattian-Italian language mix that had the obstetrician nodding as he studied the emerging pictures. She turned her head to see, but the screen was angled away from her, studied intently by the radiographer by her side and by both the specialist and Rafe at the foot of the bed. She strained to get higher. ‘If you could lie still,’ the radiographer encouraged, putting a hand to her shoulder.
‘What’s wrong,’ Rafe asked her, his attention distracted from the screen.
‘It’s taking so long.’
The woman smiled and squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, her accented words strangely soothing. ‘Sometimes it takes a little time. As soon as we have a clear picture, I’ll show you your bambino .’
Rafe joined her at the head of the bed, pulled up a chair and took her hand between his. ‘You can’t see there,’ she warned, knowing how much he wanted to see the evidence of this child with his own eyes.
‘So we’ll see our baby together.’ And the way he smiled at her raised goosebumps on her skin and hope in her heart. It seemed so real, like the smile a man would give a woman when she was carrying a child conceived in love. A smile so seemingly real it made her ache for all those real things she would never have—a real marriage, a man who wanted to marry her because he loved her and not for the baby she carried, a husband of her own choosing…
Sienna turned her head away and concentrated instead on the click and whirr of the machinery and the feel of the press of the device as it traced a path across her belly, the near-excruciating pressure against her over-full bladder all butbanished by the feel of Rafe’s hand around hers and the lazy stroke of his thumb.
She was asked to move a little to one side, then to the other, until after some time the radiographer appeared to find what she was looking for.
‘ Dottore Caporetto? ’ She looked over her shoulder then to the specialist, who was suddenly studying the screen intently, a frown gathering his already bushy brows, and a chill zipped down Sienna’s spine.
Something was wrong.
Rafe’s hand tightened around hers, as if he’d picked up on the vibe in the room as well. ‘What is it?’ he demanded in English. Then, ‘ C’e’ qualcosa che non va, Dottore? ’
‘Something you need to see,’ he said, and the consultant angled the screen so that both of them had a clear view at last, into a murky sea of light and shadow where nothing made sense.
‘I don’t understand,’ Sienna said. She’d known her baby would be tiny at this stage but she’d expected to see something recognizable, not this unreadable blur. ‘What is it?’
The specialist said something to Rafe she didn’t understand but she heard Rafe’s sharp intake of breath, felt his
Sienna hadn’t asked for this baby, hadn’t wanted it or the marriage that Rafe assumed must go hand in hand with its existence. But if something was wrong with the baby, if he wasn’t getting the package deal he was expecting, there was every likelihood he wouldn’t want her any more.
Just for a moment, just a fraction of a moment, she almost let herself wish for the worst.
It hit her unexpectedly then, a hitherto unknown maternal guilt that she could be so cruel to her unborn child, tumbling and crashing over her in a wave that had her clamping her eyes tightly shut as she tried to blot out the possibility that something could be wrong. Because none of this was the baby’s fault. She had no right to wish away this brand new speck of life just to solve her own problems. No right at all.
And suddenly, as the scanner slid across her skin, all that mattered was that her baby was healthy. Whatever else happened to her, it didn’t matter, she would somehow cope.
But please, God, let her baby be healthy!
The radiographer seemed to be taking forever, biting her lip as she stared at the screen. She said something in her native Velattian-Italian language mix that had the obstetrician nodding as he studied the emerging pictures. She turned her head to see, but the screen was angled away from her, studied intently by the radiographer by her side and by both the specialist and Rafe at the foot of the bed. She strained to get higher. ‘If you could lie still,’ the radiographer encouraged, putting a hand to her shoulder.
‘What’s wrong,’ Rafe asked her, his attention distracted from the screen.
‘It’s taking so long.’
The woman smiled and squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, her accented words strangely soothing. ‘Sometimes it takes a little time. As soon as we have a clear picture, I’ll show you your bambino .’
Rafe joined her at the head of the bed, pulled up a chair and took her hand between his. ‘You can’t see there,’ she warned, knowing how much he wanted to see the evidence of this child with his own eyes.
‘So we’ll see our baby together.’ And the way he smiled at her raised goosebumps on her skin and hope in her heart. It seemed so real, like the smile a man would give a woman when she was carrying a child conceived in love. A smile so seemingly real it made her ache for all those real things she would never have—a real marriage, a man who wanted to marry her because he loved her and not for the baby she carried, a husband of her own choosing…
Sienna turned her head away and concentrated instead on the click and whirr of the machinery and the feel of the press of the device as it traced a path across her belly, the near-excruciating pressure against her over-full bladder all butbanished by the feel of Rafe’s hand around hers and the lazy stroke of his thumb.
She was asked to move a little to one side, then to the other, until after some time the radiographer appeared to find what she was looking for.
‘ Dottore Caporetto? ’ She looked over her shoulder then to the specialist, who was suddenly studying the screen intently, a frown gathering his already bushy brows, and a chill zipped down Sienna’s spine.
Something was wrong.
Rafe’s hand tightened around hers, as if he’d picked up on the vibe in the room as well. ‘What is it?’ he demanded in English. Then, ‘ C’e’ qualcosa che non va, Dottore? ’
‘Something you need to see,’ he said, and the consultant angled the screen so that both of them had a clear view at last, into a murky sea of light and shadow where nothing made sense.
‘I don’t understand,’ Sienna said. She’d known her baby would be tiny at this stage but she’d expected to see something recognizable, not this unreadable blur. ‘What is it?’
The specialist said something to Rafe she didn’t understand but she heard Rafe’s sharp intake of breath, felt his
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