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was going to reap worse. She could tell as fingers spread about what was left of her skirts, gathering petticoat-depleted cloth about one side and lifting her, matching her fully against his loins. Her eyes flew wide and her trembling worsened. That just made the limbs holding her harder and tighter as a tremor scored him. It was impossible not to see goose bumps as they lifted the opaque white fabric from his skin. Amalie had never felt so odd; her breath was coming in sharp short bursts, while her entire body felt like liquid weight. It was held in place by him and being fitted around him, and there wasn’t much on her that felt capable of stopping any of it. He went to a push-up position, above the babe, parting her legs and then settling something, hard, foreign, and heated right between her thighs, splitting them. Just above the knee. She had to do something! Anything! And it just wasn’t fair that not one soul had warned her about this sort of experience.
    “St-stop! Please . . . stop!” The squeak was barely audible at first.
    “Say something to match your frame.” His voice was accompanied by a slide of motion as he bowed above her and maneuvered further between the sensitive skin between her thighs.
    “You . . . must stop—!”
    “Nae,” he responded.
    “I’ll scream! I will!” The huffed words had fright and shock at their core. And somehow that stopped him.
    “What? Why?”
    “I swear . . . I will!”
    “You prefer death?” Thayne’s whisper was harsh as he lowered back onto his side on the blanket bed, somehow keeping their loins connected. And worse. It felt like it pulsed against her with a movement of its own!
    Amalie’s eyes went so wide it pained. She didn’t dare blink as he looked down at her. There wasn’t a hue of any kind to be seen as he gazed at her for long moments while his heartbeat continued to pound against her belly. Swift. Strong. Relentless.
    “You doona’ wish this?”
    “N-no.” The whisper was hers but it was choked-sounding. It didn’t sound like a refusal at all. It sounded eager . . . and breathless.
    “Truly?”
    “Tru . . . ly.”
    “Why did you tell them we wed, then?” he asked.
    “I . . . had to.”
    “Why?”
    He’d guessed something of her distress for he was easing from her, sliding away as he moved. He left one leg atop her, pinning her. As if he needed it to prevent escape. That was needless. If she tried to stand, she suspected she’d fall.
    “Be-because you . . . told them the babe was mine.”
    “True.”
    “I cannot have a baby.”
    “Well, I sure as the devil could na’,” Thayne replied.
    “It isn’t amusing.”
    “Agreed.” He’d sobered at her tone.
    “I mean . . . I can’t have a-a-a newly birthed baby.”
    “Why na’?”
    “I don’t know the . . . particulars, but I think there are doctors involved . . . and s-s-sometimes surgeons . . . and I-I-I think it’s very hard. I probably couldn’t be moved.”
    “I’ve carried you everywhere. That’s nae issue. Only my men ken why.”
    Space and time away from the intimacy he’d forced on her was strengthening her voice and giving her back her wits. As well as making everything cold-feeling. She’d worry over that later.
    “Very well. What about the rest of it?”
    “What ‘rest of it’?” He mimicked her exactly, although his barely audible voice was two octaves lower in tone.
    Amalie stuck out her lower lip and blew a sigh. “When you tell a lie you have to be able to back it up. And continue the farce. You didn’t.”
    “How so?”
    “You gave me little choice. Without any time to think, I might add.”
    “Why doona’ you make sense?”
    “Claiming you is the lesser evil under the circumstances. Can’t you see that?”
    “Lesser evil? Me?”
    He pulled his head back as if insulted. Amalie barely avoided giving in to the twitch of smile.
    “Life or death, remember?”
    “What are you speaking of now?”
    “Exactly what you did.”
    “I must be stewed,