"Madam?"

Not again. Fury dragged a pillow over her head to obliterate the sound and groaned. Then she threw back the sheet and retched. Every muscle in her stomach ached. A horrible, empty ache, because she was barely able to eat.

Other parts of her ached too. But that was a very pleasant ache. Eight weeks had passed, and how long she was meant to keep Flint thinking she still needed to conceive, she'd no idea. Being pregnant must do things to a woman's body. She hadn't ...