‘I think you’re right,’ he replied. ‘Now, do you think we can reheat dinner?’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE ENFORCED PRE-DINNER baths hadn’t made Heather any more popular with the children—or with Cal and Mrs Peterson, she imagined, since they’d both waited to eat with them. But then falling in a muddy riverbank hadn’t really endeared Daisy, Ryan or Lengroth Castle itself to Heather, so she didn’t feel too bad about it.
If nothing else, she’d shown the children that their actions had consequences.
It seemed to be working—for now, anyway. And by the time Heather was showered and changed—and thank heaven for whoever had upgraded the castle plumbing, even if they hadn’t given her an en suite bathroom—the children were also scrubbed and dressed.
‘Great!’ she said, eyeing the bathroom that linked the children’s bedrooms—which she was almost certain classified as en suite, whatever Mrs Peterson said. ‘Now, if you just pick up those wet towels and put your dirty clothes in the washing basket we can all get some dinner.’
Her stomach rumbled and she hoped the kids didn’t hear it. Hunger was a sign of weakness. She couldn’t afford to show any more weakness in front of them now they’d seen her flailing around in the mud, helpless.
There were mutters and glares, but the towels were picked up. Heather held in a smile. They were getting somewhere.
Back down in the dining room Heather had expected to find Cal gone, sure that he’d have already eaten. But instead he and Mrs Peterson were waiting for them, and as they appeared in the doorway, pink from scrubbing, hair sleek and still wet, she disappeared to the kitchen to get the food.
Cal raised an eyebrow at her and Heather was suddenly very aware that she probably didn’t look much older than Daisy, with her copper hair in two heavy, wet plaits that hung over her shoulders. There hadn’t been time to dry it, even though the castle still held a chill, despite it being the middle of summer.
She slipped into the chair at the place setting furthest away from him, and watched to make sure that the children took their seats nicely, too.
Perhaps they were worn out from fighting her all afternoon, because they sat down without any fuss at all. Or perhaps they were just saving their energy for a renewed resistance tomorrow.
Mrs Peterson returned with hot plates and a dinner of pie and vegetables, which Heather devoured happily. Across the table she could see Daisy passing Ryan her meat and taking his vegetables in return, but since they both ate plenty she decided to pick her battles.
They ate mostly in silence. Heather had many questions she wanted to ask, but not in front of the children. Besides, she got the impression that Mrs Peterson would be scandalised by most of the things she wanted to know.
She wanted to know more about the father of her child. Was that so unusual?
There was pudding after the pie—some sort of sloppy custard thing that the children and Cal ate happily but that renewed Heather’s pregnancy sickness with a vengeance. She pushed the bowl away and hoped she didn’t look too green. Mrs Peterson pulled an offended face, but Heather was pretty sure she’d have been more offended if she’d eaten it and then thrown it up again.
God, she was tired. This day had already been so much longer than she’d anticipated, and she’d barely had any time alone to process the events of it. It didn’t look as if she was going to get any time to herself just yet, either. After all, there was still bedtime to get through, and she couldn’t see Daisy and Ryan going quietly to sleep.
Cal was watching her, she realised as she looked up from the bowl of pudding. No, not watching. Studying. She tried to sit up straighter, and even contemplated taking an actual mouthful of dessert until a strong wave of nausea told her not even to think about it.
‘Mrs Peterson,’ Cal said suddenly. ‘As Miss Reid has already bathed and changed the children into their pyjamas, perhaps you could supervise bedtime tonight? I have some contract issues to discuss with Miss Reid.’
Heather shot him a grateful smile as Mrs Peterson agreed and ushered the children out of the dining room, making them pause in the doorway to say a dutiful but insincere goodnight.