She would have to discuss with a solicitor in less than ten minutes how she could best contact the husband she’d walked away from two years ago…and her baby. She sat back and crossed her legs, taking a deep breath. Within moments a waiter had come to take her order for Earl Grey tea. She found an empty seat and sank into gratefully. And she felt old-a lot older than her twenty-seven years. It was gone, and with it-Her step faltered again as a slicing pain ripped through her, stunning her with its intensity, with its rawness, its newness…even though it was old. Her expressive full mouth tightened as she looked for a seat, willing herself not to let the rising panic overwhelm her. She was completely oblivious to the several appreciative looks she drew, with her dark red hair and flawless creamy skin, which contrasted with her ever so slightly awkward grace as she moved. This kind of hushed luxuriousness reminded her of too much and made the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She should have picked a more down-at-heel hotel. It had been so long since she’d been in a place like this. Even though she was well dressed, well enough to look as if she belonged here, she felt as though everyone must surely be able to see under her skin to the very heart of her, that beat so unsteadily. ROWAN CARMICHAEL faltered slightly as she stepped into the minimalist lobby of the small boutique hotel.
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