The Housewife and the Film Star (21 page)

Sylvia smiled at the grumbled words. Putting one hand on his cheek, she was shocked to discover it was indeed wet. Goodness, he'd been crying over her.

"It takes more than a fall down some stairs to get rid of me, Sir. I'm just surprised I haven't done it before. You know how clumsy I can get."

"Jesus, pet, don't joke about this. I almost had a heart attack seeing you fall, and then you just lay there. It took ages for the ambulance to arrive, and when you started bleeding… Damn it, why didn't you tell me?"

Sylvia's head hurt too much to make any sense of what he was saying.

"I don't understand. Tell you what, Sir?"

Sven’s Swedish curse echoed round the room, and she winced at the sudden desperation on his face.

"I thought … fuck, you really didn't know, did you?"

"Know what? Stop talking in riddles. My head hurts enough as it is."

Shifting to sit next to her, he pulled her into a fierce hug. Her heart started to beat faster, and a tendril of fear danced down her spine. Something was very wrong here.

"When you started bleeding in the ambulance, they asked me whether you could be pregnant." He released her immediately when she pushed against his chest. That tendril of fear flared up, and engulfed her until she found it hard to breathe.
Pregnant?
But she couldn't be.

Shaking her head, she formed a silent no with her mouth. She remembered the tiredness and sickness she' felt with horrifying clarity. The grim look on his face had bile rising in her throat.

Oh God, please no.

"I said I didn't know, but you could be, so they did a test when you were brought in. It was positive."

"We're pregnant? Really?" A dawning horror replaced her brief flush of elation. She watched him go very still, his only movement a small muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. His intense eyes never left her face.

"You lost a lot of blood. It is unlikely a baby would have survived."

"Unlikely? You mean, you don't know? But we need to find out. I need to know, damn it. Can't they do a scan or something?"

Sylvia could hardly see him through the tears streaming down her face. She remembered the ache she felt in her belly just before she passed out. The ache wasn't there anymore. Surely that was good news, wasn't it?

"Have I lost your baby, Sir? I didn't know. I never would have worn those heels, had I known. Oh, God, I am so sorry."

He held her whilst she cried, and, when her own wrenching sobs finally stopped, she became aware of his silent tears falling on her head.

"We need to find out one way or the other."

His deep sigh was heartfelt, and he let her go.

"I'll get the doctor, pet."

The wait for the ultrasound was the longest wait of her life ever. Neither she nor Sven spoke. He linked his fingers with hers, but he didn't look at her. The slump in those big shoulders made her blink back fresh tears.

"Okay, now, let's have a wee look and see what's going on here, then."

The cheerful Scottish voice belonged to a stocky sonographer who clicked her tongue in sympathy, when she looked at the note attached to Sylvia's bed.

"My, you poor dear, you will be sore in the morning. That's quite a fall you had there."

Gentle hands moved the sheet and hospital gown out of the way, and Sylvia felt Sven's gaze shift to her still flat abdomen. The pressure on her hand increased.

Sylvia shut her eyes as the cool gel hit her belly and the probe slid across her skin.

"Right, let's see."

The sonographer went silent, and Sylvia held her breath. Why wasn't she saying anything?

Then, she could hear the smile in the woman's voice, and her heart started beating again.

"Open your eyes. Mum, Dad, look at the screen."

Sylvia’s eyes flew open at the sound of Sven’s astonished curse. On the screen in front of them, she could make out the blurry but unmistakable blob that was their baby.

"You can see the wee heart beating along here,” the sonographer said, pointing. “All looks fine, and I'd say you are about seven weeks along. That sound about right to you, Dad?"

Sven's voice was a strangled croak. "Yes."

"Excellent. Looks as though you've got a little fighter on your hands there. Congratulations. I'm so very pleased for you both. If you'll excuse me, I'll just be outside collating your report."

The door clicked behind the sonographer, and they were left on their own. Silence stretched between them, and Sylvia's heart missed a few beats.

"Say something, Sven, please."

"We'll have to arrange the tests. There isn't much time."

"What tests? The baby is yours. Damn it, you know that."

She jumped at his forceful denial. He finally looked at her, and the desperate hope she saw in his eyes made her reach out to him.

"I know that. Jesus, I would never doubt the baby is mine. But that's the whole fucking problem. I got lucky with Torsten. What if this baby—"

She interrupted him by putting her hand on his mouth.

"Our baby, Sven, ours. And if this baby has Sly then we'll deal with it. I'm not going anywhere. I love you. Sir, do you hear me? And I love our baby. With you as its dad, our baby will be blessed, no matter what happens."

The hopeful smile spreading across his face made her heart soar.

"But would it not be better to be prepared? In case?" he asked.

"I am not taking the risk, Sir. They can run tests when the baby is born. I want to enjoy this pregnancy. If you want us, that is."

His vicious Swedish curse made her smile.

"Of course, I want you, my love. I was going crazy thinking I might not get a chance to tell you how much I love you. I was hoping you felt the same, but you never said, and I was so afraid you'd turn me down. I have done so many stupid things and—"

"Sir?"

"Yes, pet?"

"Shut up, and kiss me already, and you really need to stop swearing. The poor thing will be born knowing every swear word in the Swedish language otherwise."

And with a growl he did just as she ordered, for once.

Epilogue

Seven months later

So many faces, so many pictures. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Hell, he thought he was never going to get away. Sven hated these promotional tours with a vengeance, now more than ever. He planned to take a long, long time out from all this. The charity was gaining more and more support. Peggy had been instrumental in getting
The Walter Foundation
off the ground with the proceeds of the film Bjorne and he had made. The woman had made an almost miraculous turnabout after Sylvia finally told her the truth about her marriage to her brother. Perhaps Peggy felt guilt over the way she had buried her head in the sand about Richard for all those years, blithely accepting Sylvia's
clumsiness
for the bruises and broken bones she had suffered over the years. Who knew? Sylvia and her sister-in-law would never be best friends, but Peggy had found new purpose in running Sven’s charity. She'd taken over completely when Sylvia had found the work too exhausting due to her pregnancy.

Left to fend on his own, Sven had been grateful for the support of his parents during the endless rounds of press conferences the release of the film necessitated.
A Life Lost
had been a huge success at the Cannes film festival.  The promotional tour he had to endure as a result of the film’s success would have been unbearable without his parents’ encouragement. As it was, he was emotionally exhausted, but he had kept his promise. Walter's plight would never be forgotten—the charity that bore his name would make sure of that—and, in time, the money raised through the film would support research into the effectiveness of gene replacement therapy.

"Rest in peace, little brother, rest in peace
."

He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer up to the powers that be. George's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "We're here, Sven."

The house was quiet when he walked in. She had left the hallway light on for him, and Sven smiled, his heart lighter already, as he took the stairs two at a time.

He paused at the top of those stairs and quietly walked into the bedroom, where the boys were sleeping. Two little, blond heads were resting on their respective pillows, and he bent down to kiss each one of them lightly. Sylvia had worked her magic on Torsten, too. The lost little boy had blossomed under her loving care, and, whilst Cherine still popped in out of her son's life like the proverbial
yo-yo, he was secure in Sylvia's love. His mother still resisted signing the adoption papers, but he had sole legal custody at last. In time and with the right financial inducement, Cherine would sign the papers eventually, he had no doubt. If not, Sylvia had reassured him over and over that it really didn't matter. Cherine was Torsten's mother, and it would mean a lot to him when he was older that she had not just signed him away, even if he never became close to her. Sven had fallen in love with Sylvia a little bit more at her impassioned speech on behalf of his son and a woman who seemed to wish her nothing but ill.

He crossed the distance to the master bedroom in a few long strides. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the night lamp, and he looked down on the woman and baby on the bed, his heart swelling with the love he felt for them. How he had missed them. Sylvia was lying on her side, her knees protectively drawn up under their newborn daughter, one arm above her head, the other one holding her close. Little Anna, still attached to the breast, though fast asleep, had one tiny fist curled up in her mum's pulled up pajama top. Sven knew that trying to move her would result in furious wailing, and he chuckled to himself. His tiny scrap of a daughter had inherited her mother's temper and strong will along with the Larsson scowl. It was there, even in her sleep, and he smoothed that frown away with a gentle stroke of one long finger.

Sylvia's temper had never been more in evidence than when he'd asked her to marry him. She had accepted his collar with far more grace than that marriage proposal. He grinned to himself, recalling their collaring ceremony. It had been just the two of them in their newly built playroom. He'd converted one of the stables into their very own private dungeon, and whilst opportunities for play had been limited due to Sylvia's pregnancy, it was their safe haven away from the hustle and bustle of their noisy household. Here they could indulge in just being Sir and his pet.

He could still see her, kneeling naked on the cushion in front of him. Her hands had rested on the slight swell of their baby bump, and she had glowed with happiness when he'd fastened the diamond studded platinum choker around her slender neck, and had deposited the key to the tiny padlock.

"I love you, my pet, with all my heart and soul, and I promise to always honor the gift of your submission to me."

Her eyes had filled with tears, and she'd taken his offered hands in hers.

"I love you, Sir. I promise to always be your pet, and only be bratty on occasion."

He'd laughed long and hard at that, and after a gentle flogging for her impertinence, he'd made love to her for hours.

Yes, that had been the easy part. It had taken him months to finally convince her to marry him. She couldn't see the point, but Sven wanted the world to know that she was his. The vanilla circles they mostly moved in would not understand the significance of the choker she never took off, but they'd take note of a wedding ring.

When he'd finally convinced her of this, their wedding had been a quiet affair on a private Malibu beach, and the happiness they felt that day was surpassed only when Anna's test results came back clear.

Sven shrugged out of his clothes now, and climbed into bed behind mother and daughter, pulling them into a close embrace. Sylvia stirred in her sleep, and he propped himself up on one elbow as her eyes opened and she smiled at him sleepily.

"You're home
. We missed you, Sir," Sylvia said.

He kissed his wife and smiled tenderly. His voice was a husky growl.

"Yes, I'm home at last, pet."

The End

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