A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series) Read Online Free PDF

somewhere.”
    “Hmm.” Bronwyn tried to agree, but she was feeling fuzzy again, unable to concentrate.
    “Try to get some rest,” Lisa suggested gently. “You look done in.”
    “I didn’t . . . would never . . .” She could not complete the thought and was aware of nothing more as she slid into unconsciousness.

    She looked fragile, like the slightest touch would break her, and how he wanted to break her. Bryce glared down at the stranger who was his wife and was eaten up by pure hatred for her. This innocent-looking bitch had destroyed his life and stolen his child. The barely contained violence he felt toward her had been festering for just over two years, and he quite cheerfully would have strangled her in her sleep if it weren’t for the fact that their daughter needed her. He watched her labor to breathe and imagined that it sounded hoarse and ragged. He remembered sounds but sometimes wondered if his memory was accurate. For the longest time, despite his unsuccessful attempts to force it out, his most precious memory had been of her voice. Now the memory of the sweet, clear sound of her voice returned unbidden along with the bell-like clarity of her laugh and, lastly, how that lovely voice had sounded during their final argument, thick with tears and entreaties.
    She looked so ill. He grimaced, unwilling to feel any compassion for her. If she had worked herself into the ground it was less than she deserved for running out on him, for stealing his child, and for crippling him! He lived in a silent world now, the only sounds he heard were mere echoes of memories and her voice . . . always her voice.
    He had hated her for haunting him, and he hated her still for looking so damned vulnerable, for being ill and weak and nearly defenseless, thereby rendering him impotent to lash out and rail at her the way he had fantasized about doing for so long.
    Well, she wouldn’t always be sick. He could wait. Revenge, they said, was a dish best served cold. He’d been waiting for two years, so a few more weeks wouldn’t make a difference. And how much sweeter the payback would be now that he had her very firmly within his grasp!

    Kayla decided that she didn’t like scary and noisy helicopters and cried during the entire short, chartered flight from Plettenberg Bay to Camps Bay. Her beleaguered father, who was figuring out that parenthood may not be as fabulous as he had first imagined, battled to keep her calm while Bronwyn, who was feeling the effects of some pretty powerful medication, remained mostly oblivious to it all. Bronwyn was vaguely aware of Bryce frantically trying to shush the child. He made funny faces and played silly little games but Kayla refused to be comforted by someone who was a total stranger to her. She was too small to be belted in but she stubbornly refused to stay in Bryce’s lap. Instead she kept trying to crawl over onto her mother’s lap, and Bronwyn tried her best to soothe the little girl, but Kayla wasn’t too impressed with her limp hugs either.
    “ Do something,” Bryce eventually entreated, when Kayla slid from his grasp like a greased pig and melted to the floor in a boneless heap. Once at their feet she wailed pitifully.
    “Kayla scairt, mummy, Kayla scairt!” she howled. Bronwyn, thoroughly fed up with the theatrics, reached down and dragged the limp toddler up with as much strength as she could muster.
    “ Mikayla ,” she managed hoarsely in her toughest, no-nonsense, voice. Kayla was momentarily silenced by Bronwyn’s “mummy” voice and her wide blue eyes melted Bronwyn’s heart. The poor little thing was understandably scared. Too many changes in too short a time for her. Bronwyn gentled her voice and smiled with what she hoped was cheerful confidence. “It’s fine, baby. Sit with your daddy; he’ll take care of you.” Mikayla glanced over at the swiftly unraveling Bryce with wary speculation in her gaze. Turning to him for protection had evidently not