"More lies," Owain said, though there was a catch in his voice that hadn't been there before. "Who's to say the child is even mine? Congratulations, Samira, on finding a kitchen boy to keep you company and warm your bed while you lived a life you didn't deserve in the Villa," Owain sneered.
Inwardly, however, his heart quaked, and he struggled to pull his eyes away from her belly. Was she really carrying his child? His son? He'd never once left a bastard behind; he'd been certain of it. But now, staring at the woman in the center of the aisle, he couldn't be entirely certain that he hadn't.
"No one touched me but you, Lord Owain," Samira said, speaking directly to him at last. "No one would dare to have a dalliance with your 'Lady Ashlynn', especially in your house. Every kitchen boy and stablehand has seen how you treat your soldiers when you train with them, my Lord," she added. "No one would dare to risk the beating for touching me while I pretended to be her."
