‘Now, who can that be?’ her aunt asked half-impatiently. ‘If Sam was expecting guests for lunch, he should have told me. As it is, I doubt I’ve got anything suitable to offer them.’
‘You’ve always got something suitable,’ retorted Isobel wryly. ‘Mrs Collins always says you buy too much food.’
‘Mrs Collins is a daily woman, not a housekeeper,’ replied Olivia, unzipping her jacket as they entered the bootroom that adjoined the kitchen. Generally, she prepared all the family’s meals herself. Then she clicked her tongue, ‘Oh, I know who it will be—Tony Aitken. I’d heard he was back from his skiing trip, and I told Nora you’d be pleased to see him.’
‘You’re not serious!’ Isobel groaned as she helped Emma off with her jumpsuit. ‘Heavens, Aunt Olivia, why would you say a thing like that?’
‘Because since you got back from Brazil you’ve done nothing but mope around the house,’ declared Olivia briskly, and Isobel gave her an indignant look.
‘I’ve not been well since I got home!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve had a cold and a cough; you know that.’
‘Since when has a cold and a cough laid you low?’ demanded her aunt blandly. ‘I don’t know what happened, Isobel. You seem very loath to discuss it. But it seems to me that if you and Alejandro are not going to see one another again—’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘As good as,’ continued her aunt, undeterred. ‘Anyway, I think it would do you good to spend time with another man. One whose life isn’t complicated, as you put it.’
Isobel sighed. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘So you did sleep with him.’ Olivia made a smug face. Then she frowned suspiciously. ‘I hope you took precautions this time.’
Fortunately, Emma chose that moment to trip over her boots and sprawl on the floor of the bootroom. She burst into tears, of course, and Isobel was able to hide her flushed face against the little girl’s hair.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, cuddling her close, loving the distinctive smell of prolonged babyhood. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see if Mrs Collins has a chocolate in her drawer.’
Whatever else Olivia might have said was happily aborted. Picking Emma up, Isobel opened the kitchen door and stepped into the warmth of the room. An Aga heated the large cooking-area, and concealed lights below the wall-cupboards gave the room a snug and cosy appearance.
Mrs Collins turned from where she’d obviously been making a pot of coffee. ‘Mr Armstrong has a guest,’ she said in explanation. ‘I asked him if he’d like me to make some coffee, and he said yes.’
‘Oh, thank you, Hilda.’ Olivia came to look enquiringly over her shoulder. ‘Mmm; that smells good. Would you like me to take it in?’
‘If you would, Mrs Armstrong.’ Mrs Collins stepped back from the tray she’d been preparing with some relief. ‘My arthritis has been playing up and I wouldn’t like to trust my shoulder. Are you sure you can manage? Perhaps Isobel can give you a hand.’
‘After we’ve got these little paws clean,’ said Isobel, displaying Emma’s fingers for the woman to see. Anything to delay joining Tony and her uncle. Could she possibly invent a headache and leave them to it?
‘Give her here!’ exclaimed Mrs Collins, holding out her arms invitingly. ‘I’ve got some special soap we can use, Emma, and then maybe there’ll be a chocolate for a good girl. What do you say?’
Emma nodded, wriggling out of her mother’s arms and allowing Mrs Collins to carry her into the cloakroom next door. ‘Bye, Mummy,’ she called, her tears forgotten, and Isobel had no choice but to accompany her aunt out into the hall.
‘Cheer up,’ said Olivia, noticing Isobel’s tight expression. ‘For heaven’s sake, you can be polite, can’t you? I’m not asking you to marry him!’
‘Just as well,’ muttered Isobel, barely audibly, as her aunt opened the door into the sitting room. She needed time to think over what she was going to do about Alejandro, not waste time making small talk with Tony Aitken.
The two men were seated at either side of the hearth, where a log fire burned brightly. Although the house was centrally heated, both her aunt and uncle liked an open fire, and Isobel moved towards it automatically, paying little attention to the occupants of the two armchairs.
Olivia carried in the tray and set it down on the low table between them. Both men rose to their feet as she did so and then, almost subconsciously, Isobel heard her aunt suck in her breath.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she said with evident embarrassment. ‘You startled me.’
Isobel was already turning when she heard his response.
‘Regrettably, I do that to people,’ he said apologetically, but already her aunt was making amends.
‘No, I mean—you’re so big!’ she exclaimed with a girlish little giggle that Isobel had never heard before. ‘I was expecting to see Tony—Tony Aitken. A friend of Isobel’s. And he certainly isn’t as tall as you.’
Alejandro’s lips tightened at the mention of the other man’s name, but he managed to stretch them into a smile. ‘You must be Isobella’s Aunt Olivia,’ he said after a beat. ‘How do you do, senhora? It is a pleasure to meet you.’
‘And to meet you—um, Alejandro, isn’t it?’ Olivia was enthusiastic, and Isobel stood there feeling as if all her bones had suddenly turned to water. Olivia’s smile was warm. ‘I don’t think anyone else calls my niece Isobella.’
Alejandro pulled a wry face. ‘It is a—what do you say?—a weakness of mine, senhora. My grandmother’s name was Isobella also.’
‘Really?’
Isobel could see that her aunt was totally fascinated by him. Far from flinching at the sight of his scar, she was positively blossoming under his undivided attention.
For her part, Isobel was staring at him as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. In black jeans and dark-grey cashmere jacket, over a black silk shirt that was open at the neck, he was so heartachingly familiar. Oh, why had he come here? Not just to see his daughter, she prayed.
It was only when her uncle spoke that she dragged her gaze away to survey her own less-than-polished appearance. She was still wearing the coat with Emma’s fingermarks all over the skirt. And, although the coat was open, her green-and-blue-striped tee-shirt and shabby denim mini were hardly high fashion.
Her eyes darted to Alejandro again, as her uncle was bidding their guest to resume his seat. And this time he caught her gaze, his amber eyes narrowed and intent. Her breathing stilled, her throat drying as he continued to look at her. What was he thinking? she wondered. What had he been saying to her uncle before she and Olivia had interrupted them?
And then the door crashed open again and a small girl erupted into the room. In a woolly sweater and cotton dungarees, she was absolutely adorable. Alejandro, whose gaze had been distracted from Isobel at her entrance, now stared at the child in helpless fascination.
Emma, he thought. His daughter. Their daughter—his and Isobel’s. Meu Deus, but she is beautiful. As dark-haired as he was, but with Isobel’s peachy-soft complexion.
Not that Isobel had any colour in her face at this moment. He’d heard her catch her breath at the child’s entrance and understood her concern. In all honesty, it wasn’t the way he would have chosen to meet his daughter. But it was too late now to be having second thoughts.
Now, however, Emma’s attention was focussed on him, and she came towards him without any apparent reluctance on her part. ‘Who’re you?’ she asked, her eyes wide and inquisitive, and Alejandro felt his stomach twist with sudden apprehension.
‘My name is Alejandro,’ he said. He had risen to his feet again at her entrance, but now he lowered himself to the child’s level with an effort. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Emma,’ she said. Then she pointed to his face. ‘What’s that? Did you fall over?’
Alejandro’s lips twitched. ‘Something like that,’ he agreed ruefully.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Emma!’
Both Isobel and her aunt sp
oke in unison, but Alejandro made a gesture warning the two women not to interfere.
‘No, cara,’ he said gently, speaking to the child. ‘It does not hurt.’ He paused. ‘It happened a long time ago.’
Emma frowned, still staring at him, and then she reached out a hand towards his cheek.
‘Emma!’
This time Isobel had to intervene, but before she could grab the little girl’s arm Alejandro had bent his head obligingly towards her.
‘'S hard!’ Emma exclaimed in surprise, her baby-soft fingers stroking along the ridge of his scar. ‘Feel, Mummy. ‘S re’lly hard.’
Alejandro looked up at Isobel’s pale face before getting heavily to his feet.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, his attention all on her now. ‘I did not come here to upset you.’
Isobel swallowed with difficulty. And then, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say at that moment, she whispered, ‘I told you Emma wasn’t easily alarmed.’
‘And you were right,’ Alejandro murmured softly. ‘Perhaps one day you might even tell her who I am.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘YOU’RE not leaving!’
There was a trace of panic in Isobel’s voice now, and although Emma was tugging at her skirt, wanting her attention, for the first time in her life Isobel didn’t put her daughter’s needs first.
Alejandro looked down at the little girl. ‘Perhaps not yet,’ he conceded gently, allowing Emma to grab his hand.
‘Up,’ she said imperiously, her meaning obvious, and with a feeling of incredulity he lifted the little girl into his arms.
‘Mummy’s talking, Em,’ admonished Isobel, feeling as if the situation was slipping away from her.
‘I talk too,’ retorted Emma, regarding Alejandro’s face with renewed interest. Her brows drew together consideringly. ‘D’you fall off your pony?’
‘I don’t think Mr Cabral wants to talk about that now, Emma,’ declared Sam Armstrong, giving their guest a rueful look. He held out his arms. ‘Come along, sweetheart. I think we need to give Mummy a chance to talk.’
Emma clung to Alejandro’s jacket. ‘Don’ wanna go,’ she pouted, but Olivia stepped forward and took control.
‘It’s lunchtime,’ she said firmly, loosening the little girl’s fingers with a word of apology to Alejandro. Then, lifting her out of his arms, she continued, ‘Do join us for lunch, Alejandro. I can’t promise you anything special, but you’re very welcome to stay.’
‘Thank you.’
Alejandro inclined his head, though whether that was just politeness or acceptance Isobel couldn’t be sure. But she was grateful when the door closed behind them. Even if being alone with him was still a daunting prospect.
‘Um, why don’t you sit down again?’ she suggested, gesturing to the chair behind him. She was sure his leg must be aching by now.
‘I am not an invalid, cara,’ he said flatly, making no move to do as she’d asked. He paused, regarding her intently. ‘Are you well?’
‘I’ve had a cold, that’s all.’ Isobel didn’t want to talk about herself. Then, because her legs were decidedly unsteady, she sank into the armchair her uncle had been occupying and looked up at him. ‘When did you get here?’
‘Here?'Alejandro pointed to where she was standing. ‘Or do you mean England?’
Isobel shrugged. ‘Both, I guess.’ She was disturbed to find there were tears pricking at the backs of her eyes and she blinked rapidly. ‘You should have let me know you were coming.’
‘Why?'Alejandro shifted his weight onto his uninjured leg. ‘So you could have arranged not to be here?’
‘No!’ Isobel caught her breath. ‘I wanted to see you.’ She hesitated. ‘If only to—to tell you why I came back to England.’
‘Ah.’ Alejandro’s expression was sardonic. ‘I think Anita told me that.’
‘Did she? I doubt it.’ Isobel sounded bitter. ‘She terminated the interview, you know. Not me.’
‘Did she tell you why?’
Isobel frowned. ‘Well, she said she’d never have agreed to it if it hadn’t been for you.’ She averted her eyes. ‘But I already knew that, didn’t I?’
‘And that was all?’
‘No.’ Isobel took a deep breath. ‘She told me she didn’t like the idea of having a “snake in the grass” in her house. Those were her words, not mine. Apparently the fact that you and I had known one another in London didn’t sit well with her. She accused me of only accepting the assignment to see you again.’
‘Mmm.’ Alejandro was thoughtful. ‘So she did not mention the fact that she knew I had visited your rooms the night before? That one of her minions had been positioned outside the window while we were otherwise engaged?’
‘No!’ Isobel was horrified. ‘You mean she—?’
‘Knew we had been together? Well, maybe not all the details, but she knew enough.’
‘My God!’
‘Sim—Meu Deus!’
Isobel shook her head. ‘But why should it matter to her? Unless she—’
‘Do not go there,’ Alejandro advised heavily, giving in to his leg’s weakness and sinking down onto the edge of the chair opposite. ‘Anita has never been anything more to me than my mother-in-law. If she is jealous, it is because she wants to guard her daughter’s reputation. She cannot bear the thought that I might find happiness with someone else.’
Isobel’s coat fell to the floor at either side of her and she smoothed suddenly damp palms over her knees. ‘With me?’ she whispered, and it was barely audible.
‘Who else?’ he responded quietly. ‘Until we met again, she knew I had had no intention of getting involved with anyone else.’
Isobel shook her head. ‘Does she know about Emma?’
‘She does now.’
‘You told her?’
‘Of course.’ He was dismissive. ‘She had already put it all together herself.’
Isobel blew out a breath. ‘No wonder she wanted me to leave.’
Alejandro pulled a wry face. ‘No wonder,’ he echoed. ‘Of course, if you had wanted to stay, you could have made other arrangements.’
Isobel gasped. ‘What other arrangements?’
‘You could have told me,’ he said heavily. ‘Or did I figure so low on your list of possibilities that it did not even occur to you to do so?’
Isobel sprang to her feet. ‘That’s ridiculous, and you know it.’
‘Do I?’
‘You should,’ she said, the treacherous prick of tears burning her eyes again. ‘How was I supposed to speak to you? Should I have asked Anita for your phone number? I’m sure she would have given it to me—not!’
Alejandro looked up at her, his tawny eyes dark and assessing. ‘It did not occur to you to hire a car and driver and come to the estancia?’
‘I couldn’t do that!’ Isobel stared at him in amazement. ‘What would I have done if I’d turned up at your door and you’d turned me away too?’
Alejandro’s jaw hardened, and, placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he pushed himself determinedly to his feet. ‘I would not have turned you away,’ he said harshly. ‘How can you suggest such a thing? You are the mother of my daughter; the mother of the only child I am ever likely to have.’
Isobel blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What do you think I mean?'Alejandro shifted impatiently. ‘The accident did not only disfigure me externally, but internally too.’
‘Oh, Alejandro!’ Isobel thought she was beginning to understand. ‘So that was why you were so keen to rekindle our relationship?’
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded now, as she had only moments before.
‘I mean, it’s not me you really care about, is it?’ she choked, her tears uncontrollable now. ‘You want Emma; you want your daughter. And you’re prepared to go to any lengths to get her.’
Alejandro stepped back, raking long fingers through his hair as he stared at her in disbelief. ‘You really believe that?’ he demanded, a
ghast.
Isobel didn’t know what she believed. She’d thrown the accusation at him in the heat of the moment, but in her heart of hearts she prayed it wasn’t true.
‘Well it—it fits the facts, doesn’t it?’ she stammered, wiping the heels of her hands across her wet cheeks. ‘You—you knew all about Emma before I came to Brazil. You accused me of keeping her existence from you.’
‘Which you did,’ pointed out Alejandro levelly. ‘But, on reflection, I do not think I can entirely blame you for that.’
‘Oh, thanks!’
She sniffed, and Alejandro said harshly, ‘Do not be facetious. There is much more than our daughter’s existence between us and you know it.’
‘Do I?’ Isobel scrubbed the back of her hand under her nose, wishing she had more control.
‘You should,’ said Alejandro roughly. ‘Would you like me to prove it? Yet I do not think your aunt and uncle would approve if I threw you down onto their hearth-rug and made mad, passionate love to you, do you?’
‘You’re making fun of me.’
‘No, I am not.’
Isobel shook her head, turning away, unable to sustain this unequal contest of wills. ‘Oh, I know you can make me do what you want,’ she mumbled unsteadily. ‘I know you know you’ve only got to kiss me and I’m like putty in your hands.’
‘Do I know that?’ Alejandro’s voice had changed, deepened, and suddenly his hands were warm upon her shoulders. He drew her back against his muscled frame. ‘You have never told me, cara. Exactly what do I mean to you?’
Isobel moved her head helplessly from side to side. ‘You know,’ she insisted. ‘You’ve always known.’
‘No,’ he said hoarsely, close to her ear. ‘No, I have not. Tell me, cara. Why are you crying—because you care about me, or because you are afraid I might try to take Emma from you?’
Isobel glanced quickly over her shoulder. ‘Would you do that?’ she asked anxiously, and Alejandro wearily shook his head.
‘If you have to ask me that, then you do not know me at all,’ he told her flatly, releasing her. He stepped back. ‘Relax, cara. Emma is safe. I would not to do anything that might jeopardise her—or your—future.’
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