Her Husband's Christmas Bargain. Margaret Mayo

it. He had declared he loved her before they got married but there had been very little show of affection afterwards, certainly not enough for him to take time off from his precious work to scour the country after her.

      He looked as though he’d done well for himself. A short black Crombie overcoat, mohair trousers with perfectly pressed pleats, Italian leather shoes. Yes, he wasn’t short of a few pennies. Not that he ever had been. But he was far more polished, far more mature and self-confident. Even the way he stood told her that.

      There was not an ounce of diffidence. He was here on a mission and expected to get his own way. No, not expected, he would demand it—as his right. She could see it in his expression. Dark eyes overpowered her, making her step back and invite him silently into her private domain.

      She didn’t want to do it but she had no choice. He was hypnotising her into obeying. Or was it because she didn’t want to argue with him in full view of her neighbours? Whichever, she was going along with his wishes and she had the secret fear that she would live to regret it.

      He followed her as she opened the door into her lounge-cum-dining room, standing just inside the doorway as she drew back the curtains and let the cold morning light filter in. She folded her arms and looked at him as imperiously as she was able in her purple wool dressing gown. It wasn’t exactly the outfit she would have chosen for facing the enemy.

      And he was her enemy if he thought he was going to take Charlotte away from her. The very notion triggered a protective parent syndrome. Her grey eyes flared hostility and her back stiffened. ‘How did you find me?’

      ‘Does it matter?’ he asked coolly. ‘The issue here is that you have denied me my daughter.’

      ‘And you think you’d have made a good father?’ Megan’s voice was growing shriller by the second. ‘You didn’t even show me any affection; I had no intention of putting a child through that.’

      He drew in a swift disbelieving breath. ‘I was working for our future, Megan, in case you’d forgotten.’

      ‘So I didn’t matter?’

      ‘Of course you mattered. But I thought you understood.’

      ‘Oh, I understood all right,’ she retorted. ‘You thought I’d be happy taking a back seat while you headed towards making your first million. You believed that the thought of all that money would be sufficient for me to happily keep house while you spent every waking hour making more of the bloody stuff. Well, let me tell you something, dear husband of mine, I’m not interested in money. So long as I have enough to put a roof over mine and Charlotte’s head and feed and clothe us, then—’

      ‘So that’s my daughter’s name—Charlotte. Mmm, I like it,’ he cut in with a smile. ‘Where is she? I’d like to—’

      ‘She’s asleep,’ lied Megan, ‘and I’d thank you to keep your voice down.’

      ‘I want to see her.’

      ‘And then you’ll go away?’ she rasped. ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t like it when you said you’d come to claim your daughter. What was that supposed to mean? Because I’ll tell you this right now, it will be over my dead body that you take her from me.’

      Megan could hear herself shrieking and knew that it was no way to conduct herself, but she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t going to take Charlotte; he wasn’t! She would fight him tooth and nail.

      ‘What I want,’ he said, ‘is for you and Charlotte to come and spend Christmas with me.’

      Megan stared at him in disbelief, finally shaking her head. ‘You really think we’d do that? You think I’d let my daughter spend Christmas with a stranger?’

      The jibe hurt; she could see it in his eyes, but she didn’t care. How dare he think he could walk in here and take over her life?

      ‘I’m not a stranger I am her father,’ he rasped, ‘and as such I have rights. You must know that. And if necessary I’ll implement those rights,’ he added harshly. ‘If you know what’s good for you you’ll accept that you have no alternative.’

      He moved further into the room, halting a few menacing inches from her. Megan felt every hair on her skin prickle and she wanted to step back but she knew that she must show no fear or he would take advantage. Luigi could be ruthless. If he wanted something he went all out for it. She’d seen it enough times in his business life and knew that he’d be equally determined where his daughter was concerned. She was being hounded into a corner and wasn’t sure which way to turn.

      When his big hands gripped her shoulders she felt a powerful sensation rush through her—anger, fear, desperation. All three! With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Megan pushed him away. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlotte sidling into the room—a scared-looking Charlotte.

      ‘Mummy,’ her daughter cried plaintively. ‘What’s that man doing to you?’

      Megan immediately gathered the child into her arms. ‘Nothing, sweetheart.’

      ‘But I saw him touch you. Were you fighting?’

      ‘Of course not.’

      ‘So who is he? What’s he doing here?’

      Megan could understand Charlotte’s questions because they never had any male visitors except Jenny’s boyfriend. There’d been no one in her life since Luigi, not because she’d been short of invitations; she simply wasn’t interested. Her daughter filled her every waking hour and Megan was completely happy—or she had been until a few minutes ago. Now she felt her happiness fading and worry begin to take its place.

      It was ironic that Luigi should put in an appearance now—when Charlotte was crying out for a daddy. He had unknowingly timed his visit to perfection. And it looked as though he intended to do all in his power to take her beloved baby away from her. It was as clear in her head as water out of a tap that this was what he had in mind. He didn’t want her, he wanted Charlotte.

      I’ve come to claim my daughter!

      Those were his exact words and they struck chill in her heart as she recalled them. And because of that how could she explain to Charlotte that this was her father? He had no part to play in their lives. Not now, not ever! But how was she to get rid of him?

      ‘It looks as though Mummy isn’t going to tell you who I am,’ he said, looking down at the girl.

      Megan shot him a warning glance because she knew what was going to come next, but her wishes were ignored.

      ‘I’m your father,’ he informed in a voice that held no love at all. It was a matter-of-fact statement and Megan could have cheerfully strangled him. He hadn’t changed one iota.

      Charlotte hung on to Megan’s dressing gown, looking up at him shyly with an expression of awe and reverence on her face. ‘Did Santa send you?’ she asked in a tiny, breathless voice.

      At that he smiled. ‘Indeed he did. He told me that there was a very special little girl looking for a daddy.’

      Charlotte’s eyes were enormous as she turned to her mother. It was clear she thought that some miracle had happened. ‘Mummy, isn’t Santa wonderful?’

      Megan forced herself to smile. ‘He always does his best, sweetheart, but it’s not Christmas yet, you know.’ What else could she say? How could she burst her daughter’s precious bubble of happiness? And how the hell had Luigi known?

      ‘It’s near enough,’ said Luigi. ‘How would you and your mummy like to come and spend Christmas with me? I have a great big house and you can help dress the Christmas tree and goodness knows how many presents you’ll find under it on Christmas Day.’

      ‘Luigi!’ Megan whispered through her teeth. This was emotional blackmail at its worst. Yes, he probably would ply Charlotte with presents, but what the little girl wanted more than anything in the world was a father who loved her, a father who showed his affection in every