The Italian's Baby of Passion: The Italian's Secret Baby / One-Night Baby / The Italian's Secret Child. Catherine Spencer

same danger that exerted a strange, almost hypnotic attraction.

      ‘I asked what you would do if Sam’s father reappeared.’

      ‘Sam’s father?’

      As always when she thought about the mystery man her sister had callously tricked she was engulfed by a wave of crushing guilt.

      There had been a time when she had actually considered trying to discover who he was, but, short of putting an ad in the personal columns, when it came down to it she didn’t have the faintest idea how to go about identifying him. And even if she did, would he thank her? According to Abby he was a man who, given the choice, would not have wanted to know—in fact a man who would have denied paternity.

      In the circumstances it was academic. No, her energies were better concentrated on taking care of his son. The son he didn’t know he had.

      ‘That’s not going to happen,’ she told him quietly. There was nothing in his face to explain his motivation in pursuit of the subject.

      ‘But the idea alarms you?’

      Her eyes skimmed his face; she was unwilling to allow herself to become entrapped by his dark, mesmeric eyes. ‘I didn’t say that,’ she countered quickly.

      ‘You didn’t need to—you have a very expressive face.’

      Scarlet was immediately conscious of every facial muscle she possessed as she tried to produce a neutral expression. ‘Trust me…I don’t want to be rude, but none of this is actually any of your business.’

      ‘It’s Sam’s father’s business,’ he replied after a taut silence.

      ‘Sam’s father is not going to materialise,’ she promised him.

      ‘But if he did…’ Roman persisted. ‘What would you do if he wanted to be part of Sam’s life?’

      It seemed much more likely that he would resent the child that he had been tricked into fathering, and who could blame him? Not Scarlet. Non-consensual fatherhood pretty much fitted what had been done to him.

      ‘That’s really not at all likely.’ His unblinking, glittering scrutiny was making her increasingly nervous.

      ‘Hypothetically,’ he inserted smoothly.

      ‘Hypothetically I’d work something out for Sam’s sake, but this isn’t something that’s going to happen.’

       ‘You sound very sure.’

      ‘I am.’

      ‘How can you be?’

      ‘Abby didn’t tell him,’ she revealed abruptly.

      ‘She knew who he was, then?’

      Scarlet let out a furious gasp and bounced to her feet. The shocking sound of her hand connecting with his face resounded around the room.

      She looked from her extended hand to the mark on his lean cheek. The thin white scar stood out lividly against the reddened skin. Her chest heaved with emotion as her eyes met his.

      ‘You pack quite a punch.’

      She had started shaking in reaction. ‘I’m sorry.’ She was deeply ashamed of the loss of control that had made her resort to violence. ‘But you deserved it,’ she added with a glare that dared him to disagree with her.

      Roman levered himself from the chair in a fluid elegant motion. He looked down at her from his superior vantage point.

      ‘Maybe I do.’

      Scarlet looked up at him warily through the protective dark mesh of her lashes. This was not the reaction she had expected.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘You recall when my mother collapsed at the opening ceremony?’

      Scarlet nodded. ‘Of course I do.’ She had not the faintest idea where this was going and, call her a coward, but she didn’t actually want to know.

      ‘It was because she saw someone she recognised.’

      She still didn’t have an inkling. Her smooth brow pleated in a perplexed, wary frown. ‘Who did she recognise?’

      ‘She saw Sam.’

       An image of Sam, the posy of wilting flowers clutched in his hot, sticky hands, flashed into her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

      He scanned her face for a moment, his own expression broodingly sombre. ‘I know you don’t. Sam looks exactly the way I did when I was his age. That’s what spooked my mother.’

      Scarlet was confused but not suspicious, which later on struck her as ironic in the extreme. ‘Because Sam looks like you?’ Perhaps it was the colouring. Sam did have that Mediterranean glow and the long lashes and, now that she thought about it, at certain angles…

      ‘Because Sam is my son.’

      Scarlet was dramatically unprepared for his revelation, which, when at a later date she went over the conversation that had led to it, made her blind, deaf and very stupid!

      She was not conscious then or later of his tensing and moving closer in readiness to catch her as the colour seeped rapidly from her skin, leaving it marble-pale.

      ‘For God’s sake, sit down.’

      Quivering with denial, she kept to her feet. ‘You and Abby?’ She shook her head, feeling sick. ‘You slept with Abby?’ she wailed.

      Now why did that make her feel as though she were the tragic victim of some betrayal? The victim here was Roman. What he must have felt like discovering he had a son this way she couldn’t even imagine! Her well-developed sense of empathy sprang into life, as did her guilt.

       ‘Apparently.’

      Considering his admission, he was surprised when she didn’t deliver the obvious comeback. To father a child accidentally was one thing, to forget about it took the crime to another level.

      ‘She said not, but facts say otherwise,’ he related grimly.

       ‘That’s ridiculous, you can’t be!’ she cried shrilly. ‘She said he…you—’ she corrected herself.

      ‘She said what about me?’

      Scarlet gave her head a tiny shake; she was having second thoughts about her candour. This was one occasion when the truth was not going to help.

      ‘I don’t recall exactly.’

      ‘I’ll settle for inexact.’

      Scarlet gave an exasperated sigh; he wasn’t going to leave well alone. She studied his profile. The light fell from behind, highlighting all the hard angles and intriguing hollows of his face.

      ‘She said the father would have run a million miles if he’d known about the baby.’

      Roman flinched.

      ‘You’re not running.’

      ‘That’s because she was wrong,’ he breathed grimly. ‘Very wrong.’

      Tears formed in Scarlet’s eyes. ‘Why are you saying this?’ she choked, turning her hands palm upwards towards him in an unconscious gesture of appeal. ‘What’s the point?’

      ‘Point?’ he repeated, looking at her as though she were mad. ‘I have a son.’

      ‘You don’t want Sam. You can’t. Abby isn’t here to punish so leave us alone.’ Fighting the rising level of panic that made it hard for her to think, she covered her face with her forearm and swallowed a sob.

      ‘Why would I want to punish the mother of my child? It was my fault.’

      Scarlet, who could hear the self-recrimination in his voice, felt so guilty she could hardly look at him. Whatever else Roman was, he was clearly not