Duarte's Child. Lynne Graham

and he wants his mum!’

      Emily opened her arms and Jamie grabbed on to her the instant he was brought within her reach. ‘Who was looking after him?’

      ‘The older man, who arrived just after your husband brought you in. He doesn’t speak any English. He was out at Reception trying to calm your little boy down.’

      Mateus Santos, she assumed, a committed bachelor who was probably pretty useless with young children. Jamie snuffled into weary silence against her shoulder just as Duarte appeared in the open doorway. He stilled when he saw the child in her arms and the nurse slipped out, leaving them alone.

      Her tummy twisting, her eyes veiled, Emily muttered awkwardly, ‘Have you seen Jamie yet?’

      ‘No…Mateus brought him here in your car. My time was taken up tending to you,’ Duarte admitted curtly.

      Jamie had a death grip on her. He was going through that stage of disliking strangers that many babies went through around his age. He resisted being turned round and pushed his dark head under her chin. He’d had quite enough of excitement and strangers for one morning. It was anything but the best moment for Duarte to meet his son for the first time.

      ‘Duarte…I’m so sorry!’ Emily heard herself admit with her usual impulsiveness, a sob catching in her aching throat. ‘I am so very sorry for everything…’

      ‘That cuts no ice with me,’ Duarte responded with eyes that were as hard and bright as burnished steel, cold derision etched in every line of his starkly handsome features as he studied her shaken face. ‘How dare you drag my son round the countryside in a caravan like a gipsy? How dare you put me in the position where I have to answer to the police merely because I attempted to see my own child? And how dare you look at me now and insult my intelligence with that pathetic excuse of a word, “sorry”?’

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘THE…police?’ Emily stammered even more aghast.

      ‘Since I married you, you have brought me only shame and dishonour.’ Duarte breathed starkly, his controlled lack of volume far more dramatic than any shout.

      ‘The police?’ Emily whispered again shakily, her sensitive tummy tying itself into sick knots.

      ‘Your employer, Mrs Barker, reported your great escape from her property and my natural pursuit. She expressed concern for your safety. Two police officers are now waiting outside for my explanation.’ Duarte drew himself up to his full imposing six-foot-four-inch height and squared his broad shoulders with all the fierce pride of his ancestors in his bearing, but sheer outrage glittered in his condemning gaze.

      ‘Duarte—’

      ‘If you dare to lie and suggest that I have abused you or mistreated you in any way whatsoever, I will fight you for custody of my son! Is that quite clear?’

      As crystal. Chilled to the temperature of ice by that announcement, Emily trembled. Her arms wrapped more tightly still round Jamie. Impervious to that old chestnut that children were always disturbed by maternal tension, Jamie had dropped off to sleep against her shoulder. With that single threat, Duarte had deprived Emily of voice, breath and hope that their differences could be resolved. She was in shock and could not have said why. After all, if Duarte had been prepared to separate her from her child the instant he was born, he could only be even keener to do so after the months that had since passed.

      But then, eight months ago, Duarte’s words of threat had not been spoken to her face. It was only thanks to her friend, Bliss that Emily had learned of Duarte’s plans. Bliss had overheard Duarte state his punitive intentions to his lawyer and had forewarned Emily of her estranged husband’s intentions.

      Now quite unable to dislodge her arrested attention from Duarte, she scanned his fabulous bone structure for some sign of softening and found none. He meant what he was saying. Standing there straight and tall and unashamed and more beautiful than any male had the right to be. Like a dark angel. Even emanating aggressive vibrations, he was absolutely gorgeous, possessed of the kind of sleek, dark, bronzed good looks that turned female heads wherever he went. Why the heck hadn’t she smelled a rat the size of the Titanic when he proposed marriage to someone as ordinary as she was? And why on earth had he neglected to mention his tragic first marriage? For any heart that Duarte ever had was buried in the grave with his childhood sweetheart.

      ‘Is that understood, Emily?’ Duarte prompted lethally.

      Dully she nodded, dredging her attention from him in shrinking apprehension. To think that on several occasions recently she had anxiously wondered if she had misjudged him! No, there was no room to suspect now that Bliss might have misunderstood what she’d overheard or that Emily herself had overreacted to something said in anger and never ever intended to be acted upon. After the way she’d behaved, Duarte did not believe she deserved to have their child.

      ‘Yes…’ Emily turned her pinched face away and rested her cheek against Jamie’s soft, sweet-smelling baby skin to comfort herself. Every which way she looked, she had done wrong, and there was no point offending even more by seeking to defend herself.

      ‘I have no wish to part you from our son,’ Duarte stated in a grim undertone. ‘He needs you very much.’

      ‘Do you really think that?’ she whispered shakily.

      ‘I say nothing that I don’t mean. Give me Jamie now that he is asleep,’ Duarte urged moving forward. ‘Mrs Barker followed my security team here. She has offered to take care of our son until you are released from hospital. I understand she is familiar to him.’

      Taut with suspicion, Emily held fast to Jamie’s precious weight, but then she saw Alice appearing in the doorway with a look of discomfiture on her face. The older woman was carrying Jamie’s baby bag. ‘I’ll look after Jamie, Emily. It’s the least that I can do.’

      ‘I will leave you both and deal with the police,’ Duarte delivered coolly.

      Alice grimaced and sank down at the foot of the bed. ‘How was I to know he was your husband? I thought Mafia hitmen were descending on us and I was really frantic when they took off after you!’

      ‘You didn’t know what was happening…and I was totally stupid,’ Emily groaned in remorse. ‘I made things even worse by trying to run again. I just panicked and then I got stung—’

      ‘And your husband, whom I thought was a dead ringer for the Godfather at his most glamorous, saved your life.’ Alice winced. ‘I feel so awful now for calling in the police and now they won’t go away until everyone’s explained themselves about twenty times over.’

      ‘It’s OK… It’s all my fault. I always do the wrong thing,’ Emily mumbled heavily. ‘Particularly around Duarte—’

      ‘Not much of a husband if he makes you feel like that. Maybe, to make me feel a little more relaxed about all this, you could tell me that he is really wonderful.’

      ‘He is… I was the one who wrecked everything.’ Emily sighed.

      By wanting more than Duarte had ever offered, she’d made herself unhappy. She’d had a hunger to be loved and, if not loved, at least needed. But Duarte had not needed her either. She had just felt like another one of his many possessions with no true existence or purpose without him. She had never had much confidence but, flung in at the deep end of a world so very different from her own, she had sunk like a stone, becoming even more shy and awkward. By the time of their separation, she’d gone from having low self-esteem to having no self-esteem at all.

      Alice left with Jamie. Then a very weary-looking police sergeant made a brief visit to Emily’s bedside to confirm that she had no complaint to make against her husband. Having made that assurance while cringing at the thought of what Duarte must have undergone, Emily fell asleep and did not awaken until lunch arrived on a noisy trolley. The doctor called in to have a brief word with her and tell her that she was free to leave. As she had no appetite for food, she slid straight out of bed. Removing her clothes from the cabinet,