The Gold Collection. Maggie Cox

a population of four hundred, a post office and a pub.

      ‘Would you like to sit down?’ She offered him the armchair by the fire, but when he shook his head she crossed her arms defensively in front of her. ‘Why are you here? I wasn’t expecting you.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Have you had the results of the paternity test already? I thought we wouldn’t hear for a week.’

      ‘No, I haven’t had the results.’ Dante hesitated, uncharacteristically struggling to find the right words. ‘But I don’t need a test to confirm I am the baby’s father.’

      Rebekah stared at him warily. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I mean I believe you, cara. I know the child you are carrying is mine.’

      She bit her lip. ‘I understand why you would want proof. Anyone who had been deceived as you were by your wife would feel the same way. I know you must find it hard to trust.’

      He held her gaze steadily. ‘I trust you, Rebekah, and I’m here to discuss what we’re going to do now. How we can do the best for our child.’

      His child—Dante felt a weird feeling inside: disbelief that he was going to be a father, but as the realisation sank in he felt awed and excited.

      Rebekah’s words sent a chill down his spine.

      ‘You mentioned on the phone that you wanted to discuss financial matters. Please don’t feel obliged to give me money,’ she said with excruciating politeness. ‘My parents have been wonderful and have offered to support me and the baby until I can move to St Lucia to work at Gaspard Clavier’s new restaurant.’

      Dante could not hide his shock. ‘You intend to take the baby to live in the Caribbean?’

      ‘Not immediately after it’s born. But Gaspard assures me it’s a wonderful place to live and bring up a child.’

      On the way to Rebekah’s parents’ farm he had rehearsed what he planned to say to her but now he was groping for a response. He felt as if a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet. ‘And where do I feature in this wonderful new life you’re planning?’ he said harshly. ‘Do you expect me to allow you to take my child to the other side of the world where I can have no part in its life?’

      ‘Allow?’ She gave an angry laugh. ‘You have no right to tell me where I can or can’t live. To be frank, I hadn’t anticipated you would want anything to do with our child. That’s the impression you gave when I told you of my pregnancy. But if you insist on some sort of contact I imagine you know more about access rights than I do.’

      Contact and access rights were surely the ugliest words in the English vocabulary, Dante thought bleakly. He could not think rationally and his words were torn from his heart. ‘I’ll be damned if I’ll let you take my baby away from me to St Lucia.’

      Rebekah was startled by the raw emotion in Dante’s voice. He spoke about the baby as if he cared about the new life inside her, as if it was a real little person to him, as it was to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe he did care for their child even if he did not care about her.

      ‘It’s a boy,’ she told him huskily. ‘They asked me at my ultrasound scan if I wanted to know the sex of the baby.’

      Originally she had intended not to find out, but when the scan had revealed a possible problem she had wanted every scrap of information she could get.

      He was going to have a son! Fierce joy surged through Dante. ‘If you had told me the date of your appointment I would have made sure I was here,’ he said curtly, unable to hide his disappointment that he had missed the special moment of seeing his baby for the first time.

      ‘I didn’t realise you would want to.’ Rebekah bit her lip. ‘You are under no obligation to be part of this. I’ll manage perfectly well if you decide to have nothing to do with the baby. He will be born into a big, loving family.’ A tremor shook her voice as she offered a silent prayer that her son would be born safe and well in a few months’ time. ‘My parents will adore him, he’ll have cousins to play with and as I have seven brothers, he’ll have plenty of male influence.’

      In other words, he wasn’t needed, Dante thought grimly. He was the father of Rebekah’s child but she did not consider it necessary for him to play a role in his son’s life.

      He recalled how he had looked around the table at all her relatives and sensed the close bond between them. Something hardened inside him as he had a sudden stark image of the future and him arriving at the farmhouse to visit his son. Would his little boy stare at him warily and regard him as an outsider who did not belong to the tight-knit Welsh family?

      Pain burned in his chest. No, he would not let it happen. His son belonged with him, as well as with his mother.

      ‘There’s no chance I will simply walk away and allow my child to be brought up here with your family, however well meaning they are. I want my son, and I will go to any lengths to claim my role as his father.’

      He exhaled heavily. ‘When you came to see me in London I was shocked about your pregnancy and I reacted badly. I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘I accept the baby is mine and I want to take care of you and our child.’ He took a swift breath, conscious that his heart was beating painfully hard. He had barely slept for the past two nights as he had debated what to do, and he had concluded that only one solution made sense. ‘I want to marry you, Rebekah.’

      If only he did truly want her, Rebekah thought emotionally. Fool that she was, his words had evoked a fierce longing to accept his proposal. But she was not so naïve that she did not understand why he had suddenly decided that marrying her was a good idea.

      ‘The only reason you want to marry me is because of the legal implications regarding the baby. Let’s face it, you specialise in Family Law and you know you will have equal parental rights if we are married,’ she said curtly.

      He did not deny it, but the flare of colour along his cheekbones told her she had guessed right. She stared at the flickering flames in the grate and willed the tears blurring her eyes not to fall.

      ‘I realise we will have to make arrangements about how we can share bringing up our son—if you are certain you want to be part of his life. But I can’t think about that now. There … there’s something you should know.’ She hugged her arms tighter around her. ‘The scan revealed there might be a problem with the baby’s heart.’

      Dante felt his own heart drop like a stone. ‘What kind of problem?’

      ‘I don’t know—something to do with a possible defect with a heart valve. The consultant at my local hospital is trying to organise for me to have a more detailed scan at a better equipped hospital in Cardiff, but it probably won’t be until the middle of next week.

      ‘Oh, Dante!’ Rebekah’s voice shook, the nameless dread that had swamped her since her hospital visit suddenly shattering her determination to remain calm. ‘I’m so worried.’

      Dante’s stomach clenched when he saw the strain etched onto her face. He knew she was thinking of the child she had lost, who had died inside her and been stillborn. He strode towards her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as he felt her tremble uncontrollably. ‘You should have called me the minute you knew. I would have come immediately.’

      ‘I only found out this morning. I haven’t told my family. My parents have been through enough with my father’s accident.’ She stared at Dante as he pulled out his phone. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘I have a friend in London who is a cardiologist. I’ll call him and tell him we need an urgent appointment. The sooner we find out if there is a problem, the better—don’t you agree?’

      ‘Yes, but it’s Friday afternoon. He won’t be able to see us before Monday.’ It was only two days, Rebekah reminded herself. But the thought of waiting and worrying all over the weekend was unbearable.

      ‘James will see you as soon as we reach