The Mills & Boon Stars Collection. Cathy Williams

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chance itself. He had joked that her hospital bag had been packed almost from the moment of conception, and Elizabeth had laughed, too. His voice softened. ‘Why on earth would I despise you?’

      ‘Why do you think?’ Isabella stared down at her plate with eyes which were suddenly bright. ‘Because I’m going to have a baby. I’m going to be an unmarried mother! I’ve let my father down,’ she husked. ‘And myself!’

      He leaned further across the table towards her, so that the flame of the candle was reflected in the black eyes. ‘Now listen to me, Isabella Fernandes, and stop beating yourself up!’ he whispered fiercely. ‘We aren’t living in the Dark Ages. You’ll be bringing a baby up on your own—so what? A third of the population in England is divorced, for God’s sake—and there are countless children who are the casualties of broken marriages. At least your child won’t have to witness the deterioration of a relationship.’

      ‘But I didn’t want to have a baby like this!’

      ‘I know you didn’t.’ He took her hand in his, staring down at it as it lay inertly in his palm. It felt small and cold and lifeless and he began to massage the palm with the pad of his thumb, stroking some kind of warmth back into it. He felt her trembling response and found himself filled with a sudden fierce need to comfort her. Protect her.

      ‘There is no Merton Hotel, is there?’ he asked suddenly.

      She glanced up. ‘How do you know that?’

      His mouth twisted into a strange kind of smile. ‘How do you think? I came looking for you.’

      ‘Did you?’

      ‘Sure I did.’

      After she’d left his house so abruptly, he’d gone to the theatre with Judy. He had sat through the show feeling distracted and bored and had been forced to endure all kinds of intrusive questions afterwards at supper, when Judy had been determined to find out everything she could about Isabella.

      Too much wine had made Judy tearful and very slightly hysterical as she’d accused him of concealing something about his relationship with the Brazilian girl. She’d made accusations about Isabella which had appalled him nearly as much as they had aroused him…

      Grim-faced, he’d driven her home and resisted all her attempts to seduce him. Afterwards, he had gone home and phoned Directory Enquiries for the number of the Merton Hotel, only to discover that no such place existed.

      So Isabella had not wanted him to find her, he remembered thinking, with faint surprise, because women usually made it easy for him to contact them—not the opposite. But that, he had decided reluctantly, was her prerogative.

      And now he knew why.

      He stared at her. ‘Just why did you come to see me that day, Bella?’ he asked. ‘Was it to ask for my help?’

      She hesitated. ‘I…Yes. Yes, it was.’

      ‘But something changed your mind. I wonder what it was.’ His eyes narrowed with interest. ‘Why did you go away without telling me?’

      ‘I couldn’t go through with it. When it came down to it, I just couldn’t face telling you.’

      ‘And that’s it?’ he demanded.

      Again, she hesitated, but she knew she couldn’t admit that she’d been intimidated by his girlfriend. And by the very fact that he had one. ‘That’s it.’ She turned her face up to his and stumbled out his name. ‘Oh, Paulo!’ she sighed. ‘Whatever have I done?’

      The choked little words stabbed at him, and he gave her hand one final squeeze. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve been unlucky, that’s all—’

      ‘No, please don’t say that.’ She kept her voice low. ‘This is a baby we’re talking about! Not a piece of bad luck!’

      ‘That’s not what I meant. You took a risk—and you’ve paid the ultimate price for that risk.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Bella, that there’s no such thing as safe sex?’

      But he found that his words produced unwanted images—images of Isabella being intimate with another man, her dark hair spread in a shining fan across a stranger’s pillow and a bitter taste began to taint his mouth. He put his napkin down on the table and threw her a look of dark challenge. ‘I just hope it was worth it, querida.’

      Worth it? Isabella stared down at her plate, but all she could see was a blur of tears. If only he knew, she thought. If only he knew.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      IT WAS getting on for nine o’clock when Paulo drew up in the quiet, tree-lined crescent. It was a cold, clear night and moonlight washed over the tall town houses, making them silvery-pale and ghost-like.

      ‘Will Eduardo be asleep?’ whispered Isabella, sleepy herself after the meal which she had surprised herself—and him—by almost finishing.

      ‘You obviously have idealistic views on children’s bedtime,’ he answered drily as he put his key in the lock. ‘He’ll be playing on his computer, I imagine.’ He opened the front door and ushered her inside, dumping Isabella’s bag on the floor just inside the hall. ‘Hello!’ he called softly.

      There was the sound of dishes being stacked somewhere, and then a woman of about fifty appeared, wiping her damp hands down the sides of her trousers. She had short, curly red hair which was flecked with grey and a freckled face which was completely bare of make-up. Her navy trousers and navy polo-shirt were so neat and well-pressed that they looked like a uniform. She gave Isabella’s suitcase a brief, curious look before smiling at Paulo.

      ‘Ah, good! You’re back just in time to read your son a story!’

      ‘But he says he’s too old for stories,’ objected Paulo, with a smile.

      ‘Yes, I know he does—unless his Papa is telling them. You’re the exception who proves the rule, Paulo! As always.’ Her gaze moved back to Isabella and she gave her a friendly smile. ‘Hello!’

      ‘Jessie, I’d like you to meet Isabella Fernandes—who is a very old family friend.’

      ‘Yes, I know—Eddie’s talked about you a lot,’ said Jessie, still smiling.

      ‘And, Isabella—this is Jessie Taylor, who’s so much more than a housekeeper! How would you describe yourself Jessie?’

      ‘As your willing slave, Paulo, how else? Nice to meet you, Isabella.’ Jessie held her hand out. ‘Your father owns that amazing cattle ranch, doesn’t he?’

      ‘The very same.’ Isabella nodded.

      ‘Don’t you miss Brazil terribly?’

      ‘Only in the winter!’ Isabella pulled her raincoat closer and gave a mock-shiver, grateful for Jessie’s tact in not drawing attention to the baby.

      ‘Isabella is going to be staying here with us for the time being,’ said Paulo.

      ‘Oh.

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