back here in the latter stages of her pregnancy for nights of mad, passionate sex?
He stared at Isabella’s pink cheeks and guessed that she’d picked up on it, too.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said deliberately. ‘In the spare room. Is the bed made up?’
‘No,’ said Jessie briskly. ‘But I can do that now, before I go.’
‘Oh, please don’t worry,’ said Isabella quickly. ‘I’m not helpless—I can do it myself. Really!’
But Jessie shook her head. ‘Good heavens, no—I wouldn’t dream of letting you! You look dead on your feet. Why don’t you sit down, my dear?’
Isabella hesitated.
‘Go on, sit down,’ ordered Paulo softly. ‘Make yourself at home.’
She was too tired to argue with him, thinking how easy and how pleasurable it was to have Paulo make the decisions.
She sank down onto one of the two vast sofas which dominated the room, and gingerly removed the shoes from her swollen feet. She glanced up to find him watching her, his brow criss-crossed with little lines of concern, and she produced a faint smile. ‘You did tell me to make myself at home.’
‘So I did. I guess I was just expecting you to argue back,’ he observed drily. ‘I had no idea you could be quite so stubborn.’
‘And I had no idea you could be quite so domineering!’
‘Didn’t you?’ he mocked softly and, when she didn’t answer, he smiled. ‘Stay there—I’m going in to say goodnight to Eddie.’
He found his son tucked up underneath the duvet, his eyes heavy with sleep.
‘Hello, Papa,’ Eddie yawned.
‘Hello, son,’ smiled Paulo softly. ‘Did you get my note?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Eddie jammed a fist in his eye and rubbed it, giving another yawn. ‘How’s Bella?’
‘She’s…tired. And she’s going to be staying with us.’
The child’s face lit up. ‘Is she? That’s fantastic! How long for?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ Paulo paused as he tried to work out how to explain the complications of a very adult situation to a ten-year-old. But children dealt with simple truth best. ‘She’s going to have a baby, you see.’
Eddie removed the fist and blinked up at his father. ‘Wow! When?’
Paulo smiled. ‘Soon. Very soon.’
Eddie sat bolt upright in bed. ‘And will the baby come and live here, too?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Paulo gently. ‘They’ll probably go back home to Brazil once it’s been born.’
‘Oh,’ said Eddie disappointedly, and snuggled back down under the duvet. ‘Judy rang.’
‘Did she?’ Paulo frowned. He had always been completely straight with the women in his life. From the start he told them that he wasn’t looking for love, or a life-partner, or a substitute mother for his son. Judy had assured him that she could accept that—but time had proved otherwise and her behaviour over Isabella had only confirmed his suspicions. But Judy was tenacious and Paulo too much of a gentleman to curtail the occasional maudlin phone-call.
‘Did she want anything in particular?’ he asked carefully.
Eddie pulled a face. ‘Just the usual thing. She wanted to know where you were and I told her. But she went all quiet when I mentioned Bella.’
‘Oh, did she?’ questioned Paulo evenly.
‘Mmm.’ Eddie yawned. ‘Papa—do I have to go to school tomorrow?’
Paulo frowned. ‘Of course you do. It’s term-time.’
‘Yes, I know, but…’ Eddie bit his lip. ‘But I want to see Bella—and she went rushing off last time.’
‘She won’t be rushing anywhere,’ said Paulo, but he could see from the expression in his son’s eyes that Eddie remained unconvinced. And then he thought, What the hell? What was one day out if it helped a ten-year-old accommodate this brand-new and unusual situation? ‘Maybe,’ he said as he picked up the wizard book which was wedged down the side of the bunk-bed. ‘I said maybe!’ His eyes crinkled. ‘Want me to finish reading this?’
‘Yes, please!’
‘Where had we got to?’
‘The bit where he turns his father into a toad by mistake!’
‘Wishful thinking is that, Eddie?’ asked Paulo drily as he found the place in the book and began to read.
But Eddie was fast asleep by the end of the second page, and Paulo turned off the light and tiptoed out of the room to find Isabella in a similar state, stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep, her hands clasped with Madonna-like serenity over her swollen belly.
It was the first time he had seen the tension leave her face, and he stood looking down at her for a long moment, realising how much she must have had to endure in that soulless house—pregnant and frightened and very, very alone. Her hair spilled with gleaming abandon over the velvet cushion which was improvising as a pillow and her thick dark lashes fanned her cheeks. She’d loosened the top couple of buttons of her dress, so that her skin above her breasts looked unbelievably fine and translucent—as if it were made of marble instead of flesh and blood. He could see the line of a vein as it formed a faint blue tracery above her heart, could see the rapid beating of the pulse beneath.
He heard a sound and looked up to find Jessie standing on the other side of the room, her face very thoughtful as she watched him studying the pregnant woman. She looked as though she was dying to fire at least one question at him, but her remark was innocuous enough.
‘The spare room is all ready,’ she said, and waited.
‘Thanks.’ He turned away from where Isabella slept, and walked into the dining room to pour himself a whisky while he pondered on what he should do.
Jessie had been working for him ever since Elizabeth had died. Sometimes he’d thought that she must have been sent to him by angels instead of an employment agency. She’d been widowed herself, and knew that practical help was better than all the weeping and wailing in the world. She was young enough to be good fun for Eddie, but not so young that she felt she was missing out on life by looking after a child who was not her own.
He also knew that she was expecting some kind of explanation now, and knew that he owed her one.
And yet he did not want to gossip about Isabella while she lay sleeping. He took a sip of his whisky and raised dark, troubled eyes to where Jessie stood.
‘I’ll be off now,’ she said. ‘There’s a salad in the fridge, if you’re hungry.’
‘We ate on the way home.’ He nodded at the tray of crystal bottles. ‘Stay for a drink?’
