was very pleased,’ Deidre confided. ‘Nuala should regain the full use of her arm.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Erin commented, turning her gaze back to her daughter’s small flushed face. ‘How are you feeling, pet?’
‘My arm’s sore.’ The little girl sighed, her attention roaming away from her mother to lock to the tall powerful man stationed at the foot of her bed. ‘Who is that man?’
‘I’m Cristo,’ Cristo muttered not quite steadily.
‘He’s your daddy,’ Deidre Turner explained without hesitation, a broad smile of satisfaction chasing the exhaustion from her drawn face.
Shock at that announcement trapped Erin’s breath in her throat and she shot the older woman a look of dismay.
‘Honesty is the best policy,’ Deidre remarked to noone in particular, rising from her seat to extend a hand to Cristo. ‘I’m Erin’s mother, Deidre.’
‘Daddy?’ Nuala repeated wide-eyed at the description. ‘You’re my daddy?’
In the simmering silence, Erin frowned. ‘Yes. He’s your daddy,’ she confirmed. ‘Mum? Could I have a word with you in private?’
A nurse came in just then to check on Nuala and, after mentioning that her daughter was complaining of pain, Erin stepped outside with her mother. ‘You must be wondering what’s going on,’ Erin began awkwardly.
‘What’s there to wonder? Obviously you’ve finally told the man he’s a father and that’s not before time,’ the older woman replied wryly.
Erin breathed in deep. ‘I’m afraid I lied to you about where I was this weekend—I wasn’t in Scotland with Tom and Melissa. I was with Cristo.’
‘And you didn’t know how to tell me, I suppose. Did you think I would interfere?’ Deidre enquired astutely. ‘He’s the twins’ father. Naturally you need to sort this situation out but you’ve taken the first step towards that and I’m proud of you.’
Surprised by that assurance, Erin gave her parent a quick embarrassed hug. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. Look, now I’m here, you should go home—’
‘And collect Lorcan and put him to bed,’ Deidre completed. ‘He was upset about Nuala. Will you stay the night here with her or will you come home later?’
‘I’ll see how Nuala is before I decide.’
‘She’ll be fine. She’s a tough little article,’ Erin’s mother pronounced fondly. ‘Lorcan cried when she fell because he got a fright and she called him a baby. By the time I got Nuala to the hospital they were fighting—at least it took her mind off the pain of the break.’
Erin saw the older woman into the lift and returned to the side ward.
‘What do daddies do?’ Nuala was asking plaintively.
‘They look after you.’
Erin’s daughter was unimpressed. ‘Mummy and Granny look after me.’
‘And now you have me as well,’ Cristo told his daughter quietly.
‘You can fix my arm with magic,’ Nuala told him in a tone of complaint.
‘Daddy doesn’t have his magic wand with him,’ Erin chipped in from the foot of the bed.
Nuala’s dark eyes rounded. ‘Daddy has a magic wand?’
Cristo skimmed Erin a pained glance. ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’
‘Never mind,’ Nuala said drowsily. ‘My arm hurts.’
‘The medicine the nurse gave you will start working soon,’ Cristo asserted soothingly.
Within minutes, Nuala had drifted off to sleep.
‘I’m sorry Mum just leapt in with her big announcement,’ Erin muttered uncomfortably.
‘Obviously she believes the twins are mine and, if that’s true, there are no regrets on my part,’ Cristo responded with a quality of calm she had not expected to see in him after the bombshell she had dropped on him. ‘It’s a bad idea to lie to children.’
Erin fell asleep in her chair and only wakened when the nurses began their morning round. She was surprised that Cristo had remained through the night, for she had expected him to leave late and make use of a hotel. Instead he had stayed with them and she was grudgingly impressed by his tenacity. His black hair was tousled, his tie loose where he had undone the top button of his shirt. A heavy dark shadow of stubble covered his strong jaw line, accentuating the sensual perfection of his mobile mouth. It shook her to open her eyes and see him and for her first thought to be that he was absolutely gorgeous. Her face flamed as his stunning dark golden eyes assailed hers. Her skin prickled with awareness, her breasts swelling and making her bra feel too tight. She tore her attention from him with a sense of mortification that she had so little control over her reactions to him.
‘Apparently the canteen opens soon. We’ll go down for breakfast once Nuala has had hers,’ Cristo said decisively.
The night had been long and his reflections deep and interminable, Cristo acknowledged heavily, fighting off the exhaustion dogging him. He had watched Erin and the child who might be his daughter sleep. He had remembered the early years of his own childhood with the fortitude of an adult, processing what he had learned from those unhappy memories, already knowing what he must do while striving to greet rather than flinch from the necessity.
Erin took Nuala into the bathroom to freshen up. She was stiff from spending the night in the chair and slow to respond to her daughter’s innocent chatter. She did what little she could to tidy herself but her raincoat, silk top and linen trousers were creased beyond redemption and without make-up she could do nothing to brighten her pale face and tired, shadowed eyes.
‘Obviously you’ll want DNA tests done,’ Erin said over breakfast, preferring to take that bull by the horns in preference to Cristo feeling that he had to make that demand. ‘I’ll agree to that.’
‘It would make it easier to establish the twins as my legal heirs,’ Cristo agreed, his expression grave. ‘But I believe that that is the only reason I would have it done.’
‘You’re saying that you believe me now?’ Erin prompted in a surprised undertone.
Cristo gave her a silent nod of confirmation and finished his coffee. By the time they returned to Nuala’s bedside the doctors’ round had been done and the ward sister informed them that they could take Nuala home as soon as they liked.
Lorcan, already prepared by his grandmother for the truth that he was about to meet his father, was in full livewire mode, behaving like a jumping bean from the instant Cristo entered the small sitting room of Deidre and Erin’s terraced home. Lorcan scrambled onto a stool and stood up to get closer to the tall black-haired male but, dissatisfied with the height differential, leapt off the stool and clambered onto the coffee table instead.
‘Get down, Lorcan,’ Erin instructed, stooping to gather up the pile of magazines that her son had sent flying to the floor while her mother cooed over Nuala like a homing pigeon. ‘Right
