The Gold Collection. Maggie Cox

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was unplanned I was excited at the prospect of being a father.

      ‘I watched our son being born and held him in my arms when he was a few minutes old. Ben stole my heart,’ he said gruffly. ‘I was besotted with him, and I took care of him a lot of the time because Lara wanted to pursue her career. Several times I even took him to visit my grandmother at the Casa di Colombe while Lara remained in New York.

      ‘Perlita adored him as much as I did. But during a trip to Tuscany when Ben was two years old, Lara arrived unexpectedly and announced that our marriage was over. It was a bolt from the blue. I’d had no reason to think she was unhappy with our relationship. But she admitted she had been having an affair with her ex-boyfriend for several months and intended to divorce me and marry him.’

      Dante took a long swig of whisky and relished its fiery heat as it hit the back of his throat.

      ‘I was angry that she had cheated on me, but my main concern was for Ben and I tried to persuade her to give our marriage another try.’ His jaw clenched. ‘She then dropped the bombshell that I wasn’t Ben’s father. At the same time that she had begun an affair with me, she had slept with her ex a couple of times. When she’d realised she was pregnant she knew the other guy was the father. But he had ended his relationship with her and moved away—and he didn’t have any money. I, on the other hand, had good career prospects and a ton of money, and so she deliberately led me to believe Ben was my son—until his real father showed up again, complete with a sizeable inheritance fund and a willingness to take responsibility for his child.’

      ‘Oh, Dante.’

      It was incredible how two words could hold such a depth of compassion, Dante thought, feeling that strange sensation of something unfurling inside him again when he saw the gentle expression in Rebekah’s eyes.

      She stood up and walked over to him, and unbelievably she reached out and touched his arm, as if she hoped the physical contact would show that she understood how devastated he had been by Lara’s deception. He swallowed, thinking that he had treated her shamefully, yet she had not hesitated to show her sympathy for him.

      The bleak expression in Dante’s eyes told Rebekah that he had not come to terms with his wife’s terrible deception or the pain of losing the child he had loved. She sensed that even after he had learned that Ben was not his son he had still cared for the little boy.

      ‘What happened to Ben?’ she asked quietly.

      ‘Lara took him and I never saw him again. I understand she married Ben’s father, and as far as I know they’re still together.’

      Rebekah did not know what to say that wouldn’t sound trite. ‘What happened to you was terrible,’ she murmured. ‘But this situation is different. I swear the baby is yours and I’ve agreed to a paternity test.’

      Perhaps when he’d had a chance to get over his shock about her pregnancy he would see that his baby needed its father. She suddenly felt bone-weary, probably the result of anti-climax and a surfeit of emotions, she told herself. She felt a desperate need to be alone while she assimilated everything Dante had told her about his past. It was little wonder he had reacted with such suspicion to her claim that she was expecting his baby after the way his wife had lied to him.

      ‘How soon can we have the paternity test?’ she asked flatly.

      ‘I’ll arrange for us to give blood samples tomorrow. It usually takes a week to ten days before the results come back.’ He had dealt with enough paternity issues during his clients’ divorce cases to be sure of his facts. Dante’s eyes narrowed as he watched Rebekah slip on her coat. ‘Where are you going?’

      ‘I’m staying at my friend Charlie’s overnight. Where shall I meet you for the blood test?’

      ‘I think you should stay here tonight.’ He was surprised at how strongly he hated the idea of her leaving. It was slowly sinking in that if the baby was his they would have to discuss what they were going to do, how they were both going to bring up their child.

      Dio, was he being a fool to believe the baby was his? His instincts told him he could trust Rebekah. He would swear she was honest and truthful. But he had trusted Lara once, taunted a bitter voice inside his head. After his divorce, he had vowed he would never trust a woman again.

      ‘You can stay in your old room,’ he told her. ‘The clothes you left behind are still there. In the morning I’ll drive you to the clinic in Harley Street.’

      ‘No, thanks.’ Rebekah could not face the idea of sleeping in the same house as Dante. Not because she was worried he would try to persuade her into his bed, but because she knew he wouldn’t. Seeing him again had made her realise just how much she had missed him. She must be even more of a fool than she’d thought because even though he was demanding proof that the baby was his she still ached for him to take her in his arms and stroke her hair, as he had often done during their heartbreakingly brief affair.

      ‘Charlie is expecting me. If you wouldn’t mind calling me a taxi, I’d like to go now.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Dante said roughly when he realised he could not force her to stay. ‘I’ll take you to your friend’s.’

      ‘You can’t; you’ve been drinking.’

      She was right—the amount of whisky he’d downed meant that he could not get behind the wheel of a car. He controlled his impatience and fought the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her he believed the baby was his. His brain told him to wait for proof, and so he ignored what his heart was telling him.

      ‘My chauffeur will drive you to where you are staying,’ he said curtly, ‘and I’ll collect you in the morning.’

      Rebekah’s parents’ farm was in Snowdonia National Park. If Dante had not had other things on his mind he would no doubt have admired the dramatic landscape of lush green valleys and rugged mountain peaks, the highest of which bore the first snowfall of the winter. But he was concentrating on driving along the tortuously twisting lanes and whenever his mind wandered it returned inevitably to Rebekah and the baby she was carrying.

      Was it only two days since she had turned up at his house in London and told him she was pregnant? It felt like a lifetime ago. He frowned at the memory of how pale and fragile she had looked when he had collected her from her friend’s house where she had spent the night, and driven her to the clinic for the prenatal paternity test to be done.

      He had felt worried about her, especially as the dark circles beneath her eyes had been evidence that she had not slept.

      ‘Come and stay at the house for a few days while we wait for the results,’ he had urged her. But she had shaken her head.

      ‘I bought a return train ticket to Wales. I want to go home,’ she’d told him when he had started to argue. ‘I need to be with people who care about me. My family have been brilliant and I know that whatever happens I can count on their love and support.’

      Had she been making a dig at him for his lack of support? She had been perfectly within her rights to, Dante acknowledged grimly. For the past two days he had thought about her constantly and he’d come to the conclusion that he should be shot for the appalling way he had treated her.

      Yesterday he had phoned her, not really knowing what he wanted to say but aware that he needed to apologise. She had answered his queries about how she was feeling with a coolness that had been infuriating and worrying.

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