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 London.’ Dante’s voice softened when he saw the tears in her eyes. ‘Try to keep calm. I’ll take care of everything, cara.’
Dante was as good as his word. His jet was waiting at Manchester Airport and within a few hours they were in London. They had an appointment at the hospital, where his friend James Burton was a consultant cardiologist, first thing the following morning. It was strange to be back in the staff apartment she had occupied when she had been Dante’s cook, Rebekah thought as she climbed into bed. It had been equally strange that Dante had cooked her dinner.
‘You’re dead on your feet,’ he’d said when she had offered to cook. ‘Go and sit down while I make you something to eat. Just don’t expect miracles,’ he’d added with a wry smile that for some reason had made her want to burst into tears.
In fact the herb omelette he served was delicious, and after they’d eaten they watched a couple of TV programmes, which helped to occupy her mind for a while. To her surprise, they slipped into their old companionship that reminded her of the month they had spent in Tuscany, and she wished they could turn back the clock to those golden days when they had been friends as well as lovers.
Worrying about the baby meant that Rebekah barely slept that night and she was pale and tense the next morning when she lay on the couch in the hospital room while a more detailed scan was carried out. James Burton’s calm manner was reassuring, but as the minutes ticked by and he continued to study the baby’s heart on the screen, Rebekah could not hide her fear.
She remembered when she’d had a scan during her first pregnancy, the nurse had grown quiet and had called for a doctor, who had broken the news to her that her baby was dead.
Panic surged through her. ‘There’s something wrong, isn’t there?’
‘Yes,
