I…I need to talk to him, and you need to go. I think your taxi is here now. Please don’t worry,’ she begged her mother, who looked as though she was going to argue. ‘Everything is going to be fine.’
If only she could believe that, she thought a few minutes later, as she gave Frances a wave and shut the front door. Her headache had developed into an excruciating pain, as if someone was drilling through her skull. She longed to take some painkillers and lie down on her bed for a few minutes, but instead she took a deep breath and walked back into the sitting room.
Ramon was standing by the mantelpiece, studying a photo of Mateo taken when he had been a few days old. He speared her with a savage glare. ‘I don’t even know his name,’ he said, in a low tone that could not disguise his tightly leashed anger.
‘It’s Mateo.’
‘Mateo.’ Ramon spoke his son’s name with a sense of wonder. His son—his son. He still couldn’t take it in. Until now he had viewed fatherhood simply as a duty he would have to fulfil at some point in the future. He had never actually envisaged what it would be like to have a child. But now he was faced with his son, whose features so resembled his own that it was like looking at a miniature version of himself, and he felt awed that this perfect, beautiful child was his.
Matty was sitting on Lauren’s hip, his head resting on her shoulder, but he looked up enquiringly at the sound of his name and gave Ramon a gummy smile. The baby was usually wary of strangers, especially when he was tired, but to Lauren’s shock he held his arms out to his father. Ramon moved closer, his hands visibly shaking as he touched his son for the first time, and Lauren felt a sudden, irrational feeling of panic. She did not want to let Matty go, but the baby smiled happily as Ramon lifted him and held him against his chest.
‘Mateo.’ Ramon stroked his son’s silky black hair, and as he stared down into the baby’s sherry-brown eyes that were the exact same shade as his own the tidal wave of emotion that swept through him threatened to unman him. He had missed most of the first year of his son’s life. Lauren had stolen those irreplaceable months from him, and the knowledge filled him with black fury.
Lauren swallowed the tears that clogged her throat. Matty looked so small in Ramon’s arms, and the look of tenderness in Ramon’s eyes as he studied his son evoked a host of emotions in her. ‘Matty is tired,’ she said quietly. ‘He usually has a nap about now. I’ll put him in his cot.’ She held out her hands to take the baby, but Ramon shook his head.
‘I’ll take him. Show me where he sleeps.’
It would be childish to refuse, and she could hardly snatch Matty out of Ramon’s arms, she acknowledged as she reluctantly led the way down the hall to the tiny box-room that served as a nursery.
‘He’s had a traumatic day,’ Lauren explained a few minutes later, after Ramon had carefully laid Mateo in his cot.
‘Alistair Gambrill told me this morning that you had rushed home because your son was ill.’
So that was how he had found out about Matty. And now she could not deny Ramon the answers he clearly wanted. Her head felt as though it was about to split open, but she tried to ignore the pain and led the way back into the sitting room.
‘What was wrong with Mateo?’ Ramon demanded. ‘He seems to be perfectly well now.’
‘He had a fit this morning. My mother called an ambulance and he was rushed into hospital. Apparently it was what is called a febrile convulsion, brought on by a high temperature. Tests revealed that he has a throat infection, and the doctor prescribed a course of antibiotics. There should be no lasting damage, although babies who have had febrile convulsions are slightly more at risk of having them again,’ she added shakily.
Tears filled her eyes once again, although she knew it was pathetic to cry when the doctor had assured her that Matty had been completely unharmed by the fit.
She dashed her hand across her face and glanced up, to find Ramon watching her through narrowed eyes. He had taken off his leather jacket, and suddenly he flung it forcefully onto a chair, his barely leashed violence making Lauren jump.
‘Why did you do it, Lauren?’ He caught hold of her shoulders in a bruising grip that made her cry out.
‘Ramon! You’re hurting me.’
‘I could kill you,’ he snarled. His face was a hard mask, his skin drawn taut over razor-sharp cheekbones. He glimpsed the fear in her eyes and felt infuriated that even in the midst of his anger Lauren’s air of vulnerability got to him. He flung her from him, disgusted as much with himself as with her. ‘You treacherous bitch. How could you deny me my own son?’
Lauren rubbed her shoulders and stared at him with huge, wary eyes. ‘I didn’t think you would want him.’
‘You never gave me a choice.’ Nostrils flaring, Ramon fought to control his temper. ‘Why would you think that I would not want my own child?’
Lauren gave a bitter laugh. ‘Because you told me that it was your duty to marry an aristocratic Spanish bride and provide a blue-blooded heir to continue the Velaquez line. I was going to tell you I was pregnant that last night, when we went to the Vine for dinner, but you made it clear that I meant nothing to you.’
She would never forget his appalled expression when she had given him an anniversary gift.
‘You insisted that I could only ever be your mistress. I was afraid you would think that Matty wasn’t a suitable heir—because I certainly don’t have any noble ancestors,’ Lauren continued in a low tone when Ramon gave her a scathing look. She bit her lip. ‘From the moment I walked out of your apartment I was tormented by guilt and indecision. I didn’t know what to do. I was torn between wanting to tell you that I was expecting your baby, and being afraid of your reaction. Many times—before Matty was born, and after—I brought up your number on my phone. But each time I lost my nerve and didn’t put the call through,’ she admitted huskily.
‘I didn’t want Matty to grow up feeling that he wasn’t good enough to be part of the illustrious Velaquez family.’ She voiced the fear that had gnawed at her. ‘Children need to feel valued.’ It was something she had learned when her father had left and she had realised how unimportant she was to him. ‘Although you might have been willing to marry for duty, I wasn’t.’
‘You thought it better to bring Mateo up without a father?’ Ramon accused her scathingly. ‘What right did you have to deny him one of his parents? Did you ever think about what he might want?’
Lauren paled. She had felt guilty that Matty would grow up without a father, but it had seemed preferable to an uninterested father whom she had feared would regard fatherhood as an irksome duty.
‘And how much more of his life were you going to steal from me?’ Ramon demanded furiously. ‘Would you ever have told me about him?’ His blood ran cold. ‘Or was that chance remark by Alistair Gambrill the only reason I discovered my child’s existence?’
When she did not answer, he glared at her with bitter contempt.
‘Dios! You slept with me last night, and even then you said nothing. What was all that about, anyway? Were you using me as a stud, in the hope of conceiving a sibling for Mateo?’
‘No! Don’t be ridiculous.’ Lauren’s temper flared at his outrageous accusation. ‘You came on to me,
