look terrible.’
She gave a mirthless smile. ‘You don’t think that might have something to do with the fact that you’re threatening to take Matty from me?’ Her throat felt as though she had swallowed shards of glass, and talking was agony. ‘I must have picked up the flu virus that’s been doing the rounds at work.’ She dropped her gaze from the blazing fury in his. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I honestly believed you would want nothing to do with Matty—or, worse, consider him an obligation. But, whatever you think, I swear I have done my best to be a good mother to him.’
Dark eyes stared back at her, icy cold and unforgiving. ‘Unfortunately I do not consider your best to be good enough.’ He frowned when she sneezed again. ‘Dios! You are in no fit state to look after a baby. You can barely stand,’ he growled as she got up from the sofa and swayed. ‘I understand your mother is embarking on a cruise tomorrow and won’t be around?’
Lauren gave a reluctant nod, and winced as the slight movement of her head sent more starbursts of pain through her skull.
Ramon pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll arrange for a private jet to collect us tonight. There is an airfield about twenty miles from here.’
‘Collect us and take us where?’ Lauren croaked, dismayed to find that she was losing her voice. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so ill in her life, and the grim determination in Ramon’s voice scared her to death.
‘I’m taking my son to Spain—and you’re coming too. Unlike you, I believe that Mateo needs both his parents,’ he said curtly.
‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head, and could not prevent a moan of agony. ‘I won’t let you take Matty anywhere,’ she said wildly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re ill, and he needs to be cared for until you are better. The only place he should be right now is with his family. My mother will be overjoyed to meet her new grandson, and I will hire a nurse who will watch over Mateo in case he should suffer more convulsions.’
A disgruntled wail sounded from along the hall. Matty often woke up grouchy after a late nap, and when Lauren hurried into his room he was standing up in his cot, rattling the bars and yelling so loudly that she felt her head would split open.
‘Come on, sweetie, I expect you want your tea,’ she murmured, trying to pacify him. But the baby was beside himself with temper, and wriggled so violently when she picked him up that she almost dropped him.
‘Give him to me,’ Ramon said grimly from the doorway. ‘You don’t have the strength to hold him.’ He moved towards Lauren, his eyes focused on the hysterical baby.
His son had certainly inherited the Velaquez temper, he thought ruefully. Even at less than a year old it was clear that Mateo was a strong-willed little boy, who would need guidance from his father as well as his mother as he grew up.
‘Mateo.’ Ramon spoke gently yet firmly, and to Lauren’s chagrin Matty stopped screaming and stared in fascination at the tall man who held out his hands. ‘Come to your papito, mi precioso.’
Come to your daddy! Lauren caught her breath when Matty suddenly grinned and leaned towards Ramon. Every instinct inside her fought against the idea of handing her baby over, but Matty wanted to go, and she felt so weak that her knees sagged when Ramon took his son from her.
‘Ramon…’ she called him desperately.
He paused on his way out of the tiny nursery and flicked cold eyes over her. ‘Get your coat,’ he ordered harshly. ‘The car will be here in five minutes.’
There was a picture of a cherub above her head. Lauren opened her eyes wider and saw that the cherub was part of an exquisite mural painted on the ceiling. She frowned, puzzling over how the mural had got there, and what had happened to her plain white bedroom ceiling.
‘Ah, you’re awake.’
The voice came from over by the window. Lauren squinted against the sunlight filtering through the blinds to see a pleasant-faced woman walking towards the bed.
‘Hello, Lauren. I’m Cathy Morris,’ the woman said gently. ‘I’m an English nurse, and I’ve been helping Señor Velaquez to look after you.’
Ramon! Snatches of memory flooded Lauren’s mind— blurred images of him carrying her up the steps of a plane. And then later she had opened her eyes briefly to find herself in a car, speeding towards a huge castle, ominous and forbidding in the moonlight, surrounded by jagged-edged mountains.
She struggled to sit up, shocked to discover that she had no strength. But Ramon had Matty. She had to get up and find him.
‘I don’t think you’re ready to get out of bed just yet,’ the nurse said, in a kind but firm tone. She eased Lauren back against the pillows and straightened the bedcovers. ‘You’ve been very ill for the past four days, with a particularly nasty flu virus. Señor Velaquez has barely left your side. He has even been sleeping in the chair next to your bed so that he could see to you during the night. He’s giving your son his breakfast at the moment, but I expect he’ll be back here before long.’
When Cathy finally paused for breath Lauren mumbled weakly, ‘So I’m in Spain? At Ramon’s castle?’
‘At the Castillo del Toro,’ the nurse confirmed. ‘It’s a wonderful place—built in the thirteenth century, apparently, and oozing with all the history of the Velaquez family. The English translation is the Castle of the Bull—named after one Señor Velaquez’s ancestors, who was renowned for his fighting skills on the battlefield as well as his prowess with the ladies.’ Cathy grinned. ‘I get the impression from the local villagers that the current Duque is as revered as his famous forefather.’ She walked over to the door. ‘I expect you’d like a cup of tea—and then I’ll help you into the bathroom so that you can freshen up.’
In the nursery, along the hall from Lauren’s room, Ramon strapped his son into a highchair and surveyed the baby’s immaculate clothes, scrubbed face and shining, silky black curls with a sense of achievement. Not that bathing and dressing Mateo had been without its difficulties, he thought ruefully as he glanced down at his damp trousers and shirt. He hadn’t realised that a wet, wriggling ten-month-old was as slippery as an eel, and after towelling Mateo dry and struggling to fasten the fiddly buttons of his romper suit Ramon felt he deserved a medal.
‘How did your madre do this every day before going off to work?’ he asked the baby, feeling a begrudging sense of admiration for Lauren.
His first four days of fatherhood had been an eye-opener, he admitted. Of course he could have simply handed Mateo over to the nurse, Cathy Morris, whom he had also employed as a nanny, but he was fascinated by this little human being who was his son, and he wanted to get to know him better.
All his life he had known that he had a duty to provide an heir and ensure the continuation of the Velaquez name, but he had never actually considered what it would be like to have a child, Ramon reflected. For one thing he had assumed that it would not happen for several years. He had accepted that he would eventually have to choose a suitable bride, but he had been in no hurry to sacrifice his freedom. Now the privilege of choice had been taken from him. He had a child, and he would never be free again. But as he stared into Mateo’s sherry-brown eyes it struck him that his freedom to jet off around the world whenever he felt like it was a small price to pay for his son.
‘Breakfast time,’ he
