the sound of his father’s voice Alexander gave a wide grin, revealing his pink gums and two tiny front teeth.
Rebekah felt a sudden, intense pain in her chest and drew a sharp breath.
‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’ James said proudly. ‘Would you like to hold him?’ he asked, noticing how she was transfixed by the baby. ‘Let me take that tray from you so that you can give Alexander a cuddle.’
Alexander was indeed adorable, with chubby arms and legs and wispy golden curls covering his head. Rebekah knew his skin would be as soft as satin, and the scent of him, a unique perfume of milk and baby powder, was so evocative that the pain inside her became an ache of longing—and loss.
She gripped the tray in her hands so tightly that her knuckles whitened as she fought to suppress the agonising emotions surging through her. An awkward silence had fallen over the group and, realising that James was waiting for her to reply, she somehow forced a smile.
‘Alexander looks very happy with his daddy, so I won’t disturb him,’ she mumbled. She looked over at the marquee and added in a brisker tone, ‘The waiters are clearing the tables. I’d better go and help them. Please excuse me.’
What had that been about? Dante wondered with a frown as he watched Rebekah practically run across the lawn. His hand had been resting on her shoulder and he had felt the fierce tension that had gripped her when James had invited her to hold his son. At first he had assumed she was one of those women who could not bear the idea of getting baby dribble on her clothes—he’d noticed Alicia had kept her distance from Alexander, no doubt terrified he might leak from one end or the other and ruin her designer dress, he thought derisively.
He was surprised by Rebekah’s reaction, though. She did not strike him as someone who cared about getting messy. He had watched her in the kitchen a few times and seen how she clearly enjoyed touching food, mixing ingredients with her hands and kneading dough when she made bread. In fact he had found her earthiness curiously sensual and had found himself imagining those firm fingers kneading and stroking his flesh.
Dio, where had that thought come from? He dismissed the image from his mind with an impatient shake of his head. Far harder to dismiss was the devastated expression he had just glimpsed in Rebekah’s eyes. He was tempted to follow her and ask what was wrong. But it was unlikely she would confide in him, Dante acknowledged. She had worked for him for two months but, although she was unfailingly polite, her reserved nature meant that he had not really got to know her and usually he did not spare her much thought other than that he was pleased with the way she did her job.
Today’s christening party that he had hosted for the Portmans was a prime example of Rebekah’s admirable work ethic. He knew she had spent all the previous day preparing the food, and she’d been hard at work when he had walked into the kitchen at seven this morning. Since then she had been rushing about making sure that the party ran smoothly. He had tried to catch her eye earlier, hoping to express his thanks, but she had simply given him a cool look and turned away from him, leaving him feeling strangely irritated.
But there were other reasons for his dark mood, he accepted. The christening had stirred up memories he thought he had buried, and watching James with his baby son had evoked a dull ache in his gut. He remembered how proud he had felt at Ben’s christening. At the time he’d believed he had everything a man could want—a beautiful wife and child, a successful career and an expensive home. He still had two out of the four, Dante reminded himself grimly.
‘Darling, how much longer do you think it will be before the guests leave?’ Alicia’s bored voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Surely the party can’t go on for much longer.’
Dante stiffened when his ex-mistress placed a possessive hand on his arm. Her unexpected presence today was another reason for his bad mood. He had been unaware that she was an old school friend of Susanna Portman until she had turned up at the church for the christening service.
He had ended his affair with Alicia several weeks ago, but she seemed determined to hang on to him—literally—he thought impatiently when she tightened her grip to prevent him from moving away from her.
‘You are here as James and Susanna’s guest, so I assume you read the invitation, which states that the event finishes at six p.m.’
The blonde seemed undeterred by his curt tone. ‘I thought you might like to come back to my place this evening. We could have a few drinks and relax …’ She ran her long scarlet-painted nails down the front of Dante’s shirt and for some inexplicable reason a memory flashed into his mind of Rebekah’s short, neat, unpolished fingernails. He doubted Alicia had ever kneaded dough or made pastry with her perfectly manicured hands, he thought sardonically, and at this moment he was concerned by the fact that his chef had seemed upset about something.
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said, firmly removing Alicia’s hand from his arm. ‘I’m in court tomorrow to represent a client and I need to read through the case notes tonight.’
She frowned petulantly but, perhaps sensing that his patience was running low, she did not argue. ‘Can you at least drive me home? I hate travelling by taxi.’
Dante was willing to do anything to get rid of her. ‘Of course,’ he agreed politely. ‘Are you ready to leave now?’
‘I’ll just collect my wrap,’ she told him.
Half an hour later, James and Susanna Portman and their guests had all departed but Dante was still waiting to give Alicia a lift. With escalating impatience, he strode into the kitchen and found Rebekah still at work. Pages of recipe notes were spread over the worktop and a tempting aroma that he hoped was his dinner drifted from the oven.
She glanced at him as he entered the room and his sharp eyes noted that she still looked pale, although her face was not as bloodless as it had been when she had reacted so strangely in the garden.
‘Are you all right now?’
She gave him a surprised look, but he noted that she had stiffened defensively at his question.
‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be all right?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I got the impression when we were admiring James’s little boy that you were upset by something. You turned as white as a ghost when he asked if you wanted to hold the baby.’
‘Oh—I had a migraine,’ Rebekah said after a long pause. ‘It came on suddenly and I had to rush away and take some painkillers.’
Dante’s eyes narrowed on the twin spots of colour that had flared on her cheeks. She was possibly the worst liar he had ever met, he mused. But she clearly was not going to tell him what had bothered her and he had no option but to drop the subject. He did not even understand why he was curious about a member of his staff.
For some reason he felt more irritable than ever. A glance at his watch revealed that it was nearly seven o’clock. He had a couple of hours’ work to do tonight and he wished now that he had not agreed to drive Alicia back to her home on the other side of London.
‘Have you seen Miss Benson?’ he asked tersely.
‘I certainly have. She’s in the front sitting room, in floods of tears—poor woman.’
Dante did not miss the tart edge to Rebekah’s tone. He frowned. ‘Do you know why she’s upset?’
‘Obviously
