nurse informed Duarte in a brisk and cheerful interruption. Unaccustomed to being addressed as if he was a large child, he looked sincerely startled.
A porter began to wheel out the trolley on which Emily lay. As the nurse had spoken, Emily had finally recognised the ashen quality of Duarteâs usually vibrant skin tone and the sheen of perspiration on his sculpted dark features. She closed her eyes, acknowledging the truth of the older womanâs assurance. She had almost died on him. Evidently, he was relieved that she had survived. Maybe he did not hate her quite as much as she had assumed he did.
But then hatred meant a strong emotion where the target was concerned, didnât it? And Duarte had never felt any particularly strong emotion in her direction. A pain that felt almost physical enclosed her and she shut her eyes in self-defence. She knew that she had never had the power to hide her feelings from him and she had not the courage to meet his eyes levelly.
âYour husband has had the fright of his life,â the kindly nurse soothed her in a small empty side ward. âWhen your child runs out in front of a car, you shout at him afterwards because youâre angry and afraid that you almost lost him.â
âYesâ¦â Emily was rolled gently into a bed. She did not like to say that Duarteâs most likely feeling now was one of complete exasperation and contempt. In her position, he would never have made the mistake of being without that life-saving adrenaline kit.
âWhy am I being put to bed?â Emily asked, finding herself being deftly undressed.
âThe doctor wants us to keep you under observation for a few hours just to be sure that you have no adverse reactions.â
Helped into a hospital nightdress in a faded print and left alone, Emily lay back against the pillows, anxiously wondering who exactly had charge of Jamie and how her baby was coping with her sudden disappearance. Almost at the same moment as she was thinking that the nurse reappeared, cradling Jamie, who was howling at the top of his lungs. âI believe this little soul is yours and he wants his mum!â
Emily opened her arms and Jamie grabbed on to her the instant he was brought within her reach. âWho was looking after him?â
âThe older man, who arrived just after your husband brought you in. He doesnât speak any English. He was out at Reception trying to calm your little boy down.â
Mateus Santos, she assumed, a committed bachelor who was probably pretty useless with young children. Jamie snuffled into weary silence against her shoulder just as Duarte appeared in the open doorway. He stilled when he saw the child in her arms and the nurse slipped out, leaving them alone.
Her tummy twisting, her eyes veiled, Emily muttered awkwardly, âHave you seen Jamie yet?â
âNoâ¦Mateus brought him here in your car. My time was taken up tending to you,â Duarte admitted curtly.
Jamie had a death grip on her. He was going through that stage of disliking strangers that many babies went through around his age. He resisted being turned round and pushed his dark head under her chin. Heâd had quite enough of excitement and strangers for one morning. It was anything but the best moment for Duarte to meet his son for the first time.
âDuarteâ¦Iâm so sorry!â Emily heard herself admit with her usual impulsiveness, a sob catching in her aching throat. âI am so very sorry for everythingâ¦â
âThat cuts no ice with me,â Duarte responded with eyes that were as hard and bright as burnished steel, cold derision etched in every line of his starkly handsome features as he studied her shaken face. âHow dare you drag my son round the countryside in a caravan like a gipsy? How dare you put me in the position where I have to answer to the police merely because I attempted to see my own child? And how dare you look at me now and insult my intelligence with that pathetic excuse of a word, âsorryâ?â
CHAPTER TWO
âTHEâ¦police?â Emily stammered even more aghast.
âSince I married you, you have brought me only shame and dishonour.â Duarte breathed starkly, his controlled lack of volume far more dramatic than any shout.
âThe police?â Emily whispered again shakily, her sensitive tummy tying itself into sick knots.
âYour employer, Mrs Barker, reported your great escape from her property and my natural pursuit. She expressed concern for your safety. Two police officers are now waiting outside for my explanation.â Duarte drew himself up to his full imposing six-foot-four-inch height and squared his broad shoulders with all the fierce pride of his ancestors in his bearing, but sheer outrage glittered in his condemning gaze.
âDuarteââ
âIf you dare to lie and suggest that I have abused you or mistreated you in any way whatsoever, I will fight you for custody of my son! Is that quite clear?â
As crystal. Chilled to the temperature of ice by that announcement, Emily trembled. Her arms wrapped more tightly still round Jamie. Impervious to that old chestnut that children were always disturbed by maternal tension, Jamie had dropped off to sleep against her shoulder. With that single threat, Duarte had deprived Emily of voice, breath and hope that their differences could be resolved. She was in shock and could not have said why. After all, if Duarte had been prepared to separate her from her child the instant he was born, he could only be even keener to do so after the months that had since passed.
But then, eight months ago, Duarteâs words of threat had not been spoken to her face. It was only thanks to her friend, Bliss that Emily had learned of Duarteâs plans. Bliss had overheard Duarte state his punitive intentions to his lawyer and had forewarned Emily of her estranged husbandâs intentions.
Now quite unable to dislodge her arrested attention from Duarte, she scanned his fabulous bone structure for some sign of softening and found none. He meant what he was saying. Standing there straight and tall and unashamed and more beautiful than any male had the right to be. Like a dark angel. Even emanating aggressive vibrations, he was absolutely gorgeous, possessed of the kind of sleek, dark, bronzed good looks that turned female heads wherever he went. Why the heck hadnât she smelled a rat the size of the Titanic when he proposed marriage to someone as ordinary as she was? And why on earth had he neglected to mention his tragic first marriage? For any heart that Duarte ever had was buried in the grave with his childhood sweetheart.
âIs that understood, Emily?â Duarte prompted lethally.
Dully she nodded, dredging her attention from him in shrinking apprehension. To think that on several occasions recently she had anxiously wondered if she had misjudged him! No, there was no room to suspect now that Bliss might have misunderstood what sheâd overheard or that Emily herself had overreacted to something said in anger and never ever intended to be acted upon. After the way sheâd behaved, Duarte did not believe she deserved to have their child.
âYesâ¦â Emily turned her pinched face away and rested her cheek against Jamieâs soft, sweet-smelling baby skin to comfort herself. Every which way she looked, she had done wrong, and there was no point offending even more by seeking to defend herself.
âI have no wish to part you from our son,â Duarte stated in a grim undertone. âHe needs you very much.â
âDo
