eyes and gulped. âI didnât mean anythingâ¦Iâ¦I just wondered.â
âYou made an accusation,â Duarte contradicted with razor-edged cool. âA specious feminine attempt to justify your own behaviour by implying that I played awayââ
Emily was backtracking so fast she was literally into full-throttle reverse. Not because she was a coward but because she could not afford to antagonise Duarte, lest he change his mind and decide that Jamie did not need his mother as much as he believed he did. âNo, I didnâtâ¦I didnâtââ
âDonât try it again,â Duarte warned steadily, shimmering eyes resting on her like a slowly uncoiling whip lash.
Turning away in turmoil to stare fixedly into the middle distance, Emily only then appreciated that the car had already pulled up outside Aliceâs farmhouse. The chauffeur opened the passenger door and she leapt out like a rabbit with a fox on her tail. The older woman was already coming outside with Jamie clasped in her arms. âWill you and Duarte join me for coffee?â
Emily reclaimed Jamie, her heart beating very fast. She didnât want to get back into the limo. She wanted to run again and she knew that this time there was no place to run. âIâll ask Duarte if weâve got timeââ
But Duarte was right behind her. He greeted Alice with a courteous charm which Emily had only got to enjoy briefly during their even more brief courtship. Emily stared at her husband, marvelling at the tone of regret he contrived to employ as he refused an invitation he could not have had the slightest desire to accept. She said goodbye in a dulled little voice and got back into the car to fix Jamie into his seat.
âStop cringing around me,â Duarte instructed grittily as the chauffeur closed the door on them again.
At least the previous unfortunate subject which she had opened was forgotten. But she noted that he had given her no answer. Not that she cared any more, she told herself. They would hardly be living together again but wasnât it peculiar that he wasnât talking about what they were going to be doing? Or was exerting that kind of power over her part of the punishment?
Becoming only slowly aware of the silence, Emily turned her head. Only then did she recall that Duarte was really only now having his first meeting with his son. Duarte was studying Jamie with an intensity she could feel. Jamie was kicking his feet, smiling and in the mood to be admired. Emily watched Duarte. The tension etched in his bold bronzed features, the movement of the lean brown hand he semi-raised and then settled back on a long powerful thigh again.
He wanted to touch Jamie. He wanted to connect; naturally he did. Her throat thickened in the weighted quiet. She slid Jamieâs little blue teddy towards Duarte, nudging his braced fingers with the toy. âYou could give him thatââ
âWhen I need your advice, Iâll ask for it.â Lean strong face clenching hard, Duarte dealt her a flaring glance of bitter hostility. âItâs not a lot of fun wondering whether my own child will scream if I try to touch him.â
Emily paled. âI knowâ¦Iâm sorryââ
A tiny muscle pulling tight at the corner of his hard jawline, Duarte thrust his broad shoulders back against the seat. âIâve got plenty of time to get to know him. Iâll do it without an audience.â
He was so incredibly proud. Had she not seen the yearning in Duarteâs body language as he contemplated his infant son, she might have believed that he felt nothing.
âI was scared to get in contact with youâ¦I was scared of losing himââ
âIâm not about to discuss your behaviour in front of him. Youâre his mother. You sound distressed. Look at your sonâ¦heâs listening to your voice and watching your every move and youâre scaring him,â Duarte condemned.
Emily saw the truth of that censure in Jamieâs anxious air and her strained eyes stung, forcing her to blink rapidly. She compressed her lips on all the words that wanted to spill out of her but which Duarte did not want to hear. And could she really blame him? She was making excuses again. Right at that moment, Duarteâs sole interest was in his son. She was just an adjunct, along for the ride because Jamie needed her. However, it was painfully obvious to Emily that Duarte was barely tolerating her presence.
From the instant they entered the crowded bustling airport, Emily became conscious of her scuffed shoes, faded jodhpurs and ancient sweater. The outfit had been practical for the long drive she had expected to have but she felt like a tramp beside Duarte, immaculate in a charcoal grey suit exquisitely tailored to his tall athletic physique.
âI could have done with getting changed,â she said uneasily. âBut I donât really have anything suitable.â
She had left all her expensive clothes behind in Portugal. Not that that much mattered, she conceded ruefully, for that wardrobe had rejoiced most in fashion accidents. If she got the colour right, she invariably got the style wrong. Growing up, she had been a tomboy, living in jeans and riding gear. Her attempt to experiment with a more feminine look had been squashed in her sensitive teens by her sistersâ scorn. It had been poor preparation for marriage to a rich man and entry into a daunting world in which her appearance really seemed to matter.
âYou can buy an outfit here and change,â Duarte pointed out.
To Emily those words were confirmation that she looked an embarrassing mess. Her throat thickened and her eyes stung and she reddened fiercely for she had no money either. She hovered over Jamieâs buggy with a downbent head.
Through swimming eyes, Emily focused on the gold credit card extended in silence by her husband. The most enormous bitterness and pain seemingly rose out of nowhere inside her and she whispered helplessly, âYou shouldâve married some fancy model, a real fashion plateâ¦not someone like me!â
âIt is a little late now.â Duarteâs deflating tone was more than equal to capping even the most emotional outburst. âAnd this is not the place to stage an argument.â
Emily swallowed hard. When had she ever had the nerve to argue with him? Yet it was odd how much she now wanted to argue but she was far too conscious of being in public where angry words would be overheard. Accepting the credit card without looking at him, she released her hold on the buggy and headed for the closest dress shop. There she scanned the packed displays. Choose really bright colours, Bliss had once advised Emily, saying that such shades flattered Emilyâs pale skin tone and balanced her red hair. Emily sped over to a rack of cerise dresses but they were way too plain in design to conceal a figure that Bliss had gently pointed out was more boyish than lush. Browsing at speed, she picked a jazzy orange handkerchief top with bell sleeves and a big glittery lime green motif on the front. Nobody was likely to notice her lack in the bosom department under that, Emily thought gratefully. She teamed the top with a long orange skirt that had the same fancy hem.
Both garments matched in colour and style, she reflected with relief, thinking that that should definitely ensure a presentable appearance. She picked up a pair of high-heeled leopard-print mules because she knew they were the height of fashion. Her purchases made, she made harried use of a changing cubicle. Emerging from the shop again, hot and breathless, she saw Duarte and his security men standing around Jamieâs buggy in the centre of the wide concourse.
Mateus
