knock on the door, pushing back her untidy hair and smoothing down her creased denims. If it was Mrs Marks again, she’d—–
The knock sounded again. ‘Miss Newman! Miss Newman! I have a visitor for you.’
A visitor! Oh, God! Who on earth could it be? It must be someone Mrs Marks didn’t know or she wouldn’t have accompanied them up the stairs. Templar glanced apprehensively at the half-closed bedroom door, but couldn’t hear any movement from Keri. Thank goodness for that; she didn’t think she could stand for her to wake up again.
She opened the door, her eyes opening wide with shock as they encountered the tall alien-looking man standing arrogantly at Mrs Marks’ side. Her landlady looked quite overwhelmed, and Templar wasn’t surprised. The man was looking down his haughty nose at both of them, his suit fitting him as if it had been tailored on him, and it probably had been.
‘You—er—–’ Templar hesitated. ‘You can go now, Mrs Marks,’ she said firmly, watching the landlady as she slowly began to descend the stairs, muttering to herself as she went. Templar looked at the man again, only to find herself the victim of a contemptuous perusal, his blue-grey eyes mentally noting each feature as if for future reference. ‘Would you like to come in?’ she asked nervously.
‘You are very trusting, Miss Newman,’ his accent was faintly clipped, as if English wasn’t his native tongue. ‘Considering you do not know who I am.’ He held himself erect. ‘My name is Leondro Marcose.’
‘Oh, but—–’
He held up a hand for silence. ‘Before you say any more, Miss Newman, I think you should know that my brother Alex is dead.’ He said the words with no show of emotion.
Templar paled. This wasn’t what she had been expecting at all. How could he cold-heartedly stand there and tell her such a thing! Her only chance of a future for Keri now in ruins. Tears filled her emerald green eyes and threatened to overspill. She was going to lose Keri, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
This stranger was still staring at her as if he were dissecting her, and even in her distress Templar could see he was devastatingly attractive. And Alex, Keri’s father, had been his brother. If there had been any resemblance between the two brothers then Tiffany couldn’t be blamed for her attraction. Templar still held the door open for him to enter, and without waiting for her to repeat the invitation he entered the room, looking about him without concealing his distaste.
She saw the shabby room through his eyes and her resentment towards him grew. Who was he to look down his nose at her when she had been struggling for the past year to support his brother’s daughter?—maybe not in the way he would have done, but one thing Keri had never gone short of was love. ‘I see,’ she said tightly. ‘In that case I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. You can’t possibly help me.’
His eyebrows rose arrogantly at her dismissive tone. ‘Please allow me to be the judge of that, Miss Newman. Your letter sounded urgent, otherwise I would not have come here at all. You say I cannot help you. What makes you think my brother could have done more than I?’ His eyes flickered mercilessly over her nervous movements. ‘Will you not sit down, so that I may also?’
‘Oh! Oh, I’m sorry.’ She sat down in the chair she had recently vacated.
‘So,’ he sat opposite her. ‘Would you mind telling me what it was only my brother could help you with?’ His eyes narrowed to two icy slits. ‘Or is it so private you cannot tell me about it?’
Templar’s eyes flashed angrily at his condescending tone. ‘You aren’t being very polite, Mr Marcose.’
‘Am I not?’ he asked tautly. ‘But then you are being particularly obstructive. You sent an urgent letter to my brother and when I come in his stead you refuse to tell me what the matter was you wanted to discuss with him.’ He stood up in one fluid movement, a ripple of pure ripcord muscle the only sign of effort. ‘It seems you are right, and I have had a wasted journey.’
Templar stood up to aid his departure, but was prevented from doing so by an ear-piercing scream from Keri. Without waiting to answer his look of astonishment she dashed into the bedroom, her only thought to quieten her before she disturbed the whole household. Keri raised tear-wet cheeks and Templar couldn’t resist her endearing little face. ‘There, darling,’ she crooned softly. ‘It’s all right, my baby.’
Leondro Marcose stood transfixed in the doorway, his darkly handsome face a shuttered mask. ‘So,’ he said harshly, the voice that she had thought attractive grating with suppressed violence. ‘You have a child.’
‘As you can see.’ Templar still smiled reassuringly at Keri.
Keri’s big green eyes fixed themselves on the tall dark man’s face, and she chuckled delightedly. ‘Mama,’ she chortled. ‘Mama.’
To Templar it was a triumph, but it only seemed to incense her visitor more, if that were possible. Ignoring his censorious look, she smiled happily at Keri. ‘Aren’t you clever, darling. Now are you going to go back to sleep? Mama has a visitor, and you’re being very naughty.’
‘Please do not hurry yourself because of me.’ The man’s voice was like a rapier, cutting all down before him, and at the moment it was her. ‘If this is the reason you wanted my brother’s help, then you are right, I can be of no service to you. You have formed your own destiny, and to involve other people in your troubles is not something I appreciate.’
‘Really, Mr Marcose?’ she asked tartly, taking Keri over to this tall imperious stranger and placing her in front of him. He had little choice but to take the squirming bundle into his strong arms, staring at her intently.
Templar waited with bated breath as Keri played with the buttons on the front of his snowy white shirt, her four tiny white teeth showing between ruby-red lips. Leondro Marcose looked from Keri to Templar and back again, his face pale.
‘This child,’ his voice was husky and curiously uncertain. ‘There is no doubt that you are the child’s mother. And the father—–’ he stopped. ‘The father was my brother, was he not?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, he was. But I—–’
‘Please!’ he said curtly, carrying Keri into the other room where he sat down abruptly in one of the armchairs. Keri looked at him with gleeful eyes, enjoying this unexpected treat. Men didn’t very often come into her orbit, except Ken of course, and as their dislike was mutual he didn’t count. As Leondro Marcose looked at her his face softened, the harsh lines beside his firm mouth dissipating. ‘And what is your name, little one?’
‘Her name is Keri,’ put in Templar. ‘And she’s ten months old.’ She still hadn’t told him that Keri wasn’t her child, but somehow now didn’t seem to be the right moment.
‘I see.’ He looked at her over Keri’s copper curls. ‘And of what assistance can I be to you?’
She looked taken aback. ‘Why, none,’ she said in a surprised voice. ‘It was your brother I wanted to see, and as he’s—dead,’ the word choked in her throat. Poor Keri, both parents dead so young. ‘As he’s dead, I’ll have to solve my problem on my own.’
‘I disagree. Must I remind you that Keri is my niece?’
Templar was dumbstruck. It was an aspect she hadn’t thought of. She shook her head. ‘You only have my word
