at her. She bit down hard on her lip, desperate for the strength to face him.
Wordlessly he strode past her into the small sitting room-cumkitchen. For such a big man he still managed to avoid brushing against her which, given the size of the entry, was a feat in itself.
Her lips turned up in a grimace as she pushed the door shut. He couldn’t bear to touch her now she’d called him on his behaviour. How different from last night when his hands had been all over her, marking her with his own special brand of sensual possession.
Hot shame suffused her.
‘You used my name for your bastard child.’
She spun round to find him towering over her, the image of disdain. But his anger was no match for hers.
‘Don’t ever talk about him like that!’ She ignored the blast of his disapproval and jabbed an accusing finger.
‘What? You’re telling me you married after all?’
‘No! Why would I go looking for a husband after my child’s father had already rejected us?’
Alessandro leaned forward, using his superior height to intimidate her. ‘For the same reason you perjured yourself, listing me as the father on the birth certificate. To try to claim some measure of respectability. Or financial support.’
The irony of his accusation hit her full force. If she’d expected support of any kind from Alessandro she’d been grossly mistaken.
She might have harboured a fatal weakness for this overbearing, arrogant, gorgeous man, but, where her son was concerned, she refused to be bullied. She stuck her hands on her hips and stared back, glare for glare.
‘It was for Leo. He has a right to know who his father is.’
‘Have you no shame?’ Alessandro’s dark green eyes sliced right through her self-possession.
‘Only about the fact that I was once foolish enough to…’ She stopped herself in time. She would not lay herself open to derision by admitting the feelings she’d once held for him. ‘To believe in you.’
But she sensed he wasn’t listening. He was absorbed in his own thoughts.
‘Leo? You called him—’
‘Leonardo. After your father.’ She hesitated, aware now of her sentimental folly in choosing a family name for her son. She’d wanted to give him a link to his paternal family, even though that family had roundly rejected him.
Had she secretly thought one day Alessandro might be pleased to have the baby named after the father he’d lost? How misguided she’d been. He looked as she imagined some aristocrat of old must have when confronted with a troublesome serf.
‘You dared to—’
‘I’m not ashamed of what I did,’ she bit out between clenched teeth. ‘Live with it, Alessandro!’
A muffled wail sounded. Immediately Carys spun round and hurried to the bedroom she shared with Leo. She refused to stay and be reviled by Alessandro Mattani of all men.
Moments later Leo was in her arms, a warm cuddly bundle smelling of baby powder and sunshine and little boy. Carys held him against her and shut her eyes, feeling the serenity and joy she always experienced holding him.
‘Mumum!’ He reached up and patted her face.
Carys nuzzled his soft cheek then held him away. ‘Hello, sweetie. Did you have a good day?’
His face split in a broad smile. ‘Mum!’ Then something over her shoulder caught his attention and he stared, his grin fading.
The skin on her neck prickled as she sensed Alessandro’s presence in the room. She didn’t have to turn to know he stood behind her.
She froze.
For so long she’d daydreamed about him coming to find her and Leo. He’d admit he’d been wrong and be devastated by the pain he’d caused. Carys would even find it in her heart to forgive him once he realised his true feelings for her and changed his ways. He’d take one look at Leo and his heart would melt like hers had when she’d first seen her son.
But that would never be.
There was no warmth in his heart for either of them.
Apprehension trickled like hot ice down her backbone. She couldn’t bear it if he took out his anger on Leo. She cuddled her son tighter, but he leaned sideways, craning to keep Alessandro in view.
‘Mumum!’
‘No, darling. Not mummy.’ For a split second she knew a hysterical urge to tell him it was daddy. But she wouldn’t invite Alessandro’s wrath.
She turned, shoulders braced and chin up, holding her baby close. If Alessandro dared make one more disparaging remark—
But she needn’t have worried. All trace of arrogance and anger had vanished. Instead her tormentor stood curiously still, arms loose at his sides. His brows were knitted and he stared at Leo as if he’d never seen a baby before.
Instinctively Carys cuddled her son nearer. She smoothed back his glossy dark hair, almost long enough to be cut. But Leo paid her no heed. He was busy gazing up at the man who refused to be called his father.
She remembered how Alessandro’s collar-length hair had once been like sable under her hands, just like Leo’s. Their eyes were the same too. Though Leo’s reminded her of a cheeky pixie’s, with their twinkle, and Alessandro’s showed no warmth at all. They might have been made of rock crystal.
She watched Alessandro’s hands clench. The tendons in his neck stretched taut.
And still he stared at Leo.
A shiver raced down her spine.
‘How old is he?’ Alessandro’s voice was curiously husky.
‘He had his first birthday six weeks ago.’
‘He was born early?’
‘No. He went to full term.’ Why all the questions?
Leo’s sudden movement took her by surprise. He wriggled in her arms and lunged forward with all his weight as if trying to swim across the gap between himself and Alessandro.
‘Mumum!’ His hands opened and closed as if trying to grasp the big man before him. But Alessandro didn’t move.
Carys felt her heart spasm at the sight of her little boy reaching for his father. He was doomed to disappointment.
Alessandro would never acknowledge him.
Would never love him. Or her.
Finally, after all this time, she shrugged off the last tarnished remnants of hope. The ache in her throat nearly choked her, but she felt freer than she had in almost two years. Surely, in time, the wounds would heal.
Meanwhile
