shoulders was his only answer and, blowing out an impatient breath, Dominic started for the door.
There was no point in saying any more, he realised. He’d probably said more than he should already. But, dammit, Cleo needed someone other than his grandfather to fight her corner.
Breakfast with her grandfather was surprisingly enjoyable.
And, although Cleo knew it was due in no small part to Jacob’s determination to put her at her ease, she found him amazingly easy to talk to.
Much like Dominic, she admitted unwillingly. Except that when she was talking to her grandfather, there was no sexual tension between them.
As there was with Dominic.
A shiver of remembrance prickled her spine. She didn’t know what might have happened if his mother hadn’t interrupted them as she had. Or was that simmering awareness between them only in her mind, not his? There was no doubt it played an integral part in the way she reacted to him.
But it was pleasant, sitting in the sunlit luxury of the morning room, overlooking the gardens of the house and the blue-green waters of the Atlantic beyond.
Crisp lemon-yellow linen, gleaming silver flatware, cut glass and bone china, all set on a circular table in the shaded curve of the windows.
Jacob began by saying how sorry he was that she’d lost her parents—even if he was thinking that she’d had no blood tie to them at all. Nevertheless, he was kind enough to express his condolences; to help her to relax and feel there was someone else, besides herself, who cared.
Her apology for not appearing again the night before was quickly dealt with.
‘Dominic was right,’ he assured her, gnarled fingers surprisingly dark against her creamy skin. ‘I should have realised you were tired. Instead of expecting you to be as excited to see me as I was to see you.’
Cleo had no answer to that. Easy-going as he was, she hadn’t to forget how she came to be here. But it wasn’t as easy to hold a grudge in such beautiful surroundings. And hadn’t he been as much a victim of circumstance as she was?
No!
Fortunately, her grandfather was happy to lead the conversation. He seemed quite content to describe the island and its history, entertaining her with stories of the illegal rum-running that had gone on during Prohibition in the United States.
Surprisingly, he’d also mentioned the slavery that had taken place during the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries, too. He’d shocked her by admitting that there were few families on San Clemente who could claim there was no mixed blood in their ancestry.
Indeed, she’d been so engrossed in what he was saying that it wasn’t until the meal was over that Cleo realised how much about her own life he’d gleaned. Just the odd question here and there, but she’d found herself telling him about her job and about Norah, forgetting for a few moments exactly who he was.
He was a clever man, she mused, accepting his invitation to sit on the terrace for a while after breakfast. He’d probably already known half of what she’d told him. But by getting her to confide in him, he’d created a bond between them that would be that much harder to break.
‘Perhaps you’d like a swim,’ he remarked, apparently aware that Cleo had been eyeing the cool waters below the terrace with some envy. ‘Later this afternoon, you might enjoy a walk along the shoreline. I’d like to take you myself, but for now I can recommend the pool.’
‘Oh, no.’ Cleo shook her head. Then, in an outright lie, ‘I don’t have a swimsuit, Mr Montoya.’
‘If you can’t call me Grandpa, call me Jacob,’ he said a little tersely then, continuing his earlier suggestion. ‘A swimsuit is no problem.’ He gestured with his stick towards the cabanas. ‘You’ll find everything you need in one of the cabins. Serena always keeps a selection of swimwear for unexpected guests.’
‘But I’m not really an unexpected guest, am I?’ Cleo regarded him with cautious eyes. ‘I think I’d rather hear why you’ve brought me here now. When—well, for over twenty years you’ve ignored my existence.’
Jacob sighed. ‘It must seem that way, mustn’t it?’
‘It is that way,’ said Cleo flatly. ‘And although I appreciate that you’re ill—’
‘My being ill is the least of it!’ exclaimed her grandfather fiercely. ‘Is that what they told you? That because I’m dying I’ve had a change of heart?’
Cleo felt a little nervous now. She didn’t want to upset him, goodness knew.
‘And—and isn’t that true?’ she ventured, aware that she was treading into deep water. But she had a right to know, she told herself. She’d spent too many years in the dark.
The old man’s fingers massaged the head of his cane for a few pregnant moments, and then he said, ‘How much has Dominic told you?’
‘Oh…’ Cleo could feel her body getting hot now and she shifted a little uncomfortably beneath his knowing eyes. ‘Well, he told me that—that Celeste—’
‘Your mother.’
‘All right, my mother—used to work for the Montoyas.’
‘Yes, she did. She worked for Robert and Lily. I believe Dominic was very fond of her. But he was only a young boy at the time.’
‘Dominic knew her?’
‘Of course. She lived with the family. And until—well, until my son took a fancy to her, Lily and Celeste were good friends.’
‘Friends!’
Cleo was scornful, but Jacob only shook his head. ‘Yes, friends,’ he insisted. ‘We have no class system here on the island, Cleo. Your mother worked for my son and his wife, this is true, but she was never regarded as one of the servants.’
‘So what happened?’
‘You know what happened.’ Jacob grimaced. ‘Robert fell in love with her. Oh, yes.’ He held up a hand as Cleo would have interrupted him. ‘Robert did love Celeste. I am assured of that. But he loved his wife as well and he knew that their relationship would destroy Lily if she found out.’
Cleo bent her head. ‘How convenient that Celeste died.’
Jacob made a sound of resignation. ‘I suppose it does seem that way to you. And I accept the fact that your growing up on the island would have been a constant threat.’
‘To your son!’
‘And to Lily,’ Jacob agreed heavily. ‘She couldn’t have children, you know. If she could, things might have been different.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Cleo couldn’t help the faintly bitter edge that had entered her voice now, and Jacob stretched out a hand and gripped her arm.
‘No one knows what might have happened if cicumstances
