скачать книгу бесплатно
In the periphery of her vision she was aware of a group of laughing guests entering the room, their chatter drowning out that of the pianist playing in the corner. She felt a stab of relief, as Roman surely wouldn’t continue this conversation in the middle of a crowd … would he?
She didn’t have a clue.
He might be the father of her child, but she didn’t know him at all and she had no idea what he was capable of, at least outside the bedroom. The mental addition caused a memory to surface and desire to pound through her blood, pooling hot and achy in her pelvis.
‘She looks like you.’
‘I have been called many things, but not beautiful.’
If that was true then she was amazed, because he was the epitome of male beauty.
‘Is she a happy baby?’
Izzy glimpsed a yearning in his face as he stared at Lily that made her look away quickly, feeling like an intruder.
So far she hadn’t spent much time wondering how he was feeling. Anger and suspicion would both be natural responses for a man who realised he had fathered a baby, but was he resenting being landed with a responsibility that he hadn’t planned or asked for?
‘Look, I know we need to talk, but not here … please.’
For a moment she thought he was going to refuse her request, then he nodded and she felt a rush of relief. ‘I’m not staying here. I’m in the Fox—do you know it?’
Izzy nodded. The new manager who had been recruited by the boutique hotel had been asking her out on a weekly basis since she’d dined there weeks before. Izzy had not accepted his offer, though she hadn’t ruled out the possibility she would in the future. She liked him and, as Emma said, being a mum was not the same as being a nun.
‘I know it.’
‘I’m in the garden suite. Meet me there at …’ his eyes narrowed as he did some mental calculation ‘… eight tonight.’
Her reaction to the order wrapped up as an invitation was immediate. ‘I’m not coming to your room.’ She intercepted his look and, lifting her chin, added, ‘I’d prefer somewhere more public.’
‘I’m not trying to get you into bed.’ When was a fling not a fling? He now knew the answer: when it was with the mother of your child.
Izzy matched his sarcasm. ‘Imagine my disappointment.’
‘Bring the baby if that makes you feel any better,’ he suggested, sounding bored.
‘I can’t. She’ll be in bed.’
Roman clenched his jaw. She might be being deliberately obstructive or she might be stating the truth. With his zero knowledge of child care he was in no position to judge. ‘All right. Tomorrow morning.’
He watched as she licked her lips and ran the tip of her tongue across the soft plump contours before catching the full lower lip between her white teeth and chewing. She nodded and his heavy eyelids drooped partially, concealing the gleam that had lit them.
‘Nine-thirty?’ he said, still staring at her mouth. Tomorrow when he’d had time to calm down and get things straight in his head might be better, he told himself. Who are you fooling …? It would take a hell of a lot longer to get anything straight. Finding himself face to face with a child who was unmistakeably his had been the most shocking experience of his life, which in itself was quite shocking considering this was a man who had sat in a doctor’s office and been given a fifty-fifty chance of surviving to his next birthday.
‘The park that the hotel backs onto, I walk there with—’ Izzy broke off, bending her head as she winced and began to free the strands from the tenacious little fingers that had grabbed her hair. ‘No, Lily, that hurts.’
The baby ignored the plea, seemingly fascinated by the glossy mesh of her mother’s hair as she sank her chubby fingers deeper. Roman could identify with the fascination. He could remember burying his face in the soft, sweet-smelling chestnut waves, feeling them whisper across his chest and belly as she’d slid down his body. He inhaled and pushed the thought away, but not before his body had hardened helplessly in response to the image. ‘Let me …’ he husked.
‘No!’ She jerked her head back, causing her eyes to fill with tears of pain as her daughter’s little hand came free with several strands of her hair.
Roman’s hand fell away in a gesture of exaggerated surrender. ‘Anyone would think you’re afraid of me.’ The idea bothered him more than a little.
Her chin tilted an extra defiant inch. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ More afraid, quite irrationally, of herself. Crazy! It wasn’t as if his touch were going to turn her into some wild, wanton creature with a moral compass wildly out of whack.
He’d kissed her and she had walked away. Round of applause, Izzy.
‘Just one thing I need to know.’ He hadn’t intended to ask, but it was out there now and a man had a right to know if he’d been used.
‘Did you do it on purpose?’
She looked at him, her blue eyes narrowed, her smooth brow creased in furrows of incomprehension. ‘Do what?’
‘Get pregnant,’ he said bluntly.
The possibility had not occurred to him until the wedding breakfast, when he had been seated at a table with his old friend Gianni Fitzgerald and his lovely wife. Roman had struggled to tune out the slightly tipsy woman sitting opposite him without being outright rude and her anecdotes had become more scurrilous as the interminable meal had gone on.
He had managed tolerably well until he’d heard the name of Michael Fitzgerald’s older daughter mentioned and after that he had unashamedly egged the woman on.
‘Of course, Michael was young and this woman was a real man hater. She never told him she wanted a baby … planned it all in cold blood.’ The woman, speaking behind her hand, had paused for dramatic effect or possibly to catch her breath before continuing. ‘But it’s Michelle I feel sorry for. Of course, she puts on a brave face, but to have the girl living in the village! And now there’s the baby and no father, it makes you think, maybe it’s a family tradition …?’
Her laugh had been cut off when Gianni had at this point picked up on the conversation and intervened, closing down his garrulous relative smoothly, but not before the seed of suspicion had been planted in Roman’s brain.
The blood drained from Izzy’s face as his meaning sank in. She gave a shrug, choking back the anger and glancing over her shoulder to make sure their conversation wasn’t being overheard.
‘For the record, no, I did not plan to get pregnant. And if I had been looking for a perfect genetic specimen to father my child I would not,’ she gritted through clenched teeth, ‘have chosen one who thinks he’s God’s gift … an arrogant, humourless, bossy idiot who—’
‘You have forgotten the limp,’ he drawled, cutting off her diatribe.
Izzy threw up her hands in angry exasperation. ‘I don’t give a damn about your limp.’ And neither did any woman she had seen today, she thought, recalling the lustful female stares that seemed to follow his progress. ‘But I wouldn’t deliberately lumber my kid with a dad as stupid as you are. I always thought that when I had a child it would be with someone who—’
She took a deep breath and, aware of the curious glances their impassioned exchange was receiving, she lowered her voice to a husky murmur and added, ‘I didn’t plan anything. I was …’ Her eyes fell. ‘I don’t normally …’
‘Jump into bed with a total stranger?’
The interjection brought a flush of shamed anger to her cheeks. ‘I really don’t think you’re in any position to occupy the moral high ground … or is it different for men?’ she snipped back sarcastically.
His face darkened with annoyance. ‘This is not about blame.’
She elevated a delicate brow. ‘Just as well, because from where I’m standing you don’t come off very white-knight-on-a-charger in all this.’
Roman watched her walk away, the child in her arms, her narrow back straight and proud. She was right: he was in no position to throw stones; his behaviour had been totally indefensible. So he had genuinely believed that there was no chance of him getting her pregnant, but, unwanted pregnancies aside, unprotected sex with a stranger made him criminally stupid.
It made him the man he had always despised. Someone so selfish he was unable to think about anything beyond his own pleasure.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_cd6c981f-afce-52fd-b666-2c06432b22c7)
FOR the sake of her sanity, when Izzy left the reception she blocked everything out and tried to think of nothing beyond a quiet night at home with Lily. She had to try and regroup and get her head back together. Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about what she was going to say to Roman Petrelli.
That was the plan, but as with most best laid plans it went sadly awry.
Izzy’s went wrong in a major way the moment she opened the door of her cottage and found Michelle and her father standing there.
‘I had to tell him,’ Michelle said.
Izzy sighed. ‘Of course.’
It was after midnight before they left and at least by the time they had left her father was no longer planning to confront Roman Petrelli.
Izzy was touched that he wanted to protect her but she struggled with the idea of anyone fighting her battles for her, having always been taught not to rely on anyone but herself.
On the other hand she had been grateful for the help her father had provided when Lily had been born. It had been Michael who had suggested she stay permanently in Cumbria with them—after all they were her family.
Izzy had been touched by the offer, but she could think of no surer way to destroy the delicate new relationship she had found with her new family than imposing herself on them with her new baby. Besides, Izzy needed her own space too.
It had been Michelle who had come up with the compromise that they could all live with, and Izzy had moved into the cottage on the edge of the village a mile or so from the family farmhouse where her half-brother and -sister had spent their childhoods.
It was hard sometimes not to contrast their lives with her own. Her mother had taught her some valuable things like independence and self-reliance, but had not taught her about casual physical demonstrations of affection or the teasing that went with life in a close-knit family group.
But despite the acceptance of the family Izzy still felt an outsider at times. Not because they excluded her, but because she recognised a need to maintain her own distance.
But living in the cottage she was close enough to enjoy the support of her new family and far enough away to maintain her independence, and it gave everyone the space they needed.
After her father and Michelle had finally gone Izzy went to bed herself, but she slept badly. But it wasn’t a hunting owl or a fox that had kept her awake or even the darkness. It was the thought of meeting Roman Petrelli this morning.
Lily, normally a fairly sunny baby, seemed to have picked up on her mother’s mood and was cranky this morning too. She had taken hours to eat her breakfast and had fought every step of the way Izzy’s attempts to dress her. By the time she was finally ready to leave, a good ten minutes later than planned, Izzy felt drained.
Glancing in the hall mirror, she saw that she looked even worse than she felt, with violet smudges darkening the underneath of her eyes.
Izzy was tempted to dash back inside to at least apply some blusher to alleviate her sleep-deprived pallor and give her confidence a bit of a boost, but she had no time. Instead she manufactured a smile for her reflection and reminded herself that Roman probably wouldn’t notice her less than yummy-mummy appearance and so what? She wasn’t out to impress him anyway.
A brisk walk up the hill meant she wasn’t pale when she arrived at the hotel, her cheeks flushed with the exertion of pushing the buggy.
As she struggled to push it across the gravel forecourt a tall figure emerged from the side of the building. Unlike yesterday she was prepared for his appearance, but even so her heart started pounding like a hammer and her knees started to tremble.
‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ The breathless quiver was, she told herself, nothing to do with the fact that he radiated an aura of raw masculinity—he really was breathtaking!
‘No matter.’ His dark glance slid to the sleeping child and he tried to analyse the emotions that tightened like a fist in his chest. Once he had taken having a child for granted. Now it seemed more miracle.
‘Would you like a coffee?’
‘Actually it might be a good idea to walk and talk. Lily will wake up if I stop pushing her and she’s quite cranky this morning.’
They did walk but there was no talk.
She endured the silent attrition for ten minutes, during which time her apprehension had increased tenfold until she could bear it no more.
They had reached the footpath that circled the lake when Izzy had had enough. ‘Let’s sit, shall we?’
Roman tilted his head. ‘Fine.’ With one hand in the small of her back he guided her towards one of the benches beside the lake.
Izzy sat down, resisting the impulse that made her want to shuffle to the far end when Roman sat down beside her. He was a man with an overpowering presence and the sort of sexual charisma she had thought was an invention of romantic fiction.
He took a bag out of the pocket of his long black trench coat and tipped the contents on the ground, giving an awkward grimace when he caught her astonished stare. ‘I bought some food for the ducks. I thought Lily might like …?’ He nodded to the sleeping child.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said. ‘She’s tired … and it’s probably easier to talk without …’
She stopped and raised her voice above the squawks of the ducks who had mobbed them. ‘I have to be back by twelve. Emma is picking Lily up. She goes back to university tomorrow and she wants to spend some time with her.’ Her half-sister was a doting aunt.
A nerve clenched in Roman’s lean cheek as he turned to look at her. ‘So do I.’
His direct stare brought a flush to her cheeks. ‘Oh, of course … I didn’t think …’
‘She’s my daughter.’ If he said it out loud often enough it might start to feel more real.
Izzy nodded tightly.
Roman swallowed and dug his fingers deep into the dark pelt of hair on his head.
‘I appreciate all this must be a shock for you.’
Roman’s hand fell away, leaving his sleek hair standing up in spiky tufts on his scalp. ‘Shock!’ He gave a twisted smile and laughed. ‘You have no idea.’ He stretched out his long legs in front of him and loosened the button on his coat, the fabric parting to reveal the dark cashmere sweater he wore underneath.
Izzy felt the muscles in her stomach quiver. He really was an extraordinarily attractive man.
‘I thought Lily was a grumbling appendix until I was six months pregnant.’
Her attempt to inject a note of levity—good timing never had been her strong point—was greeted with an incredulous stare. ‘Seriously?’
‘No, not seriously.’ She had known immediately, even before she’d done the test. She had simply felt different.
He turned his head. ‘I never thought I’d have a child.’ He still struggled to get his head around the idea.
So children did not figure in the glamorous life of this man. No real surprise there—it was hard to imagine him welcoming grubby fingerprints on his shirt.
‘I suppose not everyone likes children.’
She felt herself relax slightly. Was that what this meeting was about—a warning to tell her not to expect him to be a hands-on parent? He needn’t have worried; she didn’t need or want anything from him. As far as she was concerned her daughter had all the positive male role models she needed.
‘I’ll let you know how Lily is, a yearly update if you like.’ He was looking at her oddly so she shrugged and added, ‘Or not.’ Then looked away because those spooky silver lights deep in his dark eyes made her feel dizzy.
Had she assumed too much? Did he want to walk away and act as though nothing had happened?
‘Though it would be useful to know if there is any significant medical history on your side …?’ This practicality was the reason her mother had decided to give her the details of her biological father, in case after she was gone Izzy found herself in a situation where such information would be useful.
His thick, strongly defined sable brows knitted together as he stared at her as though she were talking gibberish. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like children. Actually I don’t know any.’
Unlike the large and noisy Fitzgerald clan, he had been an only child and there had been no cousins to play with. His parents, madly in love and totally wrapped up in one another, had never intended to have children, and resented the intrusion of a third party, and at an early age Roman had been shipped off to school. He hadn’t minded. He’d liked school, excelling academically and at sports, though not team sports—Roman with his lone-wolf tendencies had never been a team player.
‘Though I was one myself once,’ he added with a half-smile.
