‘We’re starting to bond,’ Rhiannon admitted cautiously. ‘It’s only been two weeks.’
‘Two weeks? When did Leanne die?’
‘Tuesday.’
Lukas stared at her in surprise, a frown marring the perfection of his features, putting a crease in his forehead. ‘Four days ago?’
Rhiannon’s hands stroked Annabel’s back, her arms curling protectively around her warm little body. ‘Yes. She only showed up on my doorstep a little over two weeks ago, and she died ten days later. Annabel has been in my sole care since then.’
‘So there’s been no time to formally adopt her?’ Lukas surmised.
Rhiannon’s arms tightened so that Annabel let out a squeal of protest.
‘No, but Leanne did make me Annabel’s legal guardian. I have the papers to prove it. It satisfied the immigration authorities, so it should be enough for you.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Annabel is mine.’
‘If you wanted her to be,’ Lukas said quietly. ‘Somehow I don’t think you do.’
Hurt and fury rippled through her at his brutal assessment. ‘You’re making assumptions,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘Annabel needs her bottle. So you’ll have to excuse me.’
She turned away, escaped to the bathroom, where she’d rinsed out Annabel’s army of bottles. She set the baby in her car seat and with shaking fingers measured out the powdered formula.
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