The Spaniard's Pleasure: The Spaniard's Pregnancy Proposal / At the Spaniard's Convenience / Taken: the Spaniard's Virgin

‘Missed?’

‘Tamara growing up…I have no memories.’

The husky explanation made her eyes fill. ‘It doesn’t mean you can’t build some memories.’

She saw him look startled by the suggestion, and then thoughtful.

‘Sandy and I were just going for a walk.’

Fleur rattled the lead that was conveniently in her pocket and the dog appeared bang on cue at her side.

‘But feel free to use my cottage if you want to talk—a neutral territory, sort of thing. Help yourself to tea and biscuits,’ she added cheerily as she started to walk away.

She had gone only a dozen steps when Antonio’s hand landed on her shoulder.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘You and Tamara need some time alone…’ Releasing an exasperated sigh, she twisted back and focused her frustrated frown on his face. ‘You don’t need me there. You two need to talk. Not later or tomorrow—you need to talk now. Just leave the key under the mat when you leave.’

His darkened eyes moved across her face, and just when she thought she couldn’t withstand the searching, soulstripping scrutiny a second longer without pleading guilty to something—actually anything—Antonio smiled.

‘You really are an unusual woman,’ he observed.

‘Yes, I’m unique…so go talk to your daughter.’ She looked pointedly at the hand that still lay heavily on her shoulder. Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip possessively.

‘Looks like we’re not going to make it to London and tomorrow I have to be in Paris, just for the day.’

‘That’s nice,’ she said, wondering where he was going with this.

‘But the next day, would you like to have dinner with me?’

Fleur’s eyes widened. Obviously she was going to refuse, but it was rather nice to be asked.

‘Well, it’s nice of you to ask, but I’m…What would you do if I said no?’

‘I would report your vicious dog to the appropriate authorities,’ he said, deadpan.

Her lips quivered. ‘Then this is blackmail?’

‘If it makes you say yes, definitely.’

‘Then I have no choice. What time will you pick me up?’

‘Seven?’

‘Seven-thirty.’

The last thing she saw before she turned away was the look of male triumph on his face.

‘Sandy,’ she told the animal at her side, ‘I am an idiot.’ Having established her insanity, she looked into the liquid canine eyes and asked, ‘But what do you think I should wear? It’s not good to overdress. I’m thinking sexy but not tarty and…Oh, God,’ she sighed. ‘I really am an idiot.’

Chapter Ten

THE next day Fleur got back from work around five. Opening the garden gate, she wandered up the path, pausing to pick a bunch of thyme to add to the casserole she planned to make later. She was sniffing the fragrant sprigs when she saw the figure sitting on her doorstep.

‘Are you running away again or were you just passing?’

The girl grinned and got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her jeans. ‘I was out for a walk.’

‘With or without your father’s permission?’

‘I told Antonio I was going for a walk. He’s not home today. He’s gone to Paris or something.’

Fleur smiled and turned the key in the lock. His name made her think of the outfit laid out on her bed upstairs. After a great many twirls in front of the mirror she had finally decided on the midnight-blue velvet with the scalloped neckline that hinted at her cleavage and made her hips look frankly too good to be true.

‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked as Sandy exploded from the hallway all wagging tail and frantic barking. ‘Be careful,’ she cautioned. ‘He licks.’

Tamara, who was stroking the excitable animal, nodded. ‘I’ve been trying to ring my dad, the other one, but every time…’ She stopped and, taking a deep breath, looked at Fleur. ‘He doesn’t want me anymore, does he? It’s not Antonio stopping him? Look, Fleur, if you know, I need you to tell me…I’m not a kid…I have a right.’

‘You should ask your father…Antonio. It’s not my place…’

‘Do you think I haven’t tried?’ she asked, following Fleur inside the cottage. ‘Have you any idea how good he is at not answering a question?’

Fleur flicked the switch on the electric kettle and turned back to her youthful guest. ‘What has happened to make you think…?’

‘That dear Dad isn’t waging a legal battle to get me back?’ the girl inserted, shrugging. ‘I was exploring yesterday and I found all my stuff from home boxed up…absolutely everything, and I mean everything. Baby photos, the lot.’

‘I expect he thought you might need your things…that you’d feel more comfortable with them around you,’ Fleur suggested lamely.

‘It’s more like he’s wiping me out of his life. Every time I ring his office they say he’s unavailable and our home number comes up as number unrecognised.’ She looked at Fleur with eyes that seemed far older than her years and said, ‘I’m right, aren’t I? He dumped me on Antonio.

‘Please tell me, Fleur. I’m sick of nobody giving me a straight answer. I need to know, I really do…I go back to school tomorrow and I need to know if it’s worth coming home for weekends. If Antonio really wants me to come home.’

Put on the spot, Fleur didn’t have the faintest idea what to do. She thought the girl deserved the truth, but she respected and understood Antonio’s decision to protect her. ‘What makes you think I know anything?’ she prevaricated.

‘I know if Antonio was going to tell anyone it would be you.’

This confident assertion made Fleur blink. ‘Tamara, I think you might have the wrong idea. I hardly know your father.’

‘But he did tell you, didn’t he?’

Fleur inhaled deeply and, unable to resist the appeal in the girl’s eyes any longer, reluctantly nodded. ‘I think that is how it happened. Try not to think too badly of your other father.’ The pathetic creep. ‘I expect he was hurt to learn that you weren’t his. People do crazy things when they’re hurt.’ As if this girl didn’t know all about hurting.

‘Relieved, more like. Still, it’s no big loss.’

Fleur’s heart ached for the girl as she tried to put a brave face on it. ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ she lied. ‘He probably acted on impulse and I’m sure he’ll regret it.’

‘He and Mum weren’t exactly kid people,’ Tamara revealed. ‘Until I went to school I saw more of my nanny than them. You know, she’d have me pretend I was younger than I was to her friends—until I grew too tall, that is. She hated me being tall.’