Kate Walker - Secret Love-Child

‘What’s happened…?’

‘My apologies…’

Their voices clashed, froze, then, because Lucy couldn’t manage anything more, it was Ricardo who continued, his tone rough with impatience. ‘I have to go. My son…’

Catching the look she gave him, he at least had the grace to pause in faint acknowledgement but only for a second. Immediately he continued, emphasising that possessive claim once again. ‘My son has woken and is upset. I need to get back.’

‘Is he all right?’

The concern wouldn’t be held down. She didn’t care what Ricardo thought of her, how he might interpret her enquiry. She only knew that if Marco was distressed then she had to know more.

‘He will be when I can get to him.’

Once more the exclusion of her was deliberate, pointed. The words stung cruelly; as she was sure they were meant to.

‘You left him in that big house—out there on the island—on his own…’

‘Never on his own!’ Ricardo cut in furiously and Lucy flinched from the fire that flared in his eyes. ‘Of course he was well looked after. His nanny was with him.’

Of course, the nanny. How could she forget the nanny?

‘He was asleep when I left…but he woke and she thought he was too upset to settle. She felt he needed his papa.’

His papa. Another vicious put down, slapping her in the face with the fact that he was Marco’s father, the parent who cared for the little boy. While she was just an outsider. The woman who had given up her claim on her child when she had run out on him. For reasons she could explain if only she got the chance.

But now was not the time. Already Ricardo was turning towards the door.

‘I have to get back to him.’

‘Of course.’

But if she let him walk out of the door, let him walk away, would she ever get the chance to talk to him again? Would she ever even see his face again? And, much, much more important, how could she let him walk away when she knew that, back in the Villa San Felice, his baby son— their baby son—was awake and miserable and in need of comfort?

Not pausing to think, she snatched up the bag that was lying on the bed, stuffed her feet hastily into flat pumps and hurried after him. The speed and length of his strides had taken him out of the door and along the landing already and she had to push herself to follow him. She caught up just as Ricardo was about to let the main door swing to behind him.

‘What the…?’ The question was pushed from him as her hand clashed with his, catching the door before it slammed.

‘I’m coming with you.’

‘No way…’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t know how she managed to get such strength into her voice. Determination perhaps, or just plain desperation.

What she would do if he refused point-blank to let her go with him, she didn’t know. She could stamp her feet and demand that he let her—stand in the middle of the street and threaten to scream until he agreed. The problem was that, knowing Ricardo, he was more than capable of getting into his car and driving away, leaving her behind.

So she tried the opposite approach instead. She had nothing to lose, after all.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please, Ricardo, let me come with you.’

And watched his head go back in shock, his eyes narrowing sharply as he studied her face.

Please…

Ricardo felt as if he’d had a knock to his head, jarring his brain so that he couldn’t think straight.

Please. It was the last thing he had expected Lucy to say, at least in these circumstances and in that tone of voice. Correction, Lucy asking to go with him at all was the last thing that he had expected.

And she was asking . Making it sound as if it mattered to her. Making it sound as if she was actually concerned about Marco.

‘Ricardo…’ she said now, bringing his eyes to her face again.

In the light from the open door of the boarding house, she looked pale and drawn, forcing him to remember that she had said she’d been ill. What the hell had been wrong with her?

But he didn’t have time to hang about here any longer. He was needed back at the villa where, if the experience of the past few nights was anything to go by—and the sound of the nanny’s voice on the phone had certainly seemed to indicate that it was—at this moment Marco was wide awake and roaring his head off in protest at the discomfort of having another tooth come through.

Oh, yes, Donna Lucia would just love that…

And that was the thought that made up his mind for him.

‘OK,’ he said abruptly, expecting and seeing the shock and blank confusion that crossed Lucy’s face. ‘You can come. Get in the car.’

A wave of his hand indicated the vehicle parked at the roadside.

‘I…do you mean that?’

‘Lucy—’ his tone made his fierce impatience plain ‘—if you’re coming with me, get in the car or I’ll leave you behind.’

She moved then, hurrying to the car door and sliding into the seat as soon as he opened it for her.

Did she know what was ahead of her? Ricardo wondered. He doubted it. When Marco got into one of his crying jags then he made certain that the whole world knew that he wasn’t happy. And, as far as his father could see, a baby boy in a bad mood didn’t come with a volume control.

One thing was sure, if she hadn’t already had enough of being a mother, as she had declared in the cold-blooded note she had left behind when she’d walked out, then the next couple of hours were going to push her as far as she could go. For even the least reluctant mother, Marco’s screams could be positively the last straw.

And that was why he had finally agreed to let Lucy come back to the house with him.

If she needed any encouragement to persuade her to go, get out of his life and stay out of it for good, then the sight and sound of his baby son in a tantrum was probably the most likely thing to provide it.

Which suited him perfectly, Ricardo told himself, slanting a swift glance at the woman beside him as she fastened her seat belt and sat back. A faint cynical smile curled the corners of his mouth as he started the engine, put the car into gear and set off down the road.

This was going to be interesting.

THE noise hit Lucy’s ears as soon as she stepped through the main door of the villa and into the huge tiled hallway from where the big marble staircase curved upwards towards the first floor. Even in a place the size of the Villa San Felice, the furious, distressed baby yells could be heard right through the house. And, hearing them, Lucy had a terrible fight with herself not to just forget everything that had happened, forget her ambiguous position in this house and run up the stairs as fast as she could, her arms outstretched to take her little son into them.

She had even moved part way to the foot of the staircase when Ricardo came past her, taking the steps two at a time, long legs covering the ground so fast that Lucy had to put on a burst of speed as she reached the wide landing in an attempt to catch up with him.

She only made it just in time as her husband pushed open the door to the nursery and strode inside.

‘Marco… mio figlio …’

The soft words should have been drowned out by Marco’s wails but somehow the quiet tones cut through his distress and had him pausing in the middle of his sobs to look up and see his father.

‘Marco…’ Ricardo said again, crooning the name, and immediately the baby recognised his father. The wailing paused and from his nanny’s arms Marco held out his hands.

Reaching for Ricardo , Lucy suddenly understood, knowing an appalling, terribly cruel sense of loss as she realised that she had been about to step forward. Only to recognise, painfully and belatedly, that she didn’t have the right to hold her son. Not here, not now.