‘I only want what is best for my niece,’ Antonio fielded gently.
‘Sophie and your niece are as close as any mother and child. There’s also the fact that Lydia’s own mother wanted her sister to keep her child for good. I was a witness to that being said by Belinda,’ the older woman continued squarely. ‘Were you aware of that?’
‘No, I was not,’ Antonio conceded.
‘There’s something else too,’ Norah continued heavily. ‘Something I don’t want to tell you but I feel I should tell you for Sophie’s sake.’
‘I can be discreet.’
‘Well, Sophie can’t have children of her own. She had leukaemia when she was a kid and the treatment messed her up. Did you know about that?’
‘No, I was not aware of it,’ Antonio said flatly, his strong bone structure tightening, the pallor of shock spreading below his bronzed skin.
Indeed he felt almost sick at that revelation. He was appalled to think of how she must have suffered as a child. He also knew how much Sophie would have loathed his knowledge of such a very personal matter. He did not question how he knew that. He was both angry and relieved that the older woman had decided to betray Sophie’s confidence. His ignorance of just how vulnerable Sophie was had made him behave like a cruel bastard.
‘So obviously that baby is very precious to Sophie. She’s had a rotten life, you know,’ Norah Moore continued accusingly. ‘She works her fingers to the bone seven days a week trying to give that baby something better than she had herself. It may not look like much on your terms, but don’t underestimate the sacrifices she’s made. She looked after that daft sister of hers as well—’
‘You have made your point, Mrs Moore.’
Having escorted the older woman out to her car, Antonio strode back into the hotel. What had Sophie said? I honestly think I will die if you take her away from me. He had preferred to be cynical about the depth of her affection for the child. Now, and thanks only to a stranger’s intervention, he was being forced to face the probability that Sophie was very deeply attached to the child and with good reason if she could not have a baby of her own. He was dealing with a much more complex situation than he had appreciated. If he was to deprive Sophie of Lydia, might grief drive her into doing something foolish? He breathed in slow and deep and then out again in a measured hiss of acceptance. That was not a risk he felt it would be reasonable for him to take. For the first time he acknowledged that Lydia was as much Sophie’s niece as his.
LATER that morning, Sophie saw the limousine first. Antonio swung out and unfolded to his full intimidating height and she had eyes only for him. Immaculate in appearance and stunningly handsome, he was wearing a formal charcoal-grey suit teamed with a white shirt and a blue silk tie. Dragging her enthralled attention from him, she smoothed damp palms down over her most presentable T-shirt.
She was so nervous she started talking before she even had the door properly open. ‘A friend is looking after Lydia for me…I thought we could talk on the beach… It’s a lovely day.’
Lovely? Antonio thought the sky was cloudy, the wind rather strong and the temperature distinctly on the cool side. But then even at its best the British climate could not compete with the sun-drenched heat of his own country, he conceded ruefully.
‘We would have more privacy indoors,’ he suggested.
Sophie tensed. ‘I don’t want you to see where I live,’ she admitted.
Antonio raised a bemused brow. ‘Por qué…why?’
Sophie began walking along the path that led down to the strand. ‘After that crack you made about poverty, I just wouldn’t feel comfortable entertaining you in my home. It may not be much but I like it. Why should I have to put up with you acting like I’m living in a hovel?’
‘I hope I would not be so rude,’ Antonio drawled flatly.
‘Well, you were yesterday,’ Sophie could not resist telling him. ‘On the beach, we’ll be equal.’
Antonio was not dressed for the beach. He wondered if that was supposed to be part of the great levelling exercise or if she was secretly hoping that he would freak out when he got sand on his shoes. He watched her race to the edge of the water like an eager child, her every movement fired with mercurial energy. Beautiful to look at, but almost impossible to handle. She was unpredictable, hot-tempered, impulsive, wildly emotional: she was driving him mad. The proposition he was about to outline, however, would restore the status quo. She would become much more amenable to his guidance when she was living in Spain…
‘I’ve worked out a compromise since we talked last night,’ Antonio imparted in his smooth honeyed drawl.
‘Oh…?’ Her spirits lifted by the bright reflection of the sun on the sea, Sophie pinned hopeful eyes to his bold bronzed profile.
‘You can move to Spain.’
‘No way!’ Sophie gasped in disconcertion.
‘Try not to interrupt me.’ Dark golden eyes levelled on her mutinous face. ‘Lydia will have to live at the castillo with me, but I own many properties nearby. Finding you accommodation would not be a problem and it would be free. You could see the child whenever you liked and she would find it easier to adapt to her new home if you were there to provide support.’
Sophie folded her arms with a jerk. She could not believe his nerve. ‘So I give up my life here, move abroad and live in limbo on your property like some charity case. Thanks, but no, thanks! I’m not unreasonable. I’m happy to share Lydia with you but I refuse to hand her over to you lock, stock, and barrel. I mean, what are you planning to do with her?’
‘Engage childcare professionals to take care of her every need.’
Her green eyes flamed. ‘That really says it all, doesn’t it? Why can’t you just be honest? You haven’t the slightest personal interest in your brother’s child. You think it’s your duty to give her a home, but you resent it—’
‘That is not true.’ But there was enough of a grain of truth in that accusation to flick Antonio on the raw.
‘You’ll never love Lydia the way I do because you’re always going to see her as a burden!’
‘You’re wrong,’ Antonio incised almost fiercely.
‘Of course you will. She’s not your baby and you didn’t ask for her and you’re not that fussed about kids anyway…and if you get married Lydia’s likely to be as popular as rat poison with your wife!’
‘I have no intention of getting married—’
Adrenalin pounding through her veins, Sophie stalked over to him to look up at him, her eyes bright with conviction. ‘But she needs a mother, Antonio. Not people you pay to wash and feed her.’
‘I’m not ready for marriage.’
‘Then let Lydia and I alone and send us the occasional postcard!’ Sophie advised thinly, her temper rising at her inability to gain an emotional reaction from him. ‘You’re too selfish to take charge of a baby. You’ll neglect her. You’ll be too busy wheeling and dealing at the office and socialising with your harem of women to make time for her!’
Brilliant eyes shimmering into a hot golden blaze, Antonio closed long fingers round Sophie’s wrist to urge her closer. ‘Harem?’ he prompted with subdued mockery.
Angry, mortified colour burnished Sophie’s cheeks. ‘Pablo used to tell Belinda all about your exploits with your string of women.’
‘Pablo would have known nothing. We were not close. I did