‘AND NOW THAT I’ve begun being honest, I’ll continue in the same vein,’ Max gritted in a driven undertone, working off a ‘might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb’ soapbox. ‘I also want my daughter with me under the same roof. I will not negotiate on that demand. I’ve missed out on an entire three months of her life and I’m a stranger to her through no fault of my own. That has to change—and fast. We’ll return to Redbridge Hall tomorrow.’
‘That’s absolutely impossible!’ Tia exclaimed, leaping upright in emphasis, guilt, shock and consternation flooding her in a heady tide. ‘I’m about to open the tea room for the Easter visitors and I have loads of orders to fulfil.’
‘You also have a very competent co-worker and you can afford to hire another employee to take your place. Oh, yes, I did my homework before I came here,’ Max intoned with sizzling cool.
‘But you don’t understand... Salsa Cakes is my business.’
‘No, your business is Grayson Industries,’ Max contradicted without hesitation. ‘Not what you have here. It’s time to join the real world again, Tia. You were born into one of the richest families in the UK and you can’t run away from your heritage.’
‘I didn’t run away!’ Tia seethed back at him, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, her colour high.
‘Your choice, your decision. I’m sorry but you’re rich and you’re married to a bastard who will take you any way he can get you. Deal with it, bella mia... I have.’
The thready wail of a hungry baby pierced the smouldering silence and very quickly grew into a much louder demonstration of baby impatience. ‘I’d better feed Sancha,’ Tia mumbled, bereft of breath and protest, indeed barely able to think or vocalise, too shaken by the change in Max, who certainly could not be accused of soft-coating his message.
She ran upstairs to scoop her daughter out of her cot and returned to the lounge at a slower pace. As Max moved forward, his lean, darkly handsome features unexpectedly softened, she disconcerted him by literally stuffing her sobbing child into his surprised arms. ‘Max, meet Sancha... Sancha, this is Daddy and he is at the very foot of a learning curve when it comes to babies.’
‘But I’m a quick study,’ Max asserted, bundling up Sancha and resting her against his shoulder, a big hand smoothing her back in a soothing motion.
‘I have to heat her bottle...and...er...change her...’
‘You don’t breastfeed?’
‘I did initially but I had problems so we ended up with the bottle and she’s thriving,’ Tia explained, leaving him to go and take care of necessities.
Max sat down and surveyed his angry-eyed daughter, who was struggling to catch her breath between sobs. He extracted her from the sleeping bag with great care and was amazed by how wriggly her fragile, light little body was. He was surprised to realise that much of his own anger had dissipated. Telling Tia how he felt had helped. Holding his daughter helped even more. All of a sudden he realised that he had moved on from the past that had once haunted him. Sharing that background story had been like curing an illness he had kept locked up inside him. And now he was looking forward and not back on a successful adult life, a stunning wife and an equally beautiful daughter.
My daughter, Max thought in wonderment, studying the little being snug in his arms. Her eyes and hair might be dark like his own but the shape of her eyes, her mouth and possibly her little button nose were all her mother’s. Her very beautiful mother. Max breathed in deep, fighting the reaction of his body with all his strength. He had been crude but the truth was the truth. All the months without Tia had suddenly just piled up in the back of his brain like a giant rock crushing him. Life without Tia was dull, predictable and barely worth living.
* * *
A bastard who will take you any way he can get you.
Tia had been shaken by that statement but strangely fired up by his raw conviction as well. Max was very likely illegitimate, she acknowledged, for the background he had described seemed unlikely to have contained legally wedded parents. Why on earth was she thinking about something so irrelevant when Max had laid down what he wanted and it was all—from the sex to the immediate relocation—unacceptable?
The trouble was...life without Max was equally unacceptable because she wasn’t happy. That was a huge admission for Tia to make to herself when she had worked so hard to achieve independence. She adored her baby, she loved her little house and her embryo business, but existing deprived of Max’s presence was like eating curry every day without the spice. Nothing else could compare to the joy of knowing Max was in the room next door, within reach and with their daughter. Even though he was angry, knowing Max was near her again was like her every fantasy come true, she acknowledged shamefacedly. She still loved him. She hadn’t got over him. She looked at him and the wanting kicked in again within seconds and it was like coming alive after a long stretch of being denied sunshine and stimulation. Could she settle for the wanting? It did seem to be all Max had to give her.
‘I’ll show you how to feed her.’ Tia slotted the bottle into his lean brown hand and showed him the angle. ‘She guzzles it down quickly at this time of night.’
And Max settled back into a more relaxed pose and fed their child and the sight of them together warmed the cold space inside Tia, because she had feared that her baby would never have a proper father and that that was entirely her fault. Max followed her upstairs and watched her settle Sancha again.
‘You said something about my grandfather not being the man you thought he was,’ she reminded him softly. ‘What was that about?’
Max groaned. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘Whatever it is, tell me. I’m sure Andrew wasn’t a saint all his life. Nobody is,’ she said wryly.
‘Did you notice the interest at the dining table on the night you first arrived when you mentioned my aunt’s death?’ Max prompted.
‘Yes, I did,’ Tia admitted.
‘When I was in my teens, I came back to Redbridge from school unannounced one day and saw Andrew and my aunt kissing. I was shocked,’ Max confided. ‘Shocked and embarrassed. It was never discussed but I picked up on the evidence after that and realised they’d been having an affair for years.’
‘Never...discussed... I mean, even after she died?’ Tia pressed in disbelief.
‘Never,’ Max confirmed. ‘I don’t think it was any great love affair. I think it was two lonely people finding comfort in each other. Andrew was depressed for a long time after his wife passed away and, although he and my aunt were very discreet, a lot of the family knew about their relationship and regarded her as his mistress.’
Tia wrinkled her nose with distaste. ‘That must have been awkward for you.’
Max shrugged. ‘I was used to stuff that is whispered behind backs and never openly declared. When I lived in Italy my parents were despised for their lifestyle and I was despised too. Secrets were familiar to me as well. I was also intelligent enough to realise that Andrew probably paid for my fancy boarding school education because an adolescent hanging around on a daily basis would have cramped their style. But I can’t complain because I benefitted from that education.’
‘I’m surprised he didn’t marry her.’
‘Marrying his housekeeper wouldn’t have been Andrew’s style,’ Max opined wryly.
On the landing, Tia turned in an unsettled half-circle. ‘I assume you’re planning to stay here tonight.’
‘Yes. I have an overnight bag in my car. I’ll bring it in.’
As it was a two-bedroom house with only one