The Gold Collection

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘SIT down, Beka,’ her brother ordered.

She threw him a sharp glance, her eyes flashing fire. ‘It’s my problem, Owen, and I’ll deal with it.’ Turning back to face Dante, she lifted her head proudly and shook back her long silky hair. ‘Why are you here?’

Since when had she viewed him as a problem? He felt a sudden fierce blaze of anger. How dared she speak to him in that coolly polite voice, as if he were a casual acquaintance rather than the man whose child’s heart beat within her? With great effort he swallowed his temper and said quietly, ‘We need to talk.’

One of the women seated at the table stood up. Rebekah’s mother was short and plump, her dark hair was threaded with silver strands but her violet-coloured eyes were sharp and bright. It occurred to Dante that the Evans women were formidable and he suspected that, for all their huge size, the men of the family would think twice about arguing with them.

‘You must be Mr Jarrell. I am Rowena Evans. This is my husband, Ifan—’ she waved a hand towards the other end of the table ‘—and our sons and their families. Our daughter you already know, of course,’ she said calmly. ‘Rebekah will take you into the parlour so that you can talk in private.’

Rebekah knew better than to argue with her mother but her legs felt unsteady as she walked out of the room, and she was desperately conscious of Dante following closely behind her. He was the second shock she had received today, but not the worst, she thought, feeling a stab of fear as she remembered her hospital appointment earlier in the day. She ushered him into the parlour and closed the door, taking a deep breath before she turned to face him.

He was wearing a soft oatmeal-coloured sweater and faded jeans that hugged his lean hips. His dark Mediterranean looks seemed even more exotic here in Wales. He would certainly attract attention in the village, she thought wryly. But it was unlikely he had come to sample the delights of Rhoslaenau, which boasted a population of four hundred, a post office and a pub.

‘Would you like to sit down?’ She offered him the armchair by the fire, but when he shook his head she crossed her arms defensively in front of her. ‘Why are you here? I wasn’t expecting you.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Have you had the results of the paternity test already? I thought we wouldn’t hear for a week.’

‘No, I haven’t had the results.’ Dante hesitated, uncharacteristically struggling to find the right words. ‘But I don’t need a test to confirm I am the baby’s father.’

Rebekah stared at him warily. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean I believe you, cara. I know the child you are carrying is mine.’

She bit her lip. ‘I understand why you would want proof. Anyone who had been deceived as you were by your wife would feel the same way. I know you must find it hard to trust.’

He held her gaze steadily. ‘I trust you, Rebekah, and I’m here to discuss what we’re going to do now. How we can do the best for our child.’

His child—Dante felt a weird feeling inside: disbelief that he was going to be a father, but as the realisation sank in he felt awed and excited.

Rebekah’s words sent a chill down his spine.

‘You mentioned on the phone that you wanted to discuss financial matters. Please don’t feel obliged to give me money,’ she said with excruciating politeness. ‘My parents have been wonderful and have offered to support me and the baby until I can move to St Lucia to work at Gaspard Clavier’s new restaurant.’

Dante could not hide his shock. ‘You intend to take the baby to live in the Caribbean?’

‘Not immediately after it’s born. But Gaspard assures me it’s a wonderful place to live and bring up a child.’

On the way to Rebekah’s parents’ farm he had rehearsed what he planned to say to her but now he was groping for a response. He felt as if a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet. ‘And where do I feature in this wonderful new life you’re planning?’ he said harshly. ‘Do you expect me to allow you to take my child to the other side of the world where I can have no part in its life?’

‘Allow?’ She gave an angry laugh. ‘You have no right to tell me where I can or can’t live. To be frank, I hadn’t anticipated you would want anything to do with our child. That’s the impression you gave when I told you of my pregnancy. But if you insist on some sort of contact I imagine you know more about access rights than I do.’

Contact and access rights were surely the ugliest words in the English vocabulary, Dante thought bleakly. He could not think rationally and his words were torn from his heart. ‘I’ll be damned if I’ll let you take my baby away from me to St Lucia.’

Rebekah was startled by the raw emotion in Dante’s voice. He spoke about the baby as if he cared about the new life inside her, as if it was a real little person to him, as it was to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe he did care for their child even if he did not care about her.

‘It’s a boy,’ she told him huskily. ‘They asked me at my ultrasound scan if I wanted to know the sex of the baby.’

Originally she had intended not to find out, but when the scan had revealed a possible problem she had wanted every scrap of information she could get.

He was going to have a son! Fierce joy surged through Dante. ‘If you had told me the date of your appointment I would have made sure I was here,’ he said curtly, unable to hide his disappointment that he had missed the special moment of seeing his baby for the first time.

‘I didn’t realise you would want to.’ Rebekah bit her lip. ‘You are under no obligation to be part of this. I’ll manage perfectly well if you decide to have nothing to do with the baby. He will be born into a big, loving family.’ A tremor shook her voice as she offered a silent prayer that her son would be born safe and well in a few months’ time. ‘My parents will adore him, he’ll have cousins to play with and as I have seven brothers, he’ll have plenty of male influence.’

In other words, he wasn’t needed, Dante thought grimly. He was the father of Rebekah’s child but she did not consider it necessary for him to play a role in his son’s life.

He recalled how he had looked around the table at all her relatives and sensed the close bond between them. Something hardened inside him as he had a sudden stark image of the future and him arriving at the farmhouse to visit his son. Would his little boy stare at him warily and regard him as an outsider who did not belong to the tight-knit Welsh family?

Pain burned in his chest. No, he would not let it happen. His son belonged with him, as well as with his mother.

‘There’s no chance I will simply walk away and allow my child to be brought up here with your family, however well meaning they are. I want my son, and I will go to any lengths to claim my role as his father.’

He exhaled heavily. ‘When you came to see me in London I was shocked about your pregnancy and I reacted badly. I’m sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘I accept the baby is mine and I want to take care of you and our child.’ He took a swift breath, conscious that his heart was beating painfully hard. He had barely slept for the past two nights as he had debated what to do, and he had concluded that only one solution made sense. ‘I want to marry you, Rebekah.’

If only he did truly want her, Rebekah thought emotionally. Fool that she was, his words had evoked a fierce longing to accept his proposal. But she was not so naïve that she did not understand why he had suddenly decided that marrying her was a good idea.

‘The only reason you want to marry me is because of the legal implications regarding the baby. Let’s face it, you specialise in Family Law and you know you will have equal parental rights if we are married,’ she said curtly.

He did not deny it, but the flare of colour along his cheekbones told her she had guessed right. She stared at the flickering flames in the grate and willed the tears blurring her eyes not to fall.

‘I realise we will have to make arrangements about how we can share bringing up our son—if you are certain you want to be part of his life. But I can’t think about that now. There … there’s something you should know.’ She hugged her arms tighter around her. ‘The scan revealed there might be a problem with the baby’s heart.’

Dante felt his own heart drop like a stone. ‘What kind of problem?’

‘I don’t know—something to do with a possible defect with a heart valve. The consultant at my local hospital is trying to organise for me to have a more detailed scan at a better equipped hospital in Cardiff, but it probably won’t be until the middle of next week.

‘Oh, Dante!’ Rebekah’s voice shook, the nameless dread that had swamped her since her hospital visit suddenly shattering her determination to remain calm. ‘I’m so worried.’

Dante’s stomach clenched when he saw the strain etched onto her face. He knew she was thinking of the child she had lost, who had died inside her and been stillborn. He strode towards her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as he felt her tremble uncontrollably. ‘You should have called me the minute you knew. I would have come immediately.’

‘I only found out this morning. I haven’t told my family. My parents have been through enough with my father’s accident.’ She stared at Dante as he pulled out his phone. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I have a friend in London who is a cardiologist. I’ll call him and tell him we need an urgent appointment. The sooner we find out if there is a problem, the better—don’t you agree?’

‘Yes, but it’s Friday afternoon. He won’t be able to see us before Monday.’ It was only two days, Rebekah reminded herself. But the thought of waiting and worrying all over the weekend was unbearable.

‘James will see you as soon as we reach London.’ Dante’s voice softened when he saw the tears in her eyes. ‘Try to keep calm. I’ll take care of everything, cara.’

Dante was as good as his word. His jet was waiting at Manchester Airport and within a few hours they were in London. They had an appointment at the hospital, where his friend James Burton was a consultant cardiologist, first thing the following morning. It was strange to be back in the staff apartment she had occupied when she had been Dante’s cook, Rebekah thought as she climbed into bed. It had been equally strange that Dante had cooked her dinner.

‘You’re dead on your feet,’ he’d said when she had offered to cook. ‘Go and sit down while I make you something to eat. Just don’t expect miracles,’ he’d added with a wry smile that for some reason had made her want to burst into tears.

In fact the herb omelette he served was delicious, and after they’d eaten they watched a couple of TV programmes, which helped to occupy her mind for a while. To her surprise, they slipped into their old companionship that reminded her of the month they had spent in Tuscany, and she wished they could turn back the clock to those golden days when they had been friends as well as lovers.

Worrying about the baby meant that Rebekah barely slept that night and she was pale and tense the next morning when she lay on the couch in the hospital room while a more detailed scan was carried out. James Burton’s calm manner was reassuring, but as the minutes ticked by and he continued to study the baby’s heart on the screen, Rebekah could not hide her fear.

She remembered when she’d had a scan during her first pregnancy, the nurse had grown quiet and had called for a doctor, who had broken the news to her that her baby was dead.

Panic surged through her. ‘There’s something wrong, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid there is,’ James said gently.

Terrified, she gripped Dante’s hand and felt him squeeze her fingers. His expression was shuttered, but she sensed his grim tension.

‘What exactly is the problem?’ he asked.

‘Your son has a partial atrial septal defect, which is sometimes known as a hole in the heart. It is a treatable condition, but the baby will require heart surgery, probably when he is a few months old—’ the consultant hesitated ‘—but possibly sooner after birth, depending on his condition.’

Rebekah swallowed hard. ‘Could … could he die?’

‘My medical team will do everything possible to help him.’ James’s expression was gravely sympathetic. ‘But I would be lying if I said there was no risk.’ He studied Rebekah’s ashen face and glanced at Dante. ‘While Rebekah gets dressed, why don’t we go into my office and I’ll give you as much information as I can?’

Dante felt numb. He moved like an automaton, and once inside James’s office he sank onto a chair and dropped his head into his hands. In his mind he could see the scan image of his son. Although the image had been grainy, he’d seen that the baby was already fully formed, right down to ten tiny fingers and toes, and Dante had wanted to touch the screen, as if he could somehow make contact with his unborn child. Dio, he had been so concerned with demanding his paternal rights. But now there was no certainty that he would have a child. He felt an agonising pain like a red-hot knife skewering his stomach as the realisation sunk in that his son’s life was in danger and there was nothing he could do to help him.

He swallowed the shot of brandy James handed him and concentrated hard on the medical information regarding the baby’s heart problem so that he could explain it all to Rebekah later. What must she be thinking? He recalled the stark fear in her eyes as the cardiologist had broken the news of the baby’s heart condition. Slamming his glass down on the desk, he jerked to his feet.

‘I have to see Rebekah,’ he said raggedly. ‘I need to be with her.’

‘Take it easy, old man.’ James put a hand on his shoulder and steered him over to a door at the back of the office that led to a small private garden. ‘Have five minutes to calm down. You’re going to need to be strong for her.’

Rebekah still had a door key to Dante’s house, which she used to let herself in. He wasn’t at home, but she hadn’t really expected him to be. When she had walked out of the changing cubicle after the scan she’d walked up and down the corridor, searching for him. Eventually she had gone back and asked James Burton’s secretary if she knew where he had gone.

‘I saw him go out about ten minutes ago,’ the woman had informed her.

He had left the hospital! Still dazed with shock at the diagnosis of the baby’s heart condition, Rebekah had reeled at this further blow. Dante had disappeared without even leaving a message to say where he had gone. There was only one explanation she could think of. He must have been deeply shocked to learn that his son’s chance of being born safely was uncertain. Maybe he had decided that he could not cope with the possibility of losing another child, she thought bleakly. She knew he had been devastated when he had discovered that the little boy Ben, who he had believed was his son, was another man’s child. Now, having been told of the baby’s prognosis, perhaps he intended to walk away rather than risk being hurt again.

She’d caught a cab back to his house and immediately started to pack the few clothes she had left behind when they had gone to Tuscany—a lifetime ago, it seemed. Suddenly her fragile control of her emotions cracked and she sank down onto the bed, harsh, painful sobs tearing her chest. She felt so scared for her baby and so desperately alone. She knew she must try to be strong. Her son was totally dependent on her—poor little scrap. It seemed so unbearably cruel that not only would he have to fight for his life, but his father had abandoned him.

When Dante walked through the front door, the sound of weeping directed him down to the basement level. The raw, heartrending cries ripped him apart, but he felt relieved that at least he had found Rebekah.

‘Why did you leave the hospital without me?’ he demanded raggedly as he strode into her bedroom. ‘I was waiting for you, but then James said he had seen you get into a taxi, and I thought …’ He closed his eyes briefly as he recalled his shock and confusion when he’d realised Rebekah had left the hospital. ‘I didn’t know what to think,’ he admitted thickly.

He opened his eyes and felt something snap inside him as he stared at her ravaged, tear-stained face. Rebekah did not cry prettily. Her face was blotchy and strands of hair were stuck to her wet cheeks.

‘Tesoro …’ Dante’s voice shook and he tasted his own tears at the back of his throat. The sight of his strong, wonderful Rebekah so utterly distraught affected him more than anything had ever done in his life. ‘Oh, my angel,’ he said hoarsely, ‘we’ll get through this.’

Rebekah cried harder, her shoulders heaving. After the strain of the previous twenty-four hours and the devastating news that her baby’s life was at risk, Dante’s appearance was one shock too many. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ she choked. ‘I thought you’d left me and the baby, be … because you couldn’t cope with his heart problem.’

‘Sweetheart, I will never leave you.’ Dante dashed a hand across his eyes and dropped to his knees beside the bed, drawing her shuddering body into his arms. She smelled of roses and, despite the fact that his emotions felt as if they had been put through a mangle, he knew with sudden startling clarity that he belonged with Rebekah and she was who he had been searching for all his life.

‘I’m going to take care of you and our son.’ He stroked her hair back from her face with an unsteady hand. Everything was falling into place and he was desperate to convince her that he did not care about parental rights or duty. The only important thing was how he felt about her and how, he prayed, she felt about him.

‘Please, cara,’ he said in a voice shaking with emotion, ‘will you marry me so that I can be your protector and provider and everything that a husband who is devoted to his wife and child should be?’

Rebekah shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. ‘There’s no reason for you to marry me. We might not have a baby …’ The thought was so unbearable that she felt a tearing pain inside her. ‘And then you would be trapped in a pointless marriage,’ she whispered, ‘with a wife you never really wanted.’

‘But I do want you, my angel—to be my wife, my lover, my best friend—always and for ever.’ The lump in Dante’s throat made it hard for him to speak. ‘I love you, Rebekah,’ he said huskily. ‘That’s the only reason I want to marry you—not to gain rights over our child, or because it would be convenient.’

He felt his tears spill from his eyes, but he could not hold them back. He had stifled his emotions for so long and pretended to himself that he did not care if he never found love. But he saw now that he had been lonely for all those years, and he was terrified that this precious, profound love he had found would slip through his fingers.

‘I know you’re scared for the baby,’ he said gently. ‘But James believes his chances are good. The scan showed that he’s developing as he should be, and he’s already a good weight. I know our son is a fighter—how could he not be when he has such a strong and determined mother? He’ll have the best care before and after he’s born, and James says there is every reason to believe the surgery to repair his heart will be completely successful.’

He looked into Rebekah’s eyes and glimpsed something in their depths that gave him hope. ‘Whatever the future holds, I want to share it with you, to celebrate the joyous moments, and comfort and support each other through sad times that are an inevitable part of life. You are my world, the love of my life, and without you—’ his voice cracked with emotion ‘—I have nothing.’

Stunned and incredibly moved by Dante’s words, Rebekah touched his face and brushed away the trails of moisture from his cheeks. Hearing that her baby’s life was threatened had put other things into perspective. She owed it to Dante and to herself to be honest about her feelings for him.

‘I love you too,’ she said softly. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I took one look at you and felt like I’d been shot through the heart by an arrow.’ Faint colour stained her white face and some of the terrible tension left her. She could not help but worry about the baby, but she was comforted by the cardiologist’s assurances. ‘I knew of your playboy reputation and I told myself it would be very stupid to fall in love with you.’ She gave him a tremulous smile. ‘But my heart refused to listen.’

‘Tesoro mio cuore—my darling heart.’ Dante’s words were a jumble of Italian and English, but their meaning was the same. ‘Ti amo—for eternity,’ he whispered against her lips, before he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss that brought more tears to her eyes.

‘I look like a frog when I cry,’ she muttered, burying her head against his shoulder, knowing that her face must be puffy and her eyes red-rimmed.

‘I love frogs,’ he assured her gravely. His heart turned over as he kissed away the tears clinging to her lashes. He wanted to wrap her in cotton wool and protect her from all harm and hurt. ‘Will you marry me, and let me love you for the rest of my life?’ he asked with fierce urgency.

‘Yes,’ Rebekah said shakily, ‘on the condition that you’ll let me love you with all my heart.’

Dante swallowed when he saw the unguarded emotion in her eyes. He also noted the signs of intense weariness and strain. ‘You need to rest, my angel,’ he told her as he stood up and scooped her into his arms.

‘You’ll injure your back,’ Rebekah warned him anxiously. ‘I weigh a ton.’

‘I’m strong enough to carry both of you,’ he promised, and carried her up two flights of stairs as if she were as light as a feather. When he reached his bedroom he set her down by the bed and undressed her and then himself before pulling back the covers and drawing her into his arms.

He reacquainted himself with her lush curves and stroked the firm mound of her stomach, his breath catching in his throat when he felt a fluttering sensation beneath his fingers. ‘Was that …’

‘Your son is saying hello,’ she told him gently. ‘I’ve just started to feel him kicking. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’ Her voice trembled. ‘It must mean he’s strong.’

‘He needs a name. How about calling our little lion cub Leo?’ Dante suggested.

‘That’s perfect.’ Rebekah laid her hand next to Dante’s and their eyes met as they felt their son give another kick.

He bent his head and kissed her softly, and then made love to her with such exquisite care and told her he loved her in a voice that shook with the intensity of his feelings. This was what had been missing from his life. Rebekah filled a void inside him and he knew his life would be empty without her.

‘When did you know you loved me?’ she asked him as she emerged dazedly from the waves of pleasure induced by the most beautiful lovemaking she had ever experienced.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted honestly. ‘I saw you at some business dinner in the City and seized the chance to offer you a job as my chef. I tried to ignore my awareness of you, but I started making excuses to leave the office early because I liked knowing you were waiting at home for me—although I told myself it was because I appreciated your wonderful cooking. But I found myself thinking about you a lot, and after we slept together I was determined to make you my mistress. When we were in Tuscany I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t want you and when you left and refused to come back to me …’ His voice deepened and he said raggedly, ‘I missed you like hell.’

‘I went because I was fathoms deep in love with you, and I was afraid that if I stayed you would break my heart.’ Rebekah gave a contented sigh as she snuggled close to him and felt his lips brush hers.

‘I will always love you,’ Dante promised her. ‘I never felt I truly belonged anywhere, but I belong with you, my darling. And you belong with me. For ever.’