Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: August 2017 Books 5 -8 - Шантель Шоу, Jennie Lucas - Страница 17
ОглавлениеFROM THE WINDOW Cortez watched Elin walk across the lawn holding Harry in her arms. She had swept out of the study, leaving him reeling from what she had told him. He went cold at the thought that she could have bled to death following Harry’s birth, and guilt knotted in his stomach as he acknowledged the damning truth that if Elin had died he would never have known about his son.
The gazebo next to the swimming pool offered shade from the midday sun, which was strong even in March. Elin sat down on a garden chair and held the baby against her shoulder. Even from a distance Cortez could see the gentle expression on her face as she cradled her son.
A lioness protecting her cub.
The vehement words she’d flung at him a few minutes ago echoed inside his head. ‘I fought to stay alive for my son and I will fight to the death to keep him.’ Cortez thought of another woman who had been fiercely protective of her child. His mother had brought him up without any support from his father. Marisol Ramos had been shunned by her family and by many of the villagers, who had judged her for being an unmarried mother. She had worked day in, day out at her small vineyard to earn money to feed and clothe him.
He remembered the recent discovery he had made while he’d been at Cuckmere Hall and had sorted through some of Ralph Saunderson’s private papers. He had found an old bank statement which proved that his father had given his mother money when she’d told him she was pregnant. But Marisol had not spent the money to make her life easier, and the only explanation Cortez could think of was that she had saved the money to pay for him to go to university.
A good education had given him the means to escape the poverty of his childhood, and it could be argued that he owed his success partly to Ralph’s financial contribution. He had been shocked to discover that his father had not completely abandoned him. Like he had abandoned Elin. The knot of guilt in his stomach tightened.
But if Elin loved Harry as much as she insisted, why was she a drug-user? She had furiously denied that she was a drug addict and Cortez conceded it was possible that the tabloid stories about her having a drug habit were exaggerated. But in London the nanny had not been unduly surprised when Elin had been incapable of caring for Harry. He had assumed that Elin had been semi-conscious on the flight to Spain as a result of something she had taken, but could there be a different explanation? For his baby son’s sake he had to find out the truth about Elin, and his first step would be to talk to the nanny.
Barbara was in the nursery, unpacking the latest delivery of baby clothes and toys that Cortez had ordered for his son. ‘Harry will have to be dressed in two new outfits a day if he is going to wear all these lovely clothes before he grows out of them,’ she said as she folded a cute sailor suit and placed it in a drawer.
‘I’m sorry to give you extra work,’ Cortez murmured, glancing at the boxes strewn across the floor. He spied a wooden train set and wondered how old Harry would be before he became interested in toys. He was looking forward to watching his son grow up and he was determined that he would be around when Harry took his first steps and spoke his first words. There had been many times when he was a boy that he’d wished he had a father like the other boys at school. His son would never doubt that his father loved him, Cortez vowed.
‘To be honest, I like having something to do,’ Barbara told him. ‘I often feel guilty that I am paid to do very little.’
‘Caring for a baby must be a full-time job.’
‘Yes, but Elin has always insisted on doing everything for Harry. Even when he went through a period of waking several times in the night, she kept his crib next to her bed so that she could see to him. Of course she couldn’t do very much just after she’d given birth and she was weak from losing so much blood. That was why her brother hired me. And then, when Elin was getting her strength back, she developed a serious kidney infection. I do hope that this latest bout of a recurring infection which made her so unwell for the past few days will be the last,’ Barbara said. ‘The drugs she took to fight the infection are very powerful and, as you noticed, the side-effects absolutely knocked her out.’
Cortez stiffened but he managed to keep his tone casual as he asked, ‘What exactly are the drugs Elin took?’
‘She was prescribed a powerful penicillin antibiotic to destroy the bacteria that causes the infection. But, as I said, the drug has unpleasant side-effects, which meant that Elin was unable to breastfeed Harry when she developed a kidney infection soon after he was born.’
Cortez stared at the nanny. ‘To your knowledge does Elin use recreational drugs, for instance cocaine? There have been reports in some of the more lurid English newspapers that she is involved in the drug culture which is popular in nightclubs,’ he persisted when Barbara looked astonished.
‘Good heavens, you don’t want to believe anything you read in those kinds of papers. They are called the gutter press for a good reason. There was even a story printed last year which stated that Elin was having an affair with a married actor simply because they were photographed leaving a club at the same time. But she’d never even spoken to the man. As for her taking recreational drugs—’ the nanny shook her head ‘—I’ve never seen any evidence of that, and I simply don’t believe it. Elin is the most devoted mother I have ever met and I am absolutely convinced that she would not do anything that could be detrimental to Harry.’
‘I see,’ Cortez said slowly. The uncomfortable realisation was dawning on him that he might have misjudged Elin. And it was not the first time, his conscience reminded him. When he had gone to Cuckmere Hall for the reading of Ralph Saunderson’s will, Elin had told him that he was her baby’s father but he had refused to believe her until a DNA test had proved she was telling the truth.
But if she was not a drug-user, and according to the nanny Elin was a good mother, then he was unlikely to win custody of his son in a court battle. And he could not forget that Elin had turned down the chance to own Cuckmere Hall. He knew she loved the house. The value of the estate plus the additional money he’d offered her amounted to thirty-five million pounds. It was a sizeable fortune and he had believed that she might be tempted, but she had unhesitatingly rejected his offer and scathingly told him that he could not buy his son.
Even so, could he trust that her apparent devotion to Harry was real? Cortez’s jaw hardened. After Alandra he had vowed never to trust any woman. But Elin was the mother of his child and somehow they were going to have to come to an agreement on how they could both be parents to their son.
* * *
Elin had fled from the acrimonious atmosphere in the study and sought refuge in the garden. But when Harry became fretful for his next feed she took him back to the house and her heart sank when she met Cortez in the entrance hall. Revulsion swept through her as in her mind she heard his cold voice offering her Cuckmere Hall if she gave up all rights to her baby. It had been even worse than his accusation that she was a drug addict and she tensed as he strode towards her, fearful of what he was going to say to her, what new insult he might throw at her now. Her wariness must have shown on her face and he frowned when she clutched Harry tightly to her chest.
‘Dios, you do not need to look so terrified,’ he said roughly. ‘I am not going to hurt you.’
‘Really?’ Her voice was brittle, her emotions balanced on a knife-edge. ‘You don’t think I might have found your disgusting attempt to bribe me to give up my baby hurtful?’
He did not answer but something flashed in his dark eyes that she might have believed was regret if she did not know that Cortez Ramos had a lump of granite where his heart should be.
‘I have to go to Madrid on business and I will be away for one night, at the most two,’ he said abruptly. ‘The trip was planned before I knew about Harry but when I return we will talk about what we are going to do with regard to our son.’
Elin tried to ignore the tug her heart gave when Cortez said our son. It gave an impression of unity between them that did not exist, she reminded herself.
‘What am I supposed to do while you are able to get on with your life, but I am a prisoner in your house? I demand that you give back my and Harry’s passports.’
‘If I did give them back would you promise to remain at La Casa Jazmín?’ He gave her a sardonic look when she stayed silent. ‘If you took Harry away from here I would not rest until I’d tracked you down,’ he warned her. ‘But to save us both time and effort and spare Harry unnecessary upheaval if you decide to try and disappear with him, I will keep the passports in my possession for now.’
‘You have no right...’ Elin broke off when she realised that Cortez was not paying her attention and was watching his son avidly. Harry was staring at his father and gave a winsome smile that was guaranteed to melt the stoniest heart. The effect on Cortez was startling. His hard features softened and he murmured something in Spanish as he leaned closer and kissed the top of the baby’s head.
Elin’s senses stirred as she breathed in the musky scent of Cortez’s aftershave. The sight of his dark head against Harry’s downy black hair evoked a curious ache in her heart. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine that they were a happy family. In her daydream Cortez kissed his baby son before he moved to cover her mouth with his and kissed her with bone-shaking tenderness and the promise of passion later, when they were alone in each other’s arms.
But the reality was that they were at loggerheads and set to fight a custody battle over their son, she reminded herself. It was a battle that she could lose, for Cortez’s wealth and power meant he had access to the best lawyers. The idea that she might be ordered by a court to hand over her baby caused icy fingers of fear to wrap around her heart.
She realised that Cortez was looking at her with an odd expression, as if he also wished that the situation between them was different. But that was too much of a stretch for her imagination, she told herself sharply. Cortez had kidnapped her and was keeping her a prisoner. Never mind that La Casa Jazmín was a beautiful house, it was a gilded jail. Cortez had said some vile things to her, and his promise that they would talk when he returned from Madrid had sounded more like a threat. She jerked away from him and whatever it was that had flickered between them disappeared.
He picked up his briefcase and walked across the hall. ‘I will be back as soon as I can.’
‘Don’t rush back on my account,’ Elin said coldly. But, absurdly, when he strode out of the house and she heard his car roar off down the drive she immediately missed him. She wondered if he had a mistress in Madrid who he was planning to spend the night with. He was a virile man and he was bound to have a lover. The thought bothered her more than it should have done and she despised herself for feeling jealous as she visualised him having sex with another woman.
* * *
In fact Cortez was only away for one night and returned to La Casa Jazmín late the following afternoon. Elin was pushing Harry in his pram around the garden, hoping that the rocking movement would send him off to sleep. Her heart gave an annoying leap when the gates swung smoothly open to allow Cortez to drive through them. He parked his rampantly masculine black sports car in front of the house and leaned against the bonnet, watching her from behind his designer shades as she walked towards him.
The top few buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing a vee of his darkly tanned chest and a sprinkling of black hairs that Elin remembered from a year ago arrowed down over his flat abdomen. She felt heat spread over her face and hoped he would think she was flushed from the warm sun, and not because she was overwhelmingly aware of him.
‘I suppose you have a secret code to unlock the gates,’ she said as she drew nearer to him. ‘Beautiful though the garden is, I am bored of walking around it and I’d hoped to take Harry on a longer walk, perhaps to a village if there is one nearby. But the perimeter gates are locked.’ Frustration edged into her voice. ‘You have no right to keep me imprisoned.’
Cortez looked unconcerned by her outburst. ‘The main gates are activated by car number plate recognition and they are kept locked for security reasons. The village is five miles away but it has no shops and there’s little there to excite you.’
‘You don’t know what excites me,’ Elin snapped, irritated by his arrogance.
He threw back his head and laughed, and she was riveted by the sheer beauty of his face, alight with merriment. The rich sound of his amusement reached down to something deep inside her. Laughter made him even more attractive, and he was already too gorgeous for his own good, she thought ruefully.
‘Actually, I have vivid memories of what excited you when you lured me into your bed, querida,’ he murmured.
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from responding to his baiting. She did not want to be reminded of her night of shame a year ago.
‘La Casa Jazmín is surrounded by vineyards,’ Cortez told her. ‘If you like I will show you where you can walk among the vines.’
Despite herself, Elin was curious to see the vineyards that produced the grapes which were used to make the famous Felipe & Cortez brand of award-winning sherry. Cortez led the way across the garden and held open a gate in the wall so that she could push the pram through it.
‘I suppose you grow Palomino grapes here,’ she said, recognising the dark green leaves on the vines. ‘The albariza soil type has a high chalk content, perfect for retaining moisture, which is vital during the hot, dry summers you have in this region of Spain. It’s interesting that the soil on the South Downs is also chalky, similar to soil in the Champagne region of France. But of course English summers are cooler than here, allowing us to grow Chardonnay and Pinot Noir grape varieties at Cuckmere. At least—’ Elin broke off and grimaced ‘—we grow those grape varieties currently at Saunderson’s estate winery, and we have concentrated on producing a sparkling white wine. But you, or whoever buys the estate if you decide to sell it, might decide to grow something else.’
She glanced at Cortez and found him staring at her with evident surprise. ‘I did not realise that you took a genuine interest in the winery,’ he said.
‘It was my adoptive mother’s dream to produce an English sparkling wine on a par with Champagne. When Mama died I was determined to continue her work and fulfil her dream, which is why I have a Master’s degree in viticulture and oenology. You look shocked,’ she said wryly. ‘Did you think I was the brainless bimbo that I am portrayed by the tabloids?’
He shrugged. ‘You cannot entirely blame the media for your reputation. The paparazzi did not have to look hard to find evidence of your wild lifestyle. Admittedly, it was months ago that you were regularly seen at the coolest London nightclubs and scandal was never far from you.’ He looked at her speculatively. ‘What makes me curious is why you seemed to deliberately seek notoriety and the attention of the press.’
Cortez’s insight made Elin uneasy. She did not want him to guess that she had sought to keep the paparazzi away from her brother when Jarek’s life was in freefall. She looked down the long rows of vines that stretched into the distance. ‘How many hectares of vineyards do you have?’ she asked in a blatant effort to change the subject.
‘Two hundred.’ Cortez’s voice was drier than the finest Manzanilla sherry and Elin dropped her eyes from his sardonic gaze.
‘There are only six hectares of vineyards at Cuckmere. It’s lucky you don’t have winter frosts this far south,’ she told him. ‘It would take an army of workers to light frost candles to protect all your vines.’
He helped her to steer the pram around the deep tractor tyre grooves on the path. ‘I have heard of the practice of lighting candles to raise the air temperature around the vines to above freezing but I’ve never seen it done.’
‘If you had looked out of the window the night you stayed at Cuckmere Hall you would have seen the vineyards glowing with golden candle lights,’ Elin told him. ‘There was a frost, but luckily a few of the estate workers stayed up all night to help me light the bougies. It would have been a catastrophe if the new shoots on the vines had been frost damaged.’
‘So that’s why you were still in bed at ten o’clock the next morning,’ Cortez murmured in an odd voice. ‘I thought you lazed around every morning and left Harry to be cared for by the nanny.’
‘Lack of sleep was probably a contributing factor when I developed a kidney infection,’ Elin confided. ‘Harry had been restless for a few nights before the fund-raising party for Lorna’s Gift. When I’m tired my immune system seems to shut down.’
Cortez was still holding the pram handle and Elin caught her breath when his fingers brushed against hers. She looked down at his darkly tanned fingers next to her much paler ones, and memories flooded her mind of his hands roaming over her body, caressing her breasts and slipping between her legs. She was appalled when she felt a molten sensation there, where a year ago his skilful touch had given her unbelievable pleasure.
‘We should go back to the house before Harry wakes up for a feed,’ she said stiltedly, praying that Cortez did not notice her flushed face. She felt hot with shame and a helpless longing that made her angry with herself. How could she want him after the way he had treated her? Where was her self-respect?
‘Another time I will give you a tour of the bodega,’ Cortez offered. To Elin’s relief, he seemed unaware that her hormones were in meltdown. ‘Not all the grapes from these vineyards are used to make Felipe & Cortez sherry. About a third of the crop is sold to other wineries.’ They had reached the gate in the wall, and he held it open to allow Elin to push the pram through to the garden before he continued speaking. ‘Tomorrow evening I am hosting a party for F&C’s shareholders and clients. A few media representatives have also been invited. At the party I intend to give a press statement announcing that Harry is my son.’
Elin’s heart dropped like a stone. ‘Why now? I mean...there is no rush, especially as nothing has been decided yet about who will have custody of him.’
‘Whatever happens in the future with regard to arrangements for where Harry will spend his childhood, and with whom, I want to publicly recognise that he is my son.’ Cortez frowned when he saw her dismayed expression. ‘I’m not going to drop out of his life, however much you might wish that I would,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘I want to be a full-time parent to him while he is growing up.’
‘So do I,’ she cried emotionally. ‘But you want to take Harry away from me.’
‘That’s not true. I accept that he needs you, certainly while he is so young. At the party I will introduce you as the mother of my child.’
Her brows rose. ‘Aren’t you worried I’ll turn up in a drug-fuelled haze, out of my head on whatever substance you think I snort up my nose, or inject into my veins?’
To Elin’s surprise Cortez looked uncomfortable as he raked a hand through his hair. ‘I have realised that I was wrong about you, and you are not in fact a drug-user,’ he said gruffly. ‘The stories about you in the tabloids seemed to prove that you had a drug habit. But it is now clear to me that you take motherhood seriously.’
‘My commitment to Harry has never been in doubt,’ she said furiously. ‘But you refused to believe he was your son when I first told you.’
His jaw hardened but his response was controlled, as if he was forcing himself to remain calm in the face of her angry condemnation. ‘I now have proof that Harry is mine, and tomorrow evening I will make it public knowledge that I am his father. You do not need to worry that I am one hundred per cent committed to my son.’
* * *
Cortez smiled at the CEO of a brandy production company which was an important client of Felipe & Cortez Vineyards, and realised that he had no recollection of the conversation he’d had with the other man for the past ten minutes. Over Señor Santana’s shoulder he watched Elin chatting to another client, and he gritted his teeth when he noted that the guy looked dazzled by Elin. Cortez understood how that felt.
Desire had jack-knifed through him when he had knocked on her bedroom door fifteen minutes before the guests were due to arrive to escort her downstairs. The day before, he had suggested that he could order an evening gown for her from an exclusive boutique in Jerez, but she had declined his offer, saying she’d brought a dress with her from London that was suitable to wear to the party.
Elin’s idea of suitable was not the same as his, Cortez brooded as his eyes followed her obsessively when she moved around the room, stopping frequently to speak to guests. Her long sapphire-blue dress was a deceptively simple silk sheath with a diamanté belt that showed off her tiny waist. The halter-neck style left her shoulders and back bare and her blonde hair was swept up into a chignon, revealing the slender column of her white throat. In truth, the gown was elegant and sensual rather than overtly sexy, but Cortez hated the fact that every man in the room was looking at her and no doubt fantasising about her. He would feel happier if she were wearing a shroud. This possessive feeling was new and unwelcome and he felt irritated that she was the only woman who had such an effect on him.
When she had opened her bedroom door and given him one of those cool smiles of hers that never failed to set his teeth on edge, he had come worryingly close to sweeping her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed. He had wanted to strip her dress from her body and kiss her mouth and her breasts until he heated her up and she turned into the sensual siren who a year ago had begged him in a throaty whisper, that still haunted his dreams, to make love to her.
He forced his mind to the present when his PA came over and told him that everything was ready for him to make a statement to the press. He had asked the nanny to bring Harry downstairs when the baby woke for his ten p.m. feed. Barbara walked into the ballroom and Cortez strode over and took his son from her. As he lifted Harry into his arms, Elin materialised at his side. Her tension was almost tangible.
‘Let me hold him,’ she muttered. ‘He hasn’t long been fed, and he might be sick on your tuxedo.’
‘I don’t give a damn about my jacket.’ He stared at his son and Harry stared right back with his big, dark eyes flecked with gold. The baby’s rosebud mouth curved into a smile of recognition and Cortez silently repeated his vow that he would willingly sacrifice his life to protect his little boy.
The room fell silent as he made his way to one end of the ballroom, where a group of journalists were assembled in front of a microphone. There was a ripple of interest from the audience as he stepped onto the podium holding the baby in his arms. He held out his hand to Elin and she hesitated before she walked up to stand beside him.
He had given prior instruction that the press conference would be conducted in English for Elin’s benefit. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the continued success of Felipe & Cortez, which is reflected in the latest rise in profits, makes me very proud. But I am even prouder to introduce my son, Harry Ramos.’
The news was met with murmurs of surprise and interest from the guests. Cortez’s PR team had arranged that the press could ask a few pre-arranged questions, but as the session drew to an end a journalist stood up and asked an unplanned question.
‘Do you have any plans to marry your son’s mother? And, if so, when will the wedding be?’
Cortez smiled to hide his irritation with the journalist. ‘Miss Saunderson and I are not prepared to make a statement with regard to our personal situation yet,’ he said smoothly.
‘Miss Saunderson is English, and I am sure that your shareholders would like to know if you will continue to live in Spain, Señor Ramos, or if you plan to move to England to be with your son and his mother.’
‘Felipe & Cortez’s shareholders can be assured that I will continue to be based in Spain and my commitment to the company and also to my role as CEO of Hernandez Bank is unchanged.’
‘Will your son also live in Spain?’
‘Of course. Harry is my heir and when he is older I hope he will develop the same passion that I have to grow the best grapes and produce the best sherry for which F&C is renowned.’
‘But you do not intend to get married and your son will remain illegitimate?’ the journalist persisted.
‘As I have already stated, I do not intend to make any further announcement about my private life right now,’ Cortez said tersely. ‘All I will say is that the current situation regarding my son’s legitimacy will be resolved in the very near future.’
He signalled to his PA that the press conference was over and stepped down from the podium. As he carried Harry out of the ballroom Elin hurried after him, and he guessed from the staccato beat of her stiletto heels on the marble floor that her temper was simmering.
‘What did you mean by that last vague reply you gave to the journalist?’ she demanded after Cortez handed Harry to the nanny so that she could take him back upstairs to the nursery. The entrance hall was full of guests who were preparing to leave now that the party was over, and he led Elin into his study and locked the door to ensure their privacy. She put her hands on her hips. ‘How can Harry’s legitimacy be resolved?’
He waited a heartbeat. ‘By us getting married.’
‘Very funny,’ she snapped. ‘But I’m not in the mood for jokes.’
‘It wasn’t a joke. I’m serious.’ In his mind Cortez heard the journalist say that Harry was illegitimate, and he was hurtled back in time to when he had been taunted by other boys in the village where he had lived with his mother. ‘Malparido!’ they had shouted at him. The word meant bastard in English. Worse had been when they had called his mother a puta—a whore. Cortez had retaliated to the boys’ insults with his fists. He hadn’t cared what they called him, but he had fought to defend his mother’s honour. Working in the vineyard from an early age had made him physically strong, and after a while the boys had stopped calling him names to his face because they knew he would retaliate with punches.
Attitudes had changed in the thirty-four years since he had grown up among villagers who had held traditional values and sneered at him because his mother was unmarried. But the journalist’s comments showed that there was still a stigma attached to being illegitimate. He would not allow his son to be called a malparido.
He looked at Elin’s mutinous expression and knew he would have a battle on his hands to persuade her to marry him. But she wanted Harry as much as he did and Cortez was prepared to play dirty to get everything he desired.
