Дженни Лукас – One Night in... Rio: The Brazilian Millionaire's Love-Child / Virgin Mistress, Scandalous Love-Child / The Surgeon's Runaway Bride (страница 12)

Anita leapt on her words, and Isobel decided she would have to think more carefully before she spoke. ‘Um, traditional,’ she said at last. ‘It reminds me of houses I’ve seen in Portugal.’ She moistened her lips and then continued, ‘Actually, you have a very beautiful home.’

Anita looked a little mollified, and as if deciding there was no point in pursuing the topic she said, ‘Let Ruis get you a drink, senhora. What will you have? Wine, perhaps? Or a cocktail?’

‘White wine, please,’ said Isobel gratefully. The last thing she needed was anything too alcoholic to confuse her already tired brain.

‘Muito bem.’ Anita snapped her fingers. ‘Some wine for the senhora, Ruis, por favor.’

‘Sim, senhora.’

Ruis sprang into action, and a moment later Isobel had a glass of white wine in her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said as the young man resumed his position by the cabinet. ‘This is very nice.’

Ruis bowed his head, and as he did so Isobel heard other footsteps crossing the room next door. They were slow footsteps, slightly halting, but Anita turned with evident pleasure towards the door.

‘Ah, here is my son-in-law,’ she said, startling Isobel, who hadn’t known her daughter was married. ‘Come and greet our guest, Alex. We have been waiting for you.’

Isobel expelled a sigh. She had wondered if Anita intended to start the interview tonight, and now she didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry this wasn’t so. Despite the hospitality she’d been offered, she couldn’t deny she’d be glad when this particular assignment was over. And meeting members of Anita’s family hadn’t been part of the deal.

And then her legs weakened under her. The man who joined them was regarding her with a cool, sardonic gaze. Anita might know him as Alex, but Isobel was more familiar with Alejandro. It might have been three years and God knew how many miles since they’d last seen one another, but the man who stepped rather unevenly onto the terrace was undeniably her daughter’s father.

CHAPTER SIX

ISOBEL badly wanted to sit down, but of course she couldn’t. Not without drawing attention to her shocked expression anyway, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, she had to stand there with a stupid smile freezing on her lips while Alejandro crossed to where Anita was waiting.

She noticed, almost unconsciously, that he dragged one of his legs as he did so, and when he bent to bestow the expected kiss on each of Anita’s cheeks, she caught her breath at the sight of the scar that scored a path from his right eyebrow to his mouth.

If Alejandro heard her gasp, he gave no indication of it as he greeted his mother-in-law. ‘Ola, cara,’ he said, his voice just as low and disturbing as Isobel remembered. ‘I see our guest has arrived.’

Our guest?

Isobel swallowed. What was she supposed to say now? Did she mention their previous acquaintance? In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But these were not normal circumstances, and she knew it. There was Emma to consider. Did he know about the baby? Or was this just an awful coincidence, as unexpected to him as it was to her?

Anita was speaking, and Isobel struggled to understand what she was saying. ‘Sim, this is Ms Jameson,’ she heard the other woman say, stretching out a hand towards her. ‘Come and meet my son-in-law, Ms Jameson—Alex Cabral. He is joining us for dinner.’

Before Isobel could say anything, Alejandro held out his hand in greeting. ‘Bem vindo a Brazil, Ms Jameson,’ he said, which she knew from her phrasebook meant ‘welcome’. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, senhora.’

So obviously he had no intention of acknowledging that he knew her. Isobel moistened her lips, wishing she could be as blasé about the situation as he was. Unless he didn’t remember her, of course. She could be fooling herself that their relationship had been that memorable. He’d probably slept with any number of English girls on his visits to London. Remembering his reaction after they’d made love did not encourage her to believe it mattered either way.

And he’d evidently come back to Brazil and got married fairly quickly. Her fingers tightened on her glass. So, not memorable at all. But it was another fact to file away for the article she was going to write, she reminded herself tightly. Although she’d known Anita’s daughter had died in her early twenties, she was fairly sure her uncle had never mentioned her having been married at the time.

Still, Alejandro had changed, she conceded. He looked much older than she remembered, but losing his wife was bound to have had some bearing on that.

Her stomach clenched, but she ignored it, concentrating instead on his injuries. Something had caused the flecks of grey in his night-dark hair and the deeply carved lines around his eyes and mouth.

Yet, for all that, he still possessed that soul-destroying magnetism that had first drawn her to him. Even the ugly scar had added strength to a face that had always been wholly sensual, wholly male.

But it wasn’t just his looks that caused her pulse to race so alarmingly. It was the knowledge that, if she wasn’t careful, that subtle power he possessed might defeat her resistance once again.

Was he aware of it? Meeting those deep-set eyes, she had no way of knowing. His face was darkly intent, darkly perceptive, but also darkly enigmatic. She couldn’t possibly guess what he was thinking at this moment. But the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was unnerving. She suspected he was enjoying a joke—but was it at her expense or Anita’s?

With an effort, she said, ‘How do you do, senhor?’ managing not to flinch when hard, slightly calloused fingers closed about her hand. But she couldn’t prevent an instinctive recoil at the wave of heat that swept up her arm and into her face when his palm pressed briefly, intimately, against hers.

Oh no, she thought, meeting his gaze again and seeing the contempt that twisted his lips at her reaction. He thought she was repulsed by his appearance. Dear heaven, how wrong could he be?

And it seemed Anita was not indifferent to the silent battle of wills that was being waged between her son-in-law and her guest. Intervening, she said, ‘Your uncle must have told you that my daughter, Miranda, died a little over a year ago.’ Her eyes moved to her son-in-law, and she slipped an arm through his. ‘Since then, Alex and I have become very close. Is that not so, querido? We survived her loss together.’

Isobel’s eyes widened. She hadn’t realised it was such a short time since Anita’s daughter had died. But then, events moved fast in this part of the world, she conceded, trying not to feel bitter.

She wondered how long Miranda and Alejandro had been married, before—what? Had an accident torn them apart? Was it even possible that he’d been married when he was in London?

‘E claro. Of course.’ Alejandro was speaking now. If he objected to the older woman’s possessiveness, he didn’t show it. Then, addressing himself to Isobel again, his voice noticeably cooler, he added, ‘I understand you have a daughter also, Ms Jameson. It is a pity you could not have brought her with you.’

Isobel suddenly felt as if the air-conditioned room had become airless. She couldn’t breathe, and she was sure all the colour had drained out of her face. He knew, she thought unsteadily; he knew about Emma. But what did he know? Did he realise she was his daughter? How had he found out?

‘I—I—’

The words stuck in her throat as she suddenly realised he hadn’t been surprised to see her. She’d been so caught up with her own feelings, she hadn’t identified the most important aspect of this meeting. He’d known she was coming. And for some reason he hadn’t tried to stop her. Why? Why would he want to see her again? Unless Emma was the key.

Her mouth was dry, and she resorted to a gulp of wine to try and loosen her tongue. But all she succeeded in doing was choking herself, and she had to stand there coughing helplessly while Alejandro came forward and took the glass out of her shaking hand.

‘I think our guest is too tired to answer your questions tonight, Alex.’ Anita came to her rescue, and Isobel was grateful—although she couldn’t help the ungracious thought that the woman had resented Alejandro’s attention being focussed on someone else and not her. Turning, she snapped her fingers at the waiter, her instructions sharp and imperative, and he hurried out of the room. Then, with a tight smile at Isobel, she said, ‘I have told Ruis to arrange with Sancha to have your meal served in your room, senhora. I am sure you would prefer it this evening, nao?’

Isobel’s sigh was heartfelt. ‘Oh yes; thank you, senhora’ she said, making sure to avoid Alejandro’s eyes. ‘I am rather weary. It’s been a long journey. If you’ll excuse me, I will have an early night.’

‘I will escort Ms Jameson back to her suite,’ said Alejandro at once, but to Isobel’s relief Anita objected.

‘I think Ms Jameson would prefer one of the servants to assist her,’ she said, patting his sleeve reprovingly. ‘She barely knows you, querido.’ The smile she directed towards him was intimate. ‘You can be a little intimidating at times.’