CHAPTER TWO

      FREDDIE’S CUP landed in her lap, dribbling orange on her, and she absently righted it and brushed away the drips.

      Finally she looked back at him. ‘So—aren’t the legal ramifications vast? Nationality and so on?’

      He shrugged. ‘Apparently not. I was Carmen’s husband, I’m down on the baby’s birth certificate as her father. That makes her British.’

      ‘But you’re not. Her father, I mean. Couldn’t that land you in trouble, if they ever found out?’

      ‘How? Are you going to tell them? Because I’m not. I know it’ll be hell, but I won’t be the first father to bring up a child alone, and I doubt I’ll be the last. And if not me, then who? The legalities are the least of my worries. I owe her this. It’s the least I can do.’

      The least he could do? Devoting his life to her? He was either even more amazing than she’d remembered, or utterly deluded.

      Probably both. Rash and foolhardy, his grandfather used to say affectionately. But kind. Endlessly kind. He reached for his cup, the baby held against his shoulder by one large, firm hand, but her head lolled a little and his grip tightened and she started to cry again.

      ‘Let me—just while you drink your tea,’ she said, and reaching out, she lifted the tiny little girl into her arms.

      ‘Oh—she’s so small! I’d forgotten! They grow so quickly—not that Freddie was ever this small. Beth was dainty, but even she—’

      She broke off, the baby’s fussing growing louder, and she walked down the garden a few steps, turning the baby against her breast instinctively.

      And with the same instinct, little Carmen Grace nuzzled her, then cried again. Oh, poor lamb. She needed her mother!

      ‘She’s hungry,’ she said, her voice uneven, and he got up and reached for her, but Emily shook her head, curiously reluctant to let the baby go.

      ‘Bring the bottle. I’ll hold her while you get it, it’s all right.’

      He hesitated for a second, then went, squeezing through the gate and returning a few moments later with a bottle. ‘I don’t know if it’s the right temperature,’ he said, handing it over, and Emily tested it on the inside of her wrist and frowned.

      ‘It’s too cold. I’ll go and warm it. Keep an eye on Freddie for me.’

      She went into the kitchen, gave the bottle a few seconds in the microwave, shook it vigorously and tested it again, then slipped the teat into the baby’s mouth, silencing her cries instantly.

      Good.

      She went back down the garden and found Harry on his knees with Freddie, playing in the sandpit. As she walked down the garden he sat back on his heels and looked up at her with a relieved smile.

      ‘Sounds peaceful.’

      She laughed and settled herself on the bench, watching them and trying not to let her stupid thoughts run away with her.

      ‘Did you love her?’ she asked, then wanted to bite her tongue off, but he just sat back again and stared at her as if she was crazy.

      ‘She was a child, Em. I married her for her own protection. Yes, I grew to love her, but not in the way you mean. It was just a legal formality, nothing more. I never touched her.’

      She felt a knot of something letting go inside her, but she didn’t want to think about the significance of that. She turned her attention back to the tiny scrap in her arms. The bottle was almost empty, the tiny amount she’d drunk surely not enough to keep her alive, but she was so small, her stomach must be the size of a walnut. Smaller.

      She lifted her against her shoulder and rubbed her back, waiting for the burp and watching Harry as he piled sand into the bucket with Freddie and helped him turn it out.

      ‘Mummy, castle!’ Freddie shrieked, and the baby bobbed her head against Emily’s shoulder, her whole body stiffening in shock. She soothed her with a stroking hand, rocking her and smiling at Freddie.

      ‘I can see,’ she said softly.

      ‘How about a moat?’

      ‘Wasa moat?’ he asked, and Harry chuckled.

      ‘It’s like a big ditch full of water that goes all round the outside—here, like this,’ he said, scraping out a hollow ring around the slightly wonky castle.

      ‘You made one on the beach with Dickon and Maya last week,’ Emily pointed out, and Freddie nodded and scrambled to his feet.

      ‘Mummy, water!’ he demanded, running to her with his cup, but Harry got up and grinned and ruffled his hair.

      ‘Let her sit there for a minute. We’ll get the water. Come with me and show me where the tap is,’ he said, and held out his hand.

      Freddie, normally the last person to allow such a familiarity, slid his hand trustingly into Harry’s and trotted happily beside him, chattering all the way to the kitchen.

      Emily glanced down at the baby, sleeping again, her tiny face snuggled into the crook of her neck so that she could feel the soft skin, the warm huff of her breath, the damp little mouth, and the ache in her chest grew until she had to swallow hard to shift it.

      ‘Poor baby,’ she crooned, cradling her head with a protective hand. ‘Don’t worry, darling. We’ll look after you.’

      She didn’t even think about the words. They came straight from her heart, bypassing her common sense, and as she rocked the baby in her arms, she felt a sense of rightness that should have rung alarm bells, but the bells were switched off, and the warning went unheeded.