Leo gazed at her narrowly for a moment. He still didn’t understand why she was here. She hadn’t possessed enough honour to be faithful to him—why would she care whether he knew about his own child or not?

      ‘I would have expected you to pass it off as this other man’s,’ he said abruptly.

      Margo winced at that. ‘Clearly you don’t have a very high opinion of me.’

      ‘And you think I should?’

      ‘No.’ She let out a little defeated sigh. ‘No, I don’t.’

      ‘So why didn’t you do that, Margo?’ It was the first time he’d said her name since he’d seen her again, and it caused him a sudden, surprising flash of pain. He clenched his hands into fists, then deliberately flattened them out, resting them again on his desk.

      ‘Because I am not—no matter what you think—completely without morals,’ she replied with a bit of her old spirit. ‘I want my child, and I want my child to know his or her father.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And, more than that. I want my child to have a loving, stable home. A home where she knows she’s safe, where her parents are there, loving and protecting her. Always.’ Her dark brown eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire, an utter conviction.

      ‘And how,’ Leo asked after a pause, ‘do you suppose that is going to work?’

      ‘That’s the other thing I want,’ Margo said, still holding his gaze, her eyes like burning coals in her pale face. ‘I want you to marry me.’