Damaso Claims His Heir

For the first time since he’d shouldered his way into her suite, he looked discomfited. Eventually he spoke.

‘The baby is my responsibility.’ He spoke so solemnly, her skin prickled.

‘Sorry to disillusion you but I don’t need a protector. I look after myself.’ She’d learned independence at six, when her mother had died. Now she only had vague memories of warm hugs and wide smiles, of bedtime stories and an exquisite, never-to-be-repeated certainty she was precious.

‘Reading the press reports about your activities, I can see how well you’ve done that.’

Marisa’s chin shot up, her furious gaze locking with his. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the press.’

Except everyone did, and eventually Marisa had given up trying to explain. Instead she’d been spurred to a reckless disregard for convention and, at times, her own safety.

That stopped now. If there was a baby...

‘So I should give you the benefit of the doubt?’ He leaned closer and her breath snared in her lungs. Something happened to her breathing when Damaso got near.

‘I don’t care what you think of me.’ In the past that had worked for her. But with Damaso things were suddenly more complicated.

‘I can see that. But I also see you’re unwell. This news has come as a shock.’

‘You’re not shocked? Just how many kids do you have littered around the place?’ Marisa strove for insouciance but didn’t quite achieve it. Absurdly, the thought of him with a string of other women made her stomach cramp.

‘None.’

Ah. Maybe that explained his reaction.

‘Let me propose an interim arrangement.’ He sat back on his haunches, giving her space.

It was a clever move, she realised, as her racing pulse slowed.

‘Yes?’

‘You want a second pregnancy test. Let me take you to the city and arrange a medical examination. Then, if the results are positive, we talk about the future.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of openness.

Yet the glint in his dark eyes hinted things weren’t so simple.

But what did she have to lose? He only proposed what she’d already decided. And, as owner of the lodge, he could get her out of here quickly, without waiting for a scheduled flight.

‘No strings?’

‘No strings.’

Doubt warred with caution and a craven desire to let someone else worry about the details for once. If he tried to trample her, he’d learn he was messing with the wrong woman.

‘Agreed.’ She put out her hand, using the business gesture to reinforce that this was a deal, not a favour. A tiny bubble of triumph rose at his surprised look.

But, when his hand encompassed hers, engulfing her in its hard warmth, her smile faded.

* * *

Marisa twisted in her seat as the helicopter’s rotors slowed. Damaso saw anger shimmer in her eyes as she glared at him. ‘You said we’d go to the city.’

‘São Paolo is inland, not too far away.’

‘You lied to me.’ Her mouth set in a mutinous pout that made him want to pull her close and kiss those soft, pink lips till all she could do was sigh his name.