She couldn’t let him go. Not like this. If she did then any hope of saving baby Daisy were gone for good, and she would rather die than let that happen. She had to try and get him to reconsider.
‘Andreas—please…’
But he continued walking, not even glancing round at her. His long, straight back was held so stiffly upright, his proud head so high, that she could almost see her words bouncing off the invisible walls of defence that he had built around himself.
‘Andreas—don’t…’
She stepped out after him into the heat of the sunny afternoon.
‘The money’s not for me—or for—for him…’
She didn’t dare to actually speak Roy Stanton’s name, knowing the incendiary effect it had on Andreas.
‘It’s for a child—a baby…’
He’d stopped at least. But she still had to get him to turn round. Right now he could still walk on—away from her.
‘Please listen.’
He was turning. Slowly—but he was turning to face her. Her heart leapt with relief, leaving her breathless and shaky.
‘A baby?’
He managed to inject the words with such scepticism, such disbelief that she fully expected him to fling a rejection in her face and move on. She had his attention for now; she had to hold on to it and make him understand.
‘A little girl—Daisy—she’s desperately sick and—’
‘Whose baby?’
It slashed through her words as she struggled to get them out. And at the same time those blazing black eyes seared over her from top to toe, taking in her slender figure, lingering on her waist…
‘No, not mine,’ she hastened to assure him. ‘Daisy’s not my baby—though I love her as if she were. She—she’s my niece. And I would do anything I could to help her.’
‘Niece?’ Andreas echoed as if he did not understand the word. ‘Anepsia? You do not have a niece.’
‘Yes, I do—she’s my sister’s little girl. And before you say that I don’t have a sister,’ Becca rushed on when he opened his mouth, clearly planning to do just that, ‘let me tell you that I do. A half-sister, that is. But I didn’t know about her for years. I only found out about her—quite recently.’
She paused, waiting for Andreas to ask the next question, but he remained silent, hands on narrow hips, black eyes fixed on her face, obviously waiting for her to go on.
‘You know that I’m adopted. That I was born when my biological mother was only sixteen? And my mum and dad adopted me as a tiny baby. I told you…’ she prompted, needing some response from him before she could go on. She couldn’t just pour the whole story out while he stood there, silent and withdrawn, as distant from her as if some huge cavern had opened up on the stone-flagged terrace, separating them from each other.
A faint, brief inclination of his dark head was all the acknowledgement Andreas made and then he was still again, obviously waiting for her to continue.
‘I’ve been trying to find my birth mother—to see if I had any family. Blood family. I thought it was important to know.’
She couldn’t tell him that this search had taken on a whole new meaning and importance from the moment that Andreas had asked her to marry him. That she had really felt the need to know about her family then, to know if she had some blood ties, someone who was linked to her that way. And deep down there had also been a secret, private need to know if there were any health problems she needed to take into consideration if she and Andreas were ever to have children. That was one concern that no longer mattered at all, she told herself miserably.
‘I found that my mother was dead—and she’d never known who my father was. But I had a half-sister—Macy. I managed to get in touch with her—meet her.’
‘And when was this?’
Becca bit her lip in discomfort. She’d known this question would come, but being prepared for it didn’t make it easy to answer.
‘Just before our wedding.’
‘I see.’
Andreas took a step backwards, and the arms that had been at his sides were now crossed over his broad chest. He couldn’t have put a distance between them more effectively if he’d tried.
‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’
‘I—couldn’t. Macy had—some problems and she made me promise not to tell anyone.’
Once, perhaps, she might have explained all this in detail to him. Once he would have been owed the full story. But Macy had been so insistent that no one should know. If she’d breathed a word, she would have lost the sister she’d just found. Macy had only just discovered about Daisy then. And the realisation that there was a baby on the way had made everything so much more urgent; made it so much more important that she stay in touch with her half-sister, and with the baby who was to become her darling niece.