‘No,’ she huffed. ‘Will you listen to me for once?’ Physical pain didn’t make her feel sorry for herself; it made her cross. ‘I didn’t give him the equivalent of ten thousand pounds because I wanted to, dammit! It was what he demanded. Blackmail. Hand it over—’ she panted ‘—or he’d blacken my name through the tabloids. And by—association—yours—and Nolan’s. I knew you’d say let—let him do his worst. I didn’t want that. Didn’t mind about me. Did about you. Kept it from you. Hated it. Oh, my God!’
Her baby was very anxious to be born. Pilar was there. She took over. Helped her to the bed. It was all happening. Jed held her hand, stroked her forehead, murmured reassurances and loving words of praise.
Then he said, with a catch in his voice, ‘This baby is like its father. Impatient. Sam’s child. Sam could never contain himself, even when he was very young. If he wanted to do something he wanted to do it now. Wanted to climb a particular tree, then he’d hare right up it. Wanted to see if he could climb up on the roof to see if the chimneys were wide enough for Santa to climb down, then off he’d set. My parents had to watch him all the time; that’s why he wasn’t sent away to school.’ He refreshed the cloth he’d been using to cool her brow in a bowl of lavender water. ‘Physically, he was a weak child. But he had enough spirit for ten. Left to his own devices he’d have burned himself out.’
‘You didn’t mind?’ she managed, hanging onto his hand, sure she was mangling it.
‘For a time, yes, I did mind. I believed I’d been pushed out in favour of the new baby. Frankly, I resented him. Right up until I was around fifteen or sixteen. By that time I was able to understand more. And you were right. When I knew you were carrying Sam’s child the old resentment did come back. But not for long. I was wrong—about him, about Liam,’ he said quickly. ‘If I’d known the creep was blackmailing you I’d have done a damn sight more than get your money back and threaten him.’
Elena didn’t hear any more. Jed loved her, truly loved her, and all was right with her world. And she had a job to do, a great big whopping one by the feel of it
And fifteen minutes later her baby daughter lay in her arms. Nine lusty pounds, with blue eyes and a mass of fine blonde hair.
‘She looks exactly like you. She even has your stubborn chin!’ Jed uncurled the tiny fingers. ‘And before you ask, no, I don’t give a damn if she isn’t biologically mine. In every other way she is, and always will be. Yours and mine.’
Samantha Nolan’s sturdy legs were working like pistons as she climbed the last of the steps up from the garden. She’d been helping Tomás water the flowers and her dungarees were soaked.
And she’d got mud in her hair. She liked Tomás, and Pilar. She liked everything except spinach. Mummy said she’d like that when she was grown up. Samantha didn’t think so. When it got to nearly winter she’d be four, and quite grown up.
She stopped to stick her bright head in a pot of scarlet geraniums. The spicy smell made her sneeze. She liked that, too.
She stumped up the final steps. Now she was going to teach her twin brothers to talk. They were nearly one year old, so it was time they did. Then she’d teach them to read, and draw proper pictures.
They were crawling all over the terrace, blue-clad rumps in the air, under the watchful eye of Mummy and Daddy. Mummy and Daddy were lying on the loungers that they always pushed together, and holding hands again.
They were always holding hands and cuddling. Samantha didn’t mind that, so long as she got her share. She loved them very, very much. Ignoring her babbling, wriggling little brothers, she flew over the terrace and hurled herself into two pairs of loving arms.