“Marriage, Abigail. Like it or not, there’s no other way.”

Leandro Sanchez never forgot the beautiful virgin who lit a fire in him like no other—then betrayed him. When Abigail Christie appears on his doorstep, Leandro decides one last explosive night is the only way to get her out of his system. But Abigail has a secret...their son!

Leandro’s discovery of the true consequence of their steamy nights leaves Abigail completely at the billionaire’s mercy. The Spanish tycoon always gets what he wants, and now he’s determined to legitimize his heir...by seducing Abigail into wearing his ring!

‘We have a child. A son.’

Their eyes tangled. A son. There was no way that Leandro was going to cave in and believe Abby but…fatherhood. It was something he had never considered. Never wanted! He’d seen from his own unstable childhood that the production of children was something that could go horribly wrong. He’d not only learned from his own experience but he’d learned from his sister’s. He’d never wished to reproduce and take a chance on being a father. It wasn’t in his make-up.

What if she was telling the truth? Faced with that possibility, Leandro suddenly knew what it felt like for one’s world to fall apart. He’d sought order all his life, to combat the lack of order that had marked his formative years, and there could be nothing more disastrous and explosive when it came to destroying all that hard-fought-for order than the arrival of a child.

But, no, he wasn’t going to think like that.

He was a cool, rational man. He forced his thoughts away from possibilities. Possibilities counted for nothing.

‘Where?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You tell me that I’m a father. Then let me see my son.’

CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon books as a teenager, and now that she is writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London. Her three daughters—Charlotte, Olivia and Emma—have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspirations in her life.

Books by Cathy Williams

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Bought to Wear the Billionaire’s Ring

Snowbound with His Innocent Temptation

A Virgin for Vasquez

Seduced into Her Boss’s Service

The Wedding Night Debt

A Pawn in the Playboy’s Game

At Her Boss’s Pleasure

The Real Romero

The Uncompromising Italian

The Argentinian’s Demand

Secrets of a Ruthless Tycoon

Enthralled by Moretti

His Temporary Mistress

The Italian Titans

Wearing the De Angelis Ring

The Surprise De Angelis Baby

One Night With Consequences

Bound by the Billionaire’s Baby

Seven Sexy Sins

To Sin with the Tycoon

Visit the Author Profile page at

millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

The Secret Sanchez Heir

Cathy Williams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THROUGH THE WINDOWS of the airy den tucked away in the west wing of his sprawling country mansion, Leandro Sanchez had a bird’s eye view of what could only be called the inevitable end of his six-month relationship with Rosalind Duval.

Only fitting, he thought, that a high-maintenance, spoiled diva should exit on a cloud of over-the-top drama.

It was a little after six in the evening and the last of the trucks that only that morning had delivered food, decorations—including a ridiculous ice sculpture for display in his hall—and several dozen staff was now departing. The specially bought Chinese-style lanterns that lined the long, private avenue leading up to his estate twinkled and glittered in the lightly falling snow and illuminated the dark shapes of the vehicles slowly wending their way away from his estate.

Sensual mouth compressed into a thin line of distaste, Leandro replayed in his mind the events of the last three hours. He had returned from his business trip to New York, fresh off the red eye, to pick up a barrage of text messages from Rosalind that he was to come immediately to his country house where he would find a surprise waiting for him.

Leandro loathed surprises. He was especially put out because, during the past week while he had been in New York, he had decided that his relationship with the very eligible Lady Rosalind Duval had reached the end of its course.

On paper, she had ticked all the boxes. She was beautiful, well-bred and independently wealthy. Her parents, whilst not nearly on the same level as him financially, formed the bedrock of that dying breed known as the British aristocracy. As a bonus, she was friendly with his sister Cecilia, who, indeed, had engineered the initial meeting between them.

Leandro was not in the market for love but he had been...restless and Rosalind had stepped into that uncustomary void with the promise of something different. It was not to be.

Her background had filled her with high expectations that every single one of her demands would be met with complete subservience. As a privileged only child, she was accustomed to getting her own way, and the fact that she was in her early thirties proved no barrier to her stamping her feet and throwing temper tantrums if things didn’t go as she decreed. She had always been the centre of attention and had seen no reason why he, Leandro, shouldn’t fall in line and continue the tradition.

She’d demanded his constant attention, phoning him sometimes several times a day and, having had full use of his credit card, had seen absolutely nothing wrong with buying whatever she’d happened to fancy on a whim. From jewellery, to clothes, to an outrageously expensive sports car, finally to an engagement ring which, he had discovered to his horror, had been the surprise waiting for him when he had returned from New York.

‘Special delivery!’ She had beamed as hordes of people came and went, fetching, carrying and getting everything in place for the accompanying engagement party which had been arranged for the following day. ‘It should arrive at just the right time for us to pop a cork and celebrate before dinner. It’s time we made this official, Leandro. Mummy and Daddy are simply desperate for a grandchild and I don’t see the point of delaying any longer. We’re both in our thirties and it’s time to take the next step. Darling, I know you’re a typical man and wouldn’t dream of doing anything about it, so I thought I’d do the necessary!’

He watched the tail end of the last van disappear from view then, flexing his lean muscles, he strolled out towards the kitchen, taking in the detritus left behind in the wake of everyone’s hasty departure.

In the hall, the ridiculous ice sculpture of a couple entwined was still perfectly intact and would require removal the following day. He would have to enlist a team of cleaners to return his country house to its ‘before’ state.

Right now, all he wanted was something strong to drink. The wretched engagement ring was on its way. Another hasty departure would have to be effected, although he was debating whether he would keep the ring or not. It had cost a small fortune. Quite a flawless diamond, he had seen from the receipt that had been flung at him by an incandescent Rosalind. Maybe he would gift it to her. She had, after all, been responsible for sourcing the priceless gem even if it had been purchased on his credit card.

He grimaced and thought that there was a better than even chance that the gesture would not be met with warm approval.

For once, his thoughts assumed an introspective nature. In the kitchen, Julie, his housekeeper, was busy trying to eradicate all evidence of the blighted party preparations. He dismissed her while he poured himself a drink.

‘One more delivery due,’ he said absently, swirling the amber liquid in the glass and staring down at it for a few seconds before glancing across to the middle-aged woman who had been responsible for looking after his country mansion for the past five years, ever since he had bought it. ‘I will need to dispatch this one personally. I’ll be in my office. When the courier arrives, let me know, Julie. They shouldn’t be on the premises for longer than ten minutes and then you can leave for the evening. You’ll need the usual team here in the morning to finish clearing up this...mess.’

It annoyed him that he was still unable to rein in his wandering mind, because he was a man who had little or no time for pointless raking over the past. Yet now, as he strolled back towards his office, closing his curtains against a view of snow that was falling thicker and faster, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking.

Thinking about Rosalind and the chain of events that had brought her into his life and contrived to keep her there, even though, almost from the very start, he had seen the cracks begin to appear.

His sister, Cecilia, had been instrumental in bringing about their meeting and he knew, in a vague way, she’d been instrumental in making him hesitate before doing what had to be done. He sighed, already predicting what his sister’s reaction would be when she received the inevitable phone call from Rosalind, who would surely speak to Cecilia before he had had time to fill her in himself.

He swallowed back the remainder of the whisky in his glass, sat down, pushing the chair away from the big, old-fashioned mahogany desk, and thought back...back to events of eighteen months previously and to another woman who had swept into his life for a matter of weeks and wreaked havoc.

Gold-digger...liar...thief...

He had had a narrow escape, had walked away from her without looking back, and it infuriated him to know that, however far and fast he walked, she was still there like a thorn in his side, making itself felt at the slightest opportunity. He hadn’t been able to escape her and, in ways he couldn’t put his finger on but knew existed, she had been responsible for that lethal restlessness that had made him question the direction his life had been taking. Questions which had subsequently lowered his defences when it had come to contemplating something of a more permanent nature with a woman who’d actually appeared to fit the bill.

His jaw clenched and he swung back to his computer, blanking out his memories of the golden-haired, green-eyed witch who had made him take his eye off the ball. There was no point in resurrecting the past. It was over and done with. Once he had sent the courier delivering the ring on his way back down to London, his chapter with Rosalind would be at an end and life, as always, would carry on.

On that note, he did what he did best—buried himself in work—and, within ten minutes, thoughts of the past were where they should be: locked away and incapable of jumping out at him, at least for the moment.

* * *

Abigail Christie was running late. The driver, a trusted employee of Vanessa—Abigail’s boss, who had saved her, in a manner of speaking, and who owned the exquisite, upmarket jeweller’s from which Lady Rosalind Duval had purchased the diamond—had been under strict instructions to make it to Greyling Manor no later than five, under penalty of death. Unfortunately, those instructions had allowed no leeway for the twin assault of vile weather and the accompanying stop-start traffic. They had left an overcast London bang on time but had run into problems the second they had hit Oxford and, from there on, it had been a frustrating race against the clock.

Abigail had not been able to contact Lady Rosalind to advise her of the delay because she hadn’t been picking up.

The only silver lining was the fact that, although they were now over two hours behind schedule, they had finally left most of the traffic behind and, whilst the country lanes leading to Greyling Manor might be dark, twisty and frankly treacherous given the weather conditions, their destination was at last within touching distance.

She would thrust the ring at Lady Rosalind, get her signature as fast as she could and leave without further ado.

Doubtless, Rosalind Duval would be waiting with bated breath for them to arrive and would be as keen to see the back of them as they would be to see the back of Greyling Manor, which was buried deep in the heart of the Cotswolds.

No sticking around to gather themselves before embarking on the return journey. No polite conversation with the lord of the manor and no having to contend with whatever arrogant, Hooray Henry types had gathered in preparation for tomorrow’s Big Reveal and would want to have a preview of the magnificent engagement ring. Not now that they were running so late. And that afforded Abigail a great deal of relief because the prospect of dipping her toes back into the waters of that rarefied world of the super-rich was something that made her feel physically sick.

It had revived all the worst memories she had of just how unscrupulous the people who inhabited that world could be. She had had her disastrous brush with how the other half lived and she was in no hurry for a return visit.

Indeed, she had done her best to get out of delivering this ring, not least because she hadn’t handled the sale. She had only seen Rosalind in passing, but the timing had been bad for Vanessa and typical of a young, rich woman who snapped her fingers and expected all her wishes to be met instantly, Rosalind had set a date for the delivery and had refused to budge.

And there were other reasons why Abigail intended to tell Hal, the driver, to keep the engine running while she flew in, did what was necessary and flew back out.

For the fourth time in under an hour, she checked her phone for any communication from her friend Claire, but a reliable network service had died pretty much as soon as they had hit the first winding country lane and it hadn’t got any better the deeper into the heart of the Cotswolds they had travelled.

With a sigh of frustration, Abigail leant back and watched the dark scenery drift past her. There was something eerie about the veil of snow falling steadily into the inky-black landscape, settling over the open fields. She was accustomed to light pollution and the constant sounds of a city. Out here, she felt as though she could have been on another planet, and she didn’t like that because it made her think of Sam, her ten-month-old son back in London, and the fact that he would be fast asleep by the time she made it back to her house, even if the turnaround here was faster than the speed of light.

And then, hard on the heels of that, she started to think about the weather, started to wonder whether she was imagining it or whether the snow was getting thicker. It was so hard to tell in the darkness. What if these little lanes became impassable? Right now, they seemed fine, but what if she couldn’t make it back to London? She would have to find a bed and breakfast somewhere, and that would entail an overnight stay, and she had never spent a night away from Sam. She couldn’t imagine not waking up in the morning to the sound of his gurgling and little complaining cries that went on until she scooped him up for his morning bottle.

Lost in thought, she surfaced when the vehicle slowed, turned through impressive wrought-iron gates and headed up a long, tree-lined drive that was lit by a series of lanterns. It was beautifully romantic and it was only as they approached the Georgian mansion that she felt the first stirrings of unease.

The place looked deserted, aside from a couple of cars in the circular courtyard. Most of the house was in darkness and she made Hal double check to make sure he had got the address right.

‘You’d better come in with me,’ she said dubiously and Hal, killing the engine, turned round and looked at her, his cheerful face serious.

‘If this is an engagement party,’ he said in his usual direct fashion, ‘then I’ll eat my hat.’ He waved the woollen hat lying on the seat next to him and grinned. ‘I’ve seen more life in a graveyard.’

‘Don’t say that. I have a ring to deliver. Vanessa will be distraught if for some reason the sale falls through.’

‘It won’t, love.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘You’ll probably find that the action will kick off tomorrow. That’s when the party’s due to take place, isn’t it? The happy couple are probably just relaxing and enjoying some peace before the big day ahead.’

Ten minutes later, Abigail discovered that that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

* * *

Leandro had thoroughly cleared his head of the catastrophic mess that had awaited him when he had arrived back from New York. That was the joy of work. It put everything into perspective. It was a world in which everything was clear cut and everything had a solution. Now, as Julie popped her head round the door to inform him that the last link in the ‘belly up’ chain had arrived, bearing the ill-fated ring, Leandro was obliged to face the final annoying hurdle in putting this matter to rest.

He was, fortunately, in a better frame of mind. Rosalind had shouted and screamed, furious that for the first time in her life someone had scuppered her plans. She had threatened social exclusion, at which point Leandro had made the mistake of laughing, and she had been apoplectic when he had suggested that she was far better off without him, because he simply didn’t have the reserves of energy or patience to give her the sort of attention she required. Nor, he had added, had he the slightest interest in having children. In fact, he could think of nothing worse. So the pitter-patter of tiny feet would have remained an unfulfilled ambition.

Rosalind had got the worst out of her system and he felt that, when she eventually descended from her rage, she would find blessed relief in gossiping about him behind his back and painting whatever picture it took for her to emerge smelling of roses.

For his part, burying himself in work had put everything in perspective.

He had no idea what had driven him to imagine that anything could be more important. His abiding memory of his parents was of two spoiled and wealthy people caught up in a hedonistic whirl, incapable of growing up and certainly incapable of looking after the child they had accidentally conceived. Even less had they been able to deal with the arrival of Cecilia years later, another accident. The task of taking care of his much younger sister had fallen to him and, from a young age, Leandro had worked out that the tumult of emotion and the chaos it was capable of engendering was not for him. A healthy aversion to chaos, disorder and unpredictability had been ingrained in him from a tender age.

As a teenager, he had lost himself in his studies, only surfacing to make sure his sister was okay. As an adult, work had replaced the studies, and when his parents had died, victims of their wild, irresponsible lifestyle—speedboat racing at night in the Caribbean—work had become even more imperative because he had had to rescue what was left of the family finances. There had been no time to kick back and relax. Work was and always would be the most important driving force of Leandro’s life. Rosalind’s hysterics had clarified that for him.

He had told Julie to show the courier into the smallest of the sitting rooms, the one which bore the least evidence of the party that wasn’t going to be taking place. He now made his way there, mind half on the business proposal he had been reading before he had been interrupted.

* * *

On tenterhooks, because whatever was wrong was very, very wrong and the fast exit she had been hoping for now seemed out of the question, Abigail was sitting upright in a chair in the room into which she had been delivered like an unwanted parcel.

Rosalind was, she was given to understand, not there. Hal was to wait in the kitchen where he would be given something to eat and she was to wait for the master of the house in the sitting room where, she hoped, he would take delivery of the ring.

She heard the approach of footsteps on the marble floor and was already rising to her feet, having rehearsed what she needed to say about getting back to London urgently before the weather took a turn for the worse.

Whatever the heck was going on, it wasn’t her problem. She had already reached that conclusion. She’d done her job and, if the loved-up couple had had a tiff, then that was nothing to do with her.

She didn’t know who or what to expect. Stiff with tension, with the metal box containing the ring clutched to her chest, for a few seconds Abigail almost thought that her nerves had brought on a hallucinatory attack.

Because there was no way that those footsteps she had heard could possibly have heralded the arrival of a six-foot-two specimen of pure, hard-edged masculinity. There was no way that those achingly familiar tawny eyes, fringed by eyelashes she had once teased could have been the envy of any woman, could now be staring at her. It just wasn’t possible. Leandro Sanchez could not be lounging in the doorway of this sitting room, larger than life.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He was her very worst nightmare and her very deepest, darkest, most forbidden fantasy come to life and she blinked, desperately hoping that the vision would disappear. It didn’t. He remained just where he was, an alpha male of such sinful beauty that he took her breath away. He had taken her breath away the first time she had seen him a year and a half ago. Over the weeks of their torrid and doomed love affair, that impact had never lessened.

He was the sort of guy women dreamed about. Olive-skinned, tawny-eyed and with an electrifying, ruthless sex appeal. He was long, lean and muscular, and Abigail thought that she could remember each and every muscle and sinew of that fabulous body.

She had never thought that she’d see him again, not after everything, and as the full horror of this accidental encounter hit home the room began to swim. She felt nausea rise in a tide up her throat, and she swallowed back the bile, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from swaying. She felt her legs give way and knew that she was going to pass out before she hit the ground.

* * *

She came to on one of the low, cream sofas facing the arched window through which she had been absently gazing only seconds before and struggled up to find that Leandro had dragged a chair over by the sofa and was sitting, watching her.

‘Drink this.’ He pressed a glass with some brandy into her hand and forced her to take a sip. His eyes were cool and guarded, his hand was steady, his voice controlled.

Not a single thing conveyed his utter shock at walking into the room and coming face to face with the only woman who had got under his skin and refused to budge—and, as if that wasn’t sufficiently appalling, it galled him to realise that his ability to recall had been spot-on because she was just as exquisite as he remembered.

Her hair was just as colourful and, from what he could tell, just as long, although right now it was pinned back severely in a bun. Her eyes were as green as he remembered, green with gold flecks that were only apparent when you really took time to look, which he had. Her figure was as luscious and as sexy, a figure that could haunt a man’s dreams.

Of their own accord, his eyes drifted down, lingering on the full swell of her breasts pushing against the drab white blouse, and the length of her legs primly hidden under a pair of grey trousers. She was dressed in high street fashion. Wherever life had taken her since they had parted company, it certainly hadn’t been into the open arms of another billionaire.

‘Leandro...this can’t be happening...’ She would have stood up except her legs had turned to jelly.

‘You’re in my house, you’re sitting on my sofa.’ He stood up and strolled towards the fireplace, putting some distance between them, every nerve in his body electrified by the shock of finding her in his house. ‘It’s happening all right. I take it that you’re the courier with the ring?’

‘I... Yes... I am.’ Abigail’s eyes skittered towards him and just as quickly skittered away. She reached for the metal safety-deposit box and held it out to him. Leandro ignored the gesture.

Propelled into nervous speech, Abigail gave him a stilted, jerky explanation for being in his house, all the while feeling like an unwary rabbit that had suddenly strayed into the path of a voracious predator.

‘It seems...’ Leandro sauntered back towards her, eyes narrowed as he watched her cringe back against the sofa. As she should, he thought, considering the last time they had been in one another’s company she had been revealed for the liar and thief that she was. ‘...that your boss got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘That ring was purchased without my consent. Unfortunately, Rosalind misinterpreted the depth of our relationship.’

‘But we were told that there was to be an engagement party...’

Leandro shrugged and continued looking at her as he sat back down on the chair that he had pulled over, which was far too close for comfort, as far as Abigail was concerned. ‘Crossed wires all round,’ he informed her coolly.

‘So is Rosalind...? Has Rosalind...?’ Abigail struggled to make sense of the situation while her thoughts kept whirling round in utter confusion and her body burned and tingled as though she’d been plugged in to a live socket.

‘I never had plans to marry her.’ Leandro brushed aside the question with just a hint of impatience. Now that she was sitting here in his living room, larger than life and just as sexy, all those memories he had carefully locked away were coming out to play. He remembered the way she had felt, the noises she’d made when he’d touched her, the way their bodies had fit together like one. He’d bumped into ex-girlfriends before and had felt nothing for them but a sense of relief that they were no longer around. He certainly had never looked at them and wanted them.

But then no other relationship had ended the way theirs had...

Jittery and feeling caged in, Abigail sprang to her feet and began pacing the room nervously, hands clasped behind her back, barely able to think straight. ‘So this trip has been a complete waste of time. What am I supposed to do now? With the ring?’ Focus on why you’re here, she told herself feverishly, and forget about everything else.

‘Now that you’ve made the effort to bring it here, you’d better let me have a look—see where my hard-earned money has gone.’ He nodded to the box and Abigail dutifully extracted the ring with shaking fingers and watched as he carefully held it up to the light and inspected it.

‘It’s not my problem if you’ve broken off your engagement with Lady Rosalind,’ she said jerkily.

‘I haven’t broken anything off. There was never an engagement to break off. She bought this off her own bat because she wanted to pin me down. The strategy didn’t work. I’d already decided to finish with her before I knew anything about this ridiculous scheme and that’s exactly what I did when I returned here after my trip abroad.’

Abigail shivered because this was just the sort of ruthless side to him she had finally glimpsed when their relationship had crashed and burned.

She thought of Sam and was overcome with sudden sickening fear and apprehension. ‘The ring was sold in good faith,’ she told him flatly, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly because it steadied her shattered nerves. ‘I just need you to sign for the delivery and then I can be out of here.’

‘Really?’ Leandro relaxed, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. ‘Why the rush?’

‘Why do you think, Leandro?’ Abigail asked in a high-pitched voice. ‘The last time we met you were walking out of your apartment, leaving me with your sister, believing every word she had said about me being a liar, a thief and a gold-digger. So, believe it or not, the less time I spend in your company, the better. If I’d known that you were the man Lady Rosalind was about to marry, there’s no way I would have come all the way here to deliver a ring. But I didn’t, and now the ring is in your possession, and all I need is your signature before I leave.’

‘I’m not going to go down the road of reminiscing over your lies and half-truths,’ Leandro told her calmly. ‘As for the ring... I may or may not decide to keep it.’

‘You have to!’ Abigail gasped. ‘Vanessa has just taken over her father’s business and this sale is a real coup for her. There was stiff competition from other buyers to get hold of this particular diamond!’

‘Not my problem, although it beggars belief that you managed to con your way into a job handling priceless jewellery, now that we’re on the subject. Does your employer know that you’re prone to being light-fingered?’

‘I don’t have to stay and listen to this!’

‘Oh, but you do. Or have you forgotten that you need my signature?’ He snapped shut the box with a definitive click. ‘I think I’ll keep it,’ he decided briskly, ‘as an investment. It’ll make me money. Now, sit.’

‘I have to go.’

Leandro looked at her narrowly as she glanced down at her watch with just the slightest hint of panic, as she licked her lips and fidgeted.

‘It took much longer to get here than I anticipated,’ Abigail said into the growing silence. ‘We should have arrived ages ago, at least two hours ago, but the weather... I’d planned on being back in London by eight-thirty. I really have to get back...’

‘Why?’ he asked smoothly. ‘Glass slipper going to get lost? Carriage about to turn into a pumpkin? There’s no wedding ring on your finger, so I take it that there’s no Mr Right keeping the fires burning on the home front. Or is there?’ He found that he didn’t care for the thought of a man in Abigail’s life and that streak of inappropriate possessiveness shocked him.

But then, why beat about the bush? She’d lodged in his head like a burr and the plain truth was that he still wanted her. It made no sense, because she represented everything he found distasteful, but for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand she still turned him on. Something about the way she was put together. He’d been out with some of the most beautiful women in the world and none of them could get to him the way this one could.

It was as infuriating as it was undeniable.

She was still in his system, a slither of unfinished business, and there was only one way he could think of to get her out of his system once and for all.

He lowered his eyes and felt the kick of satisfaction at a decision taken. It would be an insult to fate, which had decided to throw them together, were he not to take advantage of the situation.

‘It’s none of your business whether there’s someone in my life or not, Leandro!’ Agitated, she sprang to her feet, challenging him to stop her. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hal is waiting in the kitchen. I’ll go fetch him and we can head off. It took us hours to get here, and it’ll probably take us hours to get back, and I...’

‘And you...what?’

‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘I just need to go now.’

‘By all means, although...’ he nodded towards the window ‘...you might want to reconsider that decision. If you look outside, you’ll find that the weather conditions that delayed your trip here are now considerably worse. Leave here and you’re liable to end up in a ditch by the side of the road somewhere. That’s the thing with these country lanes—they’re very picturesque in summer but positively lethal in winter when the weather decides to take a turn for the worse.’

Abigail paled and followed the direction of his gaze, then she anxiously went to the window and peered outside. The flakes were raining down fast and thick. Already, the extensive grounds of the country estate were carpeted in white. It was beautiful. It was also, she noted with sickening dismay, virtually impassable.

‘I can’t stay here. I have to get back!’

‘Feel free. But perhaps that should be a joint decision taken with your driver.’

‘You don’t understand! I have to get back to London tonight.’

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Leandro told her. ‘This snow is going to get worse before it gets better. You might be willing to put your life at risk in your desperate need to return to the city, but you have your driver to consider. Frankly, what you choose to do with your life is entirely your concern, but I won’t be responsible for any accident that might befall your driver. I will ensure that he is fed and settled into one of the guest suites for the night. By tomorrow, you will doubtless find that the driving conditions are improved.’

Abigail was close to tears but there was nothing she could do. ‘I can’t get a signal on my phone,’ she told him, defeated. ‘I need to make a call.’

Leandro didn’t say anything but he was thinking fast. A man? Not a husband, but a lover? Who else? And would that stop him? He wanted her, but was that want reciprocated?

He had one night, he thought with satisfaction, and one night should be more than enough to put this urge to bed once and for all. He would find out soon enough.

CHAPTER TWO

ABIGAIL HAD EXPECTED similar alarm from Hal about being trapped at Greyling Manor for the night—he was a family man with three young children—but he seemed pleased as punch not to be returning to London.

‘Treacherous roads,’ he said comfortably as he settled in front of the array of wildly extravagant food which had been laid on for them by Leandro’s housekeeper. ‘Wouldn’t want to risk driving on them, and besides, I haven’t been out of London in months.’

While he had tucked into the surplus party grub, with Julie nodding approvingly at his hearty appetite, Abigail toyed worriedly with her food. She had, at least, managed to get through to her friend Claire who was looking after Sam for the evening, and she had cheerfully agreed to stay until she returned.

‘I’ll be back no later than tomorrow lunchtime,’ Abigail had said sotto voce, for she had been directed to the landline and was petrified that Leandro might be lurking behind a door and overhearing her conversation. ‘I don’t care what the weather decides to do. There’s no way I can stay here.’

‘I know you miss Sam,’ her friend had said soothingly, ‘but it’s better for you to wait and travel back when it’s safe rather than risk life and limb. I promise to take very good care of the little guy!’

Abigail knew that her friend would. She had met Claire at the handful of antenatal classes they had attended together, and they had hit it off immediately. Both young, both single and both pregnant. Although, in Claire’s case, she had had a job at the local nursery. Thanks to Claire, Abigail had managed to get Sam registered and, much as she had hated leaving him there when he had only been four months old, she’d had to in order to work to keep the roof over both their heads. Knowing that Claire was there, looking after him every bit as thoroughly as she looked after her own son, had helped a lot. Just as Vanessa had given her a job when she had needed it most, so too had Claire chipped in and helped her with Sam when she’d needed it.

Claire had no idea where Abigail was and neither did she know why she so desperately needed to leave.

So far, she had inspected the weather a dozen times in the space of the past two hours.

There was some let up but not much. She had barely been able to touch a morsel of food and was only thankful that Leandro had disappeared into the bowels of the house. There was a slim chance that she wouldn’t see him again but she knew that that would make little difference to the onslaught of memories, heartache and misgivings that had risen to the surface, like debris washed ashore.

Of course you could never forget the past, but now the scab that had been formed had been picked apart to expose the barely healed wound underneath.

As Hal was shepherded up to his quarters, as happy as a privileged guest in a five-star hotel, Abigail remained in the kitchen with her cup of coffee, remembering the past she had tried to put behind her.

She could recall the very second she had looked up and seen Leandro standing in front of her, so unbelievably gorgeous that her mouth had run dry and every single thought had fled her head. In that split second, she had forgotten all about the job she had just failed to secure, the uncertain future staring her in the face, the last laugh her philandering, lecherous ex-boss had had at her expense by insinuating in his reference that she had been sacked for theft. She had turned down the pass he had made, had allowed her disgust to show and had paid the price.

She had been at rock bottom. Every single effort she had ever made to elevate herself and get away from a background that had been a slideshow of foster homes and indifferent adults had been for nothing.

Then she had felt a shadow, looked up and there he’d been, all big, brooding and heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and for the first time in her life Abigail had discovered the meaning of sexual chemistry.

She’d spent so many years playing down her looks, telling herself that she would never, ever allow anyone into her life because they wanted to have sex with her, and fending off unwanted advances from the age of thirteen, that she’d been quite unprepared to discover that sexual attraction had no time at all for pep talks and earnest lectures.

Indeed, sexual attraction hadn’t given a damn about her resolve never to leap into bed with a man who wanted her for her body and not much else. Her mother had been that woman before an overdose had ended her life. Abigail had known that she would never end up selling herself short like her mother had. Unfortunately, the power of that same sexual attraction she had had under tight control had refused to obey her ground rules. It had raced out of the box in which it had been contained with the gusto of a racehorse sprinting from the starting box.

Leandro hadn’t even beaten around the bush. He’d just said, conversationally, that it was nearly lunchtime and he knew a nice little Italian just round the corner. He had not bothered to wrap up what he’d wanted in fancy packaging. She’d bowled him over, he had said over lunch, looking at her with those fabulous, long-lashed eyes, the very casualness of his voice at odds with what he was saying. He didn’t do commitment, he’d made it clear, but he wanted her and he was going to New York. He’d glanced at his watch with a nonchalance she’d found unutterably cool and had told her he wanted to take her with him, but that she’d have to decide on the spot, because his private jet was due to leave in three hours.

His eyes had roved over her with open desire but everything about him had told her that, if she chose to walk away, he wouldn’t try to stop her.

He’d been everything she hadn’t been looking for and she’d dumped every single principle she’d ever had and gone with him. She’d let him sweep her into his world of chauffeur-driven cars, five-star hotels and every whim granted at the snap of a finger. He’d worked during the day and had insisted that she buy herself a new wardrobe, and whatever else she fancied in whatever store she chose, because money was no object.

But she had objected, only to learn that, what Leandro didn’t want to hear, he simply chose to ignore, and he hadn’t wanted to hear her objections.

‘I have never,’ he had told her, undressing her very, very slowly, ‘allowed any woman of mine to pay for anything. Not going to change the habit now.’

No-strings-attached sex was what he’d offered and it was what she’d taken, greedy for him in a way that had shocked her beyond words. They’d lived for the moment and, whilst she had not lied to him about her past, neither had she told him about it. Somewhere along the line, she’d felt that it would turn him off and quite quickly she’d known that she hadn’t wanted to turn him off.

When one week had turned into two and then three, and when, on the spur of the moment, he had decided to take a break with her in the wilds of Canada, she’d begun to hope that what had started out as just sex might end up as more.

But then everything had gone wrong, and it had all happened so fast. One minute she had been dreaming impossible dreams, and the next minute his sister had entered the frame and within three days all her fledgling dreams had lain in ruins around her and she’d been turfed out of his Manhattan apartment without a backward glance.

He’d made no bones about spelling out the sort of unscrupulous guy he was when it came to women and, instead of listening, she had chosen to ignore the writing on the wall because she had been first bowled over by him and then head over heels in love with him.

Abigail stared off now into the distance. She hadn’t drawn the curtains in the kitchen and she could see that, whilst the snow wasn’t getting any heavier, it was still falling, a flurry of white, shining and beautiful where the lights around the house illuminated the drift.

‘So...’ a familiar voice drawled from behind her.

Startled, Abigail saw Leandro’s reflection in the glass of the French doors through which she had been staring. He’d changed into a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved black jumper, the sleeves of which had been pushed up to the elbows, and he was barefoot. It might be freezing outside, but this rolling country manor was heated to perfection. Her heart jumped and her mouth went dry as she turned slowly towards him.

‘I see you decided to stay rather than brave the snow in an attempt to get out of here. Wise decision.’

‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’ Abigail said jerkily—the first thing that came to her head.

‘You mean you’d hoped I’d gone to bed. Why’s that?’ Leandro strolled towards a platter of cold meats, made himself a clumsy sandwich and poured himself a glass of red wine, offering her one as well, an offer she refused.

She gazed at him helplessly as he sat at the kitchen table. She’d remembered the way his physical presence could affect her. She’d forgotten how much.

‘It’s awkward being here,’ she stammered, finally dropping into the chair opposite him and watching as he ate, his eyes flicking towards her every so often.

Leandro didn’t say anything. He thought that awkward didn’t begin to cover it, but the hand of fate worked in mysterious ways, and he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable with the situation at all.

Indeed, things were remarkably clear cut. Far clearer cut than they had been when they had been seeing one another a year and a half ago.

Then he had found himself, for the first time in his life, in a situation in which normal play had been suspended. The rules he had always applied to his life had taken a back seat and, even before his sister Cecilia had had her say, he had known that the relationship was entering unexplored territory. When he had first laid eyes on Abigail, he had known that he wanted her. Desire had hit him hard and fast and, never one to ignore the demands of his libido, he had done what he had always done, without beating round the bush or going down any nonsensical courtship route. He’d found her attractive and he’d wanted to bed her. A simple equation.

He hadn’t reckoned on her being a virgin and he wondered whether that had marked the beginning of all those subtle changes that had pulled him in and frankly terrified him at the same time.

She’d been cagey about her past and he hadn’t pressed her for detail, instinctively wanting to hang on to whatever safe ground he could. He hadn’t wanted her to start the whole confiding game, which always inevitably led to the sort of cloying situation that he found a huge turn-off. He’d sought to keep her at a distance because he could feel the compulsive drag of being pulled in and, subconsciously, that had seemed the safest way of fighting it.

He’d told himself that he wasn’t curious but, even while he’d been trying to hold her at arm’s length, he’d wanted to know everything about her, had wanted that act of possession.

Perhaps his sister had heard something in the way he had talked about Abigail down the phone. Why else would she have dug up all that dirt on her? He had known that Cecilia was possessive and he had always indulged that and understood the reason for it. He had been her anchor from the day she’d been born, but even so he had seen red when she had descended on his Manhattan apartment, clutching evidence of Abigail’s past, challenging him to continue seeing a woman who, if not an outright liar, had concealed the truth—and why else unless she was a gold-digger, playing the long game? He had walked away from the relationship without a backward glance. Problem was that his body hadn’t quite managed to forget her.

Which was why the woman had stayed in his head. Which was why, looking at her now, he could feel the slow burn of desire inside him.

She was unfinished business and he still wanted her. The blondes and eventually Rosalind had been sticking plaster over an open cut and now the sticking plaster had been ripped off. There was only one way the cut was going to be healed and that was to sleep for one last time with the woman who had delivered the damage.

Things were different now. He knew Abigail for who she was. Once upon a time, he had almost believed her to be the person she’d been pretending to be, but that was then. Now, he was in no danger of being sucked into anything.

‘It’s only awkward,’ Leandro drawled, ‘if you insist on dragging the past in. Personally, I’m the sort of guy who is happy to let bygones be bygones.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not interested in talking about why you did what you did.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Abigail muttered in a driven undertone. ‘Okay, so I didn’t tell you about my background because I didn’t want to put you off. Why is that so hard for you to understand? I’m human. You were everything I wasn’t and I couldn’t believe that you’d even looked in my direction. I didn’t want to spoil the moment and then...things started getting serious and I just never seemed to know when to sit you down and explain that you might have got the wrong idea of who I was...’

Leandro flushed darkly. ‘Things got serious for you,’ he corrected coolly.

Abigail nodded. ‘I won’t sit here and pretend that they didn’t,’ she told him. ‘I felt things for you and, the more I felt for you, the harder it seemed to start telling you about myself and my foster homes and what it was like growing up in them.’

Her voice had sunk to a whisper and Leandro grimly fought off any inclination to feel sympathy for her. She deserved none, and too right he would have seen things slightly differently had he known just how desperate for money she had been. The only thing she hadn’t lied about had been her lack of sexual experience, and he’d wondered afterwards whether she’d been saving herself for the right billionaire to come along and elevate her to the status she felt she deserved. She’d certainly taken to the high life like a duck to water.

‘And what a stroke of bad luck,’ Leandro murmured smoothly, ‘to have ended up trying to get a job in one of the hotels I owned. The second Cecilia knew where we’d met, it would have been easy for her to work her way backwards and to have discovered the job you failed to secure because of the reference given by your ex-boss.’

‘He lied.’ Abigail had been so desperate to make him understand all those long months ago when his sister had confronted him in his apartment, but now she just felt tired of finding herself repeating the same old stuff all over again. It wasn’t as though he was going to listen now any more than he had then. In fact, if anything, she repulsed him more now than she would have then because, back then, they at least had been lovers and that would have counted for something, surely?

‘Of course,’ Leandro said soothingly. ‘Although I wouldn’t get too moral, if I were you, considering you weren’t far behind in the lying stakes...’

Abigail looked away.

‘And then there was a certain incident I unearthed about a spate of shoplifting for which you received a warning in the heady days of your misspent youth...’

Abigail’s eyes flew to his and she blanched, because this was news to her. ‘What? You had me checked out after we broke up?’

‘Call it curiosity.’ Because a part of him had wanted to believe her. He couldn’t credit himself for being the fool he’d been, but then he’d never felt for any other woman what he’d ended up feeling for her. The memory of that vulnerability made his teeth clench together in frustration and anger.

‘I remember that incident,’ Abigail said softly. Her eyes clouded over. ‘I was only twelve at the time and I was so desperate to fit in. I’d just been transferred to another foster home and...’ she sighed ‘... I just knew that the girls there weren’t going to accept me.’

Because of how she looked. It had always been about how she looked. Her face had attracted too much attention and, in her circumstances, attracting too much attention had never been a good thing.

‘A group of us had gone into the shopping centre for the morning. I’d tagged along, happy as anything that I’d been invited to be part of the crowd. When we got there, I only realised that the reason I’d been asked along had been so that they could make fun of me. They dared me to steal some cheap costume jewellery from one of the shops. They didn’t think I would, which was probably why I did.’

She glanced up at him ruefully. ‘I made a hopeless shoplifter. I couldn’t have been more obvious. Of course, I was caught as soon as I walked out, and hauled down to the police station and treated like a common criminal. It wasn’t even as though it made a spot of difference, because when I was returned to the home I still ended up standing out and being ostracised. But I learned my lesson, so that’s just one reason why I would never have stolen anything again.’

Leandro found that he didn’t like thinking of her as a kid in a police station, probably confused and scared. In fact, he found himself wishing that he could find whatever policeman had taken her in and beat the living daylights out of him, which was such a crazy reaction that he almost wanted to laugh.

It struck him, in a moment of blinding clarity, that the two of them might have come from wildly different backgrounds but that they had more in common than either of them might think.

Frowning at the sudden bout of introspection, Leandro relaxed back in the chair, topped up his wine glass and looked at her with brooding intensity. ‘Like I said, there’s nothing to be gained from trips down memory lane. Tell me what you’ve been up to since we parted company.’

Abigail stilled. She licked her lips nervously and made a big effort not to look away, because that would have been a sure sign of a guilty conscience, and she didn’t have a guilty conscience.

‘I... I managed to find the job I now have.’

She cleared her throat and looked at him as evenly as she could.

‘When I got back to London I was out of work, as you know, and I’d gone to a café to try and work out what to do next. I didn’t know who would employ me after that reference from my ex-boss. Who was going to believe me? Anyway, while I was having a cup of coffee Vanessa came in, and there were no free tables so she asked if she could sit at mine and, well, the rest is history, so to speak.’

She looked at him wryly and then said with some satisfaction, ‘I told her all about my past and the stupid lies that had been told about me and she believed me. She gave me a job on a trial basis and it worked out brilliantly, as it happens. I seem to have a knack for selling stuff, including high-end jewellery. None of which,’ she couldn’t help adding, ‘I have ever been tempted to stick in my handbag and take home with me.’

‘And men?’ Leandro decided that it was time to push on from a topic on which he had no intention of dwelling on for too long. What was done was done.

Abigail flushed a delicate pink.

‘I think it’s time for me to head upstairs now. I’m tired. I want to get a good night’s rest because I intend to leave first thing in the morning, and if the weather is still poor then Hal and I will just have to chance it.’

She stood up and neatened her outfit, which felt inappropriate, because she was no longer here on business. Her coat was upstairs in the bedroom suite which had been allocated to her, a sumptuous space that felt nearly as big as a football field. As were her handbag and the company laptop which she had brought with her. She had no idea what Leandro had done with the ring. Maybe he would hang onto it for his future wife.

‘Have there been other men?’

Abigail’s breathing hitched. He stood up and closed the distance between them. She stuck her hands behind her back because she wanted to reach out and flatten them against his broad chest and feel the hardness of muscle and sinew underneath the black jumper. She wanted to fly back in time but that was impossible.

She thought of Sam, innocently lying in his cot back in London, and the series of decisions she had made when she had discovered that she was pregnant. Fear threatened to swamp her, fear and guilt. because, although she had been torn apart at the time, wondering whether she had made the right choice to keep the pregnancy a secret from Leandro, it had been relatively easy to live with her decision because it meant she could relegate their relationship to the past. In her head, she had kept open the option to get in touch with him at some point in the future, but she had lived for the present and so that point in the future had been nothing more than theoretical.

But the future had crashed into the present, challenging that decision she had taken and filling her with dread at just how close she was now to a conflagration that could get out of control.

She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Maybe she would now rethink the choices she had made but she would do that coolly and calmly. That settled her and she relaxed a little. She thought about his question. A man in her life? She wanted to burst out laughing because, between work and motherhood, she barely had time to breathe, never mind deal with the complications of a relationship. Not that she had been tempted anyway.

‘No, Leandro,’ she said coolly. ‘I didn’t rush back to London and immediately get involved with your replacement. I’ve been busy trying to get my career going.’

‘And no time left to jump back into the dating scene?’ Leandro murmured.

‘Unlike you.’ Abigail couldn’t resist the dig. Not only had he jumped right back into the dating scene but he had become so involved with a woman that she had actually been led to believe that marriage was on the cards. She turned away, angry with herself for feeling hurt and jealous.

‘But it didn’t work,’ Leandro said softly. He reached out and circled her wrist with his hand. He stroked her skin with his thumb and Abigail wanted to moan and drag her hand away but she didn’t do either. Instead, she froze.

‘Want to know something?’ he asked as his thumb continued to do its damage. ‘I understood why when I saw you today, Abby.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she croaked, and he smiled crookedly at her.

‘Yes, you do,’ he corrected gently. ‘I can feel the way you’re trembling right now. You’re still in my system. It doesn’t make any sense, because you’re the last woman I should still be interested in taking to bed, but against all odds you are. Do you think it’s because what we had ended under such...bizarre circumstances?’

He sounded genuinely curious and his voice was calm, neutral and conversational. In fact, she had to sift through what he had just said and replay it in her head just to establish that she hadn’t misheard it.

That he still wanted to take her to bed!

She tugged her hand and he tightened his grip on it and focused on her, his fabulous eyes lazy with intent. ‘Now you’re going to tell me that you have no idea what I’m talking about, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll express horror that I could even suggest such a thing. Am I on the right track?’

Spot on, Abigail thought. She licked her lips and tried to still her racing pulse. He was still the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on in her life, but she was not attracted to him. Because you couldn’t possibly be attracted to a man who had insulted, offended and disbelieved you. That just didn’t make sense.

But her skin was prickling and dampness had pooled between her legs. Fascinated and mesmerised, she stared at him, sucked in by the low, honeyed seductiveness of his voice.

Leandro could feel the racing of her pulse under his thumb. Her skin was so soft and his recall of her so clear. Just touching her like this made him remember how it had felt to touch her all over, to hear the little cries and whimpers she’d made as she climbed towards an orgasm, the way she’d moved and wriggled under him. He was so turned on he had to adjust his stance to try and subdue the discomfort of his arousal.

His eyes drifted downwards to her parted lips.

Abigail knew that he was going to kiss her before his mouth covered hers and her body strained towards his, as natural an instinct as a flower leaning towards a source of light. His lips, when they touched hers, detonated a series of little thrilling explosions inside her. She wanted him. She’d never stopped wanting him. She hated him and was terrified of being here, in his company, carrying a secret she knew could be as devastating as dynamite, yet she couldn’t get enough of his kiss.

With a helpless little groan, her fingers curled into his jumper and she angrily pulled him towards her even as he propelled her towards the wall without breaking physical contact.

His hands were hot and hungry on her, reaching to tug the prissy white shirt free from her trousers, then pushing underneath the shirt to cup her breasts and massage them until her nipples were pushing against the lace in a desperate bid to be caressed.

Leandro was shocked at how fabulously familiar her body was and even more shocked at how novel he still found the experience. Familiarity, in this instance, was showing no signs of breeding contempt.

He wanted, he needed more than just some schoolboy groping through a bra, and he discovered that his hands were shaking as he undid the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse. Given the option, he would have ripped the thing open, so desperate was he to suckle what his hands were touching, but taking his time at least had the advantage of imposing some control on his runaway libido.

Buttons finally undone, he delicately peeled aside her blouse and lifted her bra, pushing it up so that her generous breasts were on show.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said in a ragged undertone. He held her breasts in his big hands and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, watching as they promptly stood to attention, the pink tips hardening and peaking under the caress. He looked at her. ‘I want you so much it hurts,’ he confessed, and Abigail shuddered because this couldn’t be more wrong and yet it felt so right. ‘Tell me right now that you don’t want me back...’

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