‘He tells me that marriage is on the table,’ Cecilia said abruptly. They were sitting at opposite ends of the cleverly weathered wooden table, which had had pride of place in the kitchen at Greyling, and Abigail nodded and met the other woman’s eyes squarely.
‘We feel that Sam would benefit from having both of us around.’
‘Stop talking about yourself and my brother as though you’re a couple,’ Cecilia hissed. ‘You’re not a couple. You weren’t then and you aren’t now.’ Her eyes welled up. ‘I knew you were trouble the minute you met Leandro the first time round. He barely had time to talk to me when you appeared on the scene!’
Concerned, Abigail flew to her feet and rummaged in her handbag which she had slung on the kitchen counter, extracting a wad of tissues and shoving them over to Cecilia.
‘I should have known that something was up when he sent me halfway across the world to oversee that hotel in Fiji.’ Her voice wobbled but the glare was intact. ‘It was impossible to talk to him, what with the time difference and the problems with the Internet! But I found out everything today when I confronted him. You are not going to marry my brother. You are not going to take him away from me.’
‘I—I’m not planning on taking him away from you,’ Abigail stammered.
‘He doesn’t want to marry you!’ Cecilia’s voice had risen and Abigail worriedly glanced at the kitchen door, which was open. The last thing she needed was a shouting Cecilia and a screaming toddler. ‘You’re all wrong for Leandro and the last thing he wants is to marry you.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
‘Of course he did!’ Cecilia shouted. ‘We discuss everything! He told me that you’re forcing him to marry you because of the kid. He told me that you’re not really his type. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t love you!’
Abigail looked down. Cecilia had a vested interest in saying all those things, in causing as much chaos as she could. But was she lying? She was only confirming what Abigail already knew.
She expected another shrieking tirade from the other woman, and was rising to her feet to forestall that by leading her firmly out of the cottage, when Leandro’s voice from the doorway of the kitchen stopped her in her tracks.
She hadn’t heard him enter the house. Of course, why would she? He had a key and she had been entirely focused on Cecilia. She wouldn’t have noticed two yetis if they had walked past the kitchen door holding hands.
‘Cecilia.’ Leandro’s deep voice was cool, as was the gaze arrowing towards his sister as she spun round, reddening before rushing to his side. But before she could hug him he held out his arms to stop her. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I—I came to say hi to my nephew,’ she stammered, ‘but she wouldn’t let me.’
Abigail opened her mouth to protest and then was overcome by a feeling of deep hopelessness. Why would Leandro believe her? He didn’t love her. It was going to be just as it had been nearly two years ago when he had listened to Cecilia and refused to give Abigail a fair hearing. He had been judge, jury and executioner to their relationship and why would it be any different now?
Perhaps he had already been persuaded that without love he was better off without her, whatever he said about wanting to stay with her because of Sam. Perhaps he might have drifted into a relationship with her, but he was no doubt open to being persuaded by Cecilia. Abigail could easily envisage a situation where she managed to convince him that there was someone better for him out there, someone who shared the same background, someone he could love rather than like, and with whom the ties would not be centred around obligation and duties to an infant he had never asked for.
Her imagination was running riot but through all that she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t chastising his sister. Indeed, he was drawing her to one side, although his eyes were firmly focused on Abigail.
‘I’ll make sure Cecilia gets back to London,’ he said without any inflection in his voice at all that could have given her a clue as to what he was thinking.
Which made her fear that he was already thinking the worst of her. He had descended out of the blue to be told that she was the cruel woman withholding a nephew from his aunt. Cecilia could work a sob story like an Oscar-winning actress.
And yet, in receipt of a sly look from the other woman as she was gently led out of the kitchen, Abigail couldn’t help a pang of sympathy for her. That plaintive voice had been real. Cecilia was hurt because she had felt ignored by the big brother who had always had time for her. The hint of tears had not been phoney.
Not that any of that changed anything. The three months might barely have started, but if Leandro could not give her the benefit of the doubt now, and remain behind to hear from her exactly what had transpired between herself and his sister, then he would never be prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt over anything.
In short, nothing had fundamentally changed between them since he had turned his back on her all that time ago, except that he was now a father. His attitude towards her remained the same.
He would hand-deliver Cecilia back to London, all those protective instincts that had been fostered since youth would kick into gear and he would indulge his sister and whatever lies she chose to tell him.
Lord knew, he would probably head straight back up to the cottage to fling another one of his terms and conditions in her face, specifically one banning her from upsetting his sister.
Suddenly weary beyond belief, Abigail went out into the garden and headed straight for the lovely gazebo that had been erected under one of the fruit trees. Sam’s window was flung open and she knew that she would be able to hear him should he wake up and start crying, although his afternoon naps were long, and she knew that he wouldn’t be up for at least another hour.
Precious time during which she would try and get her thoughts in order, try and reach a conclusion to the ebb and flow of life as she had recently been living it.
Her thoughts became muddled as she closed her eyes. It was a fine day, the breeze just the right side of warm. Nature had its own sounds and with her eyes closed she could really appreciate all of them. The sound of the leaves in the trees rustling, the birds chirping and, in the distance, the roll of traffic because although the cottage was in the middle of nowhere this was something of an illusion, because the road to London was not terribly far away.
Drifting into a light doze, she had a dream of Leandro walking away from her and, with every panicked step she took closer to him, the faster he moved away, glancing back towards her and walking on even though he could see that she was upset.
She started violently when his deep, familiar voice said, way too close and way too vibrant to belong to a dream, ‘Falling asleep in the sun is never a good idea.’
Abigail’s eyes flew open and she gaped. ‘I thought you were dropping your sister back down to London!’
