The Marchese's Love-Child by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

Charlie...

    She turned her head, staring at the chest of drawers, and the framed photograph that occupied pride of place. Charlie, on his second birthday. His father's image smiling at her.

    Sandro's out of your life, she told herself feverishly. He's gone.
    Nevertheless, on the way back to the kitchen, Polly found herself taking Charlie's portrait off the chest, and stowing it in the top drawer instead.

    Better, she thought, safe than sorry, and shivered again.

    Polly slept badly, in spite of her tiredness. When morning came, she telephoned Safe Hands, said quite truthfully that she felt like death, then crawled back into bed and slept until lunchtime.

    She woke with a start, thinking of Charlie. Why was she wasting time, when she could have the bonus of a whole afternoon in his company without the distractions of shopping and housework?

    She rang her mother's house but there was no reply, so she left a message on the answering machine to say she would be over to collect him in an hour.

    She took a quick shower, then dressed in a casual blue denim skirt, topping it with a crisp white cotton shirt, and sliding her feet into flat brown leather sandals. She brushed her hair back from her face and secured it at the nape of her neck with a silver barette, and hung small blue enamel cornflowers on delicate silver chains from her earlobes.

    She had some work to do with the blusher and concealer she kept for emergencies, or her mother would guess something was wrong. And Polly had enough bad news to give her without mentioning Sandro's shock reappearance in her life.

    But that was all over, so there was no need to cause her further distress, she told herself firmly, applying her lipstick and attempting an experimental smile which, somehow, turned into a wry grimace.
    Positive thinking, she adjured herself, and, grabbing her bag, she left.

    The house seemed unusually quiet when she let herself in, and Polly paused, frowning a little. Surely her mother hadn't taken Charlie out somewhere, she thought, groaning inwardly. Was this the latest move in the battle of wits between them? She hoped not. She kept her voice deliberately cheerful. 'Mum—Dad—are you there?'

    'We're in the living room.' It was her mother's voice, high-pitched and strained.

    Her frown deepening, Polly pushed open the door and walked in.

    It wasn't a particularly large room, and her instant impression was that it had shrunk still further in some strange way.

    The first person she saw was her mother, sitting in the chair beside the empty fireplace, her face a mask of tension, and Charlie clasped tightly on her lap.

    The second was a complete stranger, stockily built with black hair and olive skin, who rose politely from the sofa at her entrance.

    And the third, unbelievably, was Sandro, standing silently in the window alcove, as if he had been carved out of granite.

    For a moment the room seemed to reel around her, then she steadied herself, her hands clenching into fists, her nails scoring her palms. She was not, under any circumstances, going to faint again.

    She said hoarsely, 'What the hell are you doing here?'

    'Is it not obvious?' The topaz eyes were as fierce as a leopard's, and as dangerous. His voice was ice. 'I have come for my son. And please do not try to deny his parentage,' he added bitingly. 'Because no court in the world would believe you. He is my image.' He paused. 'But I warn you that I am prepared to undergo DNA testing to prove paternity, if it becomes necessary.'

    Polly stared at him, her stomach churning, her heart pounding against her ribs. 'You must be mad.'

    'I was.' His smile was grim. 'Before I discovered quite what a treacherous little bitch you are, Paola mia. But now I am sane again, and I want my child.'

    Her low voice shook. 'Over my dead body.'

    He said softly, "The way I feel at this moment, that could easily be arranged. Do not provoke me any further.'

    'He's going to take him away from us,' her mother