Santiago's Love-Child

The next morning the solitude of the pool and exercise had the desired therapeutic effect, or so she naively believed at the time. After several slow, steady lengths she succeeded in rationalising what had happened in the hotel restaurant the night before. So she had been the victim of instant lust—it happened, she told herself with a mental shrug. Admittedly never before to her.

It was silly to get hung up about it.

It wasn’t as if she had done anything awful like cheat—at least only in her mind. And she suspected every woman who ever laid eyes on the tall, dynamic Spaniard with his sinfully sexy smile and incredible voice was guilty of that.

By the time exhaustion forced her to flip over onto her back and get her breath back Lily had reached the comfortable mental position of concluding she had handled the evening pretty well, under the circumstances.

The circumstances being she had hardly been capable of stringing two words together in the man’s presence, but there was no need to dwell on that! As for that frisson when their eyes had met and the tug, the feeling of connection, she had felt, such things did not happen between total strangers except in her feverish imagination.

Sensual fantasies aside, their brief encounter had actually been pretty much a non-event.

Lying on her back in the water, she couldn’t help her thoughts drifting back to the moment she had seen him. Lily involuntarily inhaled as the tall figure with a dark, classically featured face crystallised in her head.

He had achingly perfect, chiselled cheekbones, a proud nose, a strong jaw, dark, smouldering eyes and a sternly sexy mouth that just had to have fuelled countless female fantasies.

She had been lending half an ear to the elderly couple who had invited her to share their table at dinner when she had seen him framed in the doorway.

A tall, dark figure, dressed in a pale linen suit and open-necked shirt that revealed a tantalising section of olive-toned skin and undoubtedly had a designer name hand-stitched into the lining.

It hadn’t just been her, lots of people had looked, but Lily had carried on looking a lot longer than most others. She hadn’t been able to help herself. The stranger had been quite simply spectacular!

He’d been deliciously dark in a typically Spanish way, but nothing else about him had been typical! For a start he’d been much taller than the average Spanish male; she’d estimated that he had to be six four or five. Even the way he’d moved, with a fluid animal grace that had made her tummy muscles quiver, had been rivetingly different. His features had been classical, but strong. Her fascinated glance had lingered on his sensually moulded mouth.

It had felt like a long time, but it had probably only been a few seconds, before she’d managed to drag her hungry eyes clear, but in the process she’d connected briefly with his eyes. For a split second the rest of the room had faded away, and something that had felt like a mild electric shock had travelled through her body.

Lily had been utterly overwhelmed by emotions that she hadn’t recognised or understood. Rachel would no doubt have identified what she’d been suffering from as lust, but Lily knew it hadn’t been that simple.

White and shaking with reaction, she’d examined the pattern in the marble floor. Her heart had continued to race while some inner instinct had told her of his approach. By the time he’d reached her side every nerve ending in her body had been taut with anticipation.

She couldn’t even think about it now with a clear head, in the cold light of day without her pulses racing. She hadn’t been able to breathe; excitement had lodged itself like a tight fist behind her breastbone. Of course, when he’d walked straight past her as though she were invisible and clasped the elderly man beside her on the shoulder she’d felt every kind of fool.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER exchanging a few polite words with the couple, who were apparently frequent visitors to the hotel, the handsome stranger had walked away. It had only been later in the evening that Lily had found out his identity—his name was Santiago Morais, and he owned the hotel, and, so it appeared, a whole lot else.

He had barely even acknowledged she was there.

Except for a kind of stiff inclination of his head in her general direction, no eye contact—even the most generous of judges would have to conclude that it had been pretty thin material for a night’s steamy fantasies. The eyes across a crowded room, soul-mate stuff had been a product of her overactive imagination.

She was shaking her head over her own pathetic self-delusion as she heaved herself out of the pool and sat, knees up to her chin, eyes closed and head tilted back to catch the warmth of the early-morning rays.

When she opened them the cause of her sleepless night, Santiago Morais, was standing there looking down at her.

‘Good morning. I trust you slept well?’ In contrast to his formal enquiry there was nothing vaguely formal about the restless febrile glitter she saw in his deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes before he slid a pair of designer shades on.

Lily didn’t say anything, partly because the sight of him casually peeling off his shirt had paralysed her vocal cords.

She watched, too shocked to guard her expression as he dragged a hand through his dark hair and set off a sequence of distracting muscle-rippling. He really didn’t have an ounce of surplus flesh on his athletically lean frame.

‘I didn’t sleep well at all,’ he revealed without waiting for Lily to answer his question.

‘Sorry,’ she croaked, thinking he didn’t look as if he’d had a disturbed night. He was oozing an indecent degree of vitality, or was that testosterone? Things deep in her pelvis tightened and ached as she focused hazily on his criminally sexy mouth. Bad idea!

Don’t drool, be objective, Lily, she warned herself severely.

‘Did you have a good swim?’ he asked, unzipping his jeans to reveal a flat stomach with perfect muscle definition and a light dusting of dark hair.

‘I was just leaving.’

He had been watching her…? The thought caused a secret shiver to pass through Lily’s body. She lifted her arm in a concealing arc over her tingling nipples, and pulled herself up onto her knees just as the worn denim of his jeans slid down his narrow hips.

As she took in his muscular thighs complete with a light dusting of body hair her breath quickened to the point where she was not so much breathing as noisily gasping for air.

If only for the sake of her own traumatised heart, she knew she ought to avert her eyes. Heaven knew, she tried, but she couldn’t; her eyes were glued to his body. He was so beautiful. She could remember feeling awkward, clumsy and overweight in comparison to his sleek hardness.

‘I meant to lose some weight for this summer,’ she explained, feeling the sudden need to apologise for her appearance.

Above his designer shades Santiago’s sable brows lifted. Behind the dark lenses it was hard to see what he was thinking, but she could guess—Crazy woman, where is security when I need it?

She smiled to show she was actually sane. ‘But you know how it is.’ Stupid, of course he doesn’t.

Her attention was irresistibly drawn back to his body. By this point he had stripped down to a pair of black swimming shorts that left enough to the imagination to send her temperature soaring several degrees.

The sensation she experienced when she looked at his streamlined golden body was a lot as she imagined drowning might be. The inability to breathe; the heavy pounding of her heart…only drowning would feel cold and she was hot…very hot! She took a deep, shaky breath as she struggled to get her breathing back on track and averted her eyes from the arrow of dark hair that dived below the waistband of his shorts.

‘Why would you want to lose any pounds?’

Lily didn’t take Santiago’s bewilderment seriously. ‘You’ve got very nice manners, but I know I’m fat,’ she explained matter-of-factly. ‘I can’t even blame it on my genes; apparently my mother was slim.’ Her grandmother, who like many people equated extra pounds with laziness, had been fond of regretfully observing that Lily had missed out on her mother’s good looks.

‘Fat…!’ His incredulity gave way to laughter, deep, warm laughter. Through the smoky lenses of his sunglasses she was aware of his eyes moving in a broad, caressing sweep down the length of her body. When he reached her toes he released a long, appreciative sigh. ‘You are not fat!’ He dismissed the claim with a contemptuous motion of his hand.

Lily was so startled when, without warning, he dropped down onto his heels until his eyes were almost level with hers that it didn’t even occur to her to protest when he reached across and took her chin in his hand.

He looked into her round, startled eyes. His slow smile made her stomach flip. In this enlightened age Lily wasn’t sure if predatory should be turning her on.

‘What you are is soft…’ His voice was deep and dark and textured like deepest velvet. She trembled violently as his thumb moved in a circular motion over the apple of her smooth cheek and she experienced another debilitating rush of heat. ‘And lush.’ His glance settled on her slightly parted lips. ‘And very, very feminine. An hourglass figure is something that men will always admire.’

Gordon hadn’t thought so, and Lily felt qualified to disagree. ‘Not all men,’ she contended huskily.

He dismissed this unappreciative minority with a contemptuous shrug. ‘Why do you constantly run yourself down?’ he wondered, letting his hand fall from her face and frowning.

‘I don’t,’ she protested, placing the back of her hand against the place his fingers had touched her skin and feeling ridiculously bereft.

He looked amused. ‘It is obviously an ingrained pattern of behaviour.’

‘That’s me, a hopeless case. Look, it’s been very nice talking to you…’ Surreal was much nearer the mark. There was no mystery about why she was hopelessly attracted to him, the mystery was why he should even pretend to feel similarly about her. ‘But I really must be—’ His deep voice cut smoothly across her.

‘Not hopeless, querida. An appreciative lover, someone who could teach you to enjoy your own body, could cure you.’

Having begun to get to her feet, Lily sank back down as her legs literally folded beneath her. ‘Are you offering?’ In her head it sounded ironic, the sort of slick comeback that invited laughter. Unfortunately it actually emerged sounding humiliatingly hopeful.

‘And if I was would you be interested?’

Lily didn’t smile; she was too busy panicking. To take him seriously would obviously be a major mistake and a direct route to total humiliation. ‘I suppose that’s your idea of a joke,’ she snapped.

‘I am not laughing,’ he pointed out tautly.

Lily, who had noticed this, swallowed. There was a driven intensity in his manner that she didn’t understand, but it excited her anyway. As she stared he lifted a hand and again dragged it through his hair. His brown fingers were long and elegant…sensitive, but strong. He had the sort of hands you would like to look at against the bare flesh of your stomach…other places too.

‘You did not know your mother?’

She looked at him startled by his sudden change of direction and she stopped thinking about his fingers on her bare skin.

‘You said “apparently” your mother was slim,’ he reminded her.

‘Did I?’ Lily frowned. Her ability to carry on any sort of conversation was severely hampered by the fact that every time she looked at him she experienced a fresh jolt of mind-mushing sexual longing.

‘You did.’

‘Will you stop doing that?’ She snapped, adjusting her towel.

‘What?’

‘Checking out my cleavage.’ Last night he had blanked her, this morning he was mentally undressing her and not trying to hide it. What was going on?

A laugh was drawn from his throat. ‘Don’t worry. I can discuss your family and admire your body at the same time.’

‘That’s an original slant on multi-tasking,’ she replied faintly. Inside her chest her heart was fluttering like a trapped animal. ‘But I have no desire to discuss my family with you…’

A white wolfish grin split his dark, lean face. ‘Then I will settle for admiring your body.’

Lily gave a frustrated little groan and felt a trickle of sweat pool in the valley between her breasts. What I need is a cold shower, she thought, picturing cold arrows of water hitting her overheated flesh.

Think cold water… Unfortunately the mental cooling-down process was hampered by the addition of a slickly wet male body in the imaginary shower with her.

‘I don’t want you to do that either,’ she replied hotly.

‘Don’t you…?’

Working on the basis that it was better to avoid outright lies whenever possible, Lily didn’t respond to this husky question. ‘Do you always hassle hotel guests this way?’ she demanded huskily.

Slowly he shook his head and the twisted smile he gave her was hard to read. ‘No, this is actually a unique experience for me.’

The hell of it was she wanted to believe him. She had always despised women who believed slick chat-up lines and here she was wanting to believe that a man who could have any woman he wanted thought she was unique and irresistible. Delusions didn’t get any grander than that!

‘Just for the record, my mother gave birth to me, and then dumped me with my grandmother, who brought me up. I haven’t seen her…ever…and as for my father I don’t know who he was, but the odds are she didn’t either.’ Now why did I tell him that?

Lily began to get angrily to her feet. This had to be some sort of game. ‘I’m not playing,’ she muttered from between clenched teeth.

To her way of thinking there was no way a man who possessed a perfect, hard, streamlined, muscular body like Santiago could possibly find anything to admire in her own over-generous curves.

She gave a startled yelp when halfway to her feet the towel she was clutching was unceremoniously wrenched from her fingers.

‘Give that back!’ she pleaded huskily.

He shook his head, slung the towel carelessly in the pool and removed his shades. His extravagant lashes lifted from the razor-edged curve of his cheekbones to reveal stunning eyes, so dark as to be almost black and flecked by pinpricks of silver. Lily gasped and shivered uncontrollably; the message glimmering in those mesmerising depths was inescapably sensual.

‘You didn’t ask me why I didn’t sleep last night…?’

Raw and driven, his voice drew a low moan from her throat. Lily pressed a hand to the base of her throat where a pulse was hammering away. ‘I find hot milk works a treat.’

This sterling advice caused his mouth to spasm slightly, but didn’t alter the hot, hungry expression in his eyes. His voice dropped to a low, sexy rasp as he explained. ‘I didn’t sleep last night because I was thinking about you, and this morning I come out to cool down and here you are. Do you believe in fate…?’

Lily discovered she believed in everything he said in that sinfully sexy voice of his—which probably made her certifiable. ‘I really should be going…’ This is pure physical attraction and not a good thing to act on, she told herself firmly. ‘It takes simply ages to dry my hair; it’s so thick—’

His authoritative voice cut slickly through her garbled flow of inanity. ‘Your hair is rich and lustrous.’ He let the damp strands fall through his fingers.

‘You think…?’ she echoed weakly.

‘I do.’

Lily fought to inject a sliver of sanity into the proceedings and shook her head. ‘No, it’s mousy.’ His incredibly long ebony lashes had golden tips and the fine lines that radiated from around his eyes were incredibly attractive.

‘We really are going to have to work on that self-esteem issue.’

‘We? There is no we. We can’t have this conversation. It isn’t…I don’t know you!’ Her voice rose in weak protest as her defences went into meltdown.

‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘Everything,’ she replied, staring helplessly up into his incredible eyes.

He shook his head. ‘It is totally irrelevant. Can you deny this feels amazingly right?’ he challenged as he took her by the shoulders. ‘I can’t look at you without wanting to sink into your sweet satiny softness and lose myself.’

‘You can’t say things like to me!’ she gasped while thinking, You can do just anything to me! Please do it now!

His earthy laugh made every downy hair on her body stand on end. Either he had meant it, or he was a spectacularly good liar! By that point Lily didn’t care which it was; she was burning up from the inside out with need.

His shoulders lifted expressively. ‘But I just did.’ His smile was a potent mix of tenderness and predatory ferocity.

He didn’t make any move to stop her when Lily, unable to resist temptation any longer, reached up and touched his lean cheek. ‘I want to see you, touch you.’

His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second as he took her fingers from his face and raised them to his lips.

‘And you shall,’ he promised. ‘If that is what you want?’

Lily shook her head. ‘I think…I don’t know…’

Santiago turned her hand over and traced a path across her palm with the pad of his thumb before touching the plain wedding band on her finger. His head lifted. ‘But you are thinking about your husband?’

CHAPTER FOUR

I’M NOT thinking about him, but I should be.

Sucking in a mortified breath, Lily snatched her hand away. His question hadn’t just spoiled the mood, it had killed it stone-dead. And a good thing too, she told herself. Her marriage might be a total sham, but she was still married, and in Lily’s mind, despite yesterday’s reckless thoughts of revenge, Gordon’s repeated infidelities didn’t give her a licence to do the same.

If she had stopped to think about it, which she hadn’t, she would have assumed that Santiago hadn’t cottoned on to the fact she was married.

Easy to see how that could happen. She’d been partnerless when he’d seen her, and, unlike women, most men didn’t seem to notice things like a wedding band.

It now seemed that he had known she was married all along, and the fact nothing in his manner suggested he had a problem with it made Lily feel totally disgusted.

Not that she was in any position to condemn him. She hadn’t exactly run screaming for the hills, had she?

‘You shouldn’t feel bad.’

Bad! She deserved to feel wretched. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ she choked contemptuously. Obviously he wouldn’t recognise a moral if someone gave it to him gift-wrapped.

A really stomach-churning possibility occurred to her. Had he zeroed in on her because she was married? Lily knew there were some men out there, generally commitment phobics, who targeted married women because they didn’t want things to get serious. A married woman had clear advantages for that type of sleaze bag.

‘I do understand, and what you are feeling is natural,’ he soothed.

The compassion in his manner increased Lily’s growing anger.

‘Done this sort of thing a lot, have you?’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth and turned her head away. Angrily she shrugged off the hand that he put lightly on her arm.

‘I have handled this badly,’ she heard him observe heavily.

Lily’s chin lifted. ‘So sorry things didn’t turn out the way you planned,’ she retorted bitterly.

Santiago studied her face before gravely observing, ‘It is natural to feel a degree of guilt, a sense that you are being unfaithful—’ Lily goggled incredulously at him; this man had to be the most insensitive ‘—to your husband’s memory. I respect you for the way you feel, I really do. In an age when so many place very little value on their marriage vows, your devotion is admirable.’

There was a short time delay before her brain computed what he had said and arrived at the unlikely conclusion—somehow he had the bizarre idea that she was widowed.

Oh, Lord! It should be fun explaining to someone who thought she was a faithful, devoted, grieving widow that her husband was alive and well, and her devotion was the sort that vanished at the first sniff of temptation.

‘But you are alive, querida, and you are a passionate beautiful woman, with your life ahead of you.’ He took her face between his hands. ‘I’m sure your husband would have wanted you to be happy. And though I’m sure you won’t believe me, one day,’ he prophesied confidently, ‘you will love again. And until then…’

‘Until then…?’

His hands fell away. ‘Until then you have needs…appetites…’

‘That’s where you come in?’ Why was she feeling so let down? He was hardly going to tell her that he wanted anything other than to take her to bed. At least he was honest.

‘You’re not going to deny the attraction between us exists.’

Lily shook her head and wondered what he’d say if she admitted she had never felt anything that even came close to this before.

‘Do not let being hurt once make you afraid to live.’

‘I’m not,’ she said, and realised that for the first time in a long time—perhaps ever—this was true. She took a deep breath; it was time to put him straight. ‘As for Gordon, you’ve got that all wrong. I’m actually totally furious with him.’

‘I believe it is not uncommon to feel angry with a loved one who dies. You blame them for leaving you.’

Eyes closed, Lily gave a frustrated sigh and let her head fall back. I tried, I really tried, and what do I get? Understanding and amateur psychology!

‘No, my husband isn’t—’

A nerve clenched in Santiago’s lean cheek as he cut across her. ‘We keep those we love in our hearts, but there comes a time when we must let go.’

Lily, who would have preferred to put Gordon in a damp, dark, rat-filled cellar, not her heart, stared up at him, her eyes scrunched up in concentration as she tried to figure out how on earth he could have got the idea she was a widow.

‘What made you think that my husband is dead?’

‘Everyone knows.’

‘People know?’ Oh, heavens, that explained some of the sympathetic looks she’d been getting. They all had her down as a brave, plucky widow on some sort of romantic pilgrimage!

And here was me thinking how lovely and friendly everyone was.

He nodded. ‘I know hotels are meant to be anonymous, but a woman alone in the honeymoon suite is a subject of conjecture. The staff knew the booking was made by your husband, so obviously when you turned up without him they speculated.’

‘You’d think they’d have something better to do,’ she snapped.

‘And then you told Javier…’

‘I didn’t tell Javier anything; I don’t know any Javier.’ She stopped. ‘Oh, no!’ Her questioning eyes flew to his face. ‘Do you mean the boy at Reception…?’

‘The “boy” has a three-year-old son, but, yes, he works Reception sometimes. He’s actually a trainee manager.’

Lily wasn’t really listening to his explanation; she was recalling arriving back from Baeza and going to pick up her room key. The details, due to the after-effects of the wine, were a bit hazy, but she could remember the chap behind Reception looking embarrassed when tears sprang to her eyes after he asked when her husband would be joining her.

‘He won’t be joining me.’ The realisation hit her. He never intended to. ‘He’s gone. He’s really gone for good.’

Lily absently massaged the tight skin around her temples. One problem solved—she now knew the why. She only had now to figure out how to tell him her husband was alive and well and therefore she was not available.

‘Have breakfast with me?’

‘What?’

‘Breakfast. Not here, if that’s what’s bothering you. I know a place about half an hour’s drive away. You need a four-wheel drive to get there,’ he admitted, ‘but, believe me, it is worth it. The setting is superb,’ he enthused. ‘The food is not fancy, but it’s made with fresh local produce and beautifully cooked. Luis has a huge wood-burning oven outside and you can eat alfresco.’

He seemed to take her silence as assent, because he said, ‘I’ll see you outside in, what…twenty minutes…?’ He smiled at her and then dived cleanly into the water.

‘You’re allowed to be upset, you know.’

‘What…?’ It took several seconds for Lily to drag her wandering thoughts back to the present and away from the man who had ultimately told her to go to hell.

Well, he got his wish.

Though, of course, she was post-hell now. She’d come out the other side, but would things ever get back to normal? She sometimes wondered if this was normal for her now; maybe she would carry this awful empty feeling around with her for ever…?

‘I said you’re allowed to be upset.’

A frown formed on Rachel’s crease-free forehead. ‘Are you coming down with something? You look awfully flushed.’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Lily lied. ‘It’s just warmed up this afternoon—’ she gestured towards the sun shining through the open window ‘—and this sweater is a bit—’

‘Of a disaster,’ Rachel completed. ‘I don’t mean to be brutal, but this bag-lady look doesn’t do you any favours, love.’

‘This is casual.’

‘No,’ Rachel denied brutally, ‘it is absolutely awful. Perhaps if you made a bit of an effort you might feel a bit better? If I’m down I buy a pair of shoes…’

‘Retail therapy isn’t the answer to everything.’

‘I didn’t mean to be terminally shallow,’ Rachel, who had flushed, retorted.

‘Of course you’re not shallow,’ Lily soothed, guilty for being snappy.

‘I do actually know a new pair of shoes isn’t going to fix everything, but it…Dear God, Lily, if you don’t have the right to fall apart after what has happened to you, who does? I tell you, if I’d been through what you have, losing the baby and Gordon, the total scumbag running off with that little—’

Lily did not want to talk about Gordon or his girlfriend, or the baby…especially the baby. ‘Am I falling apart?’

‘Ever so slightly maybe…Don’t you hate Gordon?’ Rachel turned her curious gaze on her friend. ‘If it was me I’d want to—’

‘Maybe I could do with a trim,’ Lily interrupted, running a hand lightly over her hair.

‘And a new pair of shoes?’

Lily grinned. ‘Don’t push it, Rachel.’ Her grin faded and she hesitantly added, ‘About Gordon—you know, he’s really not the bad guy in this.’

Rachel looked ready to explode. ‘Not the bad guy!’

‘And Olivia isn’t little.’ An image of the athletic redheaded figure of the sports psychologist her ex-husband planned to marry now their divorce was finalised flashed into her head.

‘She’s six feet in her bare feet and it was hardly a shock when Gordon asked for a divorce.’

Gordon had met her at the airport at the end of her Spanish holiday and Lily, who had been consumed with guilt and more miserable than she had thought possible, had not noticed at first that her husband had been acting oddly. She’d totally forgotten that he had a lot of explaining to do, because so had she.

He had waited until they’d got in the car to admit to her that it hadn’t been work that had stopped him joining her, but another woman.

Lily hadn’t bothered pretending to be shocked.

‘She’s called Olivia and she’s…well, the thing is, Lily, I want to be with her. I think we should get a divorce.’

‘All right.’

Gordon, who had obviously been geared up for a big scene, was gobsmacked by her reaction and slightly suspicious.

‘And you don’t have a problem with that?’

She shook her head listlessly.

‘Don’t you want to know…’ he flushed ‘…how long…?’

‘If you want to tell me.’

‘You do understand what I’m saying, Lily?’ He spoke slowly as though he were talking to a child. ‘This isn’t a fling.’

‘Not this time.’

Gordon flushed, and looked defensive. ‘Well, if you had been more…’ He stopped and made a visible effort to control himself.

She decided to move this along a bit. ‘Will there be any fallout…career-wise?’

‘I resigned.’

‘What about the promotion?’ The promotion that was all he’d been able to talk about all year.

A hint of defiance crept into her husband’s voice. ‘I realised that the civil service was stifling me. I need a change of direction.’

‘When did you decide this?’

‘I resigned two months ago.’

‘Should I ask what you’ve been doing every morning when you went off to work…and on those business trips…?’

‘Olivia and I are setting up a sports training facility in Cyprus.’

‘That’s different.’ She didn’t have to pretend total lack of interest.

‘Hell, I didn’t mean for it to happen, Lily, but you have to admit we’re not…but I don’t expect you to understand! The moment I saw her…’ he began in a low, impassioned voice.

Lily gazed through the car window not seeing the traffic streaming past. ‘Maybe I do understand.’

Gordon didn’t say so, but she could see he didn’t believe her. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that she had met someone too, and she now knew just how empty their marriage had been. She now knew that love could make a person buy very naughty underwear, and forget every principle she’d been brought up to believe in.

But there was no point. This was Gordon, who had once said comfortingly, ‘Of course you’re not frigid, you’re just not a very physical person. Don’t worry about it; not everyone is.’

The fact was Gordon thought she was a white-cotton girl. Santiago had made her feel and act like naughty black lace.

Rachel made a scornful sound in her throat. ‘Sure it wasn’t a shock—you expected your husband to leave you for his bit on the side when you were pregnant.’

Lily pushed her brown hair, which, without its normal monthly trim, had got long and uncontrollable, behind her ears. Maybe it is time to set the record straight?

‘It’s true.’ A light flush appeared along the smooth contours of her pale cheeks as she experienced an emotion close to relief as she admitted, ‘I really wasn’t surprised. Our marriage had been dead and buried for a long time before Olivia came along.’