Stealing the Promised Princess
Page 18
‘Poppet, I can’t put you down on the dirty floor,’ Betsy murmured, trying to pacify the little boy, who had started to grizzle.
Sebastian might only be fifteen months old, but he was already showing signs that he was strong-willed. Had he inherited the trait from him? Carlos wondered.
‘I have arranged for a paternity test to be carried out,’ he said abruptly. ‘A doctor is waiting at a hotel a few miles from here to take the necessary samples and the DNA testing clinic guarantees the result in twenty-four hours.’
‘What do you intend to do when the result is positive?’ Betsy challenged him. ‘If you plan to regard Sebastian as merely your responsibility, or worse an inconvenience, it might be better not to do the test. You can walk away right now and forget about him.’
‘Is your reluctance because you know the test will prove you are a liar?’ His jaw hardened. ‘You have publicly alleged that I am your child’s father and I am determined to clear my name.’
Angry spots of colour flared on her cheeks. ‘I swear that the story in the tabloids had nothing to do with me.’
‘It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.’ Carlos could not hide his frustration. ‘This evening there is a party in London to launch the UK office of my sports management company. Veloz represents some of the biggest names in the world of sport. But now my integrity is being questioned. I want the truth, and a paternity test is the only way I can be sure to get it.’
‘Fine.’ Betsy did not drop her gaze from his. ‘I’m all for the truth. But how can we go anywhere while the village is flooded? I’m surprised you were able to get here.’
‘I came to Fraddlington by helicopter and walked across a field as the main road is impassable.’ Carlos strode towards the front door, grimacing as his handcrafted Italian leather shoes squelched in the layer of mud on the floor. ‘Let’s go.’
‘You obviously know nothing about small children if you think I can simply leave the house.’
Betsy’s wry voice stopped him.
‘I’ll need to pack a change bag for Sebastian and make up a bottle of his formula milk.’
The toddler had stopped squirming in her arms and was staring at Carlos. He was a beautiful child. Carlos was once again struck by Sebastian’s resemblance to his nephew.
He walked back to Betsy, compelled by a feeling he could not explain as he studied her son’s apple-round cheeks and mop of dark curls. ‘I’ll hold him while you organise what you need,’ he said tersely.
She hesitated. ‘He might not want to go to you. He’s wary of strangers.’
Carlos held out his hands and took the unresisting little boy from her. He had some experience, having been coerced by his sister to hold his nephew since Miguel had been a tiny baby.
The strong similarity between the two boys could simply be coincidence, he assured himself. He was not going to jump to conclusions ahead of the DNA test. Nevertheless, he felt an unnerving sense of recognition when his gaze locked with Sebastian’s sherry-gold eyes.
Betsy had asked what he intended to do if he had proof that he was her baby’s father. Up until he’d walked into the cottage he had not seriously considered it a possibility. But she sounded so certain that he had to accept it might be true. And if it was...if Sebastian was his...
A host of conflicting emotions surged through Carlos, but the fiercest and most unexpected was protectiveness. Since he was a teenager he had not had the support from his own father that he had desperately wanted, and he had even doubted that Roderigo loved him. If Sebastian was his, he would claim his son and love him unconditionally.
Copyright © 2020 by Chantelle Shaw
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ISBN-13: 9781488068690
Stealing the Promised Princess
Copyright © 2020 by Millie Adams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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