For the Sake of the Secret Child

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She jerked herself free.

  “I will tell you no such thing. Now, please let me pass. I have work to complete and a sick child to attend to. Since you’re so worried about his welfare, perhaps you’d do well to remember it’s you who is holding me up from being with him right now.”

  “We have not finished discussing this,” he warned.

  “I beg to differ. We have totally exhausted the subject.”

  She pushed past him and went to stand at the door to the entrance of the spa, holding it open for him—her foot none too subtly tapping on the floor.

  “I understand you need to be with Jasper tonight, but we will talk about this further tomorrow.”

  “There is nothing to talk about. I told you that already.”

  “So you say. However, your eyes betray you, Mia.”

  “There is nothing to betray,” she insisted, but behind her words he heard a note of anxiety.

  And it was that very note that gave him purpose.

  “Then meet me for dinner tonight as I suggested this morning. Tell me about Jasper’s father. Prove to me that I’m not him.”

  “I don’t need to have dinner with you to prove you have no claim on my son.”

  Every muscle in her body was rigid and her face had paled, making her eyes shine with the brilliance of unflawed emeralds against her white cheeks.

  “Then you have nothing to fear, do you?”

  “Mr. del Castillo, my son is ill and needs his mother. Tell me, why on earth would I choose to spend time with you rather than comforting him?”

  “You will call me Ben, and I am certain Jasper will fall asleep at some stage this evening. When he does, you can come to my rooms. I will wait for you. It is no matter to me—I’m used to dining late anyway.”

  “And if he doesn’t settle and I don’t come?”

  “Well, then, I will have to come to you instead.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she eventually replied through lips thinned with anger.

  He watched her as she locked the door of the spa behind them and stalked off toward the doors leading outside. He took a moment to indulge in the sheer masculine pleasure of watching the sway of her hips and the sharply straight set of her shoulders.

  She would not dodge his need to know precisely who Jasper’s father was and, if she tried to prevent him, she’d learn exactly what it was like to nay-say a del Castillo.

  Six

  Ben waited until nine-thirty before calling reception and asking to speak with Mia. Irritation at her delaying tactics danced along his spine as he paced the confines of his sitting room, the cordless phone glued to his ear, and stared out the window at the black velvet blanket of night beyond.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but Ms. Parker is off duty until tomorrow morning. Could someone else help you?”

  Not unless someone else could tell him every single thing that Mia had done since he’d left Queenstown after the New Year’s celebrations that had surpassed all New Year’s celebrations in his memory.

  “Ms. Parker is expecting my call. Please put me through to her quarters.”

  He sensed the night receptionist’s hesitation before she continued.

  “Let me check with Ms. Parker first.”

  Her staff’s loyalty and attention to observing privacy was commendable. However, he could barely stop himself from grinding his teeth in frustration.

  “I’m putting you through,” the receptionist breezed a moment later.

  “Muchas gracias,” Ben replied, forcing himself to continue to inject civility into his voice.

  There was a short delay on the line before he heard a woman’s voice on the other end.

  “Mr. del Castillo?”

  “Elsa, how are you this evening? I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Ben.” He injected as much warmth as he could into his voice. If he was to get to Mia, he wasn’t averse to using whatever powers he had to work through the people she had around her. “Would it be possible to speak with Mia?”

  “I’m sorry but Mia is sleeping. She had a very troubled night with Jasper last night and she fell asleep shortly after his bath time this evening. I’m staying here tonight to help out in case he has another bad one. Perhaps I can take a message for you.”

  Ben considered Elsa’s words. Was Mia truly asleep, or had she coached her mother to screen her calls?

  “No, no message. I will speak with her tomorrow. I hope you all rest well and that Jasper is much improved by morning.”

  The words stuck on his tongue as it suddenly struck him that if he was truly Jasper’s father it should be him helping Mia through the night with their son—would have been him, if she had done him the courtesy of informing him of her pregnancy at the time. The thought cut him to his core. He’d never stopped to consider what it meant to be a father before. Certainly hadn’t given it a thought when he and Reynard had agreed to Alex’s harebrained scheme to marry and start families to prove their grandfather’s fears about the curse as unfounded.

  In fact, truth be told, he had no idea how he would have reacted had Mia tracked him down and told him about her pregnancy from the start. Fatherhood was something he’d always assumed would happen when he was older, ready to settle down by choice rather than by some ancient dictate. But now he knew, deep in his soul, that he wanted this responsibility in his life more than anything he’d ever wanted before.

  He ended the call and let the phone drop from his hands onto the sofa beside him. More than anything he wanted to know the truth about Jasper. But how was he to go about it when Mia kept stonewalling him every step of the way?

  Maybe he was going at this all wrong, he thought. There was more than one way to reel in a fish, but to hook them you needed the right bait. And the question was, what was Mia’s bait?

  The next afternoon, when Ben turned up for his massage, he was surprised to find a different woman waiting for him at the spa.

  “You must be Mr. del Castillo,” the brunette said as she stepped forward to welcome him. “I’m Cassie Edwards. Mia asked me to stand in for her today as she’s not well.”

  “Not well?”

  His distrust of her statement must have been obvious, because she hastened to add, “Apparently she’s come down with the same illness as her son.”

  Has she, now? Ben thought to himself. It was something that would be quite simple to check out and he resolved to do that the moment his session with Cassie was over.

  Cassie was good, he acknowledged later, once the massage was over, but she wasn’t Mia. He missed the gentle strength of her fingers as they glided over his body, even missed the way she worked out the knots in his shoulders and lower, down his back. But most of all, he missed her touch. Knowing it was her and her alone who soothed his tortured muscles.

  After he was finished, he went to his suite to shower and change and decided to pay Mia and Jasper a visit. A quick call to room service soon saw a basket delivered to his door laden with fresh bread, chicken soup in a generous thermos and a selection of fresh fruit.

  It was only a short walk to the building where he knew Mia stayed. He deduced the building, built around the turn of the last century, had probably been the original station house when the property was a working farm station. Literature in the hotel had told him that about three years ago most of the grazing acreage of the station had been sold and the property converted into the boutique hotel and spa it was now.

  Reading between the lines, Benedict began to wonder what exactly had prompted the sudden and massive change in such a short period of time. He made a mental note to do a little more investigating. Tomorrow would be soon enough, as he planned to spend some time in Queenstown catching up with the friends he’d stayed with during his last visit to the area. A few careful questions here and there should give him the information he needed.

  For now, though, his most immediate concern was finding out whether or not Mia was indeed unwell, or simply avoiding him.

  When he reached the building he foll
owed the first path that led him to a paneled green door. He rapped his knuckles against the surface and waited. After a few minutes he heard the sound of footsteps inside and eventually the door swung open.

  Mia stood in front of him, her blond hair loose rather than in the ponytail or twist she usually wore. The rings under her eyes were even more prominent than the day before and her eyes shone, as if she had a mild fever.

  Suddenly feeling ridiculous for his suspicions, Ben lifted the basket he’d brought.

  “I heard you weren’t feeling well and I thought you might like this. Can I come in?”

  “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch whatever we have?” she rasped.

  “I think if I were to get it, I would have already caught whatever it is from you,” Ben answered, giving her a pointed look.

  The slight flush on her cheeks deepened as he alluded to the kiss they’d shared two days ago.

  “Your choice,” she said, ducking her head and standing to one side to let him through. “Frankly, I’m too tired to argue with you.”

  “That makes a pleasant change,” he quipped, brushing past her and stepping into a large open-plan sitting-cum-dining area.

  Toys were scattered across the floor and the couch had been made up into a bed.

  “I’m sorry for the mess. Just didn’t have the energy to pick up after Jas today.”

  “Understandable, if you’re not well. Here, sit down, before you fall down.”

  He took her by the elbow, guided her onto the couch and lifted her feet up before pulling the blanket over her. The fact that she didn’t so much as raise a single objection spoke volumes as to how unwell she was.

  “Is Elsa not here today?”

  Mia shook her head. “She’s staying in town for an early appointment with her cardiologist tomorrow. He only visits Queenstown every so often so I wouldn’t let her cancel.”

  “How has Jasper been today?”

  She gave a weak smile. “Oh, he’s been much better today. The antibiotics are working a treat and he’s full of beans. Too many beans, actually. He’s asleep now.” She gestured to the chaos of the sitting room. “I probably should have tried to keep him up to closer to his usual bedtime, because now he’s going to be up far too late tonight, but when he just dropped, I had to tuck him into bed.”

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  She shook her head. “Not much. Hurts to eat.”

  “I brought soup. I think you should try some. Your chef assures me it’s his grandmother’s secret recipe and bound to have you feeling better in no time.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you doing this for me?”

  Ben hesitated. To be honest, he didn’t really know. Sure, at first he’d just wanted to prove to himself that she wasn’t just avoiding him—and more to the point, avoiding his questions about Jasper. But since he’d seen her at the door he’d been filled with a disquieting need to make sure she was okay. He reached in his mind for something to say, settling on the first thing that came.

  “Oh, it’s nothing philanthropic, I can assure you. It’s all about me. I want my usual massage therapist back as soon as possible. Cassie’s good, but she’s not as good as you.”

  She made a strangled sound, halfway between a laugh and a groan of pain.

  He flung her a glance. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “No, no it’s not, not when you put it like that,” she said with a weak smile before struggling to get off the couch again.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To the kitchen to get some bowls for the soup.”

  “Tell me where to find everything. You can stay right where you are.”

  Ben readjusted the blanket across her jean-clad legs, noting with approval that her jeans were a far better fit than the uniform she usually wore day-to-day around the hotel. Her spa attire was a little more revealing but nowhere near as good as his memory. And that memory became more and more distinct with every day he spent time with her again.

  Under her directions, he went into her compact kitchen and found the necessary utensils and a tray. He retrieved the basket from the sitting room and set the tray for one. A fact she protested about when he brought the bowl of soup and a slice of buttered bread through to her.

  “Aren’t you eating, too?”

  “No, I brought this for you. My mother didn’t have much to do in our kitchens when we were growing up but I always remember her bringing me her chicken soup when I was sick.”

  Mia eyed him over the tray he’d propped onto her lap. This Benedict del Castillo was a different man from the one who’d all but threatened her over Jasper yesterday afternoon. What had brought about the change? Surely it wasn’t just because she was unwell. Deep down she knew he must have an ulterior motive of some description but she felt so utterly rotten she couldn’t fight through the fugue of her mind to pin it down.

  She scooped her spoon into the soup and brought it to her lips. The subtle flavors of chicken, celery and some other vegetable that she couldn’t quite place immediately, slid over her tongue and down her raw throat like a balm.

  “This is really good—you should have some,” she said, her voice not quite as raspy as before.

  “Maybe. See how much you feel like, first.”

  Under his watchful gaze she dipped a corner of the bread into the soup and brought it to her mouth. She felt a drop of soup linger on the edge of her lip and she swept it with her tongue, her gaze flitting to Ben’s when he roughly cleared his throat and looked away. A hot flush raced through her that had nothing whatsoever to do with the fever she’d been running most of the day.

  Crazy. Her reactions to him were totally off the scale of reasonable behavior. Here she was, sick, and still she wanted him. Mia focused on her soup and trying to get it all down her sore throat.

  No wonder Jasper had been so fractious yesterday if this was how he’d felt. She’d weighed up going to the doctor herself today but decided against it. Bed rest and plenty of fluids were all she needed, she was sure of it. If she didn’t show an improvement in the next day or two she’d go to the doctor, but for now she was sure she could beat this on her own. Besides, being unwell had given her an excuse to call in Cassie, one of the therapists she usually had working at the spa during full capacity of the hotel, to take on her responsibilities with Ben.

  So much for her attempts to avoid him, though, she thought as she stole another glance at him. He’d risen from his chair and was now picking up Jasper’s scatter of toys and putting them in the big toy barrel she kept in the room. Usually she made Jasper tidy after himself, but today everything was just too much.

  Actually, now she thought about it, even keeping her eyes open defied every ounce of willpower she had. Her head dropped back against the pillow behind her and her eyelids slid shut. She’d close them for only a minute, that was all, and then she’d be all right again.

  She could tell it was much later when she next opened her eyes. The gray light of the winter afternoon had darkened to night and the tray that had still been on her lap when she’d drifted off was now gone. She felt a little better for the food and rest, though her mouth felt fuzzy and her eyes burned as if they had a week’s worth of household dust behind her lids. Still weak, she pushed the blanket off and forced herself to her feet. She had to check on Jasper, and take a much-needed bathroom break, she realized.

  The room spun a little and she took a moment to check her bearings. The sitting room was a heck of a lot tidier than it had been when she’d fallen asleep. Not only had her tray been cleared away, but the coffee table tidied, and from the overhead light still on in the kitchen she could see that someone had cleared up in there also.

  Had Ben done all of that? The almost overwhelming sense of relief at having someone who could share the load with her was short-lived as a flush of shame and embarrassment swept through her. No doubt that would give him even more ammunition to use against her w
hen he questioned her parenting skills. And she had no doubt that he’d use every weapon available to him when it came time to fight. It struck her that she now accepted that the fight for Jasper was only a matter of time away. The realization struck dread into her heart.

  She took a look at the wall clock above the kitchen bench. It was past midnight. Good grief. She really had to check on Jasper. He’d been due another dose of the liquid antibiotic his doctor had prescribed at around seven. But first, the bathroom.

  After she’d taken care of her needs and washed her hands and face, she moved as quickly and carefully as she could across the hall to Jasper’s room. She gently pushed open his door and froze in the doorway. There on Jasper’s “big boy’s bed,” curled up with their son in his arms, lay Benedict del Castillo. Her heart lurched as she saw the two dark heads so close together.

  They each had the same bone structure. A strong, broad forehead with heavy dark brows sweeping in a slight arch over their thick, dark lash-tipped eyes. Eyes that were closed in slumber, but that she knew to be the same rich, dark hue. Ben’s long, straight nose was different from Jasper’s, the little boy’s still holding some of the lack of definition of infanthood. But their lips showed every sign of bearing the same haughty line even if Ben’s were outlined with the shadow of a day’s growth of beard. They even had the same indentation in their chins.

  Stupid tears burned at the back of her eyes and she backed out of the room. Somehow, she must have made a noise though, because Ben’s eyes flicked open. He pursed his lips in a silent “shhh” and carefully moved, tucking Jasper under his covers and joining her at the bedroom door.

  He took her by the hand, his long, warm fingers clasping hers as if the action was totally normal and everyday between them. Once they were back in the sitting room he put his free hand against her forehead.

  “You feel cooler than before.”

  “What were you doing?” she asked. “Have you been here all this time?”

  “You needed the rest and I didn’t see the point in disturbing you. Jasper woke shortly after you dozed off. We made it a game to see how quiet he could be. He’s a very good boy for his age.”