I found him bleeding outside the gates of the house and took him to the vet. He was covered in puncture wounds, so we think he was mauled by another dog. The vet treated his wounds. Other than being terrified and in pain from the mauling, there’s nothing wrong with him.’
‘Why hasn’t he been returned to his owner?’
‘He isn’t microchipped and no one’s claimed him. It’s likely he’s been abandoned.’
He knew her intentions immediately. ‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No. We are not having a dog.’
‘We’re not, I am. If the owner doesn’t declare him or herself by the end of next week Frodo will be registered as mine.’
‘Frodo?’
‘He looks like a Frodo. He already answers to it.’ Putting her nose down to the black rug in her arms’ nose, she said, in word-perfect Spanish, ‘You already know your name, don’t you, Frodo?’
‘Since when do you speak Spanish?’ he asked in amazement.
‘I’ve lived here for almost two years.’
‘You’ve never spoken it before.’
‘I made my wedding vows in Spanish. Besides, I haven’t needed to with you,’ she said, reverting back to her native language. ‘Your English is much better than my Spanish. I speak Spanish with the staff.’
Realising he’d been distracted from the conversation at hand, he steered it back. ‘He’s not staying. We are not having a dog. You have enough to cope with.’
She could not argue with that logic.
Turned out she could.
‘The baby’s not due for five months. That’s plenty of time to train it before the kumquat’s born. He’s only a puppy. The vet thinks he’s about three months old.’
‘What do you know about training a dog?’
‘I grew up with dogs. And cats and guinea pigs and stick insects. I told you before you left for Cape Town that I always wanted to be a vet.’
Dios, the infuriating woman had an answer for everything.
But he would not be swayed.
‘No. This is not a house for a dog. Think of the mess it will create. I have antiques and artefacts worth millions.’ In the corner of this room alone stood a statue of ancient Greek heritage. ‘It can stay until next Friday to recover from its injuries. If the owner does not come forward it will go to a dog rescue and be adopted.’
His word final, he strolled out of the living room, intent on finding Julio and demanding to know why none of his staff had seen fit to warn him of his wife’s doings.
‘How can you be so cruel?’
He took a deep breath and turned back around.
His heart wrenched.
Sophie’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, her chin wobbling. The puppy nuzzled into her hand. ‘This is a poor, defenceless puppy who’s been abandoned by its owner and now you want me to abandon it too. Well, I’m sorry but I can’t. Look at the poor little thing. You think a stupid artefact is worth more than a life? If he doesn’t stay then I don’t stay.’
He stared at her with disbelief. ‘I thought you didn’t make threats.’
‘I’m not making a threat. I’m telling you how it is. I will not abandon him. He needs me.’
‘He does not need you. He needs a family, agreed, but it does not need to be this one.’
‘It does!’ She took a long inhalation, seeming to suck the tears back before they could fall. ‘He’s just settling in and now you want him to be uprooted all over again? What do you think that would do to him after everything he’s been through? This house is enormous. We can compromise, we can put one of the living rooms aside for his use—this one would be perfect—and clear it of your precious artefacts so he can’t damage anything, but if you won’t compromise then I shall pack my things now because I am not giving him up.’
His incredulity grew. ‘I don’t understand you. I keep thinking it isn’t possible for you to have such a soft heart but then you threaten our marriage over a dog.’
She adjusted her hold on the ball of fluff. ‘You don’t understand me because you think my life has been nothing but unicorns and rainbows. You have no idea...’
‘Are you telling me it hasn’t been?’ he demanded. ‘You, with your talk of a house filled with animals, parents who love and support you... You have been raised with everything a child could desire.’
Everything he’d been denied as he’d been dragged around the world with a mother who’d barely tolerated him, never home long enough between tours for them to entertain a pet, a volatile father who’d idolised him but been so cruel to his twin.
Sophie could have no comprehension of his life and what he and his brother had lived through.
‘Not everything, no,’ she said tremulously, her face contorting. ‘If you had read the documents I couriered to you for our wedding you would know I’m adopted. I was abandoned as a baby.’
His disbelief turned into shock.
He hadn’t read the documents. He’d trusted they were in order and got his PA to send them to the officiant.
His brain began to burn as he suddenly wished he had read through them rather than tossing them to one side as if they meant nothing when what they had represented was the woman standing in front of him only just holding herself together over a dog.
He swallowed his lump-ridden throat. ‘You were abandoned?’
She nodded, her throat moving as she stepped back to sit on the hand-stitched Italian leather sofa, cuddling the puppy on her lap.
If she hadn’t just dropped her bombshell he would have demanded she move the dog far away from his extremely expensive sofa.
‘Don’t think I’m playing for sympathy here,’ she said. ‘I would never play the victim card because I’m not a victim. I’ve been incredibly lucky and you’re right, compared to yours, my childhood was unicorns and rainbows and I’m lucky that my parents—the people who adopted me—are all I can remember, but you said you don’t understand me and maybe it’s time you did.’
‘How old were you?’
She drew her lips in and swallowed before answering. ‘I was hours old when I was found. I’d been left outside a church in a village on the south coast of Devon. The vicar’s wife found me—she’d come to lock the church for the night. I was lucky that she heard my cries because it was too dark for her to see me. I was put in the care of social services and fostered until my parents adopted me when I was eighteen months old.’
He swore, the burn in his brain at boiling point. ‘How old were you when you learned this?’
Her hands stroked the dog’s ears. ‘I’ve always known. My parents never kept it a secret from me. My mum had cervical cancer in her early twenties and had to have a hysterectomy, so they couldn’t have children of their own. They always said I was their miracle from God, delivered to them at His house.’ She met his eyes and smiled. ‘They’re wrong—they’re my miracle. When I think of all the couples out there that could have adopted me, I was given to a couple who loved me more than any child could possibly be loved.’
His legs becoming too shaky to support his weight, Javier staggered onto the armchair across from her. ‘I’m sorry. I wish you had told me all this.’
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not something I talk about much because it’s not something I remember. My life as I know