was tempted to dash back inside to at least apply some blusher to alleviate her sleep-deprived pallor and give her confidence a bit of a boost, but she had no time. Instead she manufactured a smile for her reflection and reminded herself that Roman probably wouldn’t notice her less than yummy-mummy appearance and so what? She wasn’t out to impress him anyway.
A brisk walk up the hill meant she wasn’t pale when she arrived at the hotel, her cheeks flushed with the exertion of pushing the buggy.
As she struggled to push it across the gravel forecourt a tall figure emerged from the side of the building. Unlike yesterday she was prepared for his appearance, but even so her heart started pounding like a hammer and her knees started to tremble.
‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ The breathless quiver was, she told herself, nothing to do with the fact that he radiated an aura of raw masculinity—he really was breathtaking!
‘No matter.’ His dark glance slid to the sleeping child and he tried to analyse the emotions that tightened like a fist in his chest. Once he had taken having a child for granted. Now it seemed more miracle.
‘Would you like a coffee?’
‘Actually it might be a good idea to walk and talk. Lily will wake up if I stop pushing her and she’s quite cranky this morning.’
They did walk but there was no talk.
She endured the silent attrition for ten minutes, during which time her apprehension had increased tenfold until she could bear it no more.
They had reached the footpath that circled the lake when Izzy had had enough. ‘Let’s sit, shall we?’
Roman tilted his head. ‘Fine.’ With one hand in the small of her back he guided her towards one of the benches beside the lake.
Izzy sat down, resisting the impulse that made her want to shuffle to the far end when Roman sat down beside her. He was a man with an overpowering presence and the sort of sexual charisma she had thought was an invention of romantic fiction.
He took a bag out of the pocket of his long black trench coat and tipped the contents on the ground, giving an awkward grimace when he caught her astonished stare. ‘I bought some food for the ducks. I thought Lily might like …?’ He nodded to the sleeping child.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said. ‘She’s tired … and it’s probably easier to talk without …’
She stopped and raised her voice above the squawks of the ducks who had mobbed them. ‘I have to be back by twelve. Emma is picking Lily up. She goes back to university tomorrow and she wants to spend some time with her.’ Her half-sister was a doting aunt.
A nerve clenched in Roman’s lean cheek as he turned to look at her. ‘So do I.’
His direct stare brought a flush to her cheeks. ‘Oh, of course … I didn’t think …’
‘She’s my daughter.’ If he said it out loud often enough it might start to feel more real.
Izzy nodded tightly.
Roman swallowed and dug his fingers deep into the dark pelt of hair on his head.
‘I appreciate all this must be a shock for you.’
Roman’s hand fell away, leaving his sleek hair standing up in spiky tufts on his scalp. ‘Shock!’ He gave a twisted smile and laughed. ‘You have no idea.’ He stretched out his long legs in front of him and loosened the button on his coat, the fabric parting to reveal the dark cashmere sweater he wore underneath.
Izzy felt the muscles in her stomach quiver. He really was an extraordinarily attractive man.
‘I thought Lily was a grumbling appendix until I was six months pregnant.’
Her attempt to inject a note of levity—good timing never had been her strong point—was greeted with an incredulous stare. ‘Seriously?’
‘No, not seriously.’ She had known immediately, even before she’d done the test. She had simply felt different.
He turned his head. ‘I never thought I’d have a child.’ He still struggled to get his head around the idea.
So children did not figure in the glamorous life of this man. No real surprise there—it was hard to imagine him welcoming grubby fingerprints on his shirt.
‘I suppose not everyone likes children.’
She felt herself relax slightly. Was that what this meeting was about—a warning to tell her not to expect him to be a hands-on parent? He needn’t have worried; she didn’t need or want anything from him. As far as she was concerned her daughter had all the positive male role models she needed.
‘I’ll let you know how Lily is, a yearly update if you like.’ He was looking at her oddly so she shrugged and added, ‘Or not.’ Then looked away because those spooky silver lights deep in his dark eyes made her feel dizzy.
Had she assumed too much? Did he want to walk away and act as though nothing had happened?
‘Though it would be useful to know if there is any significant medical history on your side …?’ This practicality was the reason her mother had decided to give her the details of her biological father, in case after she was gone Izzy found herself in a situation where such information would be useful.
His thick, strongly defined sable brows knitted together as he stared at her as though she were talking gibberish. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like children. Actually I don’t know any.’
Unlike the large and noisy Fitzgerald clan, he had been an only child and there had been no cousins to play with. His parents, madly in love and totally wrapped up in one another, had never intended to have children, and resented the intrusion of a third party, and at an early age Roman had been shipped off to school. He hadn’t minded. He’d liked school, excelling academically and at sports, though not team sports—Roman with his lone-wolf tendencies had never been a team player.
‘Though I was one myself once,’ he added with a half-smile.
‘You don’t have brothers or sisters …?’ Izzy asked and he shook his head. ‘Neither do I, but then I’m sure the grapevine gossip told you that.’
Instead of reacting to the charge he picked up on the previous statement. ‘Actually I was told that I couldn’t have children, or at any rate it would be unlikely.’
But unlikely had happened, a miracle had happened. Did she really think he’d be content with yearly updates on his child’s life?
Izzy was confused by his admission. She knew he was not impotent so that left what …?
‘Three years ago I had chemo.’ He offered the additional information in the manner of a casual afterthought.
Her eyes flew to his face ‘You’re ill?’ Beneath the calm surface Izzy could feel the ice forming … counting, she waited for the next breath. ‘You’re not dying? God, no!’ She took a deep breath, let it out in a long hissing sigh and made a struggling attempt to breach the social chasm that had opened up at her feet.
His broad shoulders lifted in a fluid shrug. ‘We are all dying, cara.’
Izzy, conscious that her knees were shaking, flashed him a dark look, annoyed that he was making light of a subject that was anything but. ‘You know what I mean.’
He conceded the point. ‘I had the all-clear, but surgery … well, you saw the scars.’
He watched as she closed her eyes, her long curling lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Her eyelids lifted. ‘Well, you might have said that straight off instead …’
‘Sorry.’
Two years ago he had been in remission and the doctors had been cautiously optimistic, explaining that if he went another two years then his chances of suffering the disease were no more than those