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Katja? Who was Katja? Flora was hanging on her companion’s every word and eaten alive by curiosity, for Angelo revealed few personal facts. The marriage between Angelo’s father and Willem’s mother had been a disaster? Why? And what on earth had happened to this Katja? It did, however, set Flora’s teeth on edge that she should know so little while Bregitta evidently knew so much.
‘Mariska is very lucky to have you and I’m sure Angelo is extremely grateful for your assistance with her,’ Bregitta commented, frustratingly moving the dialogue on in another direction after having whetted Flora’s appetite for more information. ‘Of course, a lot of women have recently offered Angelo help and advice with childcare. There is something so touching about a man trying to raise a little girl alone, isn’t there?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Flora could feel her face assuming a more and more wooden lack of expression. ‘Angelo’s the only male single parent I’ve ever met.’
‘He’s been positively swamped with offers of assistance. But then women have always found Angelo irresistible!’ Bregitta pronounced with a rather pitying giggle. ‘My husband used to tell me stories about when he and Angelo were boys together and even then Angelo was a total babe magnet!’
Suddenly Flora’s tension ebbed and she began to smile. ‘Your husband and Angelo are close friends?’
‘The very best of friends … until Henk died last year,’ Bregitta replied with a slight grimace.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know,’ Flora responded, scolding herself for instantly wondering if the lovely outspoken blonde was of the merry widow variety.
‘Henk was ill for a long time. Angelo was a wonderful friend to both of us.’
Relieved to establish that Bregitta was a friend rather than a more intimate connection, Flora nodded her understanding.
‘Angelo said that you had been ill and needed rest and recuperation. How are you feeling? ‘ Bregitta enquired with a sharply assessing appraisal.
‘I’m feeling fine now.’
Unable to conceal her curiosity, Bregitta continued to study Flora closely. ‘I hope it was nothing serious. Looking after a young child is very hard work.’
It dawned on Flora that, while Bregitta might have known about Mariska’s inheritance, she was not aware that Flora was pregnant by Angelo. Her cheeks colouring again in a hot rush at that awareness, Flora shrugged off the comment and said nothing more while she wondered why she would have preferred to hear that Angelo had been more open about her condition. Was she afraid that his silence on that score meant that she was an embarrassment to him? Or that her moving in with him was such a casual arrangement on his terms that he had seen no reason to mention it to his acquaintances?
Shortly after Bregitta’s departure, Angelo phoned Flora.
After asking her how she was settling in, his dark drawl sending little tingles of awareness down her taut spinal cord, he said casually, ‘At this time of year I usually spend weekends at my country house. I’ll understand if you prefer to remain in Amsterdam though because you’ve only just arrived.’
‘I would love to see the house,’ Flora broke in impulsively.
‘Good. I’ll make the arrangements and I’ll join you there for dinner. I did intend to meet you at the airport but I’m afraid a crisis arose at one of the plants in India.’
Minutes later he had rung off, and Flora lifted Mariska and went off to pack a weekend bag. Anke packed for Mariska with the ease of long practice and mentioned how much she enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere at Huis van Zaal. In turn Flora wryly recalled her late sister’s vehement complaints about how bored she had been when Willem had insisted that they visit his brother’s country home the previous summer. Of course, Julie, she reflected wryly, had always been very much a city girl.
Flora enjoyed the drive out into the pretty countryside where herds of black and white Friesian cows grazed the meadows and windmills presided over the ever-present stretches of water. Her first view of Angelo’s red-brick country seat through a line of espaliered lime trees took her breath away, for, in spite of its name, Huis van Zaal was a small castle complete with a pair of enchanting turrets and a wide moat studded with water lilies.
‘I didn’t realise that it was a castle!’ Flora commented in surprise.
‘It has been in the van Zaal family for over two hundred years,’ Anke told her. ‘My parents farm nearby.’
It was not a huge building and was less a fortress than a home, for, although it might have battlements, it also had shutters on the windows and sat in a lush green oasis of lawns and box-edged borders.
Skipper raced out of the car and had to be sternly recalled before his investigations took him for a dip in the moat. Greeted by a smiling older man called Franz, Flora was shown upstairs to a light-filled bedroom furnished with a magnificent four-poster bed rejoicing in sunflower-yellow damask drapes. Her face warmed as she wondered if she would be sharing the room with Angelo, but she soon discovered that there was no male apparel stored in the antique furniture. By the time she had applied a little make-up and put on a leaf-green dress that swirled round her knees, Anke had Mariska in the old-fashioned bath adjoining the nursery at the end of the corridor.
Flora was finishing off Mariska’s bedtime story when Angelo arrived and as her niece vented a little shriek of excitement Flora fell silent at the sight of the tall, darkly handsome male in the doorway. His brilliant smile lit up his lean dark features and made her heart thunder in her ears. She watched him lift Mariska out of her cot and saw the delight on the little girl’s face, recognising the bonds that had already formed between Angelo and her niece.
But while Mariska’s attention was all for Angelo, his sapphire-blue eyes immediately sought out Flora. She was smiling, her vivid colouring and blooming silhouette accentuated by the backdrop of the pale curtains. She could not drag her attention from his tall, powerful physique. Angelo looked amazing in a dark, wellcut suit and a blue tie that picked up the stunning hue of his eyes. He really was gorgeous, she savoured helplessly, in thrall to the wicked hormones rampaging through her body in a floodtide of reaction.
‘I’m afraid I’m much later than I hoped to be,’ he confided in his husky, sexy drawl before bending his head to address Mariska in Dutch for a couple of minutes. Then he turned back to give Flora his full attention. ‘I’m glad you’re here. Very often I only see Mariska first thing in the morning and last thing at night.’
‘Yet, even though I had much more time to offer her you were still determined to adopt her,’ Flora could not resist reminding him.
His brilliant gaze cooled and his handsome mouth tightened. ‘Now she has both of us and hopefully the best of what we can both offer her,’ he countered smoothly.
Made to feel mean for having made her less than gracious reminder, Flora reddened uncomfortably. But she could not forget that, even though in terms of time and attention she had much more to offer Mariska, Angelo had demonstrated very strong resolve in continuing to battle to become Mariska’s sole legal guardian. For the first time she wondered if that resolve had been driven purely by his fondness for Willem’s daughter. Or by the conviction that he, rather than Flora, would make the better parent. A pang of hurt cut through Flora at the thought that she might have been tried and found wanting by him without ever being aware of the fact and she hastily suppressed the feeling, irritated that she was so sensitive where Angelo was concerned. Why hadn’t he made her aware that her niece was to inherit her father’s substantial trust fund? That mysterious oversight on his part niggled at her, for she could think of no good reason for his silence on that issue.
While Angelo excused himself to go for a shower, Flora descended the gracious carved staircase alone. Franz showed her into an elegant drawing room and offered her a drink, which she refused. She stood at the French windows, which overlooked the charmingly picturesque gardens.
