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His parting words had cut through her like a knife.
‘If you think your daughter is worth anything to me, you’re a bigger fool than she is.’
She lay down in the bed, turning her face into the covers to try to stop the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. She had always known that her father was a dangerous man, but she’d naively believed herself out of the bounds of his cruelty. Hearing him threaten to use violence against her had been the catalyst she’d needed to begin her plan to escape.
Realising how she had been duped—how she had let herself be duped because she had craved love and attention from her father—had meant she no longer trusted her own judgement when it came to anyone. Especially not men who had a motive to use her for their own gains.
But she was no longer sure about her decision to leave Brazil and hide her son’s existence. She wasn’t sure about anything. She needed to be sure Duarte was telling the truth before she made herself—and her son—vulnerable.
She fell asleep with the memory of Duarte’s lips devouring hers and dreamed of him watching her from the shadows of the bedroom, his amber eyes filled with longing and unrest.
CHAPTER SIX
NORA AWOKE AFTER a few hours of restless sleep with her body still taut with anxiety from the night before. She contemplated a shower, but no sooner had she stood up from the bed and stretched than Liam began to wake and fuss for his morning feed.
She dressed in the first thing she pulled out of her case that wasn’t wrinkled—a simple coral sundress that was loose and flowing around her legs. She still hadn’t quite figured out how to dress for her new body shape, but there was a more pressing matter at hand: feeding the fussing infant who had begun to let out intermittent squeaks, demanding her attention.
Scraping her hair up into a messy bun, she set out for the kitchen. It had been too dark to see much the night before, so she didn’t know what to expect.
A long narrow corridor led from her bedroom to a sweeping mahogany staircase. She paused halfway down and looked up, transfixed by the breathtaking original stonework on the walls and ceilings. She could see where the historic features had been lovingly preserved, creating a perfect balance with modern touches.
The large living area had been extended at some point, with a clever stone pillar holding a modern glass fireplace acting as a transitional centrepiece that reached from floor to ceiling. She shook her head, hardly able to take in every wonderful detail at once.
From her vantage point at one of the full-length windows she could see that the rear of the house was surrounded by a stone terrace. Marble steps led down to an ornamental garden that looked perfectly maintained.
The property was cocooned by tall trees on either side, with just enough space at the front to see the South Atlantic Ocean spread out before them.
It was a home fit for a king—or at least some form of nobility—and sure enough, when the housekeeper, who introduced herself as Inés, spied her and showed her to the long galley kitchen, she was only too happy to give her a brief history lesson, outlining the passage of Casa Jardim from being the home of eighteenth-century Portuguese colonials to its present incarnation, housing three generations of the wealthy Avelar family.
Nora bit her lip, looking down at her infant son in her arms. This was what she was denying him. Not just wealth, but history and heritage.
But that life would mean nothing without safety. She couldn’t remember ever being carefree as a child. The shadow of her father and his power had always hung over her and her mother, even when they’d tried to live peacefully in Manaus.
On that long weekend when they’d first met, Duarte had told her of the dangers that came with being an Avelar. He was regularly subjected to threats and scrutiny, requiring security wherever he went. She didn’t want that for her son. He deserved to grow up free from fear, free from threat.
Steeling herself, she fed Liam and then settled him to kick his legs in his pram before tucking into the delicious spread of fresh fruit and pastries Inés had laid out on the open terrace.
The gentle clearing of a throat caught her attention, and she turned to find the subject of her dreams standing at the end of the stone steps, his body only partially covered by the white towel slung low on his hips.
Nora felt her mouth go dry and a groan of pure disbelief threatening to escape her throat. Of course he would be in a towel...
‘I hope you both slept well?’ he asked as he took a seat opposite her and sent a single fleeting look down to where the baby now slept in the shade.
‘He doesn’t sleep longer than a few hours yet,’ Nora answered truthfully. ‘The bed was very comfortable though.’
‘That must be difficult...losing so much sleep.’ Duarte frowned, thanking Inés as she brought him out a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee.
‘I have many tricks to make o menino sleep.’ Inés leaned down to coo at Liam, who had woken and begun to fuss and pull up his legs as if with discomfort. ‘May I hold him?’
Nora nodded and bit her lip as the dark-haired woman gathered the baby into her arms and expertly placed him over her arm. ‘I call this macaco em uma árvore. Monkey in a tree.’ She smiled and began to sway from side to side, as though dancing. Liam immediately let out a loud burp and relaxed onto her arm with a dreamy little gurgle.
Once Inés and the baby had moved slightly out of earshot, Nora looked up to see Duarte watching her intensely.
‘You are exhausted,’ he said.
‘I’m a new mother.’ She frowned, touching a hand to the hair she’d so carelessly thrown up earlier. ‘I don’t have time to hide my exhaustion under make-up and smiles just to look presentable for your comfort.’
‘Deus, I’m not criticising your appearance, Nora.’ He shook his head with a mixture of anger and surprise. ‘Things must have ended badly between us if you think me such a shallow, callous bastard.’
