Page 12 of The Secret Sanchez Heir
‘Hence it’s imperative that you slip out of your towel and get back into your working clothes.’ He strolled towards the window and peered out before turning his attention back to her. ‘The snow’s fine but it’s piling up fast. Leave it too long, and we really will be stranded here with Hal and an all-you-can-eat buffet of unused party food.’
Leandro truly felt that sometimes things happened for a reason and this snow was a perfect opportunity to deliver her back to London, minus her driver, and directly to her house, to discover exactly where that might be.
He felt extremely satisfied at being in control of the situation. He was particularly pleased because, the last time round, control had not been at his disposal and that had been a big mistake.
‘Meet me in the hall in half an hour.’ He headed for the door without looking back over his shoulder but in his mind’s eye he could see her with that scanty towel trying hard to cover her up, and then he pictured her without it at all.
Naked and sexy and the stuff of all his fevered imaginings.
She’d had a night to think about...things. A night to realise that it would be futile to try and ignore the fire still burning between them. Her blushing and coy backing away had told its own story. She was as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof around him and he was convinced that, once she was in her own comfort zone, having been solicitously dropped off by him, she would relax and be open to exploring the chemistry between them.
Abigail watched Leandro shut the door behind him without a second glance back at her. Helicopter? That would make nothing of the trip and she would be back in her house within a couple of hours, if as long as that.
He would go his own way and she would really have to think about what happened next now that he had resurfaced in her life.
CHAPTER FOUR
ABIGAIL MANAGED TO find service on her mobile in the hall and she made a harried call to Claire while Leandro was outside, doing whatever had to be done to direct his pilot. She would be back within a couple of hours—so please could Claire hang on a little bit longer?
Hal was in the kitchen being fed. He couldn’t have been happier at being left in the snowy Cotswolds, in a sprawling country mansion, with limitless supplies of wonderful food and drink. He would drive the car back down to London just as soon as the snow cleared.
By the time Leandro re-entered the house, she was a little more reassured that all was right on the home front and that there had been no problems with Sam. It was the first time she had ever left him overnight and she had been worried sick.
She was fidgeting to leave and Leandro looked at her curiously.
‘How many more times are you going to look at your watch?’ he drawled, cupping her elbow in his hand and propelling her towards the front door. He had already given his instructions to clean the house and then close it up until he could arrange to pay a return visit.
‘I’m anxious, that’s all. I’ve never been in a helicopter before.’ Outside the snow continued to fall, the flakes small and sharp, the wind biting and instantly putting red into her cheeks. She hadn’t banked on such severe weather and her trouser suit, even with her coat, felt like inadequate protection.
‘Looking at your watch a hundred times isn’t going to make you less anxious. Don’t worry, you will be delivered to London safe and sound and in once piece.’
Ushered into the helicopter, a monstrous black beast that looked as though it could survive Arctic conditions, Abigail had some time to think as the machine roared into life, head-butting the lashing wind, and rising up and up.
‘I’m sure I will be,’ she said eventually, over the roar of the helicopter as it swung and made its way south. She risked a look at him and shivered because he was just so dominant, so incredibly overwhelming. He induced raw, forbidden excitement and dreadful, paralysing apprehension in equal measure. Since she had never thought to lay eyes on him again, the apprehension was winning hands down just now as the helicopter buzzed its rapid path away from the snow towards cold, leaden skies that became clearer the further south they travelled.
She had begun unhappily questioning the road she had taken and the choices she had made and now, as London drew closer and closer, she felt faint with the sickening suspicion that she might have made the wrong decision.
Abigail didn’t want to think this way. She fought to recover some of the conviction she had felt all those months ago when she had decided not to contact Leandro.
She forced herself to remember that she had never known her parents. She had no idea who her father was because he wasn’t even registered on her birth certificate. Her mother was now only a vague memory because Abigail had been taken into care when she had been just seven years old. She had known little but the indifference of strangers who had been paid to make sure that she was fed, watered and educated in a manner of speaking.
The system in which she had grown up had made her fiercely protective of her baby even before he had been born.
That was why she had chosen to keep the pregnancy a secret, she reminded herself. She hadn’t dared risk Leandro, rich, powerful and filled with hatred after the break-up of their relationship, trying to lay claim to his child. Of course, he might have chosen to walk away completely, given the option, or offer some financial support and nothing more, but that had been a risk she had been unwilling to take.
Who knew what the future held? she had asked herself. Maybe in time, when her baby was old enough to start asking questions, then she would reconsider the decision she had made, but by then she would be on her feet financially, would hopefully own her own house, and would certainly have many years of successful motherhood behind her to ensure that no one could take her child away from her.
In that manner, she had been able to shove any guilty conscience out of sight, and out of sight had been out of mind.
Her guilty conscience was certainly making up for lost time as she lapsed into silence during the short helicopter flight down to the outskirts of London.
The snow which had been falling steadily in the Cotswolds was not in evidence when they landed. It was cold and windy but, instead of snow, they exited the helicopter into freezing rain and Abigail wrapped her coat tightly around her and stood for a few seconds, getting her bearings.
‘My car.’ Hand propelling her gently behind her back, she found herself tripping along beside Leandro towards a gleaming black vehicle, at the side of which a smartly dressed middle-aged man was standing with the passenger door open.
With a stomach-churning feeling of someone on a rollercoaster ride, Abigail was deposited in the back seat of the car with Leandro next to her before she had time to consider what would happen next.
‘Right.’ Leandro slid shut a partition screen so that they were enclosed in complete privacy. ‘Address?’
