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BOOK 3
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Being Yours BOOK 3
The sound of her own voice made her start and, half laughing at herself, she stood up and marched into the kitchen to start the coffee.The past was done with. Tonight had been a fiasco. And in a couple of weeks, when Connie was over her operation, she would call Felix.When a hard little lump began to form in her chest she doused it with scalding hot coffee. Except that it turned out to be scalding hot water, because she'd forgotten to put the coffee-grounds in the pot.Brand stood in the doorway of the private hospital room he had insisted on for Connie, and watched Isabella bend over his daughter's bed.By rights, Connie should have been out of hospital the same day she went in, but there had been some problem with the anaesthetic and they were keeping her in for observation.He felt something lodge in his throat as, unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, he gazed at the slender figure of the mother of his child. She looked so young, so vulnerable as she smiled tenderly down
Being Yours BOOK 3
Brand ground out a word she had never heard him use before and hoped she wouldn't hear again. He dropped her wrist so abruptly that her forearm landed on the table with a crash, shaking glasses and rattling the knives and forks. Disapproving heads swivelled in their direction. Plucked eyebrows rose in civilized censure.Isabella turned away to stare into the bright flames leaping in the fireplace. After a while, when she realized Brand wasn't speaking, she forced herself to look up. He was staring at her as if she had just announced that she was Dracula's mistress come for her nightly snack.'What's the matter?' she demanded. 'I haven't said anything you didn't know already. And please, stop looking at me as if you expect me to sink my fangs into your neck.'Brand lifted his wine glass and leaned slowly back in his chair. 'You did that long ago,' he murmured, with just the barest flicker of a smile. 'And very pretty little fangs they were too. Efficient as well. You drew blood.'Isabe
Being Yours BOOK 3
'As a translator?''No. As a nanny to their two little boys.'Brand put his wine glass down with a thump. 'A nanny? Good grief. What did you do with them? You couldn't change a diaper in those days, for heaven's sake.''They weren't babies. I didn't have to change diapers. We got along very well.''Well I'm damned.' Brand shook his head. 'And did you teach them Spanish?'Isabella smiled ruefully. 'No. Their father spoke French, English and Cantonese. He seemed to think that was enough.''I see. And when it became obvious that you were pregnant? What happened then?'She crumbled a piece of flax bread and kept her eyes on her plate. 'The Brownson-Wings were very kind. They let me stay on, and when I had Connie they stood by me. I went on looking after the boys, and later they encouraged me to take courses—in business management and gourmet cooking, mostly. I was already a good cook, thanks to Judy. And then, once I was ready to start my own business, they helped by recommending me to th
Being Yours BOOK 3
So was hers.She shrugged irritably and turned back into the room to begin unpacking.When she went downstairs with Connie half an hour later, it was with a mixture of relief and disappointment that she learned Brand was no longer in the house.*He had some business to attend to at the airport,' Veronica said. 'Mr Ryder is a very busy man.'Who can't afford to waste his valuable time on riffraff like Connie and me, thought Isabella, noting the smug lift to the other woman's voice. She didn't think she much liked Veronica.'Yes,' she said sweetly. 'My husband has always been active.'She was rewarded by Veronica's quick frown, and after that she and Connie were left to their own devices. They heard the housekeeper's heels tapping smartly on the floor as she made her way along one of the polished hardwood corridors.They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the extensive grounds, which, to Connie's delight, included a fishpond, natural woods and a swimming pool.By the time they re
Being Yours BOOK 3
The problem, he acknowledged grimly as put his head round the kitchen door, was that if he didn't take her into it again soon, he was likely to go out of his mind—or at the very least give her a chance to make a fool of him again. And he was damned if he meant to do that. One kick at the can was all his lovely wife was going to get.He told Mrs O'Brien about the milk, apologized gruffly for his lateness, and went into the dining room to eat. Alone.He'd had all he could take of Isabella Sanchez Ryder for one day.It was surprisingly warm for February, and Isabella was sitting on a bench by the fishpond when Brand came home from work the following day. Connie, quite recovered from her nightmare, was in the kitchen entertaining Mrs O'Brien.'You're early,' said Isabella, putting a surreptitious hand to her breast to conceal the sudden pounding of her heart. Her husband's formidable figure was advancing down the flagstoned path in an intimidatingly purposeful way. 'It's only four o'clock
Being Yours BOOK 3
Mairead nodded. 'So have I. So now, tell me—why did you find it necessary to leave my son? His precious principles certainly extend to taking responsibility for a baby.''Oh, I know. It wasn't Brand's fault. At least—I mean, he didn't know I'd had the baby.''Knew you'd left him, though. Must have noticed that. Why didn't he have the sense to fetch you back?''He didn't really want me back,' said Isabella, fidgeting with her yellow-checked placemat. 'And—I expect he told you I wrote him a letter from Edmonton to let him know I was all right—that I didn't need his help . . .''Hmm. But you did need him, didn't you?' The Irish eyes were extra bright.'Yes. Yes, I did. But you see, I had to learn to stand on my own feet.' She put her coffee cup down and leaned forward. 'Mrs Ryder, I'm sorry, so very sorry, that you and Brand missed Connie's early years. At the time I thought staying away was the best thing I could do. But now I'm not sure . . .' She lowered her eyes, afraid to look at th
Being Yours BOOK 3
'You can't,' he said. 'Veronica has resigned. I need a housekeeper. You're my wife, as you've pointed out to me on more than one occasion. So for once, instead of causing me a problem, you can solve one for me.'Just as if I'm some interchangeable cog in his well-oiled housekeeping machine, Isabella thought disbelievingly. Yet, in a way, she wished she could stay. Brand would manage without her very well. But it would please her to run his house for him, to act as if she were his wife in more than name . . .No. She mustn't even think it. Brand didn't want her as his wife. He had made that abysmally clear.'I'm sorry. Brand,' she said with quiet resolution. 'But you'll have to solve your problem some other way.'When he only looked at her with his head lowered, as if he were a bull about to charge, she turned her back on him and started to leave the room.'Stay where you are,' he said.Isabella stopped, too startled to ignore him. Did he honestly think he had the right to tell her wha
Being Yours BOOK 3
'I'm sorry you won't change your mind,' she said, hiding her true feelings behind a gracious, lady-of-the-manor smile. 'But naturally I respect your decision. Goodnight, Veronica. I'll see you in the morning.'Veronica didn't answer, but as Isabella turned to leave from the corner of her eye she saw a change come over the other woman's face. One minute it had been composed and a little derisive. The next it was splotched with angry colour. Isabella hastened her pace and hurried out into the corridor.She wasn't fast enough. As she turned to close the door, a tube of lipstick hit her in the face. She gasped, put a hand to her cheek and started angrily back into the bedroom. But she had only taken a step when a voice behind her said, 'Hell,' and a pair of muscular arms closed around her waist. She kicked out frantically as her back was clamped against a man's solid body—a body that was all too familiar, even though, at this moment, she couldn't see it.'Brand!' Isabella exclaimed. 'What
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