She looked down at her tea, avoiding his eyes. Was that guilt he read?
Abruptly her head lifted. ‘First, answer a question for me. If itwereyour child, what would you expect?’
‘Expect?’ Adoni frowned.
‘Would you expect to be involved in his or her life? Or would you...’ she waved one hand ‘...just offer some financial support and stay out of the picture?’
Was she serious?
The idea of his child growing up without him sent a shudder of revulsion through Adoni. The very idea tapped into the vein of unresolved emotions that eddied like a dark, poisonous current within him.
He felt his blood thicken, his pulse grow heavy, as anger simmered. ‘No child of mine will grow up unacknowledged.’
He barely recognised the voice as his own. Before him Alice blinked hard and sat further back in her chair, looking at him as if she’d never seen him before.
‘Every child deserves to know its parents.’ Adoni paused, swallowing the bitter taste of outrage.
His child—if itwashis child—would be not only acknowledged but loved, and accepted always.
‘When I have children I will be an intrinsic part of their lives.’ Anything else was unacceptable. ‘Now, answermyquestion. Why change your mind about the paternity test?’
Here was her chance to admit the child wasn’t his.
Strange he didn’t feel more relieved at the prospect.
After reading the short dossier on her, he’d almost come to accept that the pregnancy had been a result of their evening together. According to the investigator, Alice Trehearn had spent the last six months living here very quietly. No reports of men in her life at all.
As for the couple of years she’d lived with David Bannister in his historic property near Dartmoor, there’d been very little detail on those. The locals, when questioned, had been surprisingly unwilling to gossip about the young woman who’d shacked up with a wealthy man so many years her senior. But this baby couldn’t be Bannister’s. Alice was still in the early phase of pregnancy and Bannister had died too long ago.
Eyes as dark and bleak as the evening sky met Adoni’s. ‘I didn’t follow through because once you had confirmation the baby was yours there’d be no going back.’
‘Sorry?’ He folded his arms over his chest. She was talking in riddles.
She pursed her lips and turned away, staring out of that small, bare window. ‘I went to see you in London because I believed a man should know if he’s going to be a father. But after the things you said, the accusations you made...’ She shook her head and wisps of rich, glossy hair framed her face. ‘I don’t want my child to grow up in a world where cynicism and money are more important than trust and love. I don’t want my baby growing up tainted by that.’
She turned back, her eyes locking on his, and Adoni read, not calculation as he’d expected, or even nerves, but disdain.
Alice Trehearn had judged him and found him wanting?
Preposterous!
Of course he’d been doubtful. Only a fool would take such a statement at face value, especially given his history. Adoni was no fool. He’d learned his life lessons. Caution, hard work, reliance on self rather than others, distrust of emotions and of the motives of beautiful women. All had served him well. He saw no reason to change now.
It was outrageous that she’d judge him on his initial response to her news. She couldn’t seriously demur at his involvement with the child.
Adoni’s brain circled her words. ‘You mean it reallyismine?’
Slowly—reluctantly, if he was any judge—she nodded.
Instantly sensation exploded in his belly. Not desire. Not anger. Excitement. Tiny ripples of it rayed out like aftershocks from an earthquake. Adoni sank onto the hard little bed opposite her, hands knotted on his thighs.
Her word was no proof. But teamed with the investigator’s report...
He leaned forward and she shrank back, clutching the mug. ‘You were going to let me believe the child was someone else’s? Is that why you withdrew from the paternity test?’ His voice bit like bullets, shattering the silence. ‘Because you, in your infinite wisdom, decided I wasn’t fit to be a father?’
The nerve of the woman!
Adoni had thought he’d known anger. Hehadknown it. He’d dredged the depths of fury and despair in his time.