He was about to correct her but, instead, Xanthia’s words settled inside his chest, landing there with a soft thud. This nanny. He cast a glance over his shoulder.
It was easy to see why Xanthia would have made that mistake. Despite her formal dress, Beatrice was unmistakably at home holding the baby...
‘Where’s her nursery?’ she whispered, stroking the darling little infant’s shoulder with the pad of her thumb.
Ares had been standing, watching for the twenty minutes it had taken to feed Danica and rock her slowly to sleep. ‘I’ll show you.’
Bea stood slowly—it had been years since she’d held a baby, though it was surprising to realise how easily it all came flooding back. Memories of helping her friend Priti with late-night feeds and colicky tantrums filled her with confidence. This, though, was different.
Holding Danica, feeding her, lulling her to sleep, had caused something to flicker to life inside Bea that had caught her completely off-guard. A stirring of maternal instincts she absolutely didn’t expect and definitely didn’t want. She’d decided a long time ago that she was never having children.
She walked beside him and, without the ticking time bomb of a furiously upset infant, was able to take in the details of his palatial home. It was a temple to modernity, all crisp white walls, polished cement floors with Danish-style furniture. The only concession to colour came in the form of abstract paintings which hung in niches along the walls, lit with art-gallery-style spotlights. The stairs were highly polished wood. As Ares walked ahead of her Bea had a perfect view of his powerful legs and firm bottom and the sight of both made her mouth go dry.
She looked away, concentrating only on her steps, one after the other, holding Danica close to her chest so that she would stay comforted and warm.
Ares paused on the landing, pointing to an open door a little down the hall. Bea walked towards it, trying not to speculate on which of these doors might lead to his room. The nursery was a guest bedroom with a cot in the corner and a rocking chair by the window. Bea stood above the cot for a moment, singing ‘Calon Lân’ to Danica, gently lowering her over the sheet. She startled a little, so Bea placed her on the mattress quickly then held her hand on Danica’s tummy, reassuring her she was still there, lifting her fingers lightly, gradually, until it was clear that Danica had settled. She turned to Ares and smiled, overcome with shyness now, uncertain what to say.
Nothing within the baby’s earshot, that was for sure! What the poor little thing needed more than anything was a good night’s sleep.
As she stepped through the door, Ares pressed his hand to her back, guiding her towards the stairs. The lightest touch made her nerves go haywire. She moved a little ahead of him on the steps, her own hand seeking the reassuring firmness of the railing.
In the lounge, he strode across the room, throwing open the glass doors and quirking a brow by way of silent invitation. Bea hesitated a moment, then moved in his direction, keeping her face averted as she brushed past him.
It was cool outside; she was grateful to still have his jacket on. Salt filled the air; the sound of rolling waves made a gentle background rhythm.
‘You’re good with kids.’
She turned to face him, a tight smile on her face. ‘She was just overwrought. Babies don’t always know how to calm themselves down; they need us to do it for them.’
He shook his head dismissively. ‘The nanny I hired came highly recommended but she couldn’t manage Danica. No one could.’
‘I find that impossible to believe.’
‘I’m not making it up.’
She tilted her head. ‘I’m not saying that. It’s just—she’s just a baby, Ares. She’s—did you say five months old?’
He nodded once.
‘That’s so little! And she’s had a lot of change in her life so far. Babies are more perceptive than people realise.’
‘And you are the only one who can calm her,’ he said quietly.
‘That’s not true.’
‘How did you know what to do?’
Her smile was tinged with the best kinds of memories—sweet ones, those that were solely good. ‘When I was at university, my flatmate Priti fell pregnant. It was a one-night stand, completely unexpected. The dad wasn’t in the picture. She really wanted to be able to keep studying and, seeing as we were doing the same course, we came up with a schedule for school work and baby-minding. It was a crazy time.’ Bea laughed softly, recalling the madness of it. ‘I’d go to lectures and record them for her, we’d cram over buckets of soaking laundry—nappies and bibs—and study while Nikki slept. She wasn’t an easy baby. In fact, I’d say she was downright difficult. Some nights it would take hours to get her to sleep. Hours, no exaggeration. Some babies are just like that,’ she said with a shrug.
When he didn’t respond, she rushed to fill the silence. ‘If it’s any consolation, I can assure you that that difficult baby is now a confident, intelligent pre-teen who rarely has a temper tantrum and absolutely sleeps through the night, so it does get easier.’
Ares seemed to stiffen. ‘Hopefully she won’t be my problem for much longer.’
Bea’s lips parted on a soft sound of outrage, her expression full of chastisement. ‘That’s no way to talk about your niece.’
He winced at the reprimand. ‘Ever since she arrived she has been like this. Screaming. Red-faced. Angry.’
In spite of his words, Bea smiled. ‘She wasn’t angry. Misunderstood is a better way to describe her.’