Abruptly the room came into focus, and Isabella looked up to see the wide, black-coated shoulders of the man whose existence had lured her back to Vancouver as inevitably as the swallows returned to Capistrano. She raised her eyes higher, and her gaze fastened on full lips that exposed a bare glimpse of white teeth. From the corners of those well-remembered lips thin grooves made a line to flared nostrils. Finally she tilted her head back to stare boldly into deep, furious black eyes.Brand had changed. He looked older, and maturity made him even more savagely attractive than she remembered.His dark hair was longer now too, hiding the unusual shape of his ears and curling enticingly on the back of his neck. But from the rage she could see him battling to control Isabella knew that enticing her was not what the president of Ryder Airlines had in mind.Nor had it ever been, really, she remembered with a sharp pang of regret.'I have changed. Brand,' she said quietly.'I doubt it.' The
'Yes, that's as far as he went,' she shouted. 'And it's further than you've gone in eleven months. We're married. Brand. Or hadn't you noticed that boring little detail?''Oh, yes.' Brand was still arctic. Td noticed. I also noticed you batting those come-hither eyelashes at our hormone-crazed neighbour. And, as I seem to remember telling you before, I don't bed teenage tramps wearing negligees—or touch-me-not nightgowns.' He flicked the decorous ruffle at her neck. 'So if you think . . .'Isabella had stopped thinking. All she knew was that suddenly she wanted this beautiful man who had just rejected her so coldly more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. And she wanted to make him swallow his cruel words.She moistened her lips, and with a smile that showed him just a glimpse of small teeth she drew back her arm and aimed a hard slap at his face.He stepped aside, and her flailing fingers encountered only air. She stumbled, and turned furiously to take another shot. But when
Isabella noted that this time he pronounced her last name without emphasis, as if it meant nothing to him. She put a hand to her head, wondering why it seemed to be revolving. It couldn't be the fall. All that had hurt was her dignity. So of course it had to be Brand. He had always had the power to make her feel light-headed. But at least he wasn't blazing mad at her today. Obviously the shock of her reappearance had worn off. That was something. His casual mockery she could cope with and even laugh at.She shifted slightly on the sofa, wishing he had warned her he was coming. Because she had another, more shattering revelation in store for Brand. And how could she explain to him about Connie with the child standing there all big-eyed and listening—the child who had been told that the father who loved her was far away, but that he would one day come back to meet his cherished daughter?She had been so sure Brand would love his daughter. He was good with children and genuinely liked th
*I never hated you, Isabella.' Suddenly Brand looked very tired.'Maybe not, but you often told me I was a spoiled little brat.''Because you were a spoiled brat.' He shook his head, and she was astounded to see the beginnings of a bleak-looking smile. 'A brat with guts, though. You wrestled the English language to the ground with amazing speed.'Praise? From Brand? 'I had an English governess,' she reminded him. 'I already spoke English well.' When his eyes narrowed pointedly, she added, 'AH right, not as a Canadian would speak it. But I learned fast. I could have managed on my own within three months.''You didn't, though. We were together for more than ten months, as I remember.'Isabella became aware that the pressure of Brand's fingers on her wrist was beginning to send unwelcome shivers up her arm. Unwelcome and disturbingly seductive. A quiver of heat ran down her spine.But she didn't ask him to let her go.'Yes,' she agreed, not quite steadily. 'We were. I didn't leave becaus
'Is it?' Brand smiled blandly. 'All right. I'll agree to the surgery.'Isabella repressed a sarcastic rejoinder. It wasn't up to Brand to agree to anything. And she had a feeling he'd never really intended to oppose Connie's operation. He was just flexing his parenting muscles.This opinion was confirmed a moment later when Brand leaned forward and said peremptorily, 'Right. Second and most important point. Connie's my daughter. From now on I intend to be a part of her life.''Yes,' agreed Isabella, hearing the regret for lost years that simmered beneath the dictatorial words. She wasn't going to argue with him about that. Connie needed a father. Brand had that right. And Felix—Felix, as yet, had no rights.'Yes,' said Brand. 'And that means I expect to pay for her education, her upkeep and any extras she may need. I do not expect to pay one damn penny for you.'Isabella tried not to grind her teeth. 'I'm not for sale,' she said, pulling the cushion tightly against her chest.Somethin
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
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
'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