Returning To Claim His Heir Read online

  Her legs and feet had already been swelling painfully in recent days. And arranging her swift escape had put her under so much stress that her head throbbed constantly and insomnia plagued her. When she did manage to sleep she had fevered dreams of walking into her mother’s arms in the quiet, peaceful safety of the remote animal sanctuary where she’d grown up on the banks of the Amazon.

  She just hoped that Maureen Beckett would welcome her runaway daughter’s sudden, unannounced return...and forgive her for the past five years of silence...

  Whenever she thought of the last words they’d spoken to one another shame burned in her gut and stopped her from calling, but she had at least sent a letter. She’d written that she was sorry. That she’d been a naïve, sheltered eighteen-year-old with a desperate hunger to see the world and her father’s promises ringing in her ears.

  She’d received no response.

  The sanctuary was the only place she could imagine raising her baby without fear or threat. She wouldn’t be alone there, amidst the bustling community of ecologists and volunteers, with her fierce Irish mother at the helm. There was a small birthing clinic in the nearby village, and she’d arranged to rent a room with the last of her savings in the event that her mother turned her away.

  But deep down she hoped her mam would forgive her.

  It was the beginning of May, technically the start of the dry season, and yet the torrential downpour that now descended on Rio De Janeiro was like something from a catastrophe movie.

  Nora tried her best to stay dry under the narrow porch, craning her neck to do a quick scan of the street. The bells from the cathedral nearby began to chime midday and, as she’d hoped, there was no sign of the dark blue car that had been parked in the alley all week. Even criminal henchmen took predictable breaks, it seemed.

  Even though Lionel Cabo hadn’t set foot in Rio in months, he still made it his mission to make his only daughter’s life hell. Having her watched was only one of the ways he’d been tightening the noose, showing her the power he wielded. When she’d continued to ignore his calls he’d somehow managed to get to her landlord and have her evicted.

  He knew she wouldn’t dare go to the police, who were mostly in his pocket. He knew she was utterly alone here.

  She bit her lower lip as she rubbed small circles on her aching lower back.

  A small group of teenagers in hoods moved out from their spot in a nearby doorway as a sleek black sports car prowled slowly up the narrow street and came to a stop a short distance away. The young boys crowded around it, peering into the windows through the rain which was now beginning to ease.

  Nora felt her senses shift into high alert. Usually the wealthy residents of Rio stayed far away from the more dangerous streets in this part of the city.

  The teenagers moved aside as a tall figure emerged from the expensive vehicle. Rain instantly soaked his dark coat and he looked up, amber eyes glowing bright against the dark skin of a sinfully handsome face.

  She was hallucinating.

  Either her brain was playing tricks on her or she had fallen asleep, and was still upstairs, dreaming the same dream she’d had for more than six months.

  The man closed the distance between them with a few long strides, stepping under the canopy with a strange stiffness to his movements. Nora fought to breathe as her headache intensified, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as she waited for him to speak.

  ‘Nora Beckett?’ he asked softly.

  His voice contained the slightly clipped undertone of an English accent that she knew came from more than two decades living away from his homeland.

  He extended a hand towards her in polite greeting. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming to find you like this?’

  Nora remained frozen, feeling as if she was watching herself from above, standing with this man who had Duarte’s face and Duarte’s voice. He dropped his hand after a moment, frowning, and looking back to where the boys were still investigating the exterior of his fancy car.

  ‘I don’t know if you remember me.’ He spoke quickly. ‘My name is Duarte Avelar. I was in an...an incident about six months ago—’

  ‘Duarte Avelar is dead.’

  Nora heard the hysteria in her own voice and willed herself to calm down, willed herself to find a logical solution for this madness.

  ‘I’m quite alive, as you can see.’

  His smile was forced, his movements strangely stilted as he reached for a split second to rub his hand across the slightly uneven hair growth on the left side of his head.

  Nora followed the movement, noticing the thick dark brown line of puckered skin that began at his temple. What had once been soft, springy jet-black curls was now a tight crop that was barely more than skin at one side. She could clearly see the tiny marks where stitches had once sealed a wound that ended above his left ear.

  The exact same place where she had tried to stem the blood flow with her own hands, had felt it spill over her dress and onto the cold ground around her feet.

  She swallowed hard against the awful memories and focused on the man before her. His lips were still curved in a polite smile that was nothing like the man she had known. He seemed so real she almost felt as if she could reach out and touch him...

  Frowning, she stepped forward and impulsively placed her hand on his chest. His sharp intake of breath took her by surprise, and she felt her insides quake with a strange mixture of fear and relief. She hardly dared to hope. She was unable to move, completely entranced by the blazing heat of his skin under her fingertips through the expensive material of his dove-grey shirt.

  Almost of its own volition, her hand skimmed up a hard wall of muscle to where a glorious pulse thrummed at the base of his neck. Alive. She closed her eyes and felt a painful lump form in her throat at the cruelty of such a vision if this wasn’t real. If it was just another one of her vivid dreams, after which she would awake in the middle of the night and expect to see him lying beside her.

  Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away, tipping her head up to find him staring down at her. His skin was still that rich caramel-brown, vibrant and healthy, so unlike the deathly pallor of that awful night.

  She heard the tremor in her voice as she whispered, ‘Duarte...this is impossible...’

  ‘I’ve thought the same thing over the past months, believe me.’ One side of his mouth twisted in the same sardonic way she remembered. ‘But here I am.’

  ‘You’re actually here. You’re alive...’ Her voice was a breathless whisper as she felt a long-buried well of hopeless longing burst open within her.

  Before she could stop herself, she closed the space between them and buried her face against his chest. He froze for a split second, and she feared he might push her away. She wouldn’t blame him, considering she was essentially the reason he had received that scar in the first place.

  She stiffened, bracing herself for rejection, only to feel his strong arms close around her. She was instantly cocooned in his warm spicy scent and the glorious thumping rhythm of his heart. His beating, perfect heart.

  Emotion clogged her throat as she was consumed by the urgent need to feel him, to hold on to him as though he were an oasis of hope in the unbearable desert of her grief. Her breathing became shallow and she was overcome with the need to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers once again.

  From the moment she had first laid eyes on him in that crowded Samba club almost a year ago he had affected her this way. She had never reacted to another man with such primal desire, and he had told her that she affected him just the same way.

  ‘You bring out the animal in me, querida.’

  He’d whispered that in her ear right before their very first kiss. They’d almost made love on the beach, in full view of the pier. It had been madness, and she felt that same desire humming through her veins just from being in his arms now.

 
She leaned back, looking up and expecting to see a reflection of the intense emotion she felt. Instead his face was utterly blank, and so confused it was like being doused with ice water.

  This was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

  Suddenly she felt a tiny kick within her, wrenching her back to the present moment. She forced herself to take a step back, putting space between them as she composed herself and took in a lungful of air. The rain had died down and around them the sound of the boisterous youths filled the street.

  Suddenly the weight of reality came crashing down upon her. If this wasn’t a dream then it was a living nightmare. There was no question that this man was Duarte. And that meant her life had just become even more complicated.

  She wrapped her bulky raincoat even tighter around herself and held her handbag in front of her stomach. If he was here, they were both in danger. This changed everything.

  She looked around the streets once more, praying the blue car hadn’t returned.

  ‘How...?’ she breathed. ‘How are you alive?’

  ‘It’s a very long story.’ He rubbed at his freshly shaven jawline. ‘One that involves a medically induced coma and many months of painful rehabilitation. Let’s just say I’m a hard man to kill.’

  She heard the gasp that escaped her throat and closed her eyes against the image it created in her mind. He’d been alive all this time...in pain, broken...

  She fought the urge to cling to him once again, never to let him go. But a tiny voice in her mind was screaming at her to run away as fast as she could and pretend she’d never seen him. Even if walking away from him now might be more painful than losing him the first time.

  It was too much... She could hardly breathe...

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me tracking you down,’ he said, and he spoke with a strange politeness to his tone that made her uneasy. ‘You were there with me, the night I was shot.’

  ‘Yes, I was there.’ She frowned, watching the relief that crossed his face at her response. He smiled, and her heart seemed to pulse at the sight of it.

  ‘Your care and kindness were the first things I remembered when I woke up.’ His gaze softened for a moment before he seemed to shake himself mentally, then cleared his throat. ‘I have a few things I’d like to ask you, if you wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘You don’t remember me.’ She spoke half to herself, processing the polite detachment in his gaze, the way he’d introduced himself to her—as though they were strangers.

  It all came painfully into focus, like a movie replaying in her mind. He had no idea who she was...no idea what they’d been to one another.

  ‘My injury has caused some slight memory loss. It’s been a process—one I’m hoping you might help me with, actually.’ He put his hands in his pockets and looked at her through his thick lashes. ‘Is there somewhere private that we can talk?’

  To any other woman his overtly calm posture would appear benign and almost welcoming. But Nora wasn’t any other woman, and she knew when she was being baited. He might not have any memories of her, or their history, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still possess the killer instinct he was famous for.

  He’d noticed her lengthy pause and the skin around his mouth had tightened with barely restrained irritation. She felt a shiver run down her spine. He wanted answers and he had managed to track her down. She suddenly felt as if he was a predator on the hunt and she a small rabbit heading straight for his trap.

  She looked up the street and saw her bus, just beginning to turn the corner.

  Duarte followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry. I have to go. I have a flight to catch.’ She forced the words from her lips, trying not to let him see the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes at any moment.

  ‘Let me drive you to the airport. I just want to talk.’

  Nora stared at the face of the man she had once loved. The man she’d thought she loved, she corrected herself.

  If he said he had no memory of her, did that mean he had no recollection of what had passed between them all those months ago?

  Guilt and anger joined the swirl of emotions warring within her. She had made her own mistakes, but he had ensured she was punished in return. He had shattered her trust and broken her foolish heart.

  She had grieved for him and mourned the father her child would never have. But a small, terrible part of her had whispered that at least with his death she would be safe from his wrath. Her child would be safe.

  She needed to get away. Fast.

  If there was one thing she had inherited from her crime boss father, it was the sheer will to survive. She closed down her emotional reaction to his miraculous return and focused instead on the worst moments they’d spent together. The pain he’d put her through.

  She lowered her hand to her stomach, reflexively protecting her unborn child from the threat of danger. That was what Duarte Avelar was to her, she reminded herself. Dangerous. That was what he had always been.

  Nora opened her mouth to tell him she had no interest in answering his questions, but instead let out a silent gasp as her entire lower body spasmed with pain. Her handbag fell to the ground and she gripped her stomach, feeling the dull throbbing that had been torturing her back all morning shifting around to her front and burrowing deep inside.

  The twisting heat took her breath away. She could do nothing but breathe for a long moment.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  His voice came from close beside her, and his hand was warm on her elbow. She pushed him away, not able to look up into his face. She needed to get on that bus before her father’s men returned. She needed to get out of Rio today. But she couldn’t think straight.

  ‘Cristo, you’re pregnant...’ Duarte breathed reflexively, slipping into heavily accented English. ‘You’re really, really pregnant.’

  ‘Excellent observation.’ She spoke through clenched teeth.

  ‘Do you need to get to a hospital?’

  ‘No... I was just lifting some heavy boxes. I’m moving out of town today.’

  She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, praying this was just the shock of him showing up on her doorstep and her body was simply reminding her to take it easy.

  In the back of her mind she heard the noise of the bus drawing closer along the street. She needed to move. ‘I’ll be fine. I need to get to the airport or I’ll miss my flight.’

  She moved to walk around him, throwing her arm out to hail the ônibus, but then she felt another wave of pain tighten inside her abdomen so swiftly she cried out.

  Clutching onto the nearest object for balance—a very firm male bicep—she squeezed hard and prayed that this wasn’t the moment her child would choose to be born.

  As that thought entered her mind she felt a strange pop and the trickle of what felt like water between her legs.

  This could not be happening.

  She kept her eyes closed tight, a low growl escaping her lips through the waves of pain that seemed to crash into her body.

  ‘I think my waters have just broken.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  NORA WAS VAGUELY aware of the sound of a loud engine slowing to a stop beside them and the bus driver calling out to see if she needed help.

  ‘Não obrigado.’ Duarte’s voice boomed with authority.

  She wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before she opened her eyes and saw the bus had gone. She looked down to find herself clutching him like a limpet and groaned inwardly. She knew she should feel embarrassed, but she was rapidly becoming unable to think straight—or stand up, for that matter.

  ‘Is there someone I can call for you?’ he asked. ‘The baby’s father?’

  Fighting the urge to sob, she shook her head and closed her eyes as she began to realise the gravity of her situation.

  He fr
owned, pressing his lips together in a firm line as he looked down at her small suitcase. ‘Can you walk? I’m taking you to a hospital right now.’

  She allowed him to hold her arm as they moved carefully towards his car. She’d just made it to the door when another pain hit. He seemed to understand that she was unable to move, and he took off his coat and draped it over her while she breathed and tried not to curse.

  ‘It’s too early...’ she breathed. ‘I’m not due for four and a half more weeks. I’m not meant to be here in this city.’

  He helped her into the car, bending down to carefully buckle her seatbelt around her before he looked deeply into her eyes. Warm amber filled her up with the same magnetic strength she remembered so well.

  ‘Just try to relax.’

  ‘Are you saying that for my benefit or for yours?’ she groaned, closing her eyes against the beautiful sight of him.

  She heard him chuckle low in his throat and opened her eyes once more.

  ‘I’m going to drive now, okay?’

  She nodded, staring up at this man she had once thought herself in love with, this man who now had no idea who she was.

  This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be with her when she was about to give birth to her child.

  Their child.

  ‘I can’t do this...’ She closed her eyes once again, a sea of thoughts overwhelming her, and sent up a prayer to everyone and anyone who might be listening. To keep her safe. To keep her baby safe.

  She felt a warm hand cover hers. When she opened her eyes he was looking at her, and there was nothing but kindness and concern in his warm whisky-coloured eyes.

  Maybe it was the pain, or maybe she was just in shock, but she heard herself whisper, ‘I’ve been so afraid of doing this alone...’

  ‘You are not alone.’ He squeezed her hand once more before turning and starting the engine of the powerful sports car with the push of a button. ‘If my memory is correct, I’m pretty sure I owe you my life. I won’t leave you.’