LITMIR.BIZ

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uncontrollable fascination with him, or the realisation that he desired her, and despised himself for it.

      The din in the ballroom, of guests talking loudly in competition with the blaring disco music, had given Elin a headache and after her run-in with Cortez she felt an urgent need to be with her baby. But as she exited the ballroom and was about to run upstairs to the nursery, someone called her name.

      ‘Nat!’ She smiled at the young man who hurried over to her. Nat Davies drove a tractor at the vineyard and he also worked in the winery where his father, Stan, was head winemaker for Saunderson’s Wines. ‘Are you enjoying the party?’

      ‘Yeah, it’s great. But Dad’s just called me and said there’s a problem at the vineyard.’

      Elin frowned as Nat went on to explain that the latest weather forecast predicted an overnight frost. ‘There are already buds on the vines after that unusually warm spell we had at the beginning of March,’ he reminded her. ‘Frost damage now could ruin the entire crop.’

      It could mean the end of Lorna Saunderson’s dream of producing a top quality sparkling wine in England that was on a par with wines from across the Channel. Elin remembered how ten years ago Mama had been inspired to establish a vineyard in Sussex after visiting the Champagne region of France. Ralph had initially been enthusiastic but, as was his way, he had quickly lost interest in the project. It had been Lorna and Elin, aided by a small team of estate workers, who had planted fifteen acres of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir vines in the chalky soil.

      The winery had been producing wine for seven years, and the previous year’s vintage had been the best yet. Following Lorna’s death, it had been important to Elin to keep her mother’s dream alive, but the terms of Ralph’s will meant that her involvement with Saunderson’s Wines would soon be over. The vines were Cortez’s responsibility now, she reminded herself. But she couldn’t bear the idea that all the years of Mama’s hard work could be wiped out by a frost.

      ‘We’ll have to light the frost candles,’ she told Nat. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost midnight. We need to hurry before the temperature drops to below freezing. Go and round up any of the estate workers from the party who are sober enough to help.’

      Twenty minutes later, Elin drove the farm truck through the grounds of the Cuckmere estate up to the vineyard. It was a clear night and the full moon cast a silver gleam over the rolling Sussex Downs. She briefly wondered what Cortez would make of her if he saw her as she was dressed now. She had changed out of her glamorous ball gown, into jeans and as many jumpers as she could fit beneath her duffel coat.

      The air was icy when she climbed out of the truck and walked through the vineyard, but remembering her last conversation with Cortez made her burn with anger. She had not noticed his car on the drive, and hoped he had returned to London and she would never see him again. It was imperative that she moved out of Cuckmere Hall as soon as possible so that she could avoid him. Although it would break her heart to leave the only home she had ever known, she thought bleakly.

      She forced her mind away from Cortez Ramos and concentrated on the task of lighting eight hundred bougies—or frost candles. They were the size of big paint tins, filled with paraffin wax and a wick, and were placed at intervals between the rows of vines. When the bougies were lit they warmed the air temperature enough to prevent frost from damaging the tender new shoots on the plants.

      It was laborious work walking along the endless rows of vines and stooping every few yards to light the candles, and Elin was grateful to Nat and his father and a couple of estate workers who had come to help. When they had finished, the sight of acres of vineyards glowing with golden lights was spectacular, but Elin knew that in a few hours all the candles would have to be extinguished when the sun rose and the temperature lifted a few degrees. She sent Nat and the other workers home, but Stan stayed with her to keep a watch on the bougies. It was nearly seven a.m. by the time they had put all the candles out and she was able to return to the house.

      Harry was awake in his cot and greeted her with a winsome smile that melted her heart. While she fed him she had to force her eyes to remain open, until Barbara gently lifted the baby out of her arms. ‘Go to bed for a couple of hours,’ the nanny told her. ‘I’ll put Harry in his pram and take him for a walk. You won’t be able to take care of him while you’re exhausted from lack of sleep.’

      Elin was too tired to argue but, when she crawled into bed, worries about the future circled in her mind. How would she manage to hold down a job and take care of her son without Barbara’s help? What job was she likely to find when her only qualifications were in viticulture and oenology? Wine production was a growing industry in England but most vineyards were small, family run businesses.

      There was also the question of where she was going to live. She had checked out the two cottages that Ralph had left her and her brother and found that both properties had a problem with damp, which would not be a healthy environment for a baby.

      She had not heard from Jarek and he hadn’t answered any of her calls. She hoped he hadn’t been drinking too much. It was vital Cortez did not find out that her brother had developed a reliance on vodka to help him cope with his feelings of guilt and grief about Mama’s death.

      Elin’s head felt as if it would explode, and when she did eventually fall asleep her shamefully erotic dreams were fuelled by memories of Cortez’s naked, powerfully muscular body pressing down on her and the bold thrust of his manhood pushing between her thighs.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      THE GRAVEL CRUNCHED beneath Cortez’s feet as he strode down the driveway. When he passed the ornamental pool he noticed there was a layer of ice on the surface of the water, despite the fact that it was officially the first day of spring. He missed the warmth and sunshine of southern Spain, and he’d told Elin the truth when he’d said he had no desire to live in the draughty monstrosity Cuckmere Hall which Ralph Saunderson had bequeathed to him.

      He had left his car next to the gatehouse the previous night. There had been nowhere to park in front of the house because Elin’s party guests had parked their cars there. This morning the only other vehicle on the driveway was an old truck that he assumed belonged to one of the estate workers. It was unlikely that the party princess would drive a mud-spattered farm vehicle, Cortez thought cynically.

      He recalled his sleepless night in the master bedroom which the staff had prepared for him. The past few days had been hectic, and he’d been unable to face driving back to London late at night. But it had felt strange to be in the room that had once been Ralph Saunderson’s. He’d wondered if his father had invited his mother into the bedroom when she had been employed at the house as a maid. It had occurred to Cortez that in all probability he had been conceived at Cuckmere Hall, but when his mother had revealed she was pregnant Ralph had sent her back to Spain. He frowned as he remembered the remark Elin had made that women were in a vulnerable position if they were abandoned by their lover and left to bring up a baby alone. It was why he had visited Elin again, to establish if there was any chance he could be her baby’s father.

      Now he knew what a lying bitch she was, he thought savagely. He unlocked his car and threw his bag into the boot. The sound of a baby crying caught his attention and he looked up to see a woman dressed in a beige nurse’s uniform pushing a pram down the driveway. He guessed she was the nanny and the crying infant must be Elin’s son. Despite himself, Cortez was curious.

      ‘Good morning.’ He smiled at the woman. ‘Your charge does not sound happy.’

      She halted beside the car and gave a rueful laugh. ‘I think Harry wants his mother but Miss Saunderson is sleeping in this morning.’

      Cortez glanced into the pram and shock jolted through him when he saw that the baby had a mass of jet-black hair. He visualised Elin’s pale blonde hair and doubt flickered in his mind. There was no way the child could be his because the date of conception did not tally with when he’d slept with Elin, he assured himself.

      ‘At the party last night Elin mentioned

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