LITMIR.BIZ

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tried to ignore the tug her heart gave when Cortez said our son. It gave an impression of unity between them that did not exist, she reminded herself.

      ‘What am I supposed to do while you are able to get on with your life, but I am a prisoner in your house? I demand that you give back my and Harry’s passports.’

      ‘If I did give them back would you promise to remain at La Casa Jazmín?’ He gave her a sardonic look when she stayed silent. ‘If you took Harry away from here I would not rest until I’d tracked you down,’ he warned her. ‘But to save us both time and effort and spare Harry unnecessary upheaval if you decide to try and disappear with him, I will keep the passports in my possession for now.’

      ‘You have no right...’ Elin broke off when she realised that Cortez was not paying her attention and was watching his son avidly. Harry was staring at his father and gave a winsome smile that was guaranteed to melt the stoniest heart. The effect on Cortez was startling. His hard features softened and he murmured something in Spanish as he leaned closer and kissed the top of the baby’s head.

      Elin’s senses stirred as she breathed in the musky scent of Cortez’s aftershave. The sight of his dark head against Harry’s downy black hair evoked a curious ache in her heart. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine that they were a happy family. In her daydream Cortez kissed his baby son before he moved to cover her mouth with his and kissed her with bone-shaking tenderness and the promise of passion later, when they were alone in each other’s arms.

      But the reality was that they were at loggerheads and set to fight a custody battle over their son, she reminded herself. It was a battle that she could lose, for Cortez’s wealth and power meant he had access to the best lawyers. The idea that she might be ordered by a court to hand over her baby caused icy fingers of fear to wrap around her heart.

      She realised that Cortez was looking at her with an odd expression, as if he also wished that the situation between them was different. But that was too much of a stretch for her imagination, she told herself sharply. Cortez had kidnapped her and was keeping her a prisoner. Never mind that La Casa Jazmín was a beautiful house, it was a gilded jail. Cortez had said some vile things to her, and his promise that they would talk when he returned from Madrid had sounded more like a threat. She jerked away from him and whatever it was that had flickered between them disappeared.

      He picked up his briefcase and walked across the hall. ‘I will be back as soon as I can.’

      ‘Don’t rush back on my account,’ Elin said coldly. But, absurdly, when he strode out of the house and she heard his car roar off down the drive she immediately missed him. She wondered if he had a mistress in Madrid who he was planning to spend the night with. He was a virile man and he was bound to have a lover. The thought bothered her more than it should have done and she despised herself for feeling jealous as she visualised him having sex with another woman.

      * * *

      In fact Cortez was only away for one night and returned to La Casa Jazmín late the following afternoon. Elin was pushing Harry in his pram around the garden, hoping that the rocking movement would send him off to sleep. Her heart gave an annoying leap when the gates swung smoothly open to allow Cortez to drive through them. He parked his rampantly masculine black sports car in front of the house and leaned against the bonnet, watching her from behind his designer shades as she walked towards him.

      The top few buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing a vee of his darkly tanned chest and a sprinkling of black hairs that Elin remembered from a year ago arrowed down over his flat abdomen. She felt heat spread over her face and hoped he would think she was flushed from the warm sun, and not because she was overwhelmingly aware of him.

      ‘I suppose you have a secret code to unlock the gates,’ she said as she drew nearer to him. ‘Beautiful though the garden is, I am bored of walking around it and I’d hoped to take Harry on a longer walk, perhaps to a village if there is one nearby. But the perimeter gates are locked.’ Frustration edged into her voice. ‘You have no right to keep me imprisoned.’

      Cortez looked unconcerned by her outburst. ‘The main gates are activated by car number plate recognition and they are kept locked for security reasons. The village is five miles away but it has no shops and there’s little there to excite you.’

      ‘You don’t know what excites me,’ Elin snapped, irritated by his arrogance.

      He threw back his head and laughed, and she was riveted by the sheer beauty of his face, alight with merriment. The rich sound of his amusement reached down to something deep inside her. Laughter made him even more attractive, and he was already too gorgeous for his own good, she thought ruefully.

      ‘Actually, I have vivid memories of what excited you when you lured me into your bed, querida,’ he murmured.

      She pressed her lips together to stop herself from responding to his baiting. She did not want to be reminded of her night of shame a year ago.

      ‘La Casa Jazmín is surrounded by vineyards,’ Cortez told her. ‘If you like I will show you where you can walk among the vines.’

      Despite herself, Elin was curious to see the vineyards that produced the grapes which were used to make the famous Felipe & Cortez brand of award-winning sherry. Cortez led the way across the garden and held open a gate in the wall so that she could push the pram through it.

      ‘I suppose you grow Palomino grapes here,’ she said, recognising the dark green leaves on the vines. ‘The albariza soil type has a high chalk content, perfect for retaining moisture, which is vital during the hot, dry summers you have in this region of Spain. It’s interesting that the soil on the South Downs is also chalky, similar to soil in the Champagne region of France. But of course English summers are cooler than here, allowing us to grow Chardonnay and Pinot Noir grape varieties at Cuckmere. At least—’ Elin broke off and grimaced ‘—we grow those grape varieties currently at Saunderson’s estate winery, and we have concentrated on producing a sparkling white wine. But you, or whoever buys the estate if you decide to sell it, might decide to grow something else.’

      She glanced at Cortez and found him staring at her with evident surprise. ‘I did not realise that you took a genuine interest in the winery,’ he said.

      ‘It was my adoptive mother’s dream to produce an English sparkling wine on a par with Champagne. When Mama died I was determined to continue her work and fulfil her dream, which is why I have a Master’s degree in viticulture and oenology. You look shocked,’ she said wryly. ‘Did you think I was the brainless bimbo that I am portrayed by the tabloids?’

      He shrugged. ‘You cannot entirely blame the media for your reputation. The paparazzi did not have to look hard to find evidence of your wild lifestyle. Admittedly, it was months ago that you were regularly seen at the coolest London nightclubs and scandal was never far from you.’ He looked at her speculatively. ‘What makes me curious is why you seemed to deliberately seek notoriety and the attention of the press.’

      Cortez’s insight made Elin uneasy. She did not want him to guess that she had sought to keep the paparazzi away from her brother when Jarek’s life was in freefall. She looked down the long rows of vines that stretched into the distance. ‘How many hectares of vineyards do you have?’ she asked in a blatant effort to change the subject.

      ‘Two hundred.’ Cortez’s voice was drier than the finest Manzanilla sherry and Elin dropped her eyes from his sardonic gaze.

      ‘There are only six hectares of vineyards at Cuckmere. It’s lucky you don’t have winter frosts this far south,’ she told him. ‘It would take an army of workers to light frost candles to protect all your vines.’

      He helped her to steer the pram around the deep tractor tyre grooves on the path. ‘I have heard of the practice of lighting candles to raise the air temperature around the vines to above freezing but I’ve never seen it done.’

      ‘If you had looked out of the window the night you stayed at Cuckmere Hall you would have seen the vineyards glowing with golden candle lights,’ Elin told him. ‘There was a frost, but luckily a few

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