The Kyriakis Baby. Sara Wood

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      He looked down as Lexi stirred, her eyes opening to show the same cerulean blue as those of her mother. He smiled fondly. Reluctant to take on another child, he’d nevertheless been enchanted by her.

      ‘Mama,’ she whimpered, her face crumpling in bewilderment.

      He winced as if from a body blow. ‘It’s OK. I’m here, sweet pea,’ he said softly, holding the tiny body close.

      He knew she wasn’t properly awake and was likely to sleep for another twenty minutes or so. She was dreaming. At her tender age she couldn’t have any memory of a mother who’d last held her when she was still a baby. Could she?

      Alexandra curled up grumpily and her eyes closed again, soothed by his stroking hands. But Leon felt disturbed and unsettled.

      When she seemed to be safely asleep again he headed for his study where he placed her carefully on a wide sofa at the far end of the room, protecting her with a barricade of pillows.

      The house slumbered, silent and hushed. Marina, who was sharing the big house with him still, insisted everyone took a siesta after lunch and he’d often had cause to be grateful for the respite it afforded him.

      Frowning hard, he strode up and down, thinking. The moment he’d dreaded was almost upon him. Lexi would soon ask questions about her mother. He needed to know what to say. Or…what to show her.

      His eyes slewed to the locked drawer in his desk. Something other than his own will compelled him to stride over and slip the key in the lock. His fingers shook with impatience. Nothing could stop him now, not even the need to protect his own bruised heart.

      With his pulses pounding loudly in his ears, he removed the home video from the drawer and slotted it into the machine. After a quick glance at the sleeping Lexi, he pulled up a leather armchair and focussed tensely on the unfolding pictures.

      A slow hiss escaped his lips. He’d forgotten how beautiful Emma had been when they’d gone out together. She’d been twenty, studying economics on day-release at the college where he was taking a postgraduate course.

      Her sense of fun and joie de vivre lit the screen and Leon found himself on the edge of his seat watching avidly as her supple and voluptuous body dipped and swayed in a laughing parody of a belly dancer. Sex oozed from every pore of her body, heating him, tugging at his loins.

      Giggling, she ruined the profoundly erotic effect by whooping and turning a series of exuberant cartwheels.

      ‘Mama!’

      ‘Lex!’

      Leon jerked around, poleaxed. Alexandra was sitting up and staring wide-eyed at the screen. His heart pounded hard as the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. She didn’t know what she was saying.

      Cursing himself for being careless, he hit the off button. Lexi scrambled over the cushions and ran to him. Before he knew what she was doing she had reached across his knee and switched the video on again.

      ‘Mama,’ she said in firm defiance when he snapped it off for the second time.

      He stopped breathing. It was a coincidence. She was copying Marina’s child who was always yelling for her mother. Only the other day Lexi had called his ex-wife Mama and had been quickly corrected, only to repeat the word again and again until the edgy Marina had screamed in exasperation.

      He smiled wryly, remembering how secretly amused he’d been by his bolshie little niece. Lexi was strong-willed; as stubborn and as determined as any Kyriakis male.

      And, he acknowledged, with the added advantage of devastatingly female weapons. Already she’d climbed onto his lap and her arms were twining around his neck pleadingly.

      ‘Lexi see,’ she coaxed, showering his face with kisses.

      Melting already, he considered this. The damage—if any—had been done. If not, they could both enjoy the remainder of the video. And he wanted to, very much.

      Brushing aside the danger to his peace of mind, he nodded. ‘All right,’ he conceded.

      ‘Thank you very much,’ she chanted solemnly, remembering her manners.

      He grinned and hugged her. ‘Minx,’ he murmured fondly, curling up with her to watch.

      He could see that Lexi was enraptured by Emma’s virtuoso performance for the camcorder. As always, Emma went too far—this time, one cartwheel too many—and to the little girl’s delight Emma rolled helplessly into a nearby duck pond before emerging hooting with laughter, her eyes sparkling, pearly teeth glistening and her hair festooned with pondweed.

      ‘Finished,’ he announced tautly, when the screen went blank.

      His memory furnished the rest. He’d put down the camcorder and dragged Emma into his arms. He’d kissed her till she couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, he remembered so well!

      Seven years later he could still smell and taste the pondweed and feel the indescribable warmth and softness of her welcoming, laughing mouth as she’d lured him into the woodland beyond.

      Grimly he swung Lexi into his arms and suggested a swim, relieved that she had asked no questions. He wasn’t ready to supply answers.

      As she tugged him along excitedly, he reflected that he would have to decide how he should handle the question of Emma. Did he tell his niece the truth one day about her jailbird mother? Or should he give a sanitised version? And should he ever reveal who the woman in the video was?

      His brow furrowed deeply. If he did the latter, Lexi would be captivated. She’d want to meet her mother—whereas he intended to keep them apart as long as possible.

      He felt a chill steal over him despite the heat of the early afternoon. Emma would be released in a couple of years or so. And then Lexi would no longer be safe from harm.

      He looked at her sweet face as she sang happily to herself, absorbed in ‘helping’ her to wriggle into a bathing costume which sported a large daisy cutely adorning her small bottom. His heart lurched. Ever the attentive, doting uncle, he swept her curls up and expertly fastened them with a scrunchie.

      He loved this little scrap. From day one she’d wormed her way into his frozen heart and with every flutter of her lashes and big, gummy smile she had set about thoroughly defrosting it. Now she meant everything to him—and life without her would be untenable.

      He made a silent pledge. Emma would never get her daughter back. Not while there was still breath in his body.

      ‘And…Mrs Kyriakis,’ murmured the smooth, young immigration officer, ‘what are your plans now you are on Zakynthos?’

      Emma remained composed, even though her heart and stomach seemed to have shot down an elevator into her trainers and were now sending alarm signals through her entire system.

      She’d had a lot of practice in self-control over the past two years—and getting into the country was far more important than some of the things she’d silently borne in prison. Consequently she managed to flash a warm smile.

      ‘Simple. I’m going to get a tan!’ she announced airily.

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