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‘Lyn Brandon?’

It was one of the university’s admin staff

‘So to see you,’ the woman said briskly, and pointed to one of the offices across the corridor

Frowning, Lyn walked inside

And stopped dead

Standing by the , silhouetted by the fading light, was an i a black cashmere overcoat with a black cash column of his neck, thewith his raven-dark hair, instantly told Lyn that he was not English Just as the planes and features of his face told her that he was jaw-droppingly good-looking

It was a face, though, that was staring at her with asomeone he had not expected A frown creased his brow

‘Miss Brandon?’ He said her name, his voice accented, as if he did not quite believe it

Dark eyes flicked over her and Lyn felt two spots of colour mount in her cheeks Iht back in a stringy ponytail She had not a scrap of make-up on, and her clothes were serviceable rather than fashionable

Then suddenly, overriding that painful consciousness, there can man must be—could only be

The Mediterranean looks, the expensive clothes, the sleekly groomed looks, the whole aura of wealth about hi with instinctive fear

Across the narrow rooht the flash of alarm and wondered at it, but not nearly aswhether he had, after all, really tracked down the wo that letter in Marcos’s apartators had discovered, had iven birth to a baby boy

Is he Marcos’s son? The question was burning in hope Because if Marcos had had a son then it changed everything Everything!

If, by a miracle, Marcos had a son, then Anatole had to find hi with every passing day, could find instead a last blessing from the cruel fate that had taken so much from him

And it was not just for his grandfather that a son of Marcos’s would be a blessing, either, Anatole knew This would persuade Tie that his beloved Marcos had had a son to whoh he was, Anatole would guard the child’s inheritance, keep it safe and prosperous for him—and save the livelihoods of all its employees

Tracking down the author of the letters had led him first to a council house in the south of the country and then, through inforhbours, to this northern college, where he’d been told the young wo—Linda Brandon—had recently moved

But as his eyes rested now on the wo he felt doubt fill hiriainst tirandfather? Marcos wouldn’t even have looked twice at her—let alone taken her to his bed!

‘Are you Miss Brandon?’ he asked, his voice sharper now

He saw her s and nod jerkily Saw, too, that her entire body had tensed

‘I am Anatole Telonidis,’ he announced His voice sounded clipped, but his ent one ‘I am here on behalf of my cousin, Marcos Petranakos, hoht phrase ‘acquainted’