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or the hour, Christabel. I believe people should make the most of the time they have, while they still can.”
    Certainly her husband hadn’t expected to die, not before his father. Laurens had been counting on inheriting all the money and all the power, having fulfilled Bernhard’s demand that he marry and beget at least one child. Nevertheless, he had more than made the most of the time he had with every woman he fancied and every bit of fast living he could pack in. It was not an attitude Christabel admired. It carried no caring for others.
    She wasn’t aware that her face had tightened over the bitter memories until Jared asked, “What are you thinking?”
    She lowered her lashes, veiling her expression as she answered, “My husband died in an accident, too. It was a speedboat crash. Human error. Not caused by a storm.”
    She sipped the wine, deliberately discouraging any pursuit of that topic, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. It was a mistake to talk about her marriage, except in the vaguest terms. The speedboat accident had been world news. It was a connection to all she wanted to escape from.
    “How long ago did this happen?”
    Jared’s tone was sympathetic, stirring a savage irony. She didn’t mourn Laurens. He’d lost his taste for her when she’d turned into an undesirable lump and he’d killed any shred of feeling she’d had for him with his subsequent behaviour.
    “I was eight months pregnant with Alicia,” she said flatly, careful not to give an actual date.
    He seemed to weigh that statement before slowly commenting, “So Alicia never knew her father.”
    “I don’t believe she feels any empty place on that score, Jared,” she replied tersely, her chin lifting in defiant challenge.
    “You’re all she needs?” he queried.
    “We manage well together.”
    “And is she all you need, Christabel?’’
    “She’s all I’ve got,” she answered quickly, trying to ignore the searing look that burrowed under her skin, finding and knowing the empty places he’d talked about and promising they didn’t have to stay empty.
    He was here, ready, willing and able to satisfy at least some needs. Tonight, if she gave her consent. And Christabel was once again riven by the strong temptation to do just that, to take what she could while she could. It was what he’d been offering, wasn’t it, with his talk of not counting on an afterwards?
    This dangerous train of thought was broken by the return of Vikki Chan, wheeling a traymobile onto the veranda, calling Alicia to her chair and switching on a lantern above the table to light the meal she was about to serve. She then proceeded to set out a platter of honey prawns and a bowl of steaming rice.
    “I cooked more than enough for the little one,” she informed Christabel, “so you and Jared can have some as first course if you like.”
    “Thank you. They look very tasty.”
    The old woman smiled benevolently at them all. “Help yourselves,” she invited, and left them to it.
    There was no doubting that Vikki Chan was a superb cook. The honey prawns were the best Christabel had ever tasted, and Alicia even forgot the storm as she consumed her share with uninhibited pleasure, picking them up with her fingers, arguing they tasted better that way, and Jared agreeing with her.
    Since finger bowls were set on the table, Christabel didn’t fuss. Her mind was busily sorting through the impression that Vikki Chan had not been making any judgment of her this time. She hadn’t exactly sensed approval coming from the old Chinese woman, yet there had been a definite acceptance of her being with Jared like this and a warm indulgence towards her daughter.
    In between feeding herself, Alicia chatted away with Jared, enjoying his good-humoured attention, and Christabel couldn’t help thinking he would be a good father, kind and caring, making any child of his feel special and loved.
    Laurens would have turned their daughter over to an army of nannies,