Free The Collector's Edition Volume 1 by Emma Darcy Page A

Chinese woman who was bringing a steaming dish to the table. ‘This is Mrs. Huang Chunz. Mr. Drayton, Chunz.’
    ‘You have a beautiful baby, Mr. Drayton,’ Chunz almost sang, her face wreathed in a huge smile.
    ‘Thank you. And thank you for looking after us.’
    ‘Breakfast is ready. Please sit down. I will hold the baby.’ She took her from Jayne and cuddled her lovingly. ‘I am happy to mind her while you work,’ she offered, her eyes shiny with eager appeal.
    ‘I thought it best we visit Monty at the hospital first thing this morning,’ Jayne put in quickly, her eyes still wary as she added, ‘If that’s all right with you.’
    ‘Fine.’ He sat at the table opposite her and smiled at the motherly Chinese woman. ‘I’m afraid Baby isn’t used to being parted from me. Perhaps when she gets to know you better, she’ll be happy to stay with you, Chunz.’
    Her eyes dulled with disappointment. ‘Any time, Mr. Drayton.’
    ‘Chunz is very reliable,’ Jayne assured him.
    ‘I’m sure she is,’ he agreed, gesturing for Jayne to serve herself first. ‘So am I. Responsible, too. Nina called me a rock.’
    ‘More like a rolling stone,’ Jayne tripped out, then compressed her lips as though annoyed at herself for making the comment.
    Dan reflected on it as they ate breakfast, which consisted of the inevitable rice with little cup-shaped meat dumplings wrapped in a thin, dough skin.
    Jayne was intent on buying a house, staying in one place, but a house was an empty shell without the right people in it. A house didn’t necessarily make a home. As for putting down roots, what value did that have? So that someone a few generations on could trace a family tree? What was a life worth unless one could pack into it every experience possible?
    Was this talk of a home and putting down roots camouflage for motives Jayne didn’t want to disclose? Sops to put him off? Dan was not about to be put off. If it was the last thing he did he would blow up that damned wall she’d erected between them and find out what was behind it.
    ‘Wanda,’ he said, pleased with the inspiration. ‘I’ll call Baby, Wanda.’
    Jayne glared at him, her blue eyes intensely vivid with violent rejection. ‘No, you won’t. It might fit you but you can’t pin that label on a child who knows nothing else.’
    The vehement passion in her voice gave him further food for thought. Had Jayne’s desire to settle in one place become an obsession that overrode everything else?
    ‘Theresa,’ he offered for approval. ‘You admired Mother Theresa and the work she was doing in India.’
    Jayne visibly shuddered. ‘No.’ She flicked a look at Baby. ‘It’s not appropriate.’
    Dan ran through several other names. Jayne vetoed every one of them, saying they didn’t fit. What the criteria for ‘fitting’ was, Dan had no idea. By the time they set off for the hospital, Baby was still Baby.
    Jayne drove the truck that had been put at Monty’s disposal. There was no nervous deferring of the task to him, although the hordes of cyclists that thronged the streets of Xi’an made negotiating a truck through and around them atricky business. Jayne handled it without any evident qualms.
    Dan mentally catalogued the differences he had noticed in her. She was more self-assured, very much her own person and not the least bit backward or awkward in dealing with people. He had seen her handle Lin Zhiyong and Omar El Talik with finesse last night and Huang Chunz with kindly interest this morning.
    She had stood up to everything he had thrown at her, too. Her strength of mind and asser-tiveness had surprised him. It also forced him to re-appraise his role in their marriage. Had he been too dominant, too protective, stunting her self-growth? She was certainly a woman to be reckoned with now. There seemed nothing about her that he could take for granted.
    ‘How about Hebe?’ he tossed at her. ‘Good classical name, Hebe.’ He jiggled the possum bag he