The truth was, she’d touched a protective instinct in him. From the first moment he’d seen her, and that unbelievably naïve quality about her. He’d read her outward shell of unconcern to be just that—a shell. And yet she’d played him for a fool from that first moment.
His feeling of vulnerability these last few days came back to him and rocked him to his core. From the first moment he’d seen her again he’d viewed her as a dangerous threat. But she’d become the complete opposite … And when he’d walked into the dining room earlier all he’d seen were those huge eyes, staring at him, full of something. Looking at him as she’d looked at him before. When he had stupidly believed that perhaps his wife felt more for him than she had shown.
She’d asked him if he was happy. It had touched a nerve. Zac had made him happier than anything else he’d ever known, and for someone who’d meticulously planned out a life built around gaining power it had been … a revelation. A revelation that she was responsible for. Anger coursed through him again. He welcomed it.
More than a week had come and gone. Why wasn’t she bored? Why hadn’t she made an attempt to go into Seville, to the city? Why was she insisting on wearing those three tatty outfits day after day?
Was that why he’d felt compelled to goad her, to prod her? To ask her about things that had never concerned him before? To drive her to reiterate why she’d left? So that he could remember and not forget? Was he in danger of forgetting? He downed the last of the wine. He would not forget. And as soon as their divorce was through he would move her out of his home and they would establish her access to Zac. That was all their relationship comprised now.
When Rowan came down the stairs the following morning it was bedlam. Zac was in Isandro’s arms, and he and Julia the housekeeper were trying to talk above Zac’s screaming, crying. His face was puce, and Rowan guessed it was because he was being ignored. Her arms itched to take him and calm him down. It couldn’t be good for him to be getting worked up so soon after the convulsion.
‘What’s wrong?’
Her voice seemed to cut through the mayhem and they turned to her. Even Zac halted with a hiccup. Isandro glared at her. But what had she expected after last night? They’d taken two steps forward and about three hundred back.
‘María has left.’
Rowan’s churning thoughts stopped dead. Much like Zac’s screaming. ‘María’s left? But why?’
Isandro held out a note. ‘Here—you seem to have a lot in common.’
Rowan ignored his barb and read the note. In effect María was saying that she felt she hadn’t handled Zac’s convulsion well, and now that his mother was here she didn’t see that she had a role.
Rowan looked up at Isandro, speechless. He glared at her briefly, before trying to calm Zac down. He was rapidly working himself up again.
‘Here—give him to me. Let me give him some breakfast. He must be hungry.’
Rowan watched as Isandro handed Zac over to Julia. She had a nervous fluttering in her belly. It was patently obvious who Isandro blamed for this. She crossed her arms.
‘Isandro, I’m sorry to hear María has left—’
‘Of course you are. No doubt you’re loving this. Tell me, did you pay her to leave?’
Rowan’s mouth dropped open inelegantly and she sputtered indignantly. ‘How dare you? Of course I had nothing to do with her leaving. If you hired someone unprofessional enough to leave at the first sign of a crisis then you cannot blame me.’
He moved close and said silkily, ‘And yet everything was running smoothly before you came back.’
His conscience pricked at that. In truth he’d begun to have his doubts about María within the last month, but he was too incensed faced with Rowan right now, her face flushed prettily with anger, to be rational or fair.
Rowan glared at him belligerently, her hands now down at her sides and curled into fists. ‘Well, I did—and I’m here to stay. Are you going to accuse me of bringing on Zac’s convulsion too?’
For a long second they glared at each other. His anger was tangible and awe-inspiring. Then Isandro broke the spell. He stepped back slightly and ran a hand through his hair.
‘No. Of course not.’ That conscience struck him again when he recalled his paralysing fear that night, and how Rowan had been the only one to retain any calm sanity. He’d just gone a step too far.
‘I have to go to Kuala Lumpur today, for a three-day emergency meeting. It’s something I just can’t get out of. Believe me if I could I would.’
The bitterness in his tone told Rowan exactly how trapped he was feeling.
‘Well, at the risk of having you jump down my throat with threats and insults, I would love the chance to take care of Zac while you’re gone. You’re hardly going to get a replacement nanny in such a short space of time.’
He battled to keep his face impassive, to hide his frustration. ‘I know. And believe me, the only reason I’m even considering this is because my mother and sister are on holiday for a week. Otherwise he would stay with them …’
He ran an impatient hand through his hair again, his gesture saying it all.
‘Needless to say, Rowan, I leave him here in your care with the utmost reluctance. It is only because I know your every move will be monitored and reported back to me that I do this. Hernán will remain here with you. Julia can help.’
She hitched her chin. So she was to be a virtual prisoner. Still …it meant time alone with Zac. When she spoke her voice had lost its belligerence. ‘I have no intention of going a step outside these grounds or these four walls. All I want is time with my son. I swear.’
Her eyes had turned a soft darker velvet colour, and a wealth of emotion lay in their depths even though Isandro knew instinctively that she was trying to hide it. He didn’t want to know how he knew that. His eyes moved up and down her body, taking in the swell of her breasts under the thin material of her shirt, her worn jeans. One of those three outfits she’d been circulating since she’d arrived. Her eyes, her body, her scent threatened to scramble his thought processes … he had to push her back.
‘I’ll be checking in regularly.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less,’ she said softly.
He looked for triumph, for any sense that she’d won a victory over him, but saw nothing of the sort. Her response, far from confirming what he’d expected, made confusion rush through him. And something else. Something very nebulous and disturbing.
Rowan watched her son sleeping. It had taken a while to put him down that night, he was too excited with the change in routine and having Rowan there every moment, as opposed to María. She was exhausted. And yet happier than she could ever remember being in her life. She bent down and lovingly tucked a lock of fallen hair back, and in doing so she was reminded of a moment once snatched, when she’d watched Isandro sleeping after they’d made love. Her heart beat so painfully that it hurt. After a long minute of just looking at Zac, she went and curled up in a chair in the corner of the room, eventually falling asleep. She didn’t want to leave him for a second.
A week later Isandro stood in his study and looked out onto the lawn through the window. His return had been delayed due to a sudden crisis on the Asian stock market that had necessitated his continued presence. He’d never have gone if he’d known that might happen. He could see that Zac was working himself up into one of his increasingly frequent tantrums—a side-effect of his fast-approaching second birthday. As Rowan tried to placate him, he hit her. Isandro’s insides immediately clenched in fear that she would retaliate, and he made to move—only to find himself obeying some instinct and stopping again.
As he watched he realised that Rowan wasn’t reacting to the slap. Zac hit her again and Isandro winced, this time for Rowan. Again she didn’t respond. She completely ignored Zac, and got up to tidy his toys away. Eventually Zac started to calm down, perplexed by this non-reaction. It made Isandro suddenly nervous of how María might have reacted in a similar situation. That nig
gle of conscience rose again.
After a while Zac toddled over and got Rowan’s attention, and she bent down to his level. She appeared to be talking to him, and showed him where he had hit her. Isandro could see even from here that her skin was red. She seemed to be trying to explain to him that it was wrong, and then Zac threw his arms around her and kissed her. Rowan hugged him back, and Isandro felt the most curious tightening and falling feeling in his chest.
He turned away abruptly to leave the room and go outside. The feeling that seeing them had precipitated in his chest just now was terrifying with its force. Rowan Carmichael was a very real threat. He just wasn’t sure which direction the threat was coming from any more.
Rowan knew he was there—that awareness gripped her. She didn’t look round, though, and waited for Zac to react when he saw him. He screamed and ran towards him, and she let him go before turning around herself—only to have her heart flip over in her chest. He was so gorgeous. He was dressed in a steel-grey suit, dark tie and an impeccable shirt, and his slicked-back hair was now fast becoming tousled by small hands.
Rowan felt shy and awkward. He strolled towards her, putting Zac down as he squirmed out of his arms. She wasn’t aware of how her eyes roved over him hungrily. Or of the surprised flare of response in his eyes as they were hidden by shades.
‘How did it go?’
Rowan smiled wryly as she automatically checked what Zac was doing before looking up. ‘Well, as it’s barely two hours since you last called, there’s nothing much to report.’
Isandro had to stop his reflex to return her smile. Instead he gestured to her arms, and the fading red marks from Zac’s slaps. ‘Zac?’
He saw her flush and quickly shake her head before stopping and smiling a little self deprecatingly. ‘He’s not aware of what he’s doing. It’s no big deal. He’s just testing his boundaries. I’m trying to make him see that he can’t …’ She crossed her arms and put her hands around the offending marks, suddenly scared. Would he think she’d hit him back?
Her immediate reflex to protect Zac surprised him. It was almost as if she hadn’t wanted him to know. ‘You handled him well. I saw you.’
Her mouth opened. Something cold settled into her chest. Of course he hadn’t trusted her for a second. ‘You mean you spied on me?’
He shook his head and removed his shades, his eyes so blue that they took her breath away. ‘No, I just saw you out of the window before I came out.’
‘Oh …’ Rowan bit her lip. ‘Then I’m sorry.’ She looked down at Zac again. ‘It’s time for his nap now.’
‘Why don’t you put him down and then meet me in my study? I have a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you.’
Like custody … or is the divorce through already? Rowan knew rationally that it couldn’t be, but it didn’t stop her heart from clenching. She just nodded and scooped Zac up into her arms to bring him inside. At the last second Isandro stopped her to bend down and kiss Zac’s head. His own head came close to her breasts, and Rowan could feel them respond. She closed her eyes weakly and willed him to step away. When he did, she set off on shaky legs.
A short time later Rowan knocked on Isandro’s door and opened it. He was on the phone, but gestured for her to come in. She felt too antsy to sit down, so she wandered around, looking at the books on the shelves, feeling all over the place. After a week of not seeing him? How pathetic was that? Especially when he so obviously despised her.
‘Sit down.’
She whirled around guiltily. She hadn’t heard him terminate his conversation. She sat down warily, with her hands in her lap, and forced herself to look at him steadily.
He leant back in his big leather chair for a second before standing up. All the air seemed to have contracted in the room as Rowan watched him approach. He was jacketless and tieless again. He sat on the edge of his desk and the action pulled the material of his trousers taut over one powerful thigh. She swallowed past a dry throat and hoped she had enough self-control not to let her eyes drop.
‘I’ve arranged for some nannies to come tomorrow for interviews.’
Rowan immediately sat up straight. ‘But—’
He silenced her with a hand. ‘It’s not a reflection on how you have cared for Zac this last week. I’m sorry I was away for longer than intended.’
Rowan shrugged and avoided his penetrating eyes. ‘It was no hardship—no work, Isandro. He’s my son. I’d take care of him every day if I could.’
He quelled a quick surge of irritation. ‘Well, we both know that’s not how things are going to work out.’
‘Yes. I know.’
He stood up then, as if restless, and paced the floor behind her. She had to turn awkwardly to look at him. He stopped and faced her, thrusting his hands into his pockets. He hadn’t planned on discussing this with her now, but somehow it felt right.
‘I would like it if you would sit in on the interviews. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with María, and perhaps you’ll be adept at seeing how qualified they are.’
Rowan stood too, to face him. She knew that it must have killed him to say that, and only his concern for Zac would have prompted it. However, this was the first time he’d accorded her anything approaching respect for being Zac’s mother. It made her voice husky. ‘I’d appreciate that. Thank you. But … if you feel that you’re not ready to hire another nanny I’m more than happy to keep looking after Zac.’
He shook his head, negating her words. ‘No. As I told you before, I won’t have him become so attached to you that it will cause him undue pain when you’re not around on a permanent basis. And I’m going to need another nanny more or less immediately, because you’re not going to be on hand all the time.’
Rowan sat down heavily. He was sending her away. She quickly did some mental arithmetic. Perhaps she could rent a small apartment in Osuna, stay close by.
‘Rowan?’
Her head jerked up. ‘I’m sorry—what?’ She hadn’t heard a word of what he’d just said.
‘I said that we’re going to have to go into Seville to get you some clothes and do something with your hair.’
She stood again, feeling totally confused. ‘What are you talking about?’
He frowned at her. ‘What I just said. The Feria de Abril annual ball is next week, and I need you to come with me.’
Rowan shook her head again and translated out loud. ‘The Festival of April ball?’
‘Yes. It’s one of the biggest dates in the Seville calendar.’ He started pacing again. ‘Last year you weren’t here—that’s when people started to speculate. As one of the patrons of the festival, I have to make a speech every year, and naturally there is a lot of media attention.’ A flash of cynicism crossed his face. ‘As we have the good fortune of your presence this year, you will accompany me and help to put wagging tongues to rest.’
Rowan automatically started to protest for many reasons—not least of which that it would be a total sham. But he silenced her, taking a hand out of his pocket and coming to stand close. Too close.
‘Don’t you think it’s the least you could do?’
She was feeling dizzy, looking up at him. ‘Well, I … of course … But won’t people think it weird? And what about when it becomes apparent that we’re divorcing? Won’t it be obvious that something was up?’
He dismissed her words with a hand. ‘I’m not concerned about that. I’m only concerned with the here and now. I’m involved in an important deal with a bank in Madrid, and their CEO has been invited. It will look good for me to show that my marriage exists.’
A week later, as Rowan got ready for the ball, she reflected on Isandro’s words and shivered again. That coolness, that level of ambition, was something that had been all too familiar. Somehow, seeing him be such a good father to Zac, she’d been seduced into believing in a side of him she’d thought existed when she’d first got to know him, when she’d fallen in love with him. But that was dangerous. He’d just reminded her
with his actions that he was in fact a cold-hearted businessman with no room for love or emotion in his life. Unless it was directed towards his son. She had to remember that, or she’d be the biggest fool.
The past week had flown. Isandro had taken her into Seville three days ago, on a whirlwind tour of the shops. He’d bought her a veritable wardrobe full of clothes. She’d protested, but to no avail. And when they’d come home he’d personally overseen her own tatty clothes being thrown away. She’d bristled at his high-handed behaviour but he’d ignored her again. In truth, being back in a bustling, vibrant city had been almost too much for her. She’d found the sounds, the traffic, everything a little overwhelming. She knew she’d get used to it again in time, but hadn’t missed the funny looks Isandro had given her. She would have to be more careful.
She twisted in the mirror now, trying to reach the zip of the silk dress she’d chosen to wear, when she heard a voice.
‘Do you need me to do that up?’
She jumped around, her heart thumping crazily, and held the gaping front of her dress in her hands. ‘Excuse me!’ She hid her surprise and panic behind affront.
He strolled easily towards her and she couldn’t breathe. In a black tuxedo, white shirt, white bow tie dangling undone, he was a virile picture of masculine perfection. And even though she’d seen him like this … it had been before. She’d been pregnant then, and later she’d had other concerns. But now every sense seemed indecently heightened. On full alert.
He took her shoulders and turned her stricken body around. She felt his hands come to the zip, pulling it up slowly, his fingers grazing her back. The hairdresser Isandro had taken her to had cut her hair into a more defined bob, and now it fell in soft waves to just below her jaw. The back of her neck was exposed, and there was something about that that made her feel intensely vulnerable …
She hadn’t been able to wear a bra with the dress, and as the zip ascended now she could feel the dress being pulled up, tightening around her breasts, chafing against nipples that felt sensitive. She felt so tense that she feared she might snap in two. His hands stopped somewhere around the middle of her shoulderblades, and was it her imagination or did his fingers linger there for a second?
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