She watched him, her eyes willing him to come back to her. After listening in silence he gave a brief response in Spanish and replaced the receiver. Turning, he hitched his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, his dark features as rigid as stone, his eyes slightly hooded, impaling her as he let the shirt drop to the floor.
Her heart leapt.
Whatever the call had been about, it hadn't spoiled things. He was coming back to her. He was! Smiling softly, her heart in her eyes, she held out loving arms to him as he reached for the buckle of his belt.
'Teresa tells me my mother has just arrived. She is to lunch with us. Go down to her while I shower and change,' he instructed flatly. 'Tell her I will be ten minutes, no more.'
Her heart sank.
Dona Elvira couldn't have arrived at a worse moment, Cassie thought wretchedly as she watched him turn and walk to the bathroom. Naked now, the lines of his body long and fluid. Perfect. There was a lump in her throat. No word of regret, no soft apology. Nothing. Just a flatly delivered instruction, a long level look that withered her soul.
Was that his way of showing her that he was a mere man after all, pushed by his hormones into accepting what had been so flagrantly offered—despite his reservations?
No. She wouldn't let herself believe that.
There was more than mere lust between them; she knew there was. Briskly, hanging on to that thought, she refastened the lacy bra and swung off the rumpled bed. Their five-week-long idyll told her there was more, much more. Hadn't she got to know the more relaxed side of the man she'd married—the side that was funny, deeply charming, sexy yet tender, sometimes impossibly arrogant but always endlessly endearing?
He was suffering from the effects of plain, old-fashioned sexual frustration. Just as she was. It was perfectly simple, she told herself firmly.
The filmy, flirty, ultra-feminine dress wasn't something she would have normally chosen to wear for lunch with her starchy, ultra-conservative mother-in-law, she thought light-headedly as she slipped it over her head and pulled up the fine side zipper. But these days she dressed to please Roman—she didn't stick to things she hoped her in-laws would deem suitable. And because she knew her husband's eyes would openly admire the way the narrow seam at the top of the bodice left her lightly tanned arms and most of her shoulders bare, the neckline dipping into a tantalising V, the soft gauzy fabric moulding her breasts and nipping in at her waist to fall with a floaty fullness to just below her knees, the dress pleased her, too.
As usual, Dona Elvira was dressed in black, relieved slightly by just a touch of white silk at her throat. Cassie found her in the small sala, where Teresa had set the circular table with the very best china, glass and heavy antique silver.
Meeting the steady, cool assessment of a pair of dark eyes, Cassie gave a small smile and said, 'How nice to see you,' and knew she didn't mean it at all. She hoped this was to be a flying visit only, but she couldn't ask and appear impossibly rude.
'Roman apologises,' Cassie added lightly. 'He's only just back from some business or other in Seville. He'll be a few more minutes and then Teresa will give us lunch.'
'Sanlucar suits you,' the older woman announced from the seat in the window that overlooked the sunbaked terrace, the great Guadalquivir river and the vast Coto Doiiana nature reserve. 'I find you—' a pale, long-fingered hand moved questingly '—much improved.'
Coming from queen of her severest critics, Cassie had to take that as a compliment. She spread her hands, 'I find the town, this house, quite beautiful. Who could not be happy here?' 'You were not. Before.'
The words dropped like heavy stones into a deep, dark pool and Cassie knew why the older woman had come here. Curiosity. Uneasy suspicions. She wanted to judge for herself whether the supposed reconciliation was real or just a blind to stop her and her sisters pressing Roman to go ahead with the divorce and marry someone they found acceptable— with Delfina being the obvious and prime candidate. What would be the other woman's reaction if Cassie told her she was already expecting her son's child?
Suddenly, a wave of compassionate understanding engulfed her. Already she felt fiercely protective of the tiny new life she was carrying inside her. Of course Dona Elvira wanted the best for her son. What mother wouldn't? And three years ago Cassie hadn't been the best.
But she had changed, become more self-confident, able to physically express her love for her husband. This time, if Roman wanted it, the marriage would work.
So she said, gently reassuring, 'No, back then there were problems, mainly of my own making.'
'And they've been resolved?' The tone, as always, was carefully polite, but the cool dark eyes had narrowed watchfully. 'I want only happiness for my son, you understand?'
'I believe so. I believe I could make him happy,' Cassie said, with a sudden and unwelcome hollow feeling inside her.
Some problems had been swept away but others had crowded in to take their place. But it was up to her to resolve that, wasn't it?
She forced herself into a more optimistic frame of mind but couldn't stop her nerves from jangling when Roman said from behind her, 'So what brings you here, Madrei. So far as I know, you haven't set foot inside this house for fifteen years. Has Cassandra given you something to drink? No? Then let me repair the omission.'
Cool, urbane, totally controlled—who would have thought that ten minutes ago he had succumbed to the wild call of the flesh, against all his obvious mental reservations, had been on the point of making wild, passionate love to her? Cassie thought as she sank on to the padded seat in the deep window embrasure.
Watching him as he poured pale Manzanilla into three tulip glasses, her heart twisted over with regret. Wearing white—beautifully tailored narrow trousers and a silk shirt that fell in long graceful folds from his impressive shoulders—he looked as gorgeous and as remote as a man could get.
Why hadn't she said those things she'd been mentally rehearsing over the last two days the moment he'd walked into the bedroom they shared—instead of flinging herself at him like the sex-mad creature he believed her to have become?
Because she loved him so much, had missed him so badly, she answered herself as he handed her a glass, looking carefully at some point over her left shoulder yet somehow avoiding any contact of their fingers. Her instincts had taken over and her instincts had been wrong. Far better that their short time alone had been occupied in putting him straight.
But she hadn't known that her mother-in-law was about to descend on them, and that lady was saying, her cool features warm now as she spoke to her son, 'True, I haven't been here since your father died. I prefer to keep my memories intact. Remember the summers we spent here—you, your father and I? The horse races on the river beach you both took part in? With me shouting your names and urging you on as loudly as any farmhand? The picnics, the long treks through the Coto Dofiana? How happy we were in those days! After he died it could never be the same.' Her smile faded. She took a sip of her Manzanilla and set the glass down on the small table at her side. 'Perhaps when you give me grandchildren I will be able to spend more happy summers here.'
Here we go again, Cassie thought as she surreptitiously emptied her own drink into the nearest pot plant. Emotional blackmail. She wasn't the only one who'd been subjected to it. Roman obviously had, ever since he'd reached marriageable age.
Thankfully, Teresa arrived, moving deftly around despite her bulk, laying dishes on the table. Dona Elvira said less mournfully, 'I am visiting the house in Jerez now that the decorators have finished. I want to make sure all is exactly as it should be. Tomas is driving me; Teresa is looking after him. I thought I would make this diversion to bring you the news before Tomas and I retrace ourselves to Jerez.'
She stood up, leading the way to the table, and Roman, an indulgent smile on his face for the difficulties his mother sometimes had with the English language, asked, 'And that is?'
Cassie followed, hoping her mother-in-law's news didn
't involve Roy and some further misdeed; she felt more miserable by the minute, because Roman had barely looked at her since he'd entered the room—and when he had his expression had been
cold.
'I hope it won't come as too much of a shock,' Dona Elvira said as she helped herself generously to swordfish with a luscious prawn and clam sauce, adding a portion of Teresa's roast red pepper and tomato salad. 'I know how close the two of you are—were—and I didn't want you to hear of it through the newspapers. Delfina is engaged to be married.'
'Now why should that shock me?' He spoke softly, as if he were humouring a child. But Cassie had seen the flicker of relief cross his face.
His ploy had paid off. Darling Delfina was off his back. But what had started off as a tactical manoeuvre, with her playing the part of a returning loving wife in exchange for Roy's freedom from prosecution, had turned into something wonderful. A marriage that could truly work. Surely to God it had?
Her hands were knotted together in her lap, her knuckles white. She barely heard Dona Elvira's, 'Delfina's such a lovely girl. Your aunts and I, we always hoped—'
'I know what you hoped,' Roman cut in sardonically, helping himself to a chunk of crusty bread to I mop up the delicious sauce. 'And I think you know I won't tolerate any more meddling. Don't even think about dredging up some other suitable, shallow creature to dangle in front of my nose now Delfina's out of the frame. I forbid it.'
Cassie's stomach twisted alarmingly. Her throat went tight. Why didn't he remind his mother that he already had a wife? Sitting right here! Why were they both ignoring her? Dona Elvira quite naturally, probably because she believed Cassie wasn't worth noticing, and Roman studiedly, as if he didn't want to be reminded that she existed.
Well, she did exist—she would be noticed! She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and asked firmly, 'So, who is the lucky man?'
A heartbeat of silence, then Dona Elvira said lightly, 'You wouldn't know him.' She turned to her son. 'Rodrigo Talavera. They are to be married in Brazil, where most of his family is. They leave in a
few days; her mother goes with her, naturally.'
'He's old enough to be her father.'
Roman looked faintly amused, the smile that played around the corner of his mouth deepening as his mother defended, 'But wealthy. He will dote on her and spoil her thoroughly. She will be happy. And you, Cassandra, you are not eating?'
Suddenly, the attention was on Cassie. She felt her face go hot.
'I'm not really hungry,' she said truthfully. How could she eat a thing when her stomach was tied in squirming knots? She wanted the meal over and done with, her mother-in-law out of the way so that she could talk to Roman, really talk to him, tell him what was in her heart and discover what was in his.
'Is it Spain that robs you of your appetite? It is obvious that you ate well when you were in your own country.' Dark eyes pointedly raked the fullness of the breasts emphasised by the clinging bodice, the smoothly rounded arms. 'You were happier back in your own country, I think?'
The implication being she should go right back there, Cassie thought on a flash of temper. She fingered the stem of her water glass, looking at Roman from beneath her lashes, and said with a trace of defiance, 'I've been wonderfully happy here and, yes, if the record needs straightening, I was happy back in England, too.'
She wasn't going to pull any punches. Roman, in particular, needed to know what had happened to her. He hadn't really asked, and she'd been too bound up in the enchantment of getting to know him physically, in the strong rebirth of her love for him, to tell him.
Aware of his brooding attention, she said, 'At the risk of sounding fanciful, I discovered who I was during my year away. I'd never had to be responsible for myself; all decisions had been made for me—by my father, my husband, my in-laws.'
She heard Dona Elvira's intake of breath and ignored it. 'For the first time in my life I was responsible for myself. It was scary at first, but exhilarating. I headed for my home town because I knew it, had friends there.' She met Roman's thoughtful eyes head-on. 'I found a cheap bed-sit, walked into a waitressing job, enrolled in a couple of evening classes—upholstery and furniture restoration—and made a few new friends. I was in charge of my own life, my own well-being and making a reasonable fist of it.
'Then, six weeks or so later, Cindy offered me a job helping her run the boutique. One of the perks was the rent-free flat above it. I took it—of course I did. It was a far better proposition than what I was doing, where I was living.' She took a breath.
'But most important of all, it was my decision. Nobody was telling me what to do and how to do it. Nobody was making me feel inferior and pretty damn useless. And at last I had a home I could call my own. Could decorate it and furnish it just as I wanted to—mainly cheap second-hand stuff—and that's where the evening classes came in useful.'
No need to say that Guy had helped her trawl the auction rooms, had wielded a paintbrush pretty niftily. No need to put suspicions in Roman's mind that had no right to be there.
No need to mention how very much she'd missed her arrogant Spanish husband, or how hard she'd tried not to, how hard she'd tried to put the past behind her. Not now, not while she could feel Dona Elvira's eyes on her, absorbing every word she said. Later, when they were alone, she would tell him that missing him had been the hardest part of all.
'So.' She tugged in a breath. 'In a nutshell, I finally grew up. Learned to stand on my own two feet, got some self-respect. Now—' she glanced around the table. '—we appear to have finished. Shall I ask Teresa for coffee?' She looked at her mother-in-law and caught the slightly astonished gleam of admiration in the older woman's eyes as she proffered, 'Or shall I ask her to tell Tomas to bring the car round? You must be eager to settle into the newly decorated house. If you're staying there for more than a day or two, maybe Roman and I will descend on you for a tour of inspection.'
Half an hour later, after seeing Dona Elvira off—very upright and dignified in the back of the ancient Daimler that was kept for ferrying his elderly relatives around—Roman said, 'Among other things, you've learned how to handle her.'
It was the 'other things' that had to be sorted out, Cassie thought, following him back inside into the relatively cool, echoing dimness of the massive hall.
Would he believe her when she insisted she hadn't spent that year away sleeping around, learning by experience? He hadn't so far, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try again.
Would he truly understand that, apart from his monumental Spanish pride being damaged by having a runaway wife, that year had been necessary? He'd said she'd needed to-grow up, but more than that, she had needed to find out who she was, what she was capable of—had needed to find the self-respect that had been missing for most of her life. Roman looked so sombre. She had her misgivings, and they deepened when he turned to face her, his features shadowed and stark in the cool dim light.
'I want you to know that I made a bad mistake when I blackmailed you into staying with me, sleeping with me. I've thought hard about this over the past few days. What I did was unworthy, dishonourable. Unforgivable.' He pushed his hands into his trouser pockets, his mouth a straight hard line, his eyes dark and unreadable.
A current of fear arced through her. What was going on here? Was this some kind of coded message? Would she ever be able to breach those vast, remote defences of his? Could her words alone touch him? He had retreated to a place where she couldn't reach him, just as he had done when he'd decided she was frigid and had ceased to bother with her.
At least she could try! 'You don't have to apologise for anything,' she said quickly.
'I'm not. Haven't I already said that what I did was unforgivable? So,' he went on in a flat monotone, 'you are free to go now. I release you from our bargain. And before you start worrying about that brother of yours—who should be old enough to look after himself—if he keeps his nose clean, works hard, he can enjoy
a good position on the finca.'
Dismissed. Just like that! These few weeks had meant nothing to him. A woman to sleep with, that was all she'd been to him, and now she'd served her purpose she could go.
Anger sparked in her eyes. 'Let me get this straight—Delfina's safely engaged and due to leave the country in a day or two, and,' she added for good measure, 'you've satisfied your curiosity about my present attitude to sex, so I can leave!'
She hadn't known she could feel this betrayed, so surplus to requirements. Or so blisteringly angry! At least anger was keeping the hurt away—for the moment.
He seemed to be having a problem with her anger, judging by the frowning bar of his brows. And then he tilted his head just slightly. 'If that's how you want to see it. I am merely explaining you are free to go.'
Or stay? But he hadn't mentioned anything about her staying. And she could tell by the closed-in look on his face that her presence was suddenly distasteful to him. But she'd give him one last chance; she owed that to herself and to their unborn child.
'What about the divorce?' she asked, and wished she hadn't sounded quite so humble. She prayed he'd say he didn't want that to happen, prayed so hard her heart hurt.
'If that's what you want,' Roman conceded slowly. His minimal shrug looked decidedly dismissive. 'But in the meantime I'll make you a generous allowance. I know, because you've told me—' his mouth curved bitterly, '—that you're quite capable of looking after yourself, but the job and the flat you had have gone. For that I take full responsibility— and I don't like the idea of you having to wait on tables, or serve behind some seedy bar because you're unqualified for anything better, living on a low wage in some squalid room.'
It was like a slap in the face. A hard slap. Holding herself together was going to be tough. She lifted her chin and said staunchly, 'Then I'll pack. I'll stay overnight in Seville and catch the first available flight back to England.' She headed for the stairs, but his harsh voice halted her. 'Tell me when you're ready and I'll drive you.'
Claiming His Wife Page 9
