The Purest of Diamonds?

by Susan Stephens

  She had to find a way to tell him. It was as simple as that.

  They drove in tense silence for quite a time. She stared blindly out of the window, but the incredible view finally pierced her sombre mood. Raffa’s island home was beautiful and she couldn’t remain immune to it. The jet hadn’t flown over this part of the island. The agricultural land was lush and well cared for, and on the fringes of the rolling fields immaculately maintained farmsteads slumbered in the sun. He drove on through quaint villages, where white villas nestled in companionable groups on tree-cloaked hills, until finally he turned to her and said, ‘This is the village where I live.’

  She looked with interest at the cobbled streets and a tiny market square, where stalls selling fresh produce from outlying farms were bustling with activity. As they passed through the village they drove on along a clifftop road where she could see the bright blue sea glinting far below them. ‘This is lovely,’ she exclaimed impulsively, relaxing for the first time since she’d arrived.

  ‘Wait until you see the castle. There—on the top of the hill.’

  Seeing their destination loom in front of her made all of Leila’s fears return. If only Raffa already knew about the baby, and they could celebrate her pregnancy together—not that he was ever likely to celebrate, with his thoughts on the subject.

  She turned to look at him as he launched into a brief history of the ancient building he was working so hard to save, and found herself wishing she didn’t have any secrets from him so she could relax and enjoy this trip to the full.

  Her biggest surprise was when they drove beneath the imposing stone archway that led through from the outer walls of the castle into the inner courtyard. Instead of closing around her as she had expected, being inside the ancient fortress actually lifted her spirits. The castle might have been built with the sole intention of defending the island from invaders, but it felt more like a friendly giant than a glowering monster.

  ‘Everyone says the same thing,’ Raffa agreed when she commented. ‘I think it’s the angle of the sun on the stone that makes it glow and seem so welcoming.’

  At least they were talking, Leila registered with relief. If she could keep that going, maybe the tension between them would relax. Build enough of a bridge and she could have a proper discussion about the baby.

  ‘The same building beneath the steely skies of Skavanga might struggle to look as attractive as this,’ she admitted, turning to him.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Raffa agreed. ‘I hope you’re not too disappointed when we go inside, as I only live in a small part of the castle. I’m gradually turning the rest into a museum.’

  ‘Museums are becoming a bit of a theme between us,’ she remarked as he switched off the engine. She stopped there, seeing something in Raffa’s eyes that warned her off. It said there were no common themes between them.

  ‘I’ve housed you in one of the guest turrets,’ he said as they got out of the Jeep. Shading his eyes with his hand, he stared up to where the crenelated battlements were decorated with flags.

  ‘Like Rapunzel,’ she suggested lightly.

  ‘Like someone I thought might enjoy the view.’

  ‘I’m here to work, not to stare out of the window all day,’ she reminded him, working hard to keep the conversation between them going. And you’re not scrambling up my hair any time soon, she thought as Raffa glanced at her.

  ‘I’ll get my housekeeper to help you settle in.’ He pulled away as if he was impatient to go.

  His housekeeper? The castle, Raffa’s whole way of life, only served to emphasise the gulf between them, and she had yet to broach the subject of his child.

  ‘Leila?’

  Having climbed the broad flight of stone steps, they had stopped in front of a huge arched entrance door peppered with iron studs. ‘Yes?’

  She turned, but whatever had prompted Raffa to say her name had died on his lips. She was glad when the door swung open and a smiling motherly woman greeted them.

  ‘This is Maria, my housekeeper, Leila. Maria, may I present Señorita Skavanga.’

  ‘Please, call me Leila,’ Leila insisted as the older woman nodded and smiled.

  Raffa excused himself almost immediately. ‘I have building work to attend to,’ he explained.

  ‘Thank you for picking me up—’ She turned around to say this, but he was already jogging down the steps.

  ‘May I show you to your room, señorita?’

  ‘Thank you, Maria.’ She was glad of the housekeeper’s friendly smile. She had never felt quite so isolated, or quite so far from home.

  * * *

  Leila’s apartment in the turret was like the setting for a fairy tale. Exquisitely furnished in delicate French Empire style, it boasted the most astonishing views over the beautifully manicured grounds to the lush green fields beyond, and on to where a bank of trees faded to a misty purple in the shadow of the rolling hills. Leaning out of the open window, she dragged greedily on the blossom-scented air, but this was no time to be daydreaming. She had to settle in and then find Raffa so they could have that talk. She had never even been late before, and she hadn’t even been sure that the strange feeling that had come over her was significant in any way, until finally she went to the chemist and took a test...several tests. And there was no doubt. She was pregnant.

  The phone rang, distracting her. It was Raffa. Her heart bumped at the sound of his voice. The knowledge inside her made her feel so guilty, but she couldn’t tell him over the phone.

  ‘Can you be ready in half an hour?’

  ‘I’m ready now.’ Did that sound too eager?

  Of course it did.

  Remembering the marble-lined bathroom stocked with fabulous products, she quickly built in time to take a shower. ‘Actually, half an hour should be fine,’ she managed coolly.

  It was only when she replaced the receiver that she realised she hadn’t even asked where they were supposed to meet. She would have to sharpen up her wits if she was going to face Raffa with her news. She couldn’t imagine he would take it well, and she had to be ready for the fallout.

  * * *

  The rest of the day went better than she had expected. Raffa picked her up in the Jeep and took her to one of his showrooms on the island, but he brought a co-worker with him, so once again she couldn’t tell him her news. Would the moment ever arrive? She was keyed up every second of the tour and could hardly concentrate.

  The laboratories were as clean and as sterile as Raffa’s behaviour towards her. They were bright and filled with light and staffed by uniformed technicians. It was that small space thing again, Leila told herself firmly, glancing at Raffa as they travelled down to one of his vaults in a small steel lift. Relax. He can’t hear your heart beating.

  Raffa escorted her into an air-conditioned room with little furnishing other than a table on which sat a mirror, presumably so his most favoured clients could try on the jewels they wished to buy in absolute privacy. She felt confident, having prepared well in advance of her visit. ‘I know many of your jewels have history, and I’ve read up about quite a few of them.’

  Raffa inclined his head as if they were two strangers doing business together, which indeed they were—or they were supposed to be.

  He laid out an incredible collection in front of her. ‘This can be worn a number of ways,’ he explained as he took apart one of the elaborate necklaces. ‘These detachable drops can be worn as earrings, for example...’

  As he held them up to her face, his hands brushed her cheeks and her skin blazed with awareness. ‘Very nice,’ she said, turning away so she couldn’t see Raffa’s face reflected in the mirror behind her.

  ‘And these...’ he showed her a string of milky pearls ‘...can be worn as a long necklace, or fastened with this diamond clasp and worn as a collar...’

 
He had to hear her sharp intake of breath when his hands brushed her collarbone and the cool pearls met her overheated skin, but when he glanced into her eyes he gave nothing away. The cool of the pearls, the warmth of his touch...

  ‘Leila?’

  She blinked and refocused on the tutorial she was supposed to be here for.

  ‘I’m going to put the pearls back in the vault again. If you’ve finished with them?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her throat was dry, her voice hoarse. She could see Raffa standing behind her, staring down. This was the moment—

  ‘Shall I list the pearls as going to Skavanga?’

  Raffa was already turning away as he asked the question, placing the priceless jewels in their velvet nest. The walls of the vault seemed to close around her, sucking all the available air from her lungs and her intention to tell him about the baby with it.

  ‘Yes. Please put them on the list,’ she managed faintly.

  * * *

  His preference would have been to strip Leila naked, drape her in jewels and have her on the table, but that was the wolf in him talking, and Leila was a lamb, vulnerable and far too honest for her own good. He had seen the longing in her eyes the moment she arrived on the island. He had finally deciphered what had made him edgy around Leila back at the airstrip, and it was that. And now he knew he couldn’t lead her on. They’d had one passionate night and that had been a mistake, a mistake he had no intention of repeating. Leila deserved someone better than he could ever be, someone without his baggage. She had tempted him, but that was over now and she was here to do a job. He would respect that. His father had used women as if they were nothing more than disposable toys, and he had no intention of becoming that man.

  ‘We’ve done enough for today,’ he said, his mind still lodged in the past.

  He’d done enough for today. He’d spent enough time with Leila, and he needed space from her now. Seeing her again had been a warning to him that, far from fading, his feelings for Leila Skavanga had only grown while they’d been apart.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NEXT FEW days passed quickly and things evened out between them. Their history was too complex for them to remain at daggers drawn for ever. Close proximity led to them swapping confidences and swapping jokes, but whether it was the intimate, confiding tone Raffa used to explain the provenance of one of the jewels, or whether it was simply his passion for his chosen subject and his vast store of knowledge, Leila had no idea.

  Perhaps it was the way he looked into her eyes in search of the same enthusiasm he felt for the treasures he was showing her, she really couldn’t say. She only knew she was losing her heart to him all over again, though they went to bed separately each night, and she slept fitfully, wondering if Raffa did too.

  As each day dawned she felt more and more convinced that if she could just hold on a little longer, the golden moment would arrive when she could tell Raffa about the baby and they’d both be happy about the news. Being pregnant was such a life-changing event she wanted to be sure she picked the right moment for him too. As she was dealing with a man for whom family life was anything but an attractive prospect, she wanted to make sure she didn’t blunder into the announcement.

  She hadn’t been expecting for them to work so closely in the physical sense. There were times when tension seemed to surge between them, and she wondered if they were both fighting off desire, and other times when she told herself not to be so stupid. Sometimes she found herself studying Raffa instead of the jewels... Diamonds or his sexy mouth? A polished emerald, or the gleam in the depth of Raffa’s eyes when he turned to confide some new fact, especially when he allowed his gaze to linger?

  ‘What are you staring at?’ he said one day, smiling.

  She’d always been a sucker for eyes that crinkled at the corners. ‘You,’ she admitted bluntly. ‘I was just thinking how different you are from the press you receive.’

  ‘We all have different faces we show the world,’ he said as he collected up the jewels for the night.

  ‘And you have more than most?’ she queried, laughing to make light of it.

  ‘Here’s one that might surprise you,’ he said as he closed the vault. ‘I’m immune to the charm of diamonds. I admire them. I admire the craftsmanship. And I know a good stone when I see one. But I prefer the simple things in life—like honesty and loyalty. I value those qualities far more than any hard, cold stone. Diamonds are just a means to an end for me. I make money out of them that allows me to support the causes I’m interested in.’

  Honesty and loyalty, she thought as Raffa called the elevator. Where would Raffa think she stood where honesty was concerned if he knew about the baby?

  ‘The exhibition you’re planning in Skavanga will be good for both of us,’ he said as they waited for the lift to arrive. ‘I almost threw my first diamond away— After you.’ He stood back as the doors slid open. He stabbed the lift button and they soared upwards. ‘My father, who wasn’t noted for his tolerance, brought a particularly big stone back from India. I didn’t know the value of this dull-looking rock and kept it in my bedroom for over a week before he found it.’

  She laughed, but it sounded forced. She would rather have been talking about the subject closest to her heart, until Raffa said, ‘My father was always mad with one child or another.’ His eyes narrowed as he thought back, remembering. ‘We children hadn’t been factored into his life plan. We were more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. An inconvenient consequence of his own reckless actions—’

  Her heart shrank as she listened to him. They’d both been reckless, but if she had anything to do with it their baby would be anything but an inconvenient consequence. It would be a much-loved child.

  ‘My family isn’t close like yours is, Leila,’ he went on. ‘I don’t have a great role model to look back on, hence no wife, no children and no intention on my part of ever changing the status quo.’

  ‘So you don’t want children?’ Her question echoed in the small steel cab.

  ‘No. I don’t,’ Raffa said flatly. ‘I’ve told you things I haven’t told anyone before,’ Raffa admitted wryly as they walked outside into the brilliant sunshine. ‘Must be your honest face.’

  ‘I’ll respect your confidence.’ Her stomach churned at the thought of her less than honest relationship with Raffa.

  ‘I’m sure you will. And I apologise if I sounded short down there. I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘The past kicks back sometimes. Raffa, there’s—’

  He broke off to speak to one of the technicians walking across the car park. They were all coming out for lunch now, and when he turned back to her the moment had gone.

  ‘I trust you, Leila Skavanga. I can’t say that about many people.’

  This was getting worse by the moment. ‘I trust you too,’ she said on a dry throat, only wishing she could turn the clock back and blurt out the truth about their baby the moment she walked down the steps of the aircraft.

  ‘Let’s get back,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry, aren’t you?’

  ‘Starving.’

  ‘Then I have to get back to my building work. I hope you’ve learned enough this morning to keep you busy planning.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she confirmed. Raffa telling her about his past had explained so much about him. He was obsessive about his work at the castle, the ruin he was rebuilding brick by brick, perhaps as an exercise in pushing the memories of his crumbling childhood behind him. This was not the time to raise the subject of a child, however much it would be loved, that was going to be born as the result of yet another reckless coupling.

  ‘We’ve got a fair moving into the grounds of the castle tomorrow,’ he revealed as they approached the Jeep. ‘I’ll be up early sorting that out—so have breakfast without me.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said as he ope
ned the door for her. ‘I can entertain myself. Is the fair part of your plan to open more of the castle to the public?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Raffa said as he swung into the driver’s seat beside her.

  This was better than being at daggers drawn with him. She would find a way to tell Raffa about the baby, but it would be a way that wouldn’t pour more acid on the wounds he’d brought with him from his past. Perhaps friendship was the only way forward for them, she thought wistfully, flashing a glance across, but, as she’d always been wary of expecting too much out of life, wasn’t it better to settle for less and be contented?

  * * *

  She woke the next morning feeling warm inside. The baby made her feel this way. Nothing could dilute her joy, not even the guilt inside her. She could already picture the infant with Raffa’s curly black hair and his slanting smile. If it was a boy he would eat her out of house and home, and scare her rigid with his pranks. If it was a little girl...

  It was to be hoped she had more sense than her mother.

  Planning to have a family without factoring a man into the equation was all very well in theory, but she couldn’t see Raffa being the type to quietly stand by when she told him about the baby and then let her get on with it. She would tell him today. She couldn’t leave it a moment longer. Her heart had grown to encompass a new and very special kind of love and she wanted Raffa to know that joy too. There hadn’t been a good time to tell him, so she would make an opportunity. She was confident he would be thrilled—once he got over the shock.

  Frantically finger-combing her hair into some sort of order, she hurried out of the room, having decided that the best place to find Raffa was in the courtyard where he had said the fair was setting up.

  The courtyard was bustling with shoppers from all over the island, and noisy with stallholders calling out to advertise their wares. She walked around it several times, but there was no sign of Raffa, and so she started to take a more active interest in the stalls. One geared specifically towards baby clothes drew her attention right away. The tiny, hand-stitched garments were so adorable that before she knew it her arms were full.