Horses could be flighty or fearless, strong willed or biddable, yet once he had their trust they would do anything for him. It was so satisfying to see a willful, unruly yearling mature into a true champion. He had sold yearlings to racing syndicates from all over the world. He had bred winner after winner, champion after champion. He had been there from the moment his foals had taken their first spindly steps to watching them thunder past the finish line in some of the world’s most prestigious races.
How could he possibly run his business from the sidelines?
But it wasn’t just the stud business. He could not think of a worse form of torture than to watch a race while seated. No one sat down when a race was coming to the finish line. Everyone jumped to their feet—the trainers, the owners and the crowd. The cacophony of cheers and shouts as the horses came down to the line always gave him goose bumps.
How could he do it any other way?
Raoul met Lily’s gaze. ‘I suppose you cooked up this little scheme with Etienne—to lure me out here in the hope that it will make me yearn to get back down to the stables. But dinner on the terrace is not going to change my mind. I will not go down to the stables until I can get there on my own two feet.’
‘I think you’re being unnecessarily stubborn about this. Plenty of people run very successful businesses in spite of their physical limitations.’
‘I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Miss Archer. I don’t want to run my business from a chair. I would rather sell it than do that.’
‘But Etienne said the horses are your passion.’
‘I have other passions.’
Her cheeks bloomed again with colour, but her voice was tart and full of spinsterish disapproval. ‘I’m very sure you do.’
Raoul gave an indolent crook of his mouth. ‘You don’t approve of indulging one’s passions?’
Her expression was tightly composed, almost too composed. ‘Only if you don’t hurt anyone else in doing so.’
‘Have you been hurt in love, Miss Archer?’
‘I’ve never been in love.’
‘But you’ve been hurt.’
Her gaze skittered away from his as she reached for her water glass. ‘Hasn’t everyone at one time or another?’
Raoul watched as she took a token sip. So measured, so controlled, but behind that cool façade was a passionate, sensual young woman. He had felt that surge of passion against his mouth. He had felt the primal heat of erotic human contact, the mingling of her breath with his, the duelling of their tongues, the carnal desire he felt in her lightest touch.
He wanted to feel it again.
He dragged his gaze away from her mouth, his body still humming with the thought of bedding her. It was crazy even to allow the thought to enter his head. He was probably only tempted because it had been weeks since he’d had sex. Or maybe it was because she was such a fresh challenge to him. She had made it pretty clear she didn’t like him or approve of his lifestyle. It could prove rather entertaining to change her mind.
Forget about it. You don’t need any more complications in your life right now.
Raoul was getting dizzy from all the mental shakes he’d been giving himself. He wasn’t in the mood for an affair even if his body thought it was a good idea. He liked to conduct his affairs with clear focus, with control and purpose. Diving into a fling just for the hell of it wasn’t his way. Emotions were something he controlled, even though there was a part of him that kind of liked the thought of falling in love.
He and his brothers had spent their early years surrounded by their parents’ love for them and for each other. It had set a standard, perhaps a rather unrealistic one, because not one of his relationships had even come close to what their parents had. Love and commitment had been central to their relationship. They still had their arguments, sometimes quite passionate ones, but they had never let the sun go down on their anger. Conflicts were resolved, slights forgiven, love restored.
Raoul had seen the change in Rafe, how falling in love with Poppy Silverton had given him an extra dimension to his life. Rafe had always been a goal-driven workaholic but now he was talking about taking extended leave for his honeymoon, and there were even baby plans afoot. Rafe had spoken of his and Poppy’s desire for a family to love and nurture together.
Raoul knew his brother would be a fabulous father. He had been such a protective big brother, always putting Raoul’s and Remy’s interests ahead of his own. He had taken the brunt of their grandfather’s anger countless times, even taking the blame for misdemeanours that Raoul or Remy had committed in order to shield them from Vittorio’s harsh and unpredictable temper.
For the last twenty-five years Rafe had been the family anchor, but now it was time for him to launch into his new life. Finding Poppy—the love of his life—in a quiet little village in the English countryside had transformed his older brother into a man who embraced and expressed love with the same force of determination he previously used to avoid it.
You want that, too: love, commitment, children.
Did he?
He tried to picture it: a beautiful wife, two or three children, a dog or two...
A wheelchair.
His insides clenched and twisted at the thought of not being able to walk alongside his children from when they took their first steps or to walk with them into their first day of school. Not to be able to carry them in his arms, or to kick a football with them or teach them to swim, ski and water-ski as his father had done with him and his brothers.
If he had a daughter he would not be able to walk her down the aisle one day.
If he had a son he would not be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with him to teach him everything he knew about being a man.
It was impossible for him to imagine being a father without the full use of his legs.
He didn’t want to be a father if he couldn’t be a whole one.
How cruel was fate to snatch something away from you just when you realised you wanted it? Raoul didn’t want to spend the rest of his life pining for what he had lost. He didn’t want to end up bitter and twisted like his grandfather. But how could he possibly settle for a life without the very things everyone else took for granted?
He would always be the one sitting to one side while everyone else was up and dancing through life. He would be the one everyone privately pitied or stayed well clear of in case the blow of fate was somehow catching.
‘Are you in pain?’ Lily’s voice jolted him out of his reverie of misery.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘You were frowning so heavily I thought you must be uncomfortable. You’ve done a lot of sitting today.’
‘I can hardly work at my computer if I can’t sit or stand,’ Raoul said with a fresh wave of frustration at his situation.
‘Have you got a laptop? You could lie down and work on that. It would take the pressure off those discs.’
‘I use my bed for sleeping or for sex, although lately I’m doing neither.’ He scraped his hair back with his left hand. ‘I can’t remember the last time I slept more than an hour or two in one stretch.’
‘Have you tried taking some sleeping medication for a couple of nights, just to break the cycle?’
Raoul gave her a quelling look. ‘I’m not going to be turned into a pill popper, Miss Archer. Dependency is not my thing, in spite of what you might think about my current use of alcohol. I’ve only been drunk a couple of times in my life and both times I hated the loss of control.’
‘I just thought it might help if—’
‘You know what would help?’ he clipped back. ‘Being able to exercise properly. I like being physically active. I don’t feel alive unless I get my blood pumping. I don’t know any other way to live.’
She gave him one of her compassionate looks that made Rao
ul feel a brute for snapping at her. ‘I’m sorry...’
He let out a muttered curse as he put his napkin on the table next to his plate. ‘I’m the one who should be apologising.’ Not that he was going to, of course. He never apologised. Besides, he hadn’t asked for her to be here. It wasn’t helping him one little bit having her to witness his pain and frustration. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. ‘I’m not the most convivial company right now.’
‘I’m not here to be entertained.’
‘No, you’re here for the money, right?’ Just like his grandfather’s domestic minions, obsequiously pretending they cared about him just so they could collect their wage at the end of the day. He would be a fool to be taken in by her mask of empathy. She was just like everyone else, out for whatever she could get.
Her gaze lost its compassionate softness and her small, neat chin came up to a combative height. ‘Unlike you, Monsieur Caffarelli, I don’t have squillions in my bank account. So yes, I’m here for the money. I’m sorry if you find that hard to stomach but, quite frankly, if it weren’t for the money your brother is paying me I wouldn’t spend another minute of my time with you.’ She put her napkin down like someone throwing down a gauntlet and pushed her chair back from the table to stand up.
‘Sit down, Miss Archer,’ he commanded.
Her slate-blue eyes flashed mutinously. ‘Why, so you can continue to snip and snarl at me like a bad-tempered dog? No, thanks. I can think of much better ways to spend the evening.’
Raoul clenched his jaw so hard he felt his teeth grind together like granite against a grindstone. ‘You will do as I say. Do you hear me? Sit down.’
She gave him glare for glare. ‘I think I can see why your fiancée broke off your engagement. It had nothing to do with your accident or your injuries. It’s your my-way-or-the-highway personality that’s the problem.’
Had he ever met a more headstrong, opinionated woman? Raoul was used to people—and women, in particular—doing what he said even before he said it. Lily Archer was wilful and defiant and was a little too ready to express her opinions. Having her here reminded him too much of the power he had lost. She was rubbing his nose in it every chance she could. What had his brother been thinking, getting her to come here? The sooner she left—and to hell with the money—the better.
‘Get out of my sight,’ he ground out.
‘See what I mean?’ She gave him a pert look. ‘You chop and change like the wind. You’re moody and unpredictable. No woman in her right mind would put up with that, no matter how filthy rich you are.’
‘I want you out of here by morning,’ Raoul said through tight lips.
‘Fine.’ She gave him an airy thanks-for-that smile. ‘I’ll go up and pack right now.’
You just gave her what she wants. She wanted to get out of jail free and you just signed the release slip.
Dominique came out with the main course just as Lily breezed past. The housekeeper turned and looked at Raoul with a crestfallen expression. ‘What’s going on? I thought you two were getting on like a house on fire.’
Raoul wheeled back from the table with an angry scowl. ‘Don’t ask or I’ll fire you on the spot.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS TOO hot to sleep. Or maybe it wasn’t the summer temperature at all but rather Lily’s overheated temper. She was packed and ready to leave, as Raoul Caffarelli had so rudely commanded, but a part of her was struggling with taking the easy way out.
To leave would be admitting defeat.
Raoul was certainly a challenge, with his forceful personality and stubborn ways, but underneath that brooding, angry and resentful exterior she sensed he was essentially a good man. Didn’t his care and support of the former street kid Etienne prove it? He treated all of his staff cordially, if a little distantly. He had not said a bad word about his ex-fiancée, publically or privately, even though she had clearly hurt him by rejecting him the way she had. Didn’t that suggest he was at heart a decent and honourable man?
He was angry and bitter and finding it hard to cope with what had happened to him. Lily understood that far more than he could ever realise. She had railed at the world, too. She had pushed everyone who cared about her away. She had felt so dreadfully alone but she had sabotaged every attempt to reach her emotionally.
Wasn’t he doing the same?
What if she could help him? It seemed a shame to walk out and leave him to his own devices. Like a lot of men with an achievement-based personality, he had a tendency to overdo things, which could compromise his recovery. But he had more feeling in his legs than the Sheikh’s daughter Halimah had at the start, and he was incredibly fit and strong.
But he had made up his mind, and she couldn’t see him changing it any time soon. She had her money and that was all that mattered. It would be embarrassing going back to London so soon, but that was hardly her fault. Raoul Caffarelli would test an angel’s patience, and she knew she was no angel, or at least not in his presence. He seemed to bring out the worst in her. She hadn’t realised she had a sharp tongue until he had made her use it.
He was rude and arrogant and she was glad to be leaving.
Of course she was glad.
She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. Her life was in London. It might be a little predictable and boring at times, but at least she didn’t have to deal with brooding, handsome men with foul tempers.
Lily threw off the bedcovers and padded over to the window to look at the moonlit gardens her bedroom overlooked. There was a swimming pool she hadn’t noticed before in a sheltered section of the back garden. Its surface shimmered in the silver light of the moon, tempting her with its promise of cool refreshment from the night’s sticky and cloying humidity.
It had been a long time since she had swum in public. The work she did with clients in the hydrotherapy pool at the clinic could hardly be called swimming. She spent most of the time standing waist-deep, guiding the client through a range of exercises. Her ‘bathing costume’ was a modest one-piece suit with a long-sleeved rash vest over the top, which she told her clients was to protect her skin from the chlorine.
The thought of a swim on a hot night in a secluded garden with only the light of the moon was a temptation she was powerless to resist. Given how reluctant Raoul was to come outdoors, it was reasonable to assume he wouldn’t witness her midnight dip. It would be her way of putting her nose up at him one last time; her chance of having the last word. She would use his pool without his knowledge or permission and she would enjoy every minute of her little act of rebellion.
Lily picked up her one-piece and vest. Was it her imagination or did the fabric feel thicker and pricklier than normal? After a moment of deliberation she tossed it aside, picked up a matching set of bra and knickers and a lightweight cotton T-shirt to go over the top. If she was going to swim, then she was going to do it properly.
Once she was dressed in her makeshift costume she took a fluffy towel from her en suite bathroom and tiptoed downstairs, keeping an eye and ear out for anyone moving about, but the methodical ticking of the ancient grandfather clock on the second landing was the only sound in the silence.
The flagstones in the private section of the garden where the pool was situated were still warm from the summer sun beaming down on them all day, but the water of the pool was deliciously cool as she tested it with her fingertips.
Lily sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. The splish-splash movement of the water against her legs seemed deafening in the silence.
She took a breath and slipped into the cool, silky embrace of the water. It lifted the hairs from her scalp, playing with them in a watery dance that made her aware of every inch of her flesh. She duck dived to the bottom of the pool and swam like a mermaid with dolphin-like undulations of her body, feeling free in a way she hadn’t felt
in years.
She came back up to the surface and swam lap after lap, the rhythmic movement of her limbs lulling her into a state of calm that was both meditative and incredibly soothing.
She had no idea how far or for how long she had been swimming. She had made a vain attempt to count her laps in the beginning, but her mind had drifted into blissful numbness after the first ten or so. She was totally in the moment, feeling the water move over her skin, feeling the contraction and pull of her muscles as she carved through the resistance of the cool, refreshing fluid that surrounded her. She was weightless, yet strong. Her body felt invigorated, tired yet satisfied, her blood singing around her veins in delight at being active after spending so much time indoors.
Lily finally surfaced at one end and threw back the long wet curtain of her hair. But when she opened her eyes she found Raoul sitting in his chair watching her from the side of the pool with an inscrutable expression on his face. Her heart gave a little stutter in her chest but it had nothing to do with the physical exertion she had just performed. ‘How long have you been there?’ she asked.
‘Long enough.’
She focused her gaze on the tiles near her hands rather than meet his gaze. ‘I suppose you’re thinking what a totally rubbish swimmer I am.’
‘On the contrary, you look quite at home in the water. But that T-shirt must be annoying. It’s creating quite a drag when you swim.’
Lily met his gaze with a little hitch of her chin. ‘I don’t like swimming in public.’
Never Underestimate a Caffarelli Page 9
