‘You have some explaining to do,’ he told her heavily.
‘No,’ she said, pulling herself upright. The sheet still gathered around her, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, presenting her stiff, straight back to him.
‘The woman I found in my bed in Monaco was not a virgin.’ His thoughts flicked back to the aborted seduction scene, his dark brows drawing into a frowning straight line as he shook his head positively. ‘Definitely not!’
‘How would you know? I thought you threw her out of your bed.’
Rose let out a squeal of protest when with no warning a brown arm snaked around her middle. Clutching tight to the sheet, she fell back across his lap. Lying there, looking up into his lean face, she felt the hunger so recently sated stir.
‘A man knows these things.’
‘You didn’t know these things about me,’ she reminded him.
A nerve clenched along his jaw. ‘I’m waiting, Rose.’
‘I don’t owe you anything, least of all an explanation,’ she husked, her chest rising in tune to the rapid gusty breaths that escaped her parted lips.
Her angry contention made him stare. ‘You were a virgin,’ he said rawly.
‘Will you stop saying that? It’s not like I planned to be a virgin at twenty-six. I just wanted to be sure.’ She stopped, aware of the implication of her words, and retrieved the situation by adding with a laugh, ‘And then I suppose I just gave up waiting.’
‘And I happened along. You know how to make a man feel special, mon coeur.’
‘Stop calling me that,’ she snapped angrily. ‘You’ve got a cheek acting as if I’ve tried to pass myself off as something I’m not.’ It was painfully obvious that he would have preferred the sexy siren she had turned out not to be. He would have preferred Rebecca, which made him no different from every other man. ‘I never said I was that woman—in fact I’ve never stopped saying that I wasn’t her.’
‘But you knew that I thought…’
The condemnation in his manner struck Rose as wildly irrational and it frustrated the hell out of her that he couldn’t recognise the fact. ‘And I thought enthusiasm would make up for lack of experience. It looks like we were both wrong,’ she countered. ‘For goodness’ sake, it’s bad enough you’re making me feel like a cheap one-night stand, but do you have to rub salt in the wound by making me feel like a cheap one-night stand who is useless at sex? If I’d known that you only sleep with women with a diploma in fornication I would have—’
‘This is not about you being inexperienced in bed.’ He looked at her with total incredulity. The women he had relationships with were as selfish as him; with them he knew where he stood. It infuriated him that she could act as though what she had given him was inconsequential.
Rose struggled upright and sat there on the edge of the bed with her back to him. ‘Not much,’ she grumbled, trying to imply with her small laugh that she found his reaction faintly amusing. The last thing she wanted was him even starting to suspect that she was totally devastated.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, can we just drop the subject and agree it—’ she gestured without looking at the tumbled bedclothes ‘—was a mistake.’ And what a mistake! Her soft lips twisted into a wry bitter smile as she added, ‘I’m not the woman you wanted. I’m not the woman from your hotel room.’
‘I did not want her, desire her … you …’ His glance slid down the curve of her rigid spine. His brow furrowed as he tried to tackle the conundrum presented to him. ‘You are identical. Even your voices …’ One he desired, the other left him cold. He stopped dead, a spark of startled comprehension appearing in his eyes. ‘There are two of you … twins …?’
Rose dodged his now-angry gaze and began to pleat the sheet between her fingers.
Mathieu muttered something in French under his breath, pulling her around towards him with one hand, and pushing back the locks of hair that concealed her face with the other. His hand stayed there framing her face. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded, tilting her chin up to him. ‘That woman in Monaco, she was your sister, your twin, wasn’t she, Rose?’
Rose nodded. There seemed little point in denying it.
He expelled his breath on one long, sibilant sigh.
‘And she is the one who was jilted at the altar.’ His eyes swept her face and Rose gave a tiny nod. ‘The one who went off the rails,’ he added, his voice and manner getting angrier with each additional suggestion.
‘She’s married now to an absolutely lovely man.’
‘And do you know this from personal experience too?’
Rose shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, you seem to share most things.’
A wave of angry colour washed over her skin as the implication sank in. ‘You have a really nasty mind—you know that, don’t you?’
His hands fell away. His head sank forward onto his chest as the layers of implication hit him. ‘I know nothing about you,’ he said, lifting his head and looking at her blankly. ‘You are not the person I thought you were.’
‘The person you thought I was?’ she repeated, the bubble of anger inside her bursting. This was meant to be a memory, a perfect moment for her to recall in years to come, and he had spoilt it with his interrogation. ‘How can you be so hypocritical?’ she asked him.
‘You deceived me and it is my fault?’
‘I haven’t deceived anyone,’ she yelled. ‘I told you until I was hoarse that we’d never met before. And I don’t see the problem. Do you normally want to know a girl’s history before you have sex? You’re a total hypocrite. Five minutes ago you weren’t even vaguely interested in the person I am beyond my bra size.’ From the direction of his gaze the same thing was still true.
With an angry snort of disgust she brought her hands up to cover her heaving breasts. ‘Oh, I’m not criticising you for being shallow, I knew that you didn’t care about me, but to turn around and act as though I have somehow cheated you, well …’ She shook her head energetically enough to send strands of caramel hair whipping around her face.
‘You are calling me shallow?’
On another occasion Rose might have been amused by the expression of stark incredulity written on his lean face.
‘I can see why you’re so upset. You must have thought I was ideal for your purposes. A woman traumatised by a painful romantic experience.’
Teeth clenched, he ground out, ‘You are suggesting that my modus operandi involves taking advantage of vulnerable women?’
Rose was not deceived by his soft tone. She doubted she had ever seen anyone as angry as he was right now. On another occasion she might have been cautious about her response, but she felt strangely disconnected from what was happening as she stared at the nerve clenching and unclenching in his hollow cheek.
‘I’m saying a woman who was just dipping her toe back in the water after getting burnt.’ Even as she said it she recognised that you could drive a cart and horses through the analogy. Any woman who thought Mathieu was a little light relief, a safe place to get back into the dating game, would be seriously unbalanced.
‘And you were—just dipping your toe in the water?’
He waited for her response, glaring at her as though this was all some part of her fiendish master plan.
‘I suppose I got tired of waiting for Mr Perfect. You see, I thought I was in love, but he was married and I thought honourable, but he was just using me. I found out the day you offered me this opportunity …’ She gave a shaky laugh as her gaze slid across the tumbled, still-warm bedclothes. ‘I really don’t think this is what the graduate career service had in mind when they talked about opportunity.
‘I had this mad idea that it would be a good idea to find out about sex with someone I didn’t care about.’
‘So you approached this like a scientific experiment?’
‘For God’s sake,’ she exclaimed. ‘It lasted for about two minutes before I wised up. I admit I was curious what eve
ryone was going on about. What I’m trying to say is I’m not really in a position to judge your motives.’ He obviously did not feel similarly restrained.
‘You are not the person I thought you were.’
‘Can you hear yourself? I’m not the person you thought I was. As if you’d know.’ She released a hard little laugh. ‘You didn’t know the person I was; you didn’t know anything about me. What could you know about the person I am?’ she asked him. ‘The person I really am,’ she added, pressing her hand to her heaving bosom.
‘You didn’t sleep with me, Mathieu, because you liked who I am or even who you thought I was, because I am the person you have been looking for all your life. You slept with me because I’m here and available and you thought I’d be low maintenance. Well you can relax.’
Her advice did not seem to have any immediate soothing effect. He looked about ready to implode.
‘I’m out of here as soon as I can thumb a lift.’ The trouble about an island was a grand sweeping exit was hard to achieve.
Dragging the sheet from the bed, envying him his total obliviousness to his nakedness, she stood up and walked towards her bathroom.
Inside she lasted until she had locked the door, where she slid down the wall to the cold marble floor. Where in a foetal huddle she cried until there were no tears left.
She didn’t know if she would have opened the door if he had asked, but her resolve was never tested because Mathieu didn’t knock and when she crept out in the early hours the suite was empty.
‘You might as well unpack,’ Mathieu said, entering the room and glancing down at the suitcase she had left by the door. ‘Nobody is leaving this island today.’ Did it make him insane that he would lie just to have her the other side of a wall, soft and lovely and hating him?
‘Then why is that helicopter out there?’
His eyes slid from hers. ‘You may think I have delusions of grandeur, but even I can’t control the weather.’
‘Or me,’ she told him, registering for the first time the wetness that had his clothes clinging wetly to his body and his hair slicked back and drenched. ‘Helicopters don’t stop flying because of a bit of rain.’ She picked up her case and willed him to say something to stop her. But of course he didn’t because basically he couldn’t wait to see the back of her.
‘The ring is on the dressing table. Oh, and don’t be surprised if your father looks smug when you see him.’
‘Oh?’ he said, studying her expression with a frown.
‘We had a breakfast meeting. And I’ve made him really happy.’
‘He has clearly not done the same for you.’ The clenched teeth and flashing eyes were the clue.
‘He offered me money to leave you. You don’t look surprised that your father tried to buy me off,’ she accused, studying his expression. ‘Does he do this often?’
‘It was not something I had anticipated, but I should have. If he is happy, I’m assuming that you said yes?’
‘Not immediately. I negotiated. After all, you are a very rich prize for a dedicated gold-digger like me.’ Her teeth ached as she held the fixed white smile in place.
‘Would it be indelicate to ask how much I’m worth?’
‘I wouldn’t give a brass farthing for you.’
‘No, you did make clear to me last night that your only interest in me was …’ he swallowed, struggling to keep a lid on his anger ‘.scientific.’
‘I never was very good at chemistry.’ But he was—her eyes dropped—very good. ‘Actually I can’t remember how much we settled on. I was angry,’ she admitted with admirable understatement. ‘Here,’ she said, taking it out of her pocket with a shaking hand and shoving it at Mathieu.
Mathieu smoothed the scrunched paper. His brows lifted as he read the figure above his father’s distinctive scrawl. ‘You are a good negotiator,’ he said, handing it back to her.
‘You think I want that?’ she said, looking from the cheque to him. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’
‘You might as well keep it. The money means nothing to him and you have earned it.’
Rose felt strangely removed from what was happening as her hand began to move in an arc. It wasn’t until it met his cheek with a resounding smack that sent his head sideways that she registered what she had done.
‘This time I’m not sorry,’ she said. ‘And if you’re ever in town be sure not to get in touch, because I promise you there is more where that came from.’
She swept out, the image of his grey furious eyes imprinted on her retina.
The helicopter was over the grey stormy Aegean before the first sobs were torn from her chest and she doubled over in pain.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘THIS is your first scan?’
Rose, feeling a light-headed mixture of trepidation and excitement, nodded as she lowered herself on the high bed. Maybe some of the former showed because the woman in the white coat explained in a soothing manner, ‘We’ve had a cancellation, the appointment following yours. I could wait for Dad to arrive if you like?’
Rose swallowed as weak tears rushed to her eyes. With a tight little smile she struggled to regain her composure. ‘No, he won’t be coming. He’s—’
‘Right here.’
Rose’s head turned; her expression went totally blank. Shock froze her mental faculties as she stared in disbelief at the tall figure framed in the doorway.
Had she finally lost it totally? Was she hallucinating?
Her eyes locked on platinum-silver and the colour rushed back to her face the same moment her brain began to function. This was no hallucination; this was something much more dangerous—the real thing. A hundred questions swirling in her head, she chose the cautious option and asked suspiciously, ‘What are you doing here, Mathieu?’
Mathieu’s brows lifted. ‘Where else would a man be when the mother of his child is having her first scan?’
‘America?’
Escorting long-stemmed American beauties who did not present him with the tedious burden of their virginity she tacked on silently.
She had read the story of his proposed trip in the financial pages. For a supposedly serious journalist, the woman who had written it had been almost gushing in her praise of the man she said would bear watching.
But then who was she to talk about lack of objectivity? she thought. She was the idiotic woman who had cut out the article and kept it.
She sucked in a deep sustaining breath, telling herself she could do this. Actually she could do little else but stare at him as though she was afraid if she blinked he might vanish.
‘America? No, as you see, no … I am here.’
At that moment the shrill sound of a bleeper broke the expectant silence in the room.
The radiologist reached into the pocket of her white coat and shared her apologetic smile equally between the two prospective parents. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll have to take this … I won’t be long.’
Rose, who had levered herself up into a sitting position, watched the woman go and barely restrained the impulse to beg her to stay.
She cleared her throat. ‘I really don’t think you being here is such a good idea, Mathieu. Not really … appropriate.’ She gave a weak smile and touched her stomach. ‘I’m pregnant, you know. It was quite a surprise.’
He gave a dry laugh and dragged a not quite steady hand through his dark hair. ‘For me too, Rose. You do know that you can’t do this alone …?’
His woman giving birth alone, having his baby alone … His chest swelled as he fought to contain his emotions. This was just not going to happen, not while there was breath in his body. If she didn’t love him he would make her … if necessary he would change.
‘God, no, I’m pretty clueless, but the staff here are absolutely terrific and I’ll see the same midwife all the way through to the birth, build up a relationship… ‘
Listening to her, Mathieu bit back a frustrated groan. Spitting hostility, he reflected, would have been easier to deal with
than being treated with this stilted politeness. ‘I think it’s our relationship we should be concentrating on. Don’t you, Rose?’
She still wasn’t totally sure that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination, but when he bent forward there was nothing imaginary about the lips that brushed her forehead before claiming her mouth, or the warm, clean scent of his male body.
The light kiss left her breathing hard and aching.
‘We don’t have a relationship, Mathieu.’
He stood, his hands resting either side of her. ‘But we have a baby.’ He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to him.
‘How do you know the baby is even yours?’ It was a ridiculous thing to say, but she felt pushed into a corner.
‘Are you saying it is not?’
‘No, I’m not saying that,’ she admitted reluctantly.
‘Good call. It is always good to keep deceit within shouting distance of the truth.’ Something he had not been doing when he had told himself that he could function perfectly well without one Rose Hall.
‘Is it so impossible that I might have had sex with a man other than you?’
‘Frankly, yes.’
‘Well, you didn’t find me so repulsive once,’ she retorted, stung.
Amusement flared and died in his eyes to be replaced by a simmering heat. His eyes darkened with desire as they swept over her face. ‘You are the most desirable woman I have ever seen in my life, Rose.’
Her head spinning dizzily, Rose’s eyes fell from the warmth in his. ‘If you had found me repulsive I suppose we wouldn’t be here now,’ she conceded shakily. ‘Not,’ she added hastily, ‘that I’m blaming you.’
His mouth curled into a grimace of self-recrimination. ‘Who else would you blame?’ he wanted to know.
‘Well, you hardly had to beat me into submission with a stick, did you? And we … you were careful.’
‘But accidents happen,’ he added on quietly. ‘I’m not angry about this, Rose, if that’s what you think.’
‘No, you’re resigned,’ she accused in a quivering voice. Resigned enough to ask her to marry him? And if he did would she have the strength to say no?
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