‘I didn’t think that you ever wanted to get married,’ she pointed out, and he gave an elegant shrug, turning to stare out of the window to where Oliver’s appetite for the garden appeared to be boundless.
‘I never thought about having children either,’ he returned without hesitation, ‘but there are you. The best-laid plans and so on.’
‘Well, I’m sorry that Oliver’s come along and messed up your life,’ she said in a tight voice, and he spun round to look at her.
‘Don’t ever say that again!’ His voice was low and sharp and lethally cold, and Sarah was immediately ashamed of her outburst because it hadn’t been fair. ‘I may not have planned on having children but I now have a child, and there is no way that I would wish it otherwise.’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But … look, it would be a disaster for us to get married.’
‘I’m really not seeing the problem here. There’s more than just the two of us involved in this …’
‘So what’s changed from when you first found out about Oliver?’
‘I don’t understand this. Are you playing hard to get because you think that I should have asked you to marry me as soon as I found out about Oliver?’
‘No, of course not! And I’m not playing hard to get. I know that this isn’t some kind of game. You don’t want to marry me, Raoul. You just want to be in a position of making sure that I don’t get involved with anyone else and jeopardise your contact and influence with Oliver, and the only way you can think of doing that is by putting a ring on my finger!’
She spun round on her heels and made for the door, but before she could reach it she felt his fingers on her arm and he whipped her back round to face him.
‘You’re not going to walk out on this conversation!’
‘I don’t want to carry on talking about this. It’s upsetting me.’
Raoul shot her a look of pure disbelief. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this! I ask you to marry me and you’re acting as though I’ve insulted you!’
‘You want me to be grateful, Raoul, and I’m not. When I used to dream of being married it was never about getting a grudging proposal from a man who has an agenda and no way out!’
‘This is ridiculous. You’re blowing everything out of proportion. Oliver needs a family and we’re good together.’ But Raoul couldn’t deny that the idea of her running around with other men had, at least in part, generated his urgent decision. Did that turn him into a control freak? No!
‘In other words, all things taken into account, why not? Is that how it works for you, Raoul?’ She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. His hand was a band of rigid steel on her arm, even though he actually wasn’t grasping her very hard at all.
Silence pooled around them until Sarah could feel herself beginning to perspire with tension. Why was it such a struggle to do what she knew was the right thing? Why was it so hard to keep her defences in place? Hadn’t she learnt anything at all? Didn’t she deserve more than to be someone’s convenient wife, even though she happened to be in love with that someone? What sort of happy future could there be for two people welded together for the wrong reason?
‘Look, I know that the ideal situation is for a child to have both parents at home, but it would be wrong for us to sacrifice our lives for Oliver’s sake.’
‘Why do you have to use such emotive language?’ He released her to rake an impatient hand through his hair. ‘I’m not looking at it as a sacrifice.’
‘Well, how are you looking at it?’
‘Haven’t we got along for the past few weeks?’ He answered her question with a question, which wasn’t exactly an informative response.
‘Yes, of course we have …’ Too well, as far as Sarah was concerned. So well, in fact, that it had been dangerously easy to fall in love with him all over again—for which foolishness she was now paying a steep price. A marriage of convenience would have been much more acceptable were emotions not involved. Then she could have seen it as a business transaction which benefited all parties concerned.
‘And I know you don’t like hearing this particular truth,’ Raoul continued bluntly, ‘but we get along in other ways as well …’
‘Why does it always come down to sex for you?’ Sarah muttered, folding her arms. ‘Is it because you think that’s my weakness?’
‘Isn’t it?’
Suddenly he was suffocatingly close to her. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in his heady, masculine scent. Unable to look him in the face, she let her eyes drift to the only slightly less alarming aspect of his broad chest. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and she could glimpse the fine dark hair that shadowed his torso.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Raoul murmured in a velvety voice that brought her out in goosebumps. ‘In fact, I like it. So we get married, Oliver has a stable home life, and we get to enjoy each other. No more having to torture yourself with pointless Should we? Shouldn’t we? questions … no more wringing of hands … no more big speeches about keeping our hands off one another while you carry on looking at me with those hot little eyes of yours …’
Although he hadn’t laid a finger on her, Sarah felt as though he had—because her body was on fire just listening to the rise and fall of his seductive words.
‘I don’t look at you … that way …’
‘You know you do. And it’s mutual. Every time I leave you I head home for a cold shower.’ He tilted her mutinous head so that she was looking up at him. ‘Let’s make this legal, Sarah …’
The sound of Oliver calling them from downstairs snapped Sarah out of her trance and she took a shaky step back.
‘I can’t drag you kicking and screaming down the aisle,’ Raoul said softly as she turned to head down the stairs. Sarah stilled and half looked over her shoulder. ‘But think about what I’ve said and think about the consequences if you decide to say no.’
‘Is there some sort of threat behind what you’re saying, Raoul?’
‘I have never used threats in my dealings with other people. I’ve never had to. Instead of rushing in and seeing everything insofar as it pertains to you, try looking at the bigger picture and seeing things insofar as they pertain to everyone else.’
‘You’re telling me that I’m selfish?’
‘If the cap fits …’
‘I’m just not as cynical as you, Raoul. That doesn’t make me selfish.’
Raoul was stumped by this piece of incomprehensible feminine logic, and he shook his head in pure frustration. ‘What’s cynical about wanting what’s best for our child? You need to think about my proposition, Sarah. Now, Oliver’s getting restless, but just bear in mind that if I am not impressed by the thought of some guy moving in with you and taking over my role, how would you feel when some woman moves in with me and takes over your role …?’
Leaving her with that ringing in her head was the equivalent of a threat, as far as Sarah was concerned. Furthermore, for the rest of the day he treated her with a level of formality that set her at an uncomfortable distance, and she wondered whether this was his way of showing her, without having to spell it out, what life would be like should they go their separate ways, only meeting up for the sake of their child.
She resented the way he could so effectively narrow everything down in terms that were starkly black and white. Oliver needed both parents at home. They got along. There was still that defiant tug of sexual chemistry there between them. Solution? Get married. Because she had rejected his original offer: Become lovers until boredom sets in. Marriage, for Raoul, would sort out the thorny problem of another man surfacing in her life, and also satisfy his physical needs. It made such perfect sense to him that any objection on her part could only be interpreted as selfishness.
Ridiculous!
But, whether he had intended it that way or not, his point was driven home over the next few days, during which he came at appointed and prearranged times so that he could take Oliver out. He had asked her
advice and laughed when she had told him that any restaurant with starched white linen tablecloths and fussy waiters should be avoided at all costs, but there was a patina of politeness he now exuded which Sarah found horribly unnerving.
Of course she wondered whether she was imagining it. His marriage proposal was still whirring around in her head. Had that made her hyper-sensitive to nuances in his demeanour?
She had tried twice to raise the topic, to explain her point of view in a way that didn’t end up making her feel as if she was somehow letting the side down, but in both instances his response had been to repeat that she had to think it through very carefully.
‘Wait and see how this arrangement works,’ he had urged her, ‘before you decide to rush headlong into a decision that you might come to bitterly regret.’
In a few well-chosen words he had managed to sum her up as reckless, irresponsible, and incapable of making the right choices.
Again Sarah had tried to get a toe hold into an argument, but he had expertly fielded her off and she had been left stewing in her own annoyance.
And at the bottom of her mind crawled the uncomfortable scenario of Raoul finding someone else. Now that he had taken on board the concept of marrying someone, would it prove persuasive enough for him to actually consider a proper relationship? He had had a congenital aversion to tying himself up with someone else. His background had predicated against it. But then Oliver had come along and a chip in the fortress of his self-containment had been made. Then he had taken the step of asking her to marry him.
Of course for all the wrong reasons as far as she was concerned! But he had jumped an enormous hurdle, even if he did see it only as a logical step forward, all things considered.
What if, having jumped that hurdle, he now allowed himself to finally open up to the reality of actually taking someone else on board? What if he fell in love?
When Sarah thought about that, she found herself quailing in panic. She could give him long, moralising speeches about the importance of not getting married simply for the sake of a child. She could scoff at the idea of entering into a union as intimate as marriage without the right foundations in place, because she was scared that she would not be able to survive the closeness without wanting much, much more. But how thrilled would she be if he took himself off to some other woman and decided to tie the knot?
It could easily happen, couldn’t it? Having a child would have altered everything for him, even if he barely recognised the fact. She wondered whether he had been changed enough to consider the advantages of having a permanent woman in his life—someone who could be a substitute mother. Sarah felt sick at the prospect of having a step-mother in the mix, but on the subject of things making sense it certainly would make sense, down the road, for him to get married.
He would surely find it difficult to continue playing the field, always making sure that Oliver and whatever current woman of the day didn’t overlap. Would he want to live the rest of his life like that? And what about when Oliver got older and became more alert to what was happening around him? Would Raoul want to risk having his private life judged by his own child? No, of course he wouldn’t. If there was one thing she had learnt, it was that Raoul was capable of huge sacrifices when it came to Oliver. He would never countenance his own son seeing him as an irresponsible womaniser.
Sarah found herself frequently drifting off into such thoughts as they settled into their new house and began turning it into a home.
There was absolutely nothing to be done, décor-wise, because everything was of an exquisite standard, but the show home effect was quickly replaced with something altogether more cosy as family pictures were brought out of packing boxes and laid on the mantelpiece in the sitting room. The fridge became a repository for Oliver’s artwork as she attached his drawings with colourful little magnets, and the woven throws her mother had given her when she had first moved to London turned the sofa in the conservatory into a lovely, inviting spot where she and Oliver could watch television. They went on short forays into the nearby village, locating all the essentials.
On the surface, everything was as it should be. It was only her endlessly churning mind that kept her awake at night and made her lose focus when she was in the middle of doing something.
Raoul continued to behave with grindingly perfect, gentlemanly behaviour, and Sarah found herself wondering on more than one occasion what he was getting up to on the evenings when he wasn’t around.
She hadn’t realised how accustomed she had become to seeing him pretty much every day, or at least being given some explanation of where he was and what he was doing on those days when he hadn’t been able to make it. On the single occasion when she had tried fishing for a little information he had raised his eyebrows, tutted, and told her that really it wasn’t any of her business, was it?
Two days before they were due to go to Devon to visit her parents Raoul returned Oliver to the house after their evening at a movie and, instead of leaving, informed her that the time had come to have a chat.
‘I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.’ He had given her two weeks, and two weeks was plenty long enough. He wasn’t used to hanging around waiting for someone else to make their mind up—especially when the matter in question should really have required next to no deliberation—but Raoul had taken a couple of steps back.
Although she was attracted to him, she had refused to become his mistress, and he didn’t think that she had done so because she had been holding out for a bigger prize. The plain and simple truth was that she was no longer his number one adoring fan. He had hurt her deeply five years ago, and that combined with the hardship of being a single mother without much money to throw around had toughened her.
Raoul knew that there was no way he could push her into marrying him. He was forced to acknowledge that in this one area, he had no control. But biding his time had driven him round the bend—especially when he kept remembering how easy and straightforward things had been between them before.
She returned to the kitchen forty-five minutes later. She had changed into a pair of loose, faded jeans that sat well below her waist and a tee shirt that rode up, exposing her flat belly, when she stretched into one of the cupboards to get two mugs for coffee.
‘So …’ she said brightly, once they were both at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee in front of them. This kitchen, unlike the tiny one in the rented house, was big enough to contain a six-seater table. He sat at one end, and Sarah deliberately took the seat at the opposite end. ‘You wanted to talk to me? I know I’ve said this a thousand times, but the house is perfect. I can’t tell you what a difference it makes, and there’s so much to do around here. I’ve already found a morning playgroup we can go to! It’s just so leafy and quiet.’
Raoul watched her and listened in silence, waiting until she had rambled on for a while longer before coming to a halting stop.
‘Two weeks ago I asked you a question.’
Having spent the entire two weeks thinking of nothing else but that question he had posed, Sarah now looked at him blankly—and received an impatient click of his tongue in response.
‘I’m not going to hang around for ever waiting for you to give me an answer, Sarah. I’ve waited so that you have had time to settle into the house. You’ve settled. So tell me—what’s the answer going to be?’
‘I … I don’t know …’
‘Not good enough.’ Raoul contained his mounting anger with difficulty.
‘Can I have a few more days to think about it?’ Sarah licked her lips nervously. ‘Marriage is such a big step,’ she muttered, by way of extra explanation.
‘Likewise having a child.’
‘Yes … but …’
‘Are we going to go down the same monotonous route of self-sacrifice?’
‘No!’ Sarah cried, stung by his bored tone of voice.
‘Then what’s your answer to be?’ He looked at her fraught face and thought that he might have been sentencing h
er to life in prison—and yet five years ago she would have exploded with joy at such a proposal. ‘If you say no then I walk away, Sarah.’
‘Walk away? What do you mean walk away? Are you saying that you’re going to abandon Oliver if I don’t agree to marry you?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake! When are you going to stop seeing me as a monster? I will never abandon my own flesh and blood!’
‘I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t,’ Sarah said, ashamed, because sudden panic had driven her to say the first stupid thing in her head. ‘So what are you saying?’
‘I’ll find someone else,’ Raoul told her bluntly, ‘and we will get in touch with lawyers, who will draw up papers regarding settlement and visiting rights. You will see me only when essential, and only ever when it is to do with Oliver. Naturally I will have no control over who you see, don’t see, or eventually become seriously involved with, and the same would apply to me. Am I spelling things out loud and clear for you?’
The colour had drained from Sarah’s face. Presented with such a succinct action-and-consequence train of events, she felt her wildly scattered thoughts finally crystallise into one shocking truth. She would lose him for ever. He really would meet another woman and the question of love wouldn’t even have to arise. He would regulate his love-life because he would have to, and she would be left on the outside … watching.
She wouldn’t conveniently stop loving him just because he’d removed himself from her.
He might not love her, but he would be a brilliant father—and she would be spared the misery of just not having him around. Who had ever said that you could have it all?
She was sadly aware that she would settle for crumbs. She wanted to ask him what would happen when he got bored with her. Would he begin to conduct a discreet outside life? It was a question to which she didn’t want an answer.
She had thought that any marriage without love would be doomed to failure. She had never imagined herself walking down the aisle knowing that the guy by her side was only there because he had found himself in the unenviable position of having no choice. Duty and responsibility were two wonderful things, but she hadn’t ever seen them as sufficient. Raoul, on the other hand, had moved faster towards the inevitable—and she had to catch up now, because the stark alternative was even more unpalatable and she hated herself for her weakness.
The Secret Sinclair Page 13