Martinez's Pregnant Wife

by Rachael Thomas

  Raul’s mother reached out and laid her hand on his arm for a second time. This time he had to fight hard against the instinct to pull away, avoid any kind of contact. It was his default setting, but somehow he managed not to. Instead he looked at her, trying to decipher what was really going through her mind.

  ‘I don’t blame you for any of this,’ she said, looking directly and earnestly into his eyes, just as his mother had done the day she’d told him the truth about his father, knowing she didn’t have long. Savagely, he pushed that to the back of his mind. ‘And neither must you blame yourself.’

  ‘There is only one person to blame and he is no longer with us to accept that blame.’ The harsh words rushed from him in an uncustomary display of hurt. He took a deep breath, determined to lock himself back behind his barrier, his wall of protection. She was getting too close. The only other woman to have got that close to his emotions since his mother had died was Lisa. And that had done neither of them any good.

  Raul’s mother spoke again, this time in fluid Spanish. Was it because she didn’t want Lisa to know or was it because it was truly meant? But as he watched her turn and walk away, mingling with other guests, the pain of his childhood began to resurface.

  ‘I’m guessing that wasn’t good.’ Lisa’s voice jolted him back to the present, thankfully shutting away the past, the pain and knowledge that he didn’t deserve the kind of happiness she’d been looking for when they’d married.

  ‘Apparently I am like my father, but I don’t have to be.’

  Lisa’s perplexed expression reassured him that he wasn’t the only one who was unable to decode whatever message was within that statement, but her next words threw that into disarray.

  ‘You are also like your brother,’ she said tentatively, her green eyes ever watchful.

  Was she still holding out for love and happiness, the kind that sparked around the bride and groom? Raul had confessed on their very first meeting in London that he didn’t do emotions and that had been the fine thread that had pulled them together, allowing them to bond. Two brothers rejected by the same man. Either Raul was a liar or a very good actor.

  He shook his head in denial. ‘We might look similar, but that is where it ends.’

  He looked over at Raul as he lowered his head to kiss Lydia and even he could see the love between them. From the other side of the room he could feel it, heavy in the air. The man was a liar. A damn good one. He did do emotions and the most painful one of all.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lisa’s breathy whisper irritated him, sure as he was that it was intended to evoke emotions from him. What was she pushing him to admit? That he loved her, that they too would find the happiness Raul and Lydia had? Well, she’d be disappointed.

  ‘Absolutely, now if we are to arrive in England on time, we should leave now.’ He changed the subject, diverted her attention, hoping to distract her from the destructive course the conversation had veered to after Raul’s mother had left them.

  ‘They have only just said their vows,’ Lisa implored, her green eyes full of confusion. ‘We can’t leave now.’

  ‘We can and we will.’ He put his arm in the small of her back, ignoring the jolt of heat that rushed through him, and gently but firmly propelled her through the guests. ‘After we wish the bride and groom well.’

  * * *

  Before Lisa could process what was happening, a radiant Lydia was smiling at her. ‘I hear congratulations are in order, that you are Max are going to be parents.’

  ‘Yes.’ This was the hardest bit of acting she’d done since arriving in Madrid.

  Raul and Max were suddenly deep in conversation, turned slightly away, and Lisa had never felt so excluded. Lydia must have noticed. ‘They are talking about their father’s will. It seems he’d had help all along from one very corrupt member of the board, but I bet he never expected Raul to find his brother and welcome him into the business as well as get married.’

  Lydia’s light laughter didn’t quite disguise the undercurrent of seriousness of her words and Lisa vowed to ask Max about it later. In fact, maybe now would be a good time to find out more about the man who was her child’s father. But that would mean revealing more about herself, her childhood brought up on the wrong side of town where police visits to her house happened with alarming regularity.

  ‘Lisa and I will look forward to seeing you in London for Angelina’s twenty-first birthday party.’ Max’s words dragged her mind back from the brink of those dark days as he pulled her close against him in a pretence of affection.

  ‘We wouldn’t miss it.’ Raul’s deep and accented voice was so like Max’s it was hardly believable.

  ‘You’re not going on honeymoon?’ Lisa asked before giving it any thought.

  ‘My wife is a romantic,’ Max said quickly as if it was something to apologise for, the sting of hurt bringing heat to her cheeks.

  ‘Then you are very lucky,’ Raul said as he looked into his wife’s eyes, making a connection that almost excluded her and Max. ‘And so too am I.’

  ‘I think we should leave you two alone.’ Max’s stern voice hardly dented the aura of love in the air and the newly-weds barely noticed. ‘Especially as I have romantic plans in England.’

  * * *

  Lisa had resisted the urge to ask any further questions as the small jet plane had flown to England. The dark and brooding scowl on Max’s face had been enough to see to that, but with each passing hour his mood had deepened and she was beginning to feel he was further away than ever from her. Unreachable.

  She’d never imagined Christmas Eve would be like this. It had gone from the wonderful moment of seeing two people in love say their vows to a cold and stony silence that was frostier than the weather they’d returned to. That silence had deepened, becoming more Arctic as a sleek black car had pulled up at the steps of the plane and Max had ushered her into the passenger seat and then settled himself in the driver’s seat. They had left the airport and driven, not toward his London apartment as she’d thought, but out into the darkness of the countryside.

  ‘This is where we will be spending Christmas.’ His deep and all too sensual voice shocked her as he spoke in the darkness of the car. His gaze was firmly fixed on the road ahead, lit by the strong beams of the car’s headlights, as he manoeuvred his sleek sports car off the main road and onto a smaller one. Around them was nothing but darkness. She had no idea where they were. All she knew was that they’d left London behind over an hour ago.

  ‘Where are we?’ The mystery was too much for her tired mind, but as the car turned another corner, a cottage, festooned in festive lights, sprang from the darkness of the countryside. The yellow glow of lights from the windows warned her they were arriving at someone else’s home. One very much occupied.

  ‘You wanted Christmas and if my memory serves me right, your idea of Christmas, something like this.’ There was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, but she wasn’t going to be fooled or lulled into a false sense of security, not after the hard and cold mood he’d been in all day.

  ‘But I told you that a long time ago. Before we were married.’ Inwardly she cursed herself for saying that word, for reminding them both of the issues that lay between them.

  ‘You did. You said you’d always imagined spending it at a cosy country cottage, complete with Christmas lights and a log fire.’ He moved toward her in the darkness of the car, the leather of the seat scrunching softly above the subtle hum of the engine. Her heart leapt as she inhaled his scent. Why did she have to react so acutely to him?

  ‘I never thought...’ Her voice trailed off in a whisper. He’d done this for her?

  ‘I give you exactly that.’ He looked over at her as he turned off the engine stopped and an expectant silence filled the car, wrapping around them. ‘Christmas in a country cottage.’

  ‘But whose cottage is it?’ It was late on Christmas Eve and she wanted to know just whose Christmas they would be descending on.

  ‘Ours�
��for Christmas, that is.’

  ‘And you did all this?’ He’d remembered all she’d said when they were dating, how she’d never had a Christmas that had been special, how she’d wanted the tree, the trimmings, the lights and champagne in front of an open fire. Didn’t that mean something? That he cared?

  ‘You doubt that I could be a family man, one who cares, and this is my way of showing you otherwise.’ A determined firmness entered his voice but she refused to spoil the moment by thinking too hard about what he’d just said. She didn’t want to acknowledge the true implications of this. She just wanted to enjoy this special moment, imagine this was how they really were.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said as she opened the car door and got out, smiling at the traditional wreath hanging on the green-painted door. It was her dream Christmas and the man who claimed not to be able to love her had brought her here.

  The night air was cold and crisp. Exactly what she’d always imagined in her idea of a perfect Christmas. The only glitch was that she’d imagined spending it with the man she loved, one she’d foolishly thought had loved her too. If she put that notion to one side, she could make a memory to hold onto, one to cherish when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve and all this pretence of affection, of wanting to be a father, came crashing down.

  ‘I hope you like it because we are here until we return to London for Angelina’s birthday party and then there will, of course, be the New Year’s Eve party.’ His breath hung in the air, clouding around her, and she smiled up at him. Surely it meant something? He wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble otherwise. The pain and anger which had built up since they’d gone their separate ways thawed even as the night air chilled.

  ‘I won’t know until I see it,’ she teased him, anxious now to see what his idea of the perfect Christmas cottage was like inside and trying hard to stifle the hope that he really did want her and the baby in his life. To allow that hope to grow would be foolish.

  He smiled at her. Warmth filled his eyes that she hadn’t seen for a long time and her heart constricted with the effort of not letting her love show. She wanted to reach up and kiss his lips, to snuggle against him and be held in his arms.

  ‘Very well.’ He took out a key from his pocket and opened the door, the old key turning in the lock, sounding loud in the dark stillness of the winter night.

  She pushed open the door and the heat from inside the cottage rushed at her. The scent of Christmas filled the air as he followed her in, but having him standing so close behind her made her feel weak as her legs trembled. She tried to ignore it, looking around the festive feast of decorations in the room, of which a real tree was the centrepiece.

  It stood beside the fire, which glowed with orange warmth, creating the perfect scene. Beneath the tree were presents and its branches were heavy with coloured baubles and lights. How had he managed to arrange all this? The fact that he had even thought of it infused her with hope. Maybe he wasn’t so immune to her or the idea of fatherhood. Maybe there was a future for them.

  ‘I love it,’ she whispered as she pulled her cashmere scarf off and walked into the room. ‘But how did you manage all this when we were in Madrid?’ With arms wide she gestured around her. The whole room looked as if the owners had just stepped outside for a moment.

  ‘I rented the cottage and specified exactly what I wanted, even down to the mistletoe.’ He moved closer to her and pulled her toward him and under the piece of mistletoe adorned with white berries. The darkening of his eyes left her in no doubt that Christmas decorations were the furthest thing from his mind right now and her resolve to keep her distance melted like ice in front of the fire.

  ‘Thank you.’ She moved toward him, wanting to make the most of the change in him. It must have been Raul and Lydia’s wedding that had been darkening his mood over recent days, not impending fatherhood as she’d thought. She’d been too sensitive—too emotional. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘As are you.’ The deep tone of his voice and heavy accent left her in no doubt where this was going to lead. A sliver of doubt crept in, threatening to spoil the moment, but she pushed it aside. It was Christmas Eve and didn’t wishes made on Christmas Eve come true?

  ‘Max,’ she said as he took her in his arms, pulling her against the hardness of his body. She could feel his warmth through the heavy coat he wore and her heart somersaulted just from being in his arms. ‘Is this really what you want?’

  He looked at her, dark eyes hooded with building desire. ‘We had something good, Lisa, and I have every intention of finding it again, especially as it is Christmas.’

  Before she could protest or ask him just what he meant, his lips brushed teasingly over hers. Her resolve didn’t melt. It blew apart into millions of pieces and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself closer. Right now she didn’t care what he meant. She just wanted to feel the passion, the desire that this man, the man she loved, evoked in her.

  ‘Here?’ She breathed the word against his lips, pleased to hear the feral growl her whisper created.

  Never in her life had she been so bold, so empowered. Her love for him changed her, made her a different woman. A real woman. She took hold of the lapels of his coat and kissed him, letting every bit of desire in her show. Then, with purposeful intent, she slid her hands inside the coat and up to his shoulders before pushing off the heavy fabric. All the time her eyes held his, daring him to want her—daring him to stop her.

  ‘I have been reliably informed that every room in the cottage has been prepared for Christmas. Maybe now would be a good time to see what the master bedroom has to offer.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  MAX LOOKED DOWN into Lisa’s face, the sensation of losing control, of slipping once more under her spell, was so powerful that for a moment he couldn’t say anything. He wanted her as he’d never wanted her before.

  ‘I think that is a perfect idea,’ she whispered and reached up to kiss him once more. He should resist, keep himself distanced and prove they could live together without the added complications of passion, but he’d never been able to resist Lisa.

  He kissed her back as a fierce and insistent desire began to beat like a drum around him. She responded and the gentle kiss became deep, hard and explosive. Every nerve in his body called for hers, called for the satisfaction that only she could bring, the pleasure and pure torment of her touch, her caress and kisses—his possession of her.

  When she pulled back from him, her eyes were heavy with desire and, without another word, he took Lisa’s hand and led her away from the warmth of the log fire. Her hand held his tightly as they climbed the narrow staircase of the cottage and when they reached the top he was pleased to see his instructions had been followed to the very last detail.

  The door of the master bedroom was open and the soft glow of lamplight shone from within. The gift shopper he’d hired online to give Lisa her perfect Christmas had excelled herself; her touch was so personal, he briefly wondered if she was still here. Not that she should be. He’d paid her well, extremely well, for this special gift. It was a gift to disarm his wife, to allow her to see that they could be together and raise their child without the complication of love and unnecessary emotions.

  He knew well enough that when he opened up and loved someone, let them into his heart, it all went wrong. His father had left him and his mother had taken a choice that had led to her leaving him. Then, as his career as a footballer had taken off, plunging him into the spotlight of the sports world, a freak accident had taken all that away too. There was only one person who’d been steadfast in her affection for him and that was his sister, Angelina, although he didn’t deserve any from her, not when he never allowed her close, when he always wore the armour of dominating older brother.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this—for me.’ The disbelief in Lisa’s voice was clear, as was the wonder of the whole setting. He’d been sceptical at first, when the gift shopper had suggested a romantic cottage dec
ked out for Christmas instead of a grand country spa hotel, but now he knew he’d made the right choice. This was far more personal and, judging by the wistful look on her face, far more what Lisa would have chosen.

  He turned to her, pulling her into his arms as they stood on the landing, the soft light spilling from the bedroom. Her body softened against his, the resistance she’d been putting up over the last few days gone and in its place burning passion and desire. ‘You wanted Christmas and so I ordered it for you.’

  ‘Ordered it?’ She frowned up at him then smiled shyly and he knew he was finally cracking through her hardened barriers. The same as the ones he’d created when he’d walked out on her and their marriage so soon after saying I do.

  This romantic setting would definitely prove they should be together, that they could raise their child together. That despite their short-lived marriage and the fact that he’d openly admitted he could never allow himself to love anyone, they could make this work. For their child’s sake.

  ‘I wanted to prove to you we can be together, despite our time apart.’ He stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek, a sense of satisfaction rushing through him when she closed her eyes briefly, those lovely long lashes lying on her pale skin.

  When she opened her eyes and looked up at him the green of her eyes was so vivid, so bright he was dragged into her soul, into her heart. He knew then that her feelings for him hadn’t changed. She’d told him more than once she loved him until one day, unable to tolerate it any longer, he’d thrown it back at her before walking out on his new marriage. He’d done it to save her pain, to save her heartache, but instead he’d created more. Now was a time to be honest, to tell her he did want to be in his child’s life, in her life, but he knew that he couldn’t allow himself to love her, not in the way she wanted. He owed it to her, to his child, to be honest.