Lynne Graham- Contract Baby

by Contract Baby (lit)

  The stewardess still had one possessive hand resting on Raul’s shoulder. Polly was appalled to register that the source of her own ferocious tension was undeniably a hot nasty jealousy which fuelled instantly suspicious thoughts. What had they been doing all those hours while she was asleep and safely out of the way? Was that why Raul had been so keen to send her off to rest? Why did Irena look like a cat that had got the cream?

  As Polly studied Raul with a highly combustible mix of suspicion, distrust and embittered shameful longing, he stood up and calmly settled their son into his neat little cot. ‘I need a shave.’

  ‘Did you get any sleep?’ Polly muttered tautly.

  ‘Enough. I don’t need much.’ Raul strode past her.

  ‘Your husband is a real dynamo, senora. He has worked for most of the flight,’ the young stewardess shared with a coy look of admiration, tossing her head with a husky litde laugh. ‘But don’t worry, I ensured that he ate and took time out to relax.’

  At that news, Polly paled and went back into the sleeping compartment, but Raul had already disappeared into the compact bathroom next door. She lifted the white light­weight dress she had laid out earlier and smoothed abstractedly at the remaining creases while she waited for Raul to emerge. Finally the door opened. She felt absolutely sick by then, suspicion and jealousy making mincemeat of all rational thought.

  ‘Do you sleep with Irena?’ That blunt question just erupted from Polly. It was inside her head, but she could not for the life of her work out how the question had got from her brain onto her tongue.

  Raul studied her without any expression at all. Tell me you didn’t ask me that.’

  That eerie lack of reaction completely spooked Polly. She crimsoned, pinned her lips together and then opened them again, driven by an overwhelming need for reassur­ance. ‘After what you said the night before last about not behaving like a husband…not to mention the way she’s behaving around you…naturally I’m suspicious!’

  ‘If I answer that insanely stupid question, I will lose my temper with you,’ Raul warned, very soft and low, nar­rowed dark eyes flaming gold between lush black lashes.

  ‘I don’t trust you—’

  ‘I will not live with jealous scenes. In fact nothing would disgust me more or alienate me faster. I do not sleep with my employees. The only woman in my life at present is you,” Raul stated with a feral flash of even white teeth which suggested that even making that admission went se­verely against the grain.

  Polly relaxed ever so slightly. ‘I want to believe that, but—’

  ‘The truth is that you are jealous of Irena,’ Raul con­demned with whiplash cool. ‘Could that be because she makes the effort to look like an attractive adult woman while you’re still dressing like an adolescent who doesn’t want to grow up?’

  Utterly unprepared for that counter-attack, Polly felt her soft mouth fall wide.

  Raul flicked the white sundress off the bed. ‘A three-year-old could wear this! Embroidered flowers at the hemline, niched, shapeless—’

  ‘It was bought in a children’s department. Ordinary shops don’t cater for women my height and size!’ Polly shot at him shakily. ‘And, since I don’t want to dress like a precocious teenybopper, I have to choose the plain outfits.’

  Raul shrugged. ‘OK…I’ll remedy that.’

  ‘I am not jealous of that woman… and you needn’t thin you can change the subject—’

  ‘Oh, I’m not changing it, Polly …I’m just refusing to talk about it,’ Raul incised with sudden grimness, shooting her a coldly derisive look. ‘Use your brain. Irena is Venezuelan. Venezuelan women are naturally glamorous, confident and flirtatious—’

  ‘My goodness, I can hardly wait to meet the Venezuelan men! What a fun time I’m going to have in your country!’ Polly forecast furiously.

  In a sudden movement that shook Polly inside out, Raul strode forward and closed a lean and powerful hand round her slender forearm, dwarfing her with his intimidating height and breadth. With his other hand, he pushed up her chin, subjecting her to a splintering look of burning outrage that made her stomach turn an abrupt somersault and her knees go weak and wobbly.

  ‘What is mine is mine,’ Raul stressed with barely suppressed savagery. ‘I’d break you into little pieces for the jaguar to feed on before I would let any other man near you!’

  Plunged willy-nilly into an atmosphere suddenly raw with scorching lightning currents of threat, Polly simply gazed up at him like a stupefied rabbit.

  With equal abruptness, Raul released her again, a betraying rise of blood delineating his proud cheekbones as he absorbed her bewilderment. ‘I’m not a jealous man,’ he asserted in a roughened undertone. ‘But I am very conscious of my honour, and of my son’s need for stability in his life.’

  Polly nodded like a little wooden marionette, afraid to move too close to the hungry flickering flames of a bonfire.

  Raul was pale now beneath his golden skin, his superb bone structure harshly prominent ‘I’m sorry if I overreact­ed…’

  If, Polly reflected dizzily. Such a civilized term after so violent a loss of temper, brief though it had been. And she had discovered another double standard. The man who would be owned by no woman fully believed he owned his wife like a possession. But, ironically, what troubled her most at that instant was the stark awareness that she had really upset Raul. Yet she hadn’t a clue why her silly sar­castic comments should have exploded his cool, controlled facade into a shocking blaze of primitive fury.

  ‘Put it down to jet lag,’ Raul added almost jerkily, push­ing long brown fingers restively through his glossy blue-black hair. ‘You are not that kind of woman. If you had been, I would never have agreed to marry you.’

  What kind of woman? The unfaithful type? What a pe­culiar thought for a male like Raul to harbour! For, on the face of it, Raul Zaforteza was a real heartbreaker, possessed of every quality most likely to hold a woman’s attention. Personality, looks, sex-appeal, wealth, power. How many women would risk losing Raul by betraying him in another man’s bed?

  ‘I will join you at the ranch in a couple of days,’ Raul murmured flatly as he moved past her—suddenly, she reg­istered, keen to abandon the dialogue…and her7 The sus­picion hurt.

  ‘Join me?’ Polly echoed uncertainly. ‘What are you talk­ing about? Where are you going?’

  ‘Tonight I’m afraid I’ll have to stay in Caracas. Tomorrow I’ll be in Maracaibo, and possibly the next day as well. I have several urgent business matters to deal with. I’ve been abroad for many weeks,’ he reminded her drily. Alone again, Polly freshened up and slid with a distinct lack of enthusiasm into the simple white cotton dress. When she returned to the main cabin she could not avoid noticing Irena’s frequent starstruck glances in Raul’s direction, and her pronounced need to hover at his elbow as eager as a harem slave to satisfy his every wish. No longer did she marvel at her own suspicions earlier. The brunette had a real giant-sized crush on Raul. And possibly Raul was so accustomed to inviting female flattery and exaggerated at­tention that he genuinely hadn’t noticed.

  ‘OK, so there is a problem,’ Raul breathed, disconcerting Polly with a dark satiric glance of acknowledgement in Irena’s direction while she was gathering up Luis’s scat­tered possessions at the far end of the cabin. ‘We were both fifty per cent wrong, but, believe me, I have never given her the slightest encouragement.’

  Polly nodded in embarrassed silence, feeling like an idiot over the fuss she had made but fearful of re-opening the subject lest she make things even worse.

  Raul parted from her at the airport as coolly and politely as a distant acquaintance, a shuttered look in his brilliant dark eyes. Irena escorted Polly onto the light plane which would whisk her and her son out to the Zaforteza ranch. Polly’s heart was already sinking.

  Would it always be like this with Raul? Would she never know Raul? Would she never understand what went on in­side that complex and clever head of his? And was it pos­sible
that that ‘urgent business’ he had mentioned had merely been a convenient excuse to leave her? How hu­miliating it was to suspect that Raul had actually intended to accompany her to his home until she’d treated him to that foolish scene! After all, hadn’t he told her up front that jealousy disgusted him, and that nothing would drive him away quicker?

  It was lashing with rain when Polly clambered off the plane, protected by a giant umbrella extended over her and Luis by the pilot. He helped her into the waiting four-wheel drive. Neither he nor the driver appeared to have a word of English. Polly was now feeling less guilty and more angry with Raul. How did he think it felt for her to arrive at the estancia alone, where nobody knew her and where very possibly nobody would even be able to speak to her?

  Through the streaming windows she caught glimpses of a large spreading collection of buildings. Palm trees were being battered in the torrential downpour. And yet the heat was intense, the humidity high. A hellhole, Polly decided, in the right mood to make that snap judgement Raul had posted them out to the boonies to live in a hellhole and just gone on his own sweet way, just as he was used to doing, just as he no doubt expected to continue doing…

  A huge colonial-style house adorned by fancy verandahs and an upper balcony wreathed with climbers loomed out of the rain. Clutching Luis like a parcel, Polly made a dive through the torrent when the car door opened, fled up the steps and surged indoors into the mercifully air-conditioned cool without a single sidewise glance or pause.

  She had a split second to catch her breath on the mag­nificence of the vast reception hall she stood in before she focused on the huddle of female servants sheltering behind the front door, all staring at her and the baby she held wide-eyed. Silence hung for the space of twenty seconds.

  A tall and stunningly beautiful blonde strolled into view. Frowning regally at Polly, she shot something at her in Spanish.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak—’

  ‘I am the Condesa Melina D’Agnolo. Where is Raul?’ the woman demanded in accented but perfect English.

  ‘Still in Caracas.’ Conscious of the staff now sidling out of a door to the left as fast as mice escaping a cat, Polly gazed enquiringly at the other woman. Sheathed in a superb cerise suit, glittering jewellery adding to her imperious air of well-bred exclusivity, the lady exuded angry impatience.

  ‘Caracas?’ It was an infuriated shriek of disappointmentAs the shrill sound echoed off the high ceiling, Luis jerked in fright and let out a loud, fretful wail.

  Melina D’Agnolo stalked forward and surveyed him with unconcealed distaste. ‘So this is the child I have heard ru­mours about. It does exist. Well, what are you waiting for? Stop it making that horrible noise!’

  ‘He’s just hungry—’

  ‘When will Raul arrive?’

  ‘In a couple of days.’

  ‘Then I shall wait for him,’ Melina announced, eyes hardening as Luis continued to cry noisily in spite of Polly’s efforts to console him. ‘But you will keep that child upstairs, out of my sight and hearing.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have no intention—’ Polly began angrily.

  ‘I will not tolerate impertinence. You will do as you are told or you will very soon find yourself out of a job!’ Melina informed her. ‘In Raul’s absence, I am in charge here.’

  Realising that she had been mistaken for an employee, Polly raised her head high, intending to explain that she was Raul’s wife. But the other woman had already walked away to utter a sharp command in Spanish. A middle-aged woman in a black dress appeared so quickly she must have been waiting somewhere nearby. Melina issued what sounded like a staccato stream of instructions.

  The older woman glanced in open dismay at Polly.

  ‘The housekeeper will take you upstairs to the nursery. You can eat up there. I don’t want to be bothered by the child…is that understood?’

  ‘Why do you say you’re in charge here? Are you related to Raul?’ Polly enquired stiffly, and stood her ground.

  Melina’s green eyes narrowed with suggestive languor, full lips pouting into a coolly amused smile. ‘I’ve never been asked to identify myself in this house before. Raul and I have been intimate friends for a very long time.’

  Every scrap of colour drained from Polly’s face. There was no mistaking the meaning of that proud declaration. Her stomach curdled. It was a judgement on her, Polly thought sickly. She had foolishly made that scene over the infatuated Irena and now fate had served up her punish­ment: she was being confronted by the real thing. A genu­ine rival…

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Melina D’Agnolo enquired haughtily.

  ‘I think this is going to be embarrassing,’ Polly muttered.

  Melina dealt her an impatient frown of incomprehension.

  ‘Raul and I got married a month ago.’

  The thunderous silence seemed to reverberate in Polly’s ears, and then Luis started crying again.

  The svelte blonde stared at Polly with raised brows, her incredulity unfeigned. ‘It isn’t possible that you are married to Raul—’

  ‘I’m afraid it is…’ Polly cut in, and switched her atten­tion ruefully to the housekeeper still waiting for her.

  The older woman murmured gently, ‘Let me take the little one upstairs and feed him for you, senora.’

  Grateful for the chance to remove Luis from the hostile atmosphere, Polly laid her son-in the housekeeper’s arms with a strained smile.

  ‘Senora?’ Melina D’Agnolo echoed the designation with stinging scorn. ‘I think we need to talk.’

  Raul, where are you when I need you? Polly thought in furious discomfiture. This was his department, not hers! How could Raul possibly have overlooked the necessity of telling his mistress that he had acquired a wife? Polly turned reluctantly back to face the angry blonde. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

  ‘If you prefer it, we can talk out here, where all the staff can hear us.’

  Rigid with tension, Polly followed Melina into a gracious reception room filled with superb antique furniture. ‘I don’t see that we have anything to say to each other—’

  ‘Obviously Raul married you because of the child. The oldest ploy of all. I expect you think you’ve been very clever.’ Melina loosed a grim little laugh. ‘Yes, I’m shocked, and I don’t mind admitting it. Ten years ago Raul loved me, but he still wouldn’t many me, so I married someone else to teach him a lesson!’

  Wanting no share of such confidences, Polly hovered, stiff with strain.

  ‘So you needn’t tell me that Raul loves you because I wouldn’t believe it! I am the only woman Raul has ever loved,’ Melina informed her with blistering confidence. ‘I have never been concerned by his other little flirtations.’

  ‘That’s your business, not mine.’

  ‘Your marriage won’t last six months,’ Melina said with dismissive certainty. ‘Raul cherishes his freedom. When my husband died, I chose to be patient. I have never interfered with Raul’s life—’

  ‘Then don’t do it now,’ Polly slotted in tightly.

  ‘If you think that is a possibility, you’re even more of a child than you look!’ Melina threw her a scornful look of superiority. ‘And next month you’ll be expected to deal with two hundred guests over the fiesta weekend. There’ll be a rodeo, a friendly polo match and a non-stop party. Are you used to mixing with the wealthy elite? How good are you on a horse? I’m usually Raul’s hostess, but now the job’s yours…and if it doesn’t go like clockwork, he’ll be furious.’

  Polly had paled. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage—’

  ‘Raul will come back to me…of course he will. It’s only a matter of time,’ Melina asserted with contemptuous green eyes. ‘If you’re out of your depth with me, how much more out of your depth are you with him? I almost feel sorry for you. When Raul’s bored, he is cruel and critical and cal­lous—’

  ‘I think it’s time you left,’ Polly interrupted flatly.

  ‘If I were you, I wouldn�
��t mention this meeting,’ the blonde murmured sweetly as she strolled to the door. ‘Raul detests jealous scenes. It would be much wiser for you to pretend that this meeting never took place.’

  ‘Why should you be kind enough to give me that warn­ing?”

  Melina laughed unpleasantly. ‘You already have all the problems you can handle. I shall enjoy watching you strug­gle to fill my shoes!’

  Polly watched the blonde stalk across the hall and up the imposing staircase. She released her breath very slowly but she still felt utterly stunned. Melina D’Agnolo had been a severe shock. Raul’s mistress—proud and unashamed of her position in his life and in no hurry to vacate his bed.

  And one look at Melina had been sufficient to tell Polly that her misapprehension about the pretty stewardess on board the jet had been laughable. Melina was much more convincing in the role of mistress. Melina with her exquisite face, fabulous figure and tremendous elegance and poise. Mature, classy and sophisticated. Raul’s kind of woman. And what even the greatest optimist would acknowledge as seriously challenging competition…

  No, Polly scolded herself fiercely. She wasn’t going to allow herself to start thinking that way. Raul had said that she was the only woman in his life now, and he had given her no cause to doubt his sincerity. OK, she had just suf­fered through a horribly embarrassing encounter and been forced to endure the other woman’s spiteful attacks, but Melina would pack and depart and she would never have to see her again. She would put Melina right back out of her mind. Raul’s past was none of her business, she re­minded herself staunchly.

  Upstairs, Polly wandered across a huge landing and picked a passageway. Finally, after a couple of wrong choices, she peered into a nursery as exquisitely furnished as a room in a glossy magazine. A crowd of smiling, whis­pering female staff surrounded the imposing antique four-poster cot. Freshly clothed and clearly content, Luis nestled within the cot’s hand-embroidered bedding like a little king, giving an audience and basking in all the attention.‘It has been so long since there was a child here,’ the housekeeper confided.