Matty loved bath-time, and was perfectly happy to spend another twenty minutes playing in the bubbles.
‘He’s a real water baby,’ Ramon said, smiling at Matty’s squawk of displeasure when at last he lifted him out of the water and Lauren wrapped the disgruntled baby in a fluffy towel. ‘In a month or so, when the weather is warmer, I’ll take him in the pool. It will be good for him to learn to swim at an early age.’
His words made Lauren’s heart jolt. She could not stay in Spain for months. She needed to get back to work. The mortgage on her flat would not pay itself. But she certainly did not intend to leave Matty here at the Castillo del Toro.
She followed Ramon back into the nursery, and her heart clenched when she watched him tenderly drying Matty. For such a big man he was amazingly gentle. Tears blurred her eyes. If only she had known this side of Ramon perhaps she would have acted differently. But when he had spoken of his duty to father an heir she had assumed from his tone that he did not relish the prospect of having a child. Clearly she had been wrong. She could see that already there was a special bond between father and son, and innate honesty forced her to acknowledge that she had no right to try and break it.
Ramon glanced at her white face and frowned. ‘You look terrible. Go back to bed. I’ll dress Mateo and take him downstairs to my mother,’ he continued when Lauren shook her head. ‘Go,’ he insisted. You do not need to be here. I can take care of him fine without you.’
The words felt like a knife through her heart, and with a low cry she hurried out of the nursery, wondering despairingly what on earth she was going to do.
CHAPTER SIX
A FEW minutes after Lauren had returned to her room a maid arrived, with a pot of tea and a couple of freshly baked rolls that smelled temptingly good. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten, although she had a vague memory of sipping water from a glass on several occasions while a strong arm supported her head and shoulders.
Had that been Ramon—who, according to the nurse, had spent the last four nights in the chair close to her bed? She frowned when she glanced down at the nightgown she was wearing, and it struck her that someone must have removed her jeans, sweatshirt and underwear. It must have been Cathy, she assured herself, her cheeks growing hot at the idea that Ramon might have undressed her.
She drank two cups of tea and managed half a roll before crossing the room to the en suite bathroom. The sight of her reflection in the mirror was a shock. She couldn’t do much about her hollow cheeks and pale complexion, but at least she could be clean. Stripping off her nightdress, she quickly stepped into the shower, relishing the feel of the spray cleansing her body and the lemony scent of the shampoo that she worked into her hair.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
The sound of a familiar gravelly voice coincided with Ramon’s sudden appearance as he opened the door of the shower cubicle and stood glaring at her. Face flaming, Lauren realised that she would have to reach past him to grab a towel. Instead she frantically tried to cover certain pertinent areas of her body with her hands.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ she snapped.
‘It’s a bit late for modesty now, when I have spent the past few nights sponging your body to try and bring down your fever,’ he said grimly. ‘But at least you’ve finally got some colour in your cheeks.’ He took pity on her and threw her a towel. ‘As to what I’m doing here—I came to check that you had gone back to bed. I might have known you would be stupid enough to try and shower without assistance.’
‘I am not stupid.’ Lauren gave him a furious look. ‘I’m feeling much better, and I don’t need help.’ She refused to admit that her legs felt dangerously unsteady, but of course they chose that minute to give way, so that she would have collapsed onto the floor of the shower if Ramon had not caught her.
‘Of course you don’t,’ he said sardonically as he swept her into his arms and strode into the bedroom. ‘But it’s one thing to cause harm to yourself with your obsessive independence, and quite another when it affects our son.’
‘I never did anything to harm Matty,’ she said sharply. ‘The day nursery he attends is excellent—the staff adore him, and he seems quite happy there.’ It was she who was miserable when she left her baby each morning, and she frequently spent the train journey to work trying to hold back her tears.
She clutched the towel to her when Ramon set her on her feet. He pulled open a drawer in the bedside cabinet and handed her a gossamer-fine peach silk nightgown that definitely did not belong to her.
‘You were so ill when we left your flat that I had to carry you down to the car, and I forgot to pack you any clothes,’ he told her. ‘I’ve ordered new things for Mateo, and a few items for you, but you’ll have to shop for more when you are feeling better.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Lauren said tensely. ‘Matty and I won’t be staying long. You can’t make us stay here,’ she cried, when Ramon’s face hardened.
‘I intend to do what is best for my son,’ he said ominously. ‘Why do you want to uproot him from his home, separate him not just from me but from his grandmother and the extended family he has already bonded with?’
‘His home is in England,’ Lauren choked.
‘But regrettably most of his waking hours are spent in daycare.’
Ramon strolled over to the window, and while his back was turned Lauren hurriedly donned the nightgown, dismayed to find that her hands were trembling. There was a comb on the dressing table and she tugged it through her hair’s wet tangles before blasting it with a hairdryer.
She jumped when Ramon came up behind her, took the dryer and began to run his fingers through her hair to aid the drying process. It was soothing, and evocatively intimate, and she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and lean back against him.
‘Does it have to be a battle?’ she pleaded. ‘We both want to do the best thing for Matty. Can’t we come to an amicable agreement on how we should care for him?’
His eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘I think that is possible—as long as we both put Mateo’s needs first.’ He swung her into his arms before she had time to protest, and carried her back over to the bed. ‘You need to rest. You’ve been very ill, and it will be a few days yet before you fully regain your strength.’
‘I want to be with Matty,’ Lauren argued. ‘Who is looking after him?’
‘My mother has taken him for a walk in the gardens.’ Ramon glanced at his watch. ‘If he follows the pattern of the last few days he will fall asleep, and then my dear madre will watch over him like a hawk until he wakes. She is utterly smitten with her new grandson,’ he added dryly.
It was ridiculous to feel jealous of this new woman in Matty’s life, Lauren told herself, but her eyes blurred with tears all the same. ‘I miss him,’ she said thickly.
‘He’s missed you too. The only way we could settle him at night was to lie him beside you in your bed. Once he was asleep I carried him to the nursery.’
Ramon’s jaw tightened. If he had needed proof that his baby son needed his mother, the sight of Mateo curled up against Lauren while his sobs gradually subsided had surely been it. The close bond between mother and son was undeniable—but Mateo needed his father too, and to Ramon’s mind there was only one logical solution that would allow his baby to be brought up by both his parents.
‘I’ll bring Mateo up to see you after his nap.’
He paused and studied Lauren, his eyes drawn to the rounded contours of her breasts and the slightly darker skin of her nipples, visible through the sheer fabric of the nightgown. She had run such a high fever while she had been ill that it had been necessary for him to strip her and sponge her naked body on several occasions. He had done so with clinical efficiency, his libido kept firmly under control. But now she was awake, watching him with her cool grey eyes, he was unbearably tempted to join her on the bed, peel the wisp of peach silk from those creamy breasts and take each rosy nipple in his mouth.
How could he still desire her when she had callously deprived him of his son for almost a year? he asked himself angrily, swinging away to stand by the window in the hope that she would not notice his powerful arousal. When he had first discovered that she had kept Mateo from him he had hated her, but during the days and nights that he had nursed her through her illness his anger had cooled, and he had forced himself to consider his own behaviour.
Lauren had accused him of being a playboy who had only wanted her for sex, and he could not deny the truth of that accusation. During their affair he had never considered a long-term relationship with her. His future had been mapped out: marriage—eventually—to a Spanish woman from his own elite social circle, who would provide him with the next Velaquez heir.
And yet, although he had refused to admit it, Lauren had got to him in a way that none of his numerous previous mistresses ever had.
‘Who is Donny?’ he asked her abruptly.
Lauren gave him a startled glance. ‘He’s my father,’ she said after a moment. ‘His name is Donald. When I was a child I used to call him Donny, instead of Dad, and his pet name for me was Laurie. It was just a silly thing between us.’ She hesitated. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You kept muttering his name when you were ill.’
Lauren had a vague memory of dreaming about her father. He had been walking down the garden path, holding a suitcase. It had been a dream re-enactment of the day that Donald Maitland had walked out on his wife and daughter. She had been crying and tugging on his sleeve, begging him not to leave her. She prayed she hadn’t wept in her sleep. It was embarrassing to think that Ramon might have seen her crying. Impossible to glean anything from his shuttered expression.
So Donny wasn’t her lover. But that wasn’t to say that Lauren did not have a lover back in England, Ramon brooded. The idea of some unknown man staying at her flat, possibly taking on the role of stepfather to Mateo, made him want to smash his fist into the wall.
‘When you found out that you were pregnant you should have told me—for Mateo’s sake,’ he said harshly, unable to control his anger. ‘It would have been far better for him if you had given up your job and been a full time mother. I would have looked after both of you…’
‘I didn’t want your money,’ Lauren said sharply.
‘Perhaps you didn’t, but it would have been in Mateo’s best interests if you had involved me,’ he said inexorably. ‘Because of your selfishness Mateo was denied his father for the first months of his life, and he has spent far too much time in the care of nursery staff when he could have been here with his family.’
Her selfishness! Lauren was struck dumb by Ramon’s accusation. She had been selfless. She had devoted her life to Matty. Did Ramon think she enjoyed leaving her baby every day?
But her conscience prickled with the knowledge that there were some grains of truth in what he had said. Ideally she would have liked to have been with Matty constantly for his first year, but one of the reasons she had not told Ramon he had a son was because of her stubborn pride. He had made it clear that she meant nothing to him, and so she had doggedly chosen to bring Matty up on her own—even though that had meant returning to work when he was only a few months old.
The guilt that had so often racked her when she dropped Mateo at the nursery churned in her stomach now. Ramon had scathingly told her that doing her best for Matty had not been good enough, and although she hated to admit it maybe he had a point?
She suddenly felt desperately tired. A legacy of the flu, she supposed. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked frantically to dispel them. Dealing with Ramon was emotionally draining at the best of times, and they still had to discuss arrangements for sharing custody of their son.
‘I have only ever wanted to do the right thing for Matty,’ she told him thickly.
Ramon moved closer to the bed, and stared down at her with a hard gleam in his eyes that filled Lauren with a sudden sense of foreboding. ‘In that case,’ he said coolly, ‘I assume you have no objection to marrying me?’
‘I assume you’re joking?’ Lauren retorted after a lengthy stunned silence. Anger gripped her. ‘You don’t want to marry me, so don’t try to pretend you do. I didn’t even make it to girlfriend status when we were together. You only ever saw me as your mistress, and the fact that I have given birth to your child is not a good enough reason to tie us down in a relationship neither of us wants. We can both be involved in Matty’s upbringing without some farcical marriage,’ she insisted desperately when Ramon said nothing and simply surveyed her with his dark, unfathomable gaze.
‘How?’ he demanded bluntly.
‘Well…’ Lauren struggled to envisage how it would actually be possible for them both to care for Mateo when they lived in different countries. ‘Maybe you could buy a house in England and he could stay with you when you visit,’ she suggested, instantly disliking the idea that she might have to spend days, even weeks apart from Matty while he was with his father.
‘I have already made it clear that Mateo will live permanently at the Castillo del Toro.’
‘But it would be difficult for me to move to Spain and find a job. I speak Spanish reasonably well, but I am not familiar with the legal system over here. I would probably have to study for a Spanish law degree.’
Ramon shrugged, indicating his indifference to her concerns about her career. ‘As my wife you will not need to work. I will provide you with everything you could possibly need.’
‘I don’t want you to keep me,’ Lauren argued, panic surging up inside her. ‘I’ve worked hard to have a good career, and I value my independence.’ The idea of being reliant on Ramon for money and a home filled her with horror. She had first-hand experience of how those things could be snatched away.
He stared at her speculatively. ‘What do you value most, Lauren? Your independence, or your son? Because you cannot have both,’ he told her, in an implacable tone that made her heart plummet.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she said shakily, her hand trembling as she pushed her hair back from her face. ‘You can’t want to marry me. I’m not a blue-blooded Spanish woman, and I wouldn’t know how to be a duquesa.’
‘It’s true you are not an ideal choice,’ Ramon told her with brutal frankness. ‘But you are the mother of my son, and for his sake I have a duty to marry you so that he can grow up in the care of both his parents.’
Lauren felt as though prison bars were closing around her, trapping her. In desperation she tried another approach. ‘You must see that it would never work. For a start, how would you feel to be married to a woman you don’t love?’
‘Love was never on my agenda,’ he said dismissively. ‘I do not consider it a prerequisite for a successful marriage. We both want to be with our son while he grows up, and I believe we are adult enough to be able to work things out. We were friends once,’ he reminded her. ‘And we proved on the night of the Valentine’s Ball that we are still sexually compatible—wouldn’t you agree, querida?’ he demanded, his voice suddenly so toe-curlingly sexy that Lauren felt a tightening sensation deep in her pelvis.
She snatched a breath when he dropped down onto the edge of the bed and slowly ran his finger down the valley between her breasts. She was instantly agonisingly aware of him—of the distinctive scent of the cologne he always wore, the way his black hair gleamed like silk in the sunlight, and the sensual curve of his mouth that was so tan-talisingly close to her own.
Pride belatedly came to her rescue, and she angrily pushed his hand away. ‘That night was a mistake, and I regret that it ever happened,’ she said shakily.
‘Really?’ he drawled sardonically.
Following his gaze, Lauren saw that her nipples were jutting provocatively against the sheer silk nightdress. Blushing furiously, she yanked the sheet up to her neck. She still felt horribly weak from her illness, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Ramon had been relying on that to bulldoze her into doing what he wanted. But she wasn’t an immature girl, in awe o
f him, she was a confident career woman and it was vital she took control of the situation.
‘I won’t allow you to intimidate me,’ she told him fiercely, ‘and I am certainly not going to marry you.’
‘Then I hope you are prepared for a custody battle.’
Taking her by surprise, Ramon stood up and strode across the room. He glanced back at her from the doorway.
‘And I hope you are prepared to lose—because I will never give up my son,’ he said grimly, leaving her staring after him, her heart pounding with fear.
After Ramon had gone Lauren leapt out of bed—and then had to steady herself for a few moments as her head swam. The weakness in her limbs was infuriating, and made her realise how unwell she must have been. She had to get Matty away from the castle, she thought frantically. It would be necessary to borrow some of the clothes Ramon had bought her, but she would return them to him the minute she got back to England.
The dresses hanging in the wardrobe were exquisite creations, from a top design house. Lauren made a quick search for her jeans and sweatshirt, feeling reluctant to wear any of the clothes Ramon had provided, but there was no sign of any of her belongings. At last she chose a simple wrap-dress in dove-grey silk, and kitten heel shoes in a matching shade. A drawer in the dresser revealed several sets of beautiful underwear. She had a weakness for pretty knickers and bras, and she slipped them on with guilty pleasure, assuring herself that she would send Ramon a cheque to cover their cost.
Her plan was to find Matty and then call a taxi to take them to the airport. She was sure Ramon would assume that she was resting in her room, and with luck she could escape from the castle before he realised she had gone. But when she stepped out into the long corridor she had no idea which way to go. To her relief, a maid appeared around a corner.
His Unknown Heir Page 10