Flora's Defiance

by Lynne Graham

  During the past four months, Flora had regained her health but as her pregnancy progressed she had become more physically restricted in terms of what she could do. She got tired much more easily and her back and hips ached if she walked too far. Getting down on the floor to play with Mariska was impossible now, as was sleeping the night through with three very active babies moving about inside her. Yet she was always aware that the closer her triplets got to term before she brought them into the world, the safer they would be.

  Natalie had put her in touch with a consultant obstetrician in Amsterdam, who maintained a careful weekly check on her condition. Jemima also rang her friend regularly to be reassured that she was all right. But Angelo, more than anyone, had provided Flora with unparalleled support. Ironically, that acknowledgement made Flora feel almost unbearably sad, for the more she learned about Angelo van Zaal, the more she knew why she loved him. She might have initially been attracted to him because he was downright gorgeous and very sexy, but he was also courteous, considerate and always ready to listen if she was worried about anything. Indeed she had no grounds for complaint whatsoever because Angelo had given her exactly what she had asked him for: her privacy.

  Usually they only mixed when Mariska was present and, with the single exception of tonight’s charity benefit, the several outings they had shared had included the little girl. In every way that mattered, Flora and Angelo currently led separate lives. Angelo spent most of the day at his office and about one week in four travelling abroad. When he was at home they occupied separate rooms and often ate at different times as well. As the weeks wore on Flora began to wonder if she had made a drastic misstep in her overwhelming eagerness to save face. Angelo was leaving her alone just as she had requested and she had to assume that there were now other women in his life. She could hardly expect a male with a high-voltage libido to abstain from sex and live like a monk. He was, however, being admirably discreet about any other interests. Even so, his discretion was not a comfort for her because jealousy was eating Flora alive if he so much as looked at another woman.

  And although Angelo appeared content, Flora was very much aware that she was feeling lonely, unhappy and insecure. Her pride had certainly come before her fall, she acknowledged ruefully. She recognised that her refusal to challenge his belief that she was a gold-digger head-on had put a wall of misunderstanding between them, which he was understandably reluctant to tackle in the current climate. Naturally he did not want to distress her or make her more hostile to him. He could scarcely be expected to understand that as she had got the chance to know him without the unsettling influence of sexual attraction always taking front-row billing he had finally earned her trust. With Angelo, she had come to accept, what you saw was what you got. There was nothing false, nothing hidden, no polite pretences or lies. He was as far removed from a lying, cheating philanderer of her late father’s ilk as any man could be and had a much stronger character than Peter had ever had.

  ‘You are so brave, Flora. How can you be so calm?’ Bregitta asked in measured disbelief, lifting her pencilled brows in emphasis of the point. ‘In a few months you’ll have four children under two years old and Mariska is already running around and creating havoc as toddlers do. I’m afraid I cannot picture Angelo in so domestic a role.’

  ‘He’s crazy about kids,’ Flora fielded confidently.

  ‘Any man in my life would have to want me more than any children I might have,’ Bregitta informed her without hesitation, ‘but with Angelo that could be a problem for you.’

  Stung by that all too perceptive comment, Flora made no response for on that score she had no comment to make. Angelo was only with her, after all, because she was pregnant, and once her babies were born they would have to come to some other convenient arrangement, which was highly unlikely to be one in which they continued to live below the same roof. Soon, she recognised painfully, even living within easy reach of Angelo on a daily basis would just be a fond memory. Then wasn’t it time for her to speak up in her own defence? Was he content with the way things were? And if he wasn’t content, why hadn’t he said anything?

  ‘If you ask me, the only woman who ever held Angelo’s heart was Katja.’ Bregitta sighed. ‘And as she’s the one who got away, metaphorically speaking, who else is likely to make the grade?’

  Flora was confounded by the idea that Angelo might once have loved and lost a woman, or might even have been rejected, but she was too proud to question Bregitta, who she was well aware was a troublemaker. Instead Flora looked across the room to where Angelo was laughing with another gorgeous blonde in a skimpy red cocktail frock that showed off her pert breasts and slender thighs. A sharp and painful pang darted through Flora because her own once shapely figure had vanished. Were Angelo and the blonde sharing an innocent joke? A flirtation? Or was Flora, in fact, seeing lovers using the opportunity to enjoy a brief moment of intimacy in public? That she had no idea of what she was seeing or indeed what was happening in that part of Angelo’s life hurt her and underlined the gulf she had opened up between herself and the man she loved. For, in spite of all her efforts to the contrary, she loved him more than ever, she conceded ruefully.

  Angelo joined her ten minutes later. ‘You look sleepy,’ he murmured softly.

  Lie, she wanted to shout at him. Tell me I look sexy or beautiful or anything other than tired even if it is a barefaced lie! But she swallowed back her discomfiture over her excessively sensitive reaction while he stretched down a hand to help her upright with as much care and concern as if she were an ailing and elderly lady. Suddenly she hated being pregnant and longed to be small and blonde with pert breasts and a tiny waist! I’m so shallow and superficial to feel that way when I’m pregnant, she thought shamefacedly, but with all her heart she was longing for the smallest sign that Angelo could still find her attractive.

  Jolted by the strength of that craving, Flora was furious with herself and she went straight up to bed, turning down the offer of the supper that Angelo suggested they share. She was cutting off her nose to spite her face, she reflected ruefully as she settled heavily under the covers. In spite of the uneasy mood she was in she slept for a couple of hours, though only to waken to the sensation of what felt like a game of football being played inside her womb. She lay still for a few moments, her palm lightly covering her swollen abdomen and the little movements she could feel with a tenderness she couldn’t help. A pang of hunger assailed her about then and although she tried to ward it off, she failed and her mind was soon awash with images that merely revved up her taste buds. Minutes later, she finally climbed out of bed and reached for her robe.

  In the basement kitchen Mango purred continuously and wound himself round her legs while Skipper continued to snore in his basket. The big traditional kitchen in the Amsterdam house was a wonderfully warm and inviting place. Delft tiles covered the massive chimney-piece while cream-ware crockery was displayed on the painted dresser and polished copper utensils on the walls. In one corner an antique walnut grandfather clock slowly ticked out the time.

  ’Dios mio …I thought I heard someone …’

  At the sound of Angelo’s voice Flora turned her bright head and saw him framed in the doorway. Skipper loosed a sleepy bark and then scrambled out of his bed to go and welcome Angelo while his mistress watched with jaundiced eyes. She had discovered that Skipper was very much a man’s dog and prone to lying in wait at the front door waiting for Angelo to come home. How Angelo had accomplished the feat of overcoming Skipper’s distrust and replacing it with downright devotion, she had no very clear idea, for she had yet to see any sign of Angelo doing anything more than giving Skipper the most cursory pat on the head.

  Unlike her, Angelo was still fully dressed, although he now sported a pair of faded jeans with his ruffled white dress shirt and had removed his jacket and tie. Her cheeks reddened because she knew her hair was as tousled as a bird’s nest. She indicated the salad sandwich she was in the midst of putting together. ‘I should
have had supper,’ she admitted wryly.

  ‘I know better than to say, “I told you so”,’ Angelo drawled, lounging back against the massive scrubbed pine kitchen table with his lean powerful thighs spread in a relaxed attitude.

  ‘That doesn’t always stop people saying it. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Thanks, but I ate earlier. I stayed up to do some work.’

  ‘Sometimes the babies move around so much they wake me up. I don’t sleep very well,’ Flora admitted, sinking down into Therese’s rocking chair by the stove to eat her sandwich. ‘I’ve been thinking too.’

  ‘What about? ‘ Angelo prompted.

  Flora made herself withstand the appeal of the sandwich for another moment and breathed in. ‘I think it’s time I told you about that tribunal case.’

  Watching her eat, Angelo frowned, a wary light in his bright blue eyes that immediately put Flora on the defensive. ‘You can believe or disbelieve me—that’s your choice,’ she added with more than a hint of challenge.

  ‘Naturally I would like to hear your side of the story.’

  A little of her discomfiture ebbed and she began to tell him about the wonderfully well-paid job she had won within weeks of gaining her business degree from a top university.

  ‘But why didn’t you complain the instant your boss began harassing you?’ Angelo was quick to enquire with a frown.

  ‘At first I was worried that I was being over-sensitive and misinterpreting his signals. I think a lot of women feel like that in an all-male work environment when there’s a lot of pressure not to make a fuss about anything,’ she confided tautly. ‘I was trying very hard to fit in and I didn’t want to get a name for being difficult. When Henshall’s approaches became more blatant I started worrying about how a complaint about him sexually harassing me—and he was very highly thought of in the company—would affect my career.’

  Angelo was frowning. ‘That is not how you should have felt.’

  ‘I’m not talking ideals here … I’m talking about what it was like on the ground. Many of the people I was at university with hadn’t even found jobs. I knew I’d been given a terrific opportunity and I was desperate not to screw it up.’

  ‘It was your boss who was screwing it up, not you. If what you’re telling me is true, how on earth did you lose the case?’

  Flora grimaced. ‘Two things ensured that I lost that tribunal case. The other woman making a complaint with me against Henshall got cold feet and withdrew it, so I was left without supporting evidence. The second was Henshall’s claim that I’d been having an affair with him and it had turned sour because he’d stayed with his wife and refused to give me that bonus.’ Flora’s oval face was pale and strained. ‘That provided the sleaze angle that attracted the attention of the tabloid newspapers and resulted in some very nasty headlines on my account. Many people chose to believe Henshall’s story, because nobody could believe that a married man would own up to an affair when there hadn’t been one—’

  ‘Why do you think he pretended that you and he had had an affair?’ Angelo asked levelly.

  ‘Because he was afraid he would lose his job if I was able to prove that he was a sex-pest. He earned a huge salary, so lying and striving to discredit me by blackening my reputation made sense from his point of view. His wife supported his appearances at the tribunal every day for the same reasons. He’d had at least half a dozen work affairs and she must have known what he was like.’

  ‘Your engagement broke up around the same time,’ Angelo recalled.

  ‘After the newspapers got involved, Peter and his family felt that being associated with me was too much of an embarrassment. But I did get that wretched bonus in the end,’ she completed ruefully.

  Angelo could not hide his surprise on that score. ‘You did?’

  ‘I had earned it fair and square on performance and the company knew it and paid up, but only after the publicity had died down. I still have it in the bank. untouched,’ Flora admitted.

  ‘Not much of a consolation in the circumstances, I imagine,’ Angelo remarked, helping her upright as she began to rise slowly from the chair.

  ‘It wasn’t,’ she agreed.

  ‘I’ll see you up to bed,’ Angelo murmured.

  Flora buttoned her lips on an immediate urge to tell him that she would manage fine on her own. Fiery independence was all very well but keeping Angelo at arm’s length was no longer what she wanted. As he drew close a whiff of the exclusive citrus-based cologne he used wafted over her and unleashed an intimate tide of images. She remembered the hot passion of that wide sensual mouth on hers, the sure tantalising touch of those lean brown hands, and a knot of pure sexual tension tightened between her legs. Distracted by her embarrassing thoughts, she tripped over her feet in her haste to enter her bedroom and Angelo closed his arms round her from behind to steady her.

  ‘Take your time,’ he urged softly.

  But there was hardly any time left for them to be together, she thought painfully. She knew that her obstetrician was wavering on the brink of instructing her to take bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. Once the freedom to move around was taken from her, she would be even more isolated and separate from Angelo than she already was.

  Angelo slid her robe off her shoulders with an ease that reminded her just how at home he was with a woman in a bedroom and her cheeks burned. As jumpy as the proverbial cat on hot bricks, she lay down on the bed and as he began to move away she found herself reaching for his hand in a movement that took her as much by surprise as it appeared to take him. He swung back, his dark lashed gaze positively welded to the sight of her hand on his, the tension in his lean sculpted features palpable. ‘Don’t go.’ she framed without even being aware that the plea was brimming on her lips. ‘Yet,’ she threw in stilted addition.

  Angelo glanced at her. His brilliant blue eyes had a crystalline glitter behind his lashes and he settled his long powerful body down on the edge of the bed. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  Her teeth gritted. She had that familiar feeling of inadequacy she often got in his radius of late: a near overpowering urge to sob and scream in frustration. She asked him to stay with her and the only reason he could come up with was that she might be ill or in the grip of her nerves. Of course, she was hardly a beguilingly sexy proposition just at present, she reasoned ruefully, striving to be fair to him.

  ‘I’m all … r-right,’ she started to say, only a kick from one of the babies stole her breath and made her stammer. ‘Just a kick,’ she explained, pressing the heel of her hand against her stomach.

  ‘Would you mind?’ His interest clearly caught, Angelo rested his palm down very close to hers, evidently in the hope of feeling one of the babies move again.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Flora lied because, in truth, she was now even closer to sobbing in frustration. Lying very still, she stared down at the rising mound of her stomach and wondered what on earth she had been playing at in even dreaming of acting the temptress. Once again the triplets had effortlessly contrived to take centre stage.

  As Angelo felt a baby kick a look of wonderment transformed his lean, darkly handsome features. She saw his pleasure and felt mean for minding that she was simply a human incubator for the babies Angelo could hardly wait for her to have. Had she tried, she could not have found a keener father-to-be. It was a wonder he hadn’t got married years ago and already fathered a little tribe of offspring, she thought ruefully. Of course, no doubt he had learned the lesson of being cautious when his father had got badly burned in his rushed second marriage. Furthermore, there was no denying the fact that Angelo valued his freedom and had fought to preserve it from the outset of their acquaintance. Had he felt differently about the mysterious Katja, whom Bregitta liked to hold up as an unassailable rival? Flora only wished that she had not chosen to overlook his love of his freedom at the outset of their relationship, for caution might have saved her from heartbreak.

  ‘You’re amazing,’ Angelo murmured in
a tone of husky admiration, looking right down into her eyes with those dazzlingly blue eyes that made her mouth run dry and her shameless heart thunder in her ears.

  She wanted so badly to touch him that she had to curl her fingers into her palm to stop herself from stretching out her fingers. Her breathing grew shallower and more audible, her breasts swelling until the tender tips were prominent while heat and moisture pooled in her pelvis. He held her gaze and the atmosphere buzzed with electric tension. For several taut moments she was unable to reason because she was wholly in the control of her rebellious hormones and the hunger he could ignite.

  Angelo removed his hand from her stomach and tugged up the linen sheet to cover her. ‘It’s late. I mustn’t keep you awake,’ he said with precision, his voice deep and rough-edged, and he straightened and switched out the bedside light. ‘Don’t forget that you have an appointment with the obstetrician tomorrow afternoon.’

  Moonlight was spilling welcome clarity round the edges of the curtains. Her heart in her mouth, Flora watched Angelo walk to the door and her sense of mortification was so intense she could think of nothing to say in return. What had she thought or even hoped? That he might kiss her? Show some hint of sexual interest or even regret at the distance between them? What a foolish dream that was to cherish when she was about as fanciable as a stuffed turkey!

  Tears stung Flora’s wide open eyes in a hot burning surge and inched slowly down her cheeks. She blinked furiously and one of the babies kicked and she just burst out crying then, pushing her face into the pillow to muffle the noise that she was making while reflecting that she would look even worse in the morning with reddened swollen eyes.

  When she awoke late the following morning after a restless night, it was to the beep and flash of a text on her phone and she stretched out a drowsy hand to lift it from the bedside table. Once she realised with astonishment that the text was actually from her former fiancé, Peter Davies, she sat up in surprise and curiosity to read it immediately. Having bumped into a mutual friend, Peter texted that he was shocked at the news that Julie had died and that Flora was currently living in Amsterdam with her niece. Flora was equally taken aback to learn, when she responded, that Peter now worked for a Rotterdam-based shipping company in London, was currently in the Netherlands at a conference and was keen to meet up with her before he returned home.