The Purest of Diamonds?

by Susan Stephens

  ‘I would never attempt to mislead my grandmother. I would tell her the truth as I always do.’

  ‘That’s sure to cheer her up.’

  ‘It’s better than nothing.’

  A flicker of humour crept into Leila’s gaze. ‘I don’t think you know the first thing about women, Raffa.’

  Raffa drew back his head in surprise. No doubt he considered himself an expert on women.

  ‘Introducing the mother of my child to my grandmother is the right thing to do,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘And I’d love to meet her,’ Leila confirmed, ‘but I refuse to suggest that our relationship is anything more than it is.’ That was a platonic working relationship between two people who just happened to be expecting a child.

  As Raffa inclined his head in agreement she knew she’d have to watch him. Raffa Leon was used to having everything his own way, and for once in his life he would have to accept that that wasn’t going to happen this time.

  * * *

  Raffa’s grandmother’s house wasn’t close to the castle, as Leila had imagined, but about an hour’s drive away, up in the hills where it was cooler. Raffa drove them up the switchback road in an open-topped bright red Maserati, and, apart from the thrill of riding in a sports car with a man who knew what he was doing, the view over a vine-crammed valley on one side, and a neon-bright sea on the other, went a long way to soothing her tension at the thought of finally meeting his grandmother.

  It was a lovely day, with a breeze laden with the scent of blossom, and would have been a perfect day had it not been for the man at her side making her jittery. Raffa was wound up like a spring. This visit clearly meant a lot to him. The excess energy he was burning was as potent as any aphrodisiac, which was inconvenient on a day when her aim was to appear strait-laced and sensible, the type of girl who might make a mistake once in the heat of the moment, but who would never make the same mistake twice.

  ‘My grandmother appreciates her own space,’ Raffa explained as he turned off the main road onto an impressive tree-lined drive.

  ‘And who could blame your grandmother for wanting to get away from you?’ Leila said dryly. ‘Or for wanting to live here?’ she breathed, taking in the magnificent surroundings.

  The picturesque drive boasted a shady avenue of lush green trees that led the way to a quaint sprawling manor house built of stone. With a cheery red front door and dozens of mullioned windows twinkling a welcome, the picture-postcard setting was made complete by a chorus line of colourful songbirds perched on the gabled roof. The manor house was one of the prettiest buildings Leila had ever seen, and was set off to perfection by the banks of flower beds in front of it, and the spray of cooling fountains in the yard.

  ‘It’s like a fairy dell,’ she said, glancing around.

  ‘My grandmother works hard on the gardens, but so far no sighting of fairies.’ Pushing his sunglasses back on his head, Raffa opened the car door for her with a slanting smile.

  ‘Just before we go in...’ Leila turned to face Raffa beneath a porch extravagantly swagged with peach-coloured wisteria. ‘What exactly have you told your grandmother about us?’

  ‘That I’m bringing a very good friend to meet her. That is what we agreed, isn’t it?’

  She confirmed this tensely with a nod. She wouldn’t have believed it possible for any woman to have a platonic friendship with Raffa Leon, so it appeared she had achieved the impossible.

  Wearing jeans and a tight-fitting top that clung to his sculpted muscles with loving attention to detail, rugged, too handsome for his own good, Raffa exuded raw, animal sex, and it was impossible to stand this close to him without imagining being intimate with him. It didn’t help that she had some rather compelling memories to draw on.

  ‘You look fine,’ he said as she fiddled with her dress.

  She’d chosen it carefully, thinking Raffa’s grandmother had enough to contend with today without a fashion crisis hitting her between the eyes. It was a pretty dress with a floral pattern, a respectable neckline and a knee-length skirt.

  ‘My grandmother speaks fluent English, though no Scandinavian languages,’ Raffa explained, ‘but as you’re both fluent in English...’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’

  Raffa was such a distraction she was careful not to look at him and it was a relief to hear footsteps inside the house coming closer. There was one brief moment when her concentration lapsed as Raffa eased onto one hip and her pulse jagged, but she quickly turned her thoughts to meeting his grandmother and everything settled down again.

  The housekeeper’s welcome was warm. Her apple cheeks were split by a wide smile as she embraced Raffa, proving he was clearly a popular visitor. The rest of the staff seemed excited by his arrival as they walked through the exquisitely furnished house, and Leila was conscious of attracting quite a bit of interest too.

  ‘The dowager duchess is in the garden,’ the housekeeper explained as she led them through a light-filled orangery.

  The dowager duchess. Leila’s heart began to pound. The title alone made Raffa’s grandmother sound quite formidable.

  * * *

  Far from being a grande dame, as Leila had feared, the dowager duchess turned out to be a dainty, bird-like woman, with silver hair twisted into a casual bun on top of her head with a moth-eaten straw hat crammed on top of it. Wiry and upright, she was dressed in wide-legged linen trousers and a serviceable, long-sleeved blouse. A multi-pocketed gardening apron in a nondescript dun colour, out of which protruded an assortment of stakes, recent snippings and secateurs, completed her outfit. She was very much in charge of a squad of gardeners, whom she was directing as briskly as a sergeant major around her park-sized garden.

  Leila only had to glance at Raffa to know how he felt about this woman. They adored each other, she realised, standing back as the giant of a man and the tiny woman embraced each other. When Raffa stood back to introduce her, she discovered that his grandmother had been well briefed in advance of her arrival.

  ‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ she exclaimed, drawing Leila into a hug. ‘I’m so happy for both of you.’

  Leila’s gaze found Raffa’s, and she wondered now if he’d told his grandmother some cock-and-bull story regarding their relationship.

  He shrugged and his eyes were full of amusement as if to prove that Raffa Leon answered to no one.

  ‘Come with me, Leila,’ his grandmother invited warmly, unaware of the tension between her grandson and her guest. ‘We’ll have tea in the garden. I think Rafael has got your message,’ she added with amusement. ‘You have the most expressive eyes.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,’ Leila said as they sat down.

  ‘Please don’t apologise. I know Rafael, and I always make up my own mind, whatever he tells me.’

  A table draped with a delicate lace cloth and an array of fine china had been set out for them beneath the generous shade of an ancient frangipani tree. Following Leila’s glance across the manicured lawn as Raffa headed back to the house, his grandmother leaned forward to remark, ‘Don’t look so worried, Leila. The Dukes of Cantalabria have always been notoriously unscrupulous when it comes to choosing a bride.’

  ‘A bride?’ No amount of good manners could hide Leila’s feelings. ‘I’m not sure what Raffa has told you, but I’ve no intention of marrying him.’

  ‘Of course not. Please forgive me. Seeing the two of you together takes me back to my own youth.’

  ‘I’m afraid ours is not a lasting relationship.’

  ‘With a child between you?’ the dowager queried. ‘I’d say there’s a lifetime’s commitment between you. Milk or lemon, my dear?’

  ‘Lemon, please.’ Leila’s voice took on a new intensity. ‘I just don’t want to mislead you in any way.’

  ‘How are you misleading me?’ The ol
d lady frowned as she passed Leila a delicate porcelain cup and saucer. ‘Any fool can see my grandson is head over heels in love with you.’

  Leila almost laughed out loud, but, in deference to Raffa’s grandmother, she killed the impulse in favour of being frank with her. ‘Raffa’s not in love with me. All we shared was a moment of—’

  ‘Pure passion,’ his grandmother supplied with a nod of her head. ‘Don’t look so surprised, Leila. I was young once. And please...I don’t want you to feel awkward around me. I can assure you, it would take a lot more than your pregnancy to shock me. I’m only surprised Rafael can be so calm about it.’

  ‘Calm?’ Leila tensed.

  The old lady started as if she had been jolted out of revisiting memories from the past.

  ‘Forgive me, Leila. I knew this day would come. I just wasn’t sure how Rafael would cope with it. It’s great credit to you that he’s taken it so calmly. I’m delighted for him—for both of you.’

  Far from being reassured, Leila was doubly anxious, and determined to get to the bottom of Raffa’s mysterious past. ‘Is there some family problem I should know about?’

  ‘You’re thinking genetic problems,’ the dowager observed shrewdly. ‘Let me reassure you right away, it’s nothing like that, Leila. I’m thrilled you’re having a child, and there’s no reason to suppose your baby won’t be perfectly healthy.’

  ‘But is there something more I should know?’

  ‘What do you know?’ The dowager stared at her levelly.

  ‘Only a little,’ Leila admitted, hoping the old lady would fill in the gaps.

  ‘Drink your tea before it gets cold, dear,’ the dowager said, dashing Leila’s hopes.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve had this chance to meet you,’ Leila said to break the sudden silence. ‘It meant a lot to Raffa.’

  ‘And I’m delighted to meet the mother of my first great-grandchild.’ There was a pause, and then the dowager covered Leila’s hand with hers. ‘Forgive me, Leila, but there are things that cannot be discussed over tea. I’m sure Raffa will explain.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure he will,’ Leila agreed without much conviction, her anxiety levels rising by the minute as she wondered what Raffa’s grandmother could mean.

  ‘How long are you staying?’ The dowager’s shrewd gaze met Leila’s over their teacups.

  ‘Not long,’ Leila said honestly. ‘Just long enough to choose some gems to display in Skavanga.’

  ‘At the museum you’re in control of,’ the dowager said with interest, putting down her cup. ‘Perhaps I’ll pay you a visit one day. Now where is my grandson?’ she said, turning in her chair. ‘Perhaps he’s choosing some gems to show you. We keep some of the very best in an armed vault in the house,’ she added with a touch of the familiar family steel.

  Leila’s tension eased into a smile. ‘You are so like Raffa.’

  ‘Stubborn? Driven?’ the old lady suggested, meeting Leila’s gaze. There was a twinkle in her eye as she leaned forward. ‘Fiercely determined to have our own way? Something tells me you’re just like us, Leila Skavanga.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘TALK OF THE DEVIL!’ the dowager exclaimed as Raffa appeared in the doorway of the house.

  The mellow sunshine and the beautiful garden provided a deceptively soft frame for a hard man. A hard man with a mysterious past, Leila now knew, determined she would get to the bottom of the mystery.

  Would she always feel this way when she saw him? Leila wondered as Raffa strode towards them. Yes, she realised as he flashed a quick smile. And this was her chance, maybe her only chance to find out what his grandmother had meant when she talked about Raffa’s concerns regarding Leila’s pregnancy. As soon as he was within earshot she sprang up. ‘Could we have a walk round your beautiful garden?’ she asked the dowager.

  ‘Of course. Rafael, please escort our guest.’

  The heady scent of the flowers was intoxicating, but that was nothing compared to standing close to Raffa, only inches away...feeling his gaze on her back as she bent down to smell the roses, or feeling his breath brush her neck when she straightened up.

  ‘So, what’s this about?’ he said as they walked towards a small bridge across the stream that ran through the garden. ‘What did you want to talk about that you can’t say in front of my grandmother?’

  Pausing in the middle of the bridge, Leila leaned back against the worn balustrade with her arms resting on the warm, smooth wood. ‘Your grandmother said she was surprised that you could take my pregnancy so calmly. She said there were things it wasn’t possible to discuss over tea. She reassured me that there were no genetic problems in your family to worry about, so I wondered—’

  ‘My grandmother said too much.’

  He hadn’t meant to snap. Or turn his back. Or lean over the bridge lost in his thought, but the guilt he had lived with for so long was curdling inside him. He had to take several deep breaths before he could control the emotion. Feelings that had been buried for so long had a way of running wild. They had threatened to ruin him as a youth, but he had mastered them as an adult, and control ruled him now. Leila must think him distant and aloof from her, but she was wrong. He was intensely focused on the only thing that mattered to him now, which was Leila’s safety when she gave birth to their child.

  ‘Raffa?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have I said something to upset you? I didn’t mean to be intrusive or to probe into your past.’

  ‘I know.’ He still didn’t turn around. It would have been easier for both of them if he had kept Leila at a distance, stopped her coming to the island, but his head had been full of her, and he doubted now that any amount of work or distraction could shake her out. He couldn’t have known she was carrying his baby, or how that would make him feel. He could never have anticipated the old ghosts from the past coming back to taunt him with the guilt he’d lived with all his life.

  Following Raffa’s gaze down the busy stream as it rushed and bubbled on its way to the sea, she could feel the barricades rising around him. Raffa’s self-imposed isolation was a shield to keep her and the world at bay, and whatever had made Raffa withdraw into himself, it was something he had kept hidden for years, so he was hardly going to blurt it out now. But her impulse was to reassure him, and there was nothing to stop her doing that.

  ‘Your grandmother cares very much about you, Raffa. She didn’t break any confidences. She wouldn’t tell me anything.’

  Straightening up, he turned to face her, and his expression had not mellowed as she’d hoped. ‘Is that what this walk is about?’ There was suspicion in his voice, even hostility. ‘Do you expect me to reveal all now?’

  ‘No,’ she said, holding Raffa’s burning gaze steadily. ‘Of course I don’t. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.’

  ‘It’s you we’re supposed to be sorting out, Leila.’

  ‘I don’t need sorting out. And you shouldn’t be so proud that you can’t admit that you do.’

  ‘What?’ he said softly.

  ‘I’m sorry, but someone has to tell you. Your grandmother is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, but she loves you so much she has spent her whole life tiptoeing around you, and whatever it is that makes you feel so guilty. And I won’t do that.’

  Drawing back his head, Raffa stared down at her in disbelief.

  Even now, even with Raffa glowering down at her, her only wish was to reach out to him and hold him until the ghosts had no strength left. He was a pent-up powerhouse of outraged affront, which increased the force of his physical appeal tenfold. She felt it as a primitive and very earthy response to him, and Raffa felt it too. Just the smallest change in those hostile dark eyes told her exactly how Raffa Leon would like to resolve this situation. Perhaps the combined force of their passion would be enough to banish all their ghost
s in one fell swoop, she reflected wryly.

  ‘Shall we say goodbye to my grandmother?’ Raffa suggested in a neutral tone.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed in the same careful manner.

  * * *

  ‘Seat belt,’ Raffa reminded her as they slid into the car.

  Before she could reach for it, he had leaned across to help and his considerable weight pressed against her breasts. The catch clicked into place and still they remained motionless. Glancing into Raffa’s eyes, she saw the heat in them and felt an answering tug.

  Settling back into the driver’s seat, he reached for his sunglasses and switched on the engine, by which time the aching need inside her had grown to a pulsing urge to mate. Would she ever find an answer to her obsession with this man?

  Her life had changed completely since meeting Raffa. She had changed completely, Leila realised as he gunned the engine and released the brake. She glanced at Raffa’s harsh profile, and then on to assess his impossibly powerful frame like a trainer at the stockyard picking out the king of the herd, a magnificent wild stallion to mount, to tame, to ride.

  If that was all that lay behind the attraction, perhaps she could forget her principles for one day, slake her lust and go home, but there was so much more to Raffa Leon. She was compelled to stay so she could enjoy more of his passion, his humour and his whip-sharp mind, and uncover all those secrets his grandmother had hinted at.

  She had never been a quitter, Leila reflected as Raffa floored the accelerator and G-force thumped her in the back.

  * * *

  He drove the car to its limits. There was something hot about a woman carrying his child that made Leila irresistible. He had to have her right away. She was sending him all the same messages and he was drowning in pheromones. He could never have anticipated the way Leila’s pregnancy would make him feel—protective, yes, possessive too, but in a good way, a way that made him want to stake his claim over and over, so he could hear her cries of pleasure.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ she asked him.