The Purest of Diamonds?

by Susan Stephens

‘And did you? Do you?’ he pressed urgently. ‘Need space, I mean. Talk to me, Leila. I need to hear your voice.’

  Raffa needed to hear her voice. She looked around the room as if the furniture would be good enough to confirm that she was actually awake and this wasn’t one of her nightly Raffa dreams. ‘I’m fine now. I don’t need space now,’ she added in case he thought he should ring off. Better release her death grip on the phone before her fingers dropped off. She couldn’t hold him on the line by strangling the receiver.

  ‘So you’re well, Leila?’

  She was now with Raffa’s voice rolling over her like honey. ‘Quite well, thank you.’

  ‘Quite well.’ He laughed at the prim expression. ‘Your doctor wouldn’t tell me anything—apart from the fact that I shouldn’t worry as you were in good health and the pregnancy was progressing as planned.’

  ‘Doctor-patient confidentiality,’ she agreed, silently thanking her lucky stars that Raffa hadn’t heard the news about their twins yet. She couldn’t bear him to hear that from anyone else. And she wasn’t about to tell him over the phone. ‘So, where are you now?’

  ‘Outside your door.’

  What?

  ‘Did you hear me, Leila?’

  ‘You’re as bad as my brother.’ She flared as her heart went crazy. When Tyr disappeared they never knew when he was coming back. ‘Sorry...’ She composed herself—just about. ‘I heard you.’

  ‘Well? Aren’t you going to let me in?’

  Like a runner off the blocks she catapulted into action, or rather she used her unusual weight distribution as leverage to stumble forward and up, slowly straightening until she was upright. Turning full circle, which was harder than it sounded when your belly took up half the room, she hardly knew where to begin. Heading for the door by a circuitous route so she could plump cushions and straighten throws as she went, she couldn’t help wonder how a wood shack would stand up to a castle.

  Cosy. It was cosy. And she loved it and lived in every inch of it, that was how.

  The door was the only thing between them now. She could sense Raffa standing behind it as she stretched out her hand and wrapped it around the handle. Taking one steadying breath, she flung the door wide.

  He looked amazing.

  Never mind that. Forget the impulse to fling herself into his arms with relief. Raffa had been out of contact for months. The right thing to do was to stand back and be cool with him—

  To hell with that!

  Flinging her arms around his neck, she hugged him as if her life depended on it. ‘Raffa!’ The air was cold and frosty, and his stubble-roughened cheek was cold, but he smelled warm and delicious, and he was every bit as solid and fabulous as she remembered. ‘How wonderful to see you.’

  ‘You too, Leila,’ he said quietly.

  Untangling herself, she stood back, feeling rather stupid. That was a ridiculous greeting to give someone she hadn’t seen for months, and now she couldn’t gauge Raffa’s reaction to her overly excited puppy act. He was taking his time to look her up and down as her cheeks fired with embarrassment. ‘Won’t you come in? Please, come in out of the cold...’ And give me chance to compose myself, she thought as she turned her back on him.

  Closing the door once Raffa was inside, she turned around. Muffled up in a heavy dark jacket and jeans, he looked insanely handsome. And she loved him so much that was crazy too, especially as her love had no basis in hope or reality. She couldn’t help herself. She was nuts about him. And would have to hide it, if this wasn’t going to be the most embarrassing encounter of all time.

  ‘Nice,’ he said, glancing round the cabin.

  There was genuine warmth in his voice and she relaxed a little, enough to tell him, ‘The cabin has been in our family for generations.’

  ‘You’re very lucky, Leila—to have such a history. And such a strong bond with a place.’

  Unlike Raffa, she thought, remembering what his grandmother had told her about his youth. ‘Yes, I am,’ she agreed as he continued to look around.

  What a lot of space he took up, and the little that was left was filled with his energy. She’d never think of the cabin the same way again, she realised as Raffa absent-mindedly shrugged off his jacket in response to the cosy heat. She took it from him. It was still warm from his body and she tucked her hands inside it as she went to hang it up.

  ‘When you said you lived in a cabin, I had no idea what to expect,’ he admitted, ‘but you’ve made such a lovely home here. And the surroundings... The lake, the trees, the mountains, the drive here—it’s all spectacular.’ The sexy mouth pressed down as he shrugged. ‘No wonder you never want to leave Skavanga.’

  Never leaving Skavanga suddenly seemed an unreasonable penalty for leaving the rest of the world and Raffa Leon behind. ‘Skavanga’s lovely, but it’s nice to get away from here too.’

  ‘To the island?’

  ‘Your island is beautiful, Raffa.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  His gaze lingered, warming her face. It was as if they were both reading each other, searching for clues, looking for changes. Just hearing Raffa’s voice in her home was like having the most beautiful soundtrack to a romantic film playing. It wasn’t so much the words he used, but the timbre, the pitch—

  And was this a good idea? she wondered as they continued to stare at each other. There was so much to catch up on, so much to work through.

  ‘Sit, Leila. You look tired.’

  She sank into a chair with relief, while Raffa went to examine some of the old sepia prints on the wall. Just seeing him had exhausted her. Emotional overload, she reasoned, combined with pregnancy hormones on red alert.

  ‘We used to come here for holidays with our grandparents,’ she explained as he moved down the row of photographs, scrutinising each one in turn. ‘This was the first prospectors’ hut, but we’ve improved the cabin over the years—’

  She stopped as Raffa flashed an amused glance at her. ‘So you have inside facilities now?’

  ‘Can you seriously imagine Britt using a bucket?’

  They both laughed and the tension eased a little. Maybe this visit would turn out okay after all.

  ‘As the mine took off a lot of other people started to build cabins in the vicinity,’ she explained as Raffa peered out of the window.

  ‘Sorry—I’m expecting a van to turn up, and I don’t want to keep the men waiting outside in the cold.’

  ‘A van?’

  ‘With supplies.’

  ‘Oh...’

  Her brain refused to compute this, but she must have frowned, because Raffa shrugged. ‘If you don’t want them, send them back. But there’s food too, so let’s have supper first.’

  She smiled. ‘You’re hungry.’

  ‘No time to eat,’ he confirmed. ‘Long flight, long drive, but worth it.’

  As Raffa fell silent she realised he was trying to see the newspaper she’d been so avidly reading with his photograph prominently displayed. She should have closed it up before she opened the door and heeled it under the seat now. ‘Would you like to sit down?’

  ‘Why? Do I make the place look untidy?’ he suggested, turning to shoot a wry smile at her.

  No. You make it seem small.

  Pulling back from the window, Raffa turned to face her, and, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, he smiled, the flash of strong white teeth showing in stark contrast to his burnished skin. ‘It’s good to see you again, Leila.’

  ‘You’ve been in the desert—’

  Raffa waved an admonishing finger at her. ‘I told you no questions.’

  ‘Not where Tyr’s concerned,’ Leila agreed. ‘So have you two been working together?’

  ‘Tyr will tell you when he’s ready to tell you. So this is the origi
nal prospector?’ he said, changing the subject as he turned to examine one of the framed photographs on the wall. ‘This one here?’

  Like Tyr, Raffa was expert at keeping a confidence, Leila realised. She’d get no more out of him. ‘That’s right. That’s my ancestor, the first Skavanga.’

  ‘You don’t look a bit like him.’

  ‘I decided in the end that a beard doesn’t suit me.’

  His cheek creased in a smile. ‘You should have this shot hanging in the museum.’

  ‘I’m ahead of you, Señor Leon. A copy’s already hanging in the entrance hall.’

  ‘I might have known it, Ms Efficiency.’

  She blushed as Raffa’s gaze swept her belly. ‘How many months are you now, Leila?’

  ‘A month or so to go.’ This conversation was so back to front. Her brain was sluggish thanks to pregnancy hormones and still she hadn’t got round to telling him about the twins.

  ‘I thought you had longer than that. By my calculations—’

  ‘Your calculations are off.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘There are things you couldn’t possibly know about, Raffa.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Even with that suspicious look on his face Raffa made her heart turn over. Taking a deep breath, she told him, ‘Such as, I’m having twins.’

  ‘Twins?’ Raffa’s voice dropped an octave, and for once he seemed at a loss. Dipping his head, he said, ‘Two babies?’

  ‘That is the usual count,’ she confirmed, trying to appear light-hearted as she waited for his reaction. Double the expected tally could hardly light up the heart of a man who didn’t want children.

  Raffa’s face lit, then darkened dramatically. He might have frightened her if she hadn’t known why. His surprise at what she’d told him had been replaced in an instant by dread at the thought of her giving birth to two babies.

  ‘Your grandmother explained why you feel the way you do,’ she said quickly. ‘Please don’t be angry with her, Raffa,’ she added as he glanced at her. ‘She only did it because she loves you, and because she knows I love you too.’

  There. She’d said it. Her feelings were laid bare before him for him to stamp on if he chose to, but this was too important for her to hold anything back.

  Raffa’s face revealed nothing. Why should it when he had been hiding his feelings all his life, and when she had brought up a past he would rather forget? ‘Your grandmother told me that your mother died giving birth to you,’ she said carefully, feeling it was better to get everything out in the open now. ‘Apart from your feelings when you were old enough to understand what had happened, she also told me that your father and siblings never allowed you to forget what had happened...’

  Reaching out when he still remained silent, she let her hand fall back. Raffa wasn’t ready for sympathy. He never had been. That was why he held his feelings close and why he repelled others, especially those with a claim on his emotions.

  ‘Twins,’ he murmured. His eyes cleared as he looked at her. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but at least he was thinking, rather than expressing some knee-jerk reaction. She’d give him more time. She’d give him all the time he needed. ‘I haven’t asked you if you’d like something to eat or drink,’ she said, striving for normality.

  ‘Sorry, Leila— Have to go. The van’s just arrived. You stay where you are.’ Raffa’s hand on her shoulder was gentle and insistent. Crossing the small room, he shrugged on his jacket. ‘Baby supplies.’ He frowned, as if realising he would have to rethink his plans completely. ‘I didn’t know how you’d be fixed, so, like I said, I brought food too. We can have a picnic.’

  ‘Sounds like fun.’ Or it might have been if Raffa hadn’t been so distant.

  His mind was fixed on other things. He was still getting over the shock, she reasoned. And who could blame him?

  ‘Relax, Leila. There’s no agenda here. Just two friends playing catch-up.’

  Of course. She sank back. Hopes crushed. She was so emotional at the moment there was no grey, only black and white. Maybe he didn’t want two babies. Raffa hadn’t exactly enlisted the town band to herald the first. Why couldn’t she tap into calm Leila, the girl who was such a thoughtful, sensible mouse? Why was she sitting here with her heart thumping and her thoughts flying in every direction?

  She started with alarm when the door opened and Raffa came in carrying a huge carton. ‘No, you stay there,’ he insisted when she moved to help him. ‘I can manage.’

  He didn’t want any involvement, she reflected as she hauled herself out of her chair. Going to stare out of the window, she watched him directing the men. After so long apart every glimpse was a gift. And though she had categorically stated she didn’t want anything from Raffa, and that she didn’t need anything, it made her heart soar to think he’d gone shopping for her.

  And she should make him feel welcome in return.

  Lumbering into action, she fetched dishes from the cupboard, and soup and salad from the fridge, just in time before he blazed back into the house.

  ‘Coffee on?’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured, belatedly accepting in some part of her pregnancy-scrambled brain that she would have to turn the coffee machine on for coffee to happen. And now the sheer size of Raffa dominating her compact living space—his energy, the sheer power blazing off him—

  ‘Here, let me get that for you—’ Reaching across, he took charge of coffee production, and when he pulled back he brushed her body so that now her hands were shaking.

  ‘I’ve got something to show you,’ she blurted.

  ‘Oh?’

  Raffa was too busy making coffee to pay much attention.

  ‘Yes...’ She looked at him hopefully.

  ‘Good.’

  Tears pricked her eyes. She had to remind herself that he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, and that the pregnancy was making her overly emotional. But if he could only show some interest—give some reaction—

  It might help if you actually showed him what you’re talking about?

  Okay, she would. And if he was still aloof and distant when she showed him, at least that was proof she was on her own. And wasn’t that what she had always wanted? The babies without the man? Remember that?

  What a sad idea that seemed now.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked with concern as she sucked in a fast breath in lieu of a sob.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, more to convince herself than Raffa.

  ‘Good. Then I’ll go and help the men get the rest of the stuff out of the van, so they can get off. You can handle the rest of this? Yes?’ he pressed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said on autopilot.

  It wasn’t just food Raffa had brought with him—or even one box of supplies. It was a vanload of baby equipment: baby clothes, toys, a stroller, a Moses basket, a cot, a playpen—the last two flat-packed, requiring assembly, so the last items to make it into the house, courtesy of Raffa and two burly men from the store, were a toolkit, a stack of decorating sheets and a workbench.

  ‘Raffa, please... No more. Stop. It’s too much. I can’t let you do this—’

  ‘Do what?’ he said, paying off the men with a generous tip as he turned to stare at her. ‘There’s everything you could possibly need—’

  ‘That’s just it.’

  ‘What is?’ he demanded impatiently.

  ‘I don’t need anything.’

  ‘Oh, not that again. You clearly do.’ Raffa’s gaze swept the room. ‘In fact, I’ll have to get more stuff on order. Come on, Leila,’ he insisted when she began to protest. ‘How are you going to hoist a couple of cots up the stairs in your condition?’

  ‘I’ll get them delivered and pay to have them assembled, if I have to.’
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  ‘And the playpen?’

  ‘I don’t need one yet. And when I do I’ll assemble it with the instruction sheet laid out in front of me.’

  Raffa wasn’t even listening. And before she knew it they were staring at each other daggers drawn, arguing about who was in control. ‘You can’t just walk in here and take over, Raffa. This is my house, my pregnancy—’

  ‘And our children. Never mistake me for a man who could be satisfied with making the odd guest appearance on significant days after the birth, Leila. I’m going to be involved from day one, so get used to it. I’m not trying to compete with any preparations you’ve made. These are our children. Aren’t I entitled to be excited too?’

  Raffa, excited? You wouldn’t know it from his face. As always, he was perfectly under control. ‘Yes, of course you are. And if you’ll just stop pacing for a moment, there’s something I really want to show you.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘WHAT IS IT, LEILA? What are you going to show me?’

  ‘I wanted to send it to you,’ she said as she heaved herself up. ‘But you’re as good at disappearing as Tyr, and I didn’t know when you’d get it—if you’d get it. And I couldn’t risk it getting lost in a heap of mail on your desk.’

  ‘Like your email.’

  ‘Like my email,’ she confirmed dryly.

  ‘So, what is it? What are we talking about?’

  Shrugging her shoulders, she smiled. ‘Wait and see.’

  He glanced at Leila’s swollen stomach as she made her way across the room to a bureau and felt his heart clench. ‘You’ll need a bigger house,’ he murmured, thinking out loud as she rooted through some papers. ‘I’ll have to order twice as much equipment—’

  ‘I don’t need anything, Raffa.’

  ‘You’ll trip over that pride of yours one day, Leila. You do need things. Let me help you. These babies are my responsibility too.’

  She shrugged and appeared to consider this, but then she turned to him and her face was as open as he remembered when they’d first met. ‘I panicked when no one would put me in touch with you—’ She was holding something behind her back. ‘I was worried about you, Raffa. I don’t think you or Tyr has the slightest idea how many people care about you, or how they worry when you go off radar. For God’s sake,’ she exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes, ‘I’ve already lost a brother. Do you seriously think I could bear to lose you?’