by Kim Lawrence
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’
‘I can see it kills you to admit it, but you need help.’
‘Maybe that girl who brought me the night clothes could…’
‘She’s in bed. Everyone is in bed; you’re stuck with me.’
Nell’s train of thought was broken when he scooped her up into his arms. With a sigh she linked her arms about his neck, too tired to protest.
‘Let’s get you to your bed. Not quite the way I planned to,’ he added to himself in a self-derisive undertone.
‘You planned to get me in bed?’
‘You weren’t meant to hear that,’ he replied, pulling the quilt up to her chin.
Nell sighed as the light was extinguished. Despite the silence she was gripped by the strong conviction she was not alone. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ came the reply from the darkness.
‘You don’t have to stay.’
‘I know.’ Raul arranged his tall frame into the chair beside the bed.
CHAPTER TEN
NELL sat up with a start. She looked around her opulent surroundings with a blank expression of confusion.
‘Did I wake you?’ a small voice asked.
The previous evening’s events came zooming back, as did the headache, not in the same apocalyptic proportions of the previous night, but a steady, dull throb just behind her eyes. Nell lifted a hand to her temple, and smiled at the small figure sitting cross-legged on the bottom of her bed.
‘No, you didn’t wake me. How long have you been there?’
‘Not long.’
Nell reached out and touched Antonio’s bare toes. ‘Long enough; you’re freezing.’ She turned back the quilt and patted the bed. ‘Get in.’
A slow grin split the gravity of the little boy’s face as he did as she suggested.
‘Better?’ she asked, tucking the quilt in around him.
He gave a nod and a little sigh of contentment. ‘Uncle Raul said you were staying with us?’ Nell was concerned by the anxiety she could see in the serious dark eyes that scanned her face.
Uncle Raul playing his trump card or Uncle Raul comforting a needy child? In the end Raul’s machinations were irrelevant; the only thing that actually mattered was that Antonio needed her. ‘Then if Uncle Raul says so, I guess I am.’
She felt some of the tension ease out of his skinny body as he curled up contentedly against her. ‘I like Uncle Raul.’
‘That’s good.’
‘He does cool things with me, and he listens when I say stuff, which most people don’t because I’m a kid. I don’t mean you, Nell.’ A note of anxiety crept into his voice as he continued. ‘Don’t tell Kate I said I like him, will you? Promise,’ he added fiercely.
‘Not if you don’t want me to, but why can’t I tell Kate?’ Nell asked gently.
‘Kate doesn’t like him. They fight. I hate it when people fight.’ He sighed.
Nell felt herself fill with emotion. Poor, quiet, undemanding Antonio stuck in the middle. As he was not considered a problem his needs were in danger of being overlooked. She gave the little boy a hug. ‘Oh, Antonio,’ she sighed, kissing the top of his glossy head as she released him. ‘You mustn’t feel guilty for liking your uncle.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘He’s not my uncle.’
‘But do you like him? Kate said you didn’t.’
She closed her eyes; it had to be genetic. She should have known better—Antonio might be a young boy, but he was still a Carreras male and as such not easily fobbed off.
Elbow wedged against the pillow, she propped her chin in her hand. ‘I think your uncle loves you very much, Antonio, and I know he will keep you safe. How could I not like someone who will do that for my best boy?’
She was relieved to see that her response had satisfied Antonio, who looked happy.
‘I seem to remember saying not to wake up Miss Rose.’
Nell’s chin slipped inelegantly out of her cupped hand. She heard Antonio laugh as she tumbled face first into the pillow. With her head buried in percale-covered duck down she felt extremely reluctant to move. Moving would involve facing Raul and trying to behave like a moderately rational human being; not something, she knew from bitter experience, that was easy to do and on those previous occasions she hadn’t been wearing just a bra and pants.
Oh, well, a bit late to be modest, she thought as an image of herself curled up in his arms popped into her head. Taking the quilt with her, she sat up, brushing her hair back from her face with her forearm.
Raul’s eyes followed the progress of the burnished mass as her hair settled against her shoulders, his expression enigmatic. ‘Sorry if I startled you. When Antonio goes missing he has a habit of turning up where he shouldn’t be.’ Beside her, Antonio squirmed. ‘I didn’t like to knock, I thought you might be sleeping, but…’
Nell listened politely even though the only question that she really wanted to hear an answer to was, How long had he been standing there?
‘I didn’t wake her, Uncle Raul. I was waiting for her to wake up, and she did.’
‘So I see,’ Raul observed drily. His attention turned to Nell. ‘Are you feeling any better this morning?’
‘Heaps,’ she promised gruffly.
Her tension cranked up several notches as he came to stand within a foot of the bed. Her fingers plucked nervously at the sheet as she endured a clinical inspection of her upturned features.
‘I always look this bad in the morning.’
‘You look…’ he paused, presumably moderating his language in front of the child before completing colourlessly ‘…tired.’ His brow pleated. ‘Do you get migraines often?’
To Nell he sounded disapproving of this weakness. ‘Occasionally.’
‘Have you sought medical advice?’
‘That’s not necessary. I don’t get them that often and I normally carry medication for when it does happen. I’m really sorry if I caused you any inconvenience.’
‘Are you a morning person, Uncle Raul?’
‘A morning person?’
‘Dad said that Nell is a morning person. He wasn’t,’ he added matter-of-factly. ‘He was cranky in the morning. Wasn’t he, Nell?’
‘Unapproachable before his second cup of coffee,’ she confirmed. Still smiling slightly, she switched her attention back to Raul and was confused to see anger smouldering in his eyes in the moment before the screen of his dark lashes came down.
‘Come, Antonio, your breakfast is ready.’
‘But I want—’
‘Now, Antonio. Let Miss Rose rest.’
His expression was hidden from her but there was nothing in his voice or manner that suggested he was angry. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t need to. Antonio responded with only a token grumble to the command. Maybe she had been mistaken about what she had seen?
Nell’s attention was drawn to his fingers tapping against the quilt. His hand looked very dark against the pale bed linen and watching his long fingers stroke the fabric made her stomach muscles clutch. The action was mundane, but somehow the sensuality that was very much an integral part of him was reflected in the simple action.
Raul watched as the child twined his stick-like arms around Nell’s neck and pressed a resounding kiss to her lips.
Antonio’s enthusiasm sent the quilt slithering to the floor as he leapt out of bed. It was pretty irrational feeling exposed when the only person who might be looking at her had seen her that way the night before, but Nell lifted her knees to her chin, hugging her legs to her body.
At the door the boy stopped and turned back.
‘You will be here when I get home from school?’
‘Absolutely,’ Nell promised. Her smile faded and she sighed as the door closed behind him. She rested her chin on her knees and wrapped her arms tighter around her legs.
‘Are you really feeling better?’ asked Raul.
Nell turned her face to one side to look at him. ‘A bit sor
e, but otherwise back to normal. You…you were kind last night.’
‘Mother will be pleased you are well—she was concerned. She is sure it is my fault for arguing with you.’
‘It’s more a multi-factor thing, and stress is one of those factors, but don’t get the hair shirt out just yet—you are only one stress-inducing factor in my life.’
He didn’t reply; he just continued to look at her with a driven intensity that was deeply unnerving. ‘Antonio is very like his father, do you not think?’
Nell nodded. ‘Yes, he is.’
‘You miss Javier?’
‘Of course,’ she replied, her thoughts still very much with his son. ‘As you must,’ she added.
Raul, his strong jaw clenched tight, surveyed her delicate, pensive profile. ‘What a women feels for a man is hardly the same as a man feels for his brother,’ he commented harshly.
‘I suppose not,’ she conceded.
‘You have decided to stay?’
‘Do I have much choice?’ she asked him drily.
One dark brow elevated as his eyes swept over her face. ‘There is always a choice.’ His eyes narrowed shrewdly on her frowning face. ‘You don’t think this is going to work, do you?’
‘Do you? I mean, with the way you feel about me, how can it? I mean, you obviously can’t stand being in the same room as me.’
He made no attempt to deny her husky assessment. ‘This house has a lot of rooms. I think we might manage not to share one too often. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’
His suggestion was practical; it ought to have made her feel a lot happier. So why was she left feeling vaguely disgruntled as she watched him disappear through the door without another word?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THOUGH Nell had broached the subject on several occasions, nobody had spelt out what was expected of her. The only advice she received was to relax and enjoy herself. Nell knew that Aria meant it kindly, but she seriously doubted if Raul would be pleased if she swanned around as if she were on holiday, though in actual fact the Carrerases’ London home was a lot more luxurious than any holiday resort she had ever stayed at.
Nell was determined not to give him any opportunity to complain she was acting like a sponger. She might not be employed in any official capacity, but she resolved to make herself useful. In this resolve she was rather more successful than she had bargained for.
Obviously she was available for the children whenever they might need her, but when the staff, reluctant to bother Aria while her health was not good, approached an embarrassed Nell she explained she didn’t have that sort of role in the house. It was only after Aria said she would be happy, in fact grateful, if Nell acted on her behalf when small matters that required a decision arose, that Nell became involved.
‘It wouldn’t be often,’ the older woman reassured her. ‘The housekeeper is extremely capable and the butler, as I’m sure you’ve already seen, a model of efficiency, but very occasionally conflicts arise and someone is needed to pour oil on troubled waters.’
So if Nell had imagined she would have a lot of time on her hands now that the centre had been closed, she was rapidly disabused of this notion. Her days had never been busier.
Katerina and Antonio quickly became involved in a bewildering variety of after-school activities and classes. Getting anywhere meant driving around the traffic-locked city, a time-consuming and frequently frustrating task.
When Antonio’s new school, keen to involve parents in school activities, approached the children’s grandmother to ask did she have any special skills she might like to contribute to school life, it was Nell who found herself volunteering to help out in the art department.
Over the weeks she took on any number of other tasks, including painting scenery for the end-of-term concert at Katerina’s school. Helping with homework—anything except maths!—was par for the course, but occasionally something more demanding cropped up, like bundling Katerina to the hairdresser’s when a home-colouring experiment went disastrously wrong before her uncle could see his niece’s green hair.
Although at times she felt restless—peculiarly these bouts often followed the odd occasions when she had contact with Raul—Nell was actually happy with what she was doing, and thought everyone else was too until she found Raul waiting for her one morning after she had completed the school run.
Normally he was out of the house at half-past seven and rarely returned before seven in the evening. By that time Nell had already eaten dinner with Katerina and Antonio. The weekends he kept free for the children and, though she had been invited to join in at first on their excursions, she had known Raul expected her to refuse—not that he showed any signs of appreciation when she followed his guidelines to the letter and came up with some excuse.
When she recognised the unmistakable silhouette of his tall, broad-shouldered figure through the glass panel that separated the porch from the elegant entrance hall tension slid through her. She checked out her reflection in the glass only to almost immediately ask herself, What’s the point? To Raul she was part of the furniture, only warranting attention when she didn’t function efficiently—like a broken table.
Seeing herself as the human equivalent of a wonky chair was not an ego-enhancing exercise. It took Nell several moments of fierce concentration before she could compose herself enough to enter.
Disguising the effect he had on her was becoming increasingly difficult, and although she did her best to avoid being in the same room as him unfortunately sometimes it was impossible—as now.
Shoulders back, head at a jaunty angle, she walked into the hall; the cheery whistle she suspected was probably a bit of overkill, but in for a penny…? She took several steps, then pretended to see him for the first time.
Her smile might have lacked conviction but his was non-existent. It was then she noticed he was still wearing his black dinner jacket and bow-tie, though this was unfastened, as was his top button, revealing a tiny rectangular portion of brown skin. Her fixed smile guttered.
She assumed he was still seeing the lovely Roxie; the longevity of the attachment had caused excitement in the press. However, this inescapable evidence that he had not come home last night, that he had spent the night with her, brought the reality crashing home.
Some hitherto masochistic streak in her nature made her visualise him coming here straight from his lover’s bed…with the scent of her still on his body. A violent shudder of revulsion passed through her body as her face paled.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded roughly.
His accusatory tone made her blink. ‘I dropped the children off at school.’ Why was she jealous? It wasn’t as if she wanted to be where the actress was… Not much!
With a frown he consulted his watch. ‘Until this time?’
‘The traffic was heavy.’ Actually it had been lighter than usual that morning.
‘Why are you taking the children to school? I employ a chauffeur. My mother would hardly require the car at this time of the morning, so don’t try and tell me George was not available.’
George was always available. It seemed the height of extravagance to Nell to keep a full-time chauffeur when the only thing he did was take Aria to the odd lunch date or occasionally the shops. Raul himself, she knew, preferred to drive himself in one of the high-powered sleek cars he kept in the underground garage.
‘I wasn’t going to.’
Her politeness seemed to increase his displeasure. ‘I will have a word with George,’ he announced with his usual decisive air. Did he ever suffer from the doubts that plagued normal folk? she wondered enviously. ‘To drive around the city during the rush hour requires skill and patience.’
‘I’m a very good driver!’ Nell protested, indignant at this slight on her driving skills.
He seemed to be going out of his way to be unpleasant. In fact, she mused, noticing for the first time tell-tale signs of strain evident in his lean, patrician face, he seemed really uptight. Had he and Ro
xie had a lovers’ tiff?
Nothing too minor, she secretly hoped.
‘That is not the point…’ Obviously about to tell her what the point was, he stopped scanning her face with a brooding scowl. ‘What is wrong?’
She pulled off the woollen cloche she had crammed on over her recalcitrant curls and shoved it in the pocket of her jacket. She saw Raul’s eyes move to her bright head, noticing no doubt that she was having a bad-hair day. Did someone as physically perfect as him, the sort of person who was incapable of performing a graceless action, understand about such things? she wondered.
‘It’s just cold outside,’ she said, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and giving a convincing shiver. ‘It really wouldn’t be a good idea to ask George to drive the children,’ she added, belatedly recalling his intention.
‘And is there a reason why it wouldn’t be a good idea? Beyond the fact you seem unable to sit still for more than ten seconds at a time.’
She let this accusation of hyperactivity, coming ironically from someone who was a world-class workaholic, pass.
‘Kate doesn’t want to be dropped off at school by a chauffeur-driven Rolls.’ Raul looked at her blankly and Nell gave an exasperated sigh. ‘You can be so dense sometimes.’ She was immediately aware that her candour was not appreciated.
‘Then, taking into account my lack of understanding,’ Raul suggested with biting satire, ‘perhaps you should spell out just what the hell you’re talking about.’
‘She’s embarrassed.’
Raul shook his dark head. ‘Embarrassed?’
‘Do you remember anything about being a teenager? Don’t you recall the need to be accepted…be the same as everyone else?’ She met his uncomprehending and impatient eyes. A dry laugh was drawn from her. ‘No, of course you don’t.’ Why would he? Raul Carreras was not a pack animal, he was not part of the herd, he was the leader, a loner, aloof and supremely indifferent to the opinion of others.
‘I thought teenagers wanted to express their own individuality…?’
‘Teenagers want to be accepted by a group,’ Nell contradicted confidently. ‘The one thing above all others that your average teenager cannot bear,’ she explained, ‘is being different. The other girls don’t get dropped off in a Rolls-Royce. A four-wheel drive, maybe,’ she conceded, thinking of all the mums who amazingly seemed to consider a massive four-wheel drive off-roader essential for negotiating Kensington! ‘And even if they did, unlike you, Kate wasn’t brought up with the “if you’ve got it flaunt it” mentality.’