The Spaniard's Love-Child

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Nell heard herself say.

  ‘You angel!’ Roxie exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight and grabbing Nell before she had a chance to change her mind.

  The last thing Nell saw as she was shepherded out of the room was Raul’s dark features set in a furious mask.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  HAVING enrolled the help of a maid, Roxie set about transforming Nell with single-minded determination that made Nell’s head spin. Having first explained that there was no time for debate and Nell would just have to trust her, she went through Nell’s wardrobe.

  Her decision-making process was effective but brutal. She cut down the choice by emptying the contents onto the floor and flinging every item she stigmatised ‘hopeless’ over her shoulder. From those items left—a very small pile—she had chosen the black dress that Nell was now wearing.

  Nell had bought the little bias-cut number in a moment of weakness at last year’s sales, but had not had an opportunity to wear it since.

  And probably never would have if she hadn’t volunteered herself for this stunt. The dress actually couldn’t have been simpler. It skimmed her slender figure but still managed to hug the tight swell of her firm breasts and draw attention to the feminine sway of her hips. It was much shorter than anything she usually wore—so short that Nell was concerned that it would expose the lacy bits on the top of her nude-coloured hold-ups. She had expressed her concern to Roxie, who had looked at her and said, ‘That would be a bad thing because…?’

  How could you reason with someone like that?

  Nell caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror as they hurried past.

  Oh, God!

  Raul was right; I can’t do this. And more to the point I don’t even want to! He just shouldn’t have said I couldn’t do, and then I wouldn’t have got mad and I wouldn’t be here about to make a total fool of myself. So basically it’s all his fault, she concluded with flawless logic.

  ‘It’s far too short,’ Nell complained, tugging fretfully at the hem.

  Roxie laughed. ‘The dress looks terrific; so do you and you know it,’ she accused. ‘You know, I’m glad I went with the natural look—your skin’s so good it’s a shame to cover it up and that colour really works on your lips. Subtle but sexy,’ she decided, summing up the effect of her work. ‘My only regret,’ she admitted with a sigh, ‘is that we didn’t have time to straighten your hair.’ Her glance rested on the soft waves that rested on Nell’s shoulders.

  Nell, who had always wanted a swishing curtain of river-straight hair, wished they had had too.

  ‘Now let’s get the male reaction from Raul.’

  The suggestion increased the sick churning in Nell’s stomach.

  ‘Do we have to?’ she asked in a small voice.

  ‘Ready?’ Roxie asked, then without waiting for Nell to respond she grabbed her arm and unceremonially yanked her into the library, where Raul had retreated to wait for them, with a flourish.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘What do you think?’

  Raul unhurriedly closed the laptop on the desk in front of him and raised his head. His dark eyes swept over Nell’s slim figure.

  ‘Very nice.’

  The anticlimax was intense. All that anticipation was for what? Serve you right, she told herself, for wanting to impress him. If the rest of the male reaction she got was as tepid as that she received from Raul she might just as well be invisible.

  ‘Very nice?’ Roxie echoed, looking annoyed. ‘She looks bloody marvellous and you know it,’ she accused.

  An enigmatic smile touched Raul’s mouth. ‘She is beautiful, so nothing has changed.’ Without waiting for the two women to respond he shrugged his way back into his jacket. ‘If we are going to this party, hadn’t we better go before the photographers go home?’

  Nell walked out to the waiting car in a daze. He thinks I’m beautiful…?

  ‘You’ve got to be very nice to Nell, Tris, because you have no idea how difficult it was to persuade her to do this. Also she hasn’t the faintest idea who you are. Get in the back seat and get to know one another,’ Roxie told her ex-husband. ‘Though not in the biblical sense,’ she added laughingly.

  In the rear-view mirror Nell caught sight of Raul’s eyes. If it wasn’t a trick of the light she put down the fury she briefly saw reflected in his those still dark depths to the fact he didn’t like Roxie’s ex-husband. Perhaps he found the fact that she openly admitted to still being fond of her ex difficult?

  Tristram, who was blond and smoothly good-looking, turned out to be an undemanding sort of companion with a refreshingly dry sense of humour. If he was emotionally devastated he was hiding it well, but then maybe he was just very good at acting? Nell, who had been expecting to spend the evening propping up the bruised ego of some narcissistic actor, was pleasantly surprised.

  While the conversation in the back seat became more animated and the laughter more frequent as the journey progressed, a heavy silence reigned in the front seat; even animated Roxie lost her sparkle.

  The flash bulbs were popping before they even got out of the car. Nell blinked, blinded by the sea of lights. People were shouting Tristram’s name and inundating him with questions; he smiled and waved, totally unfazed.

  It was only when she stumbled that Tristram noticed how alarmed she was. He steadied her, smiled into her dazed face and tucked her hand in his.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.’

  This caring comment earned him a murderous glare from Raul, who much to Roxie’s visible frustration stalked past the phalanx of photographers without pausing and without once taking advantage of the photo opportunities.

  ‘What’s bitten him?’ Tristram muttered, nodding his head towards Raul who, along with Roxie, had reached the relative sanctuary of the hotel, which had been taken over for the party to promote the latest blockbuster film, just in front of them. Nell assumed it was a historical drama because all the staff were dressed in eighteenth-century costume.

  ‘I know he’s got moody and broody off to a fine art, but even for him that was something else.’

  Nell shrugged and accepted a glass of champagne from a boy in tight breeches. If she hadn’t been so stressed she might even have been amused that Raul’s antipathy was fully returned by the actor. The Roxie factor raising its head?

  ‘Mind you, maybe I should try it—they do say treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen. It works for him. Did you see how the flash bulbs were after him?’

  ‘I didn’t see anything; I was blinded,’ Nell confessed.

  Tristram patted her hand and looked solicitous. ‘I keep forgetting you’re not used to this. You did great, a little trouper. Have the drink, it’ll make you feel better.’

  Nell followed his advice and downed the drink. ‘I was thirsty,’ she explained.

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘Listen, if you have to…work the room, I’ll be fine on my own.’

  At her earnest words Tristram, whose attention had drifted towards his ex-wife, who was hanging on Raul’s arm with an adoring expression, switched his focus back to Nell. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘You’re very sweet.’

  A dissatisfied look settled on Nell’s face. In her book ‘sweet’ was only a step away from ‘homely’. ‘I’d much prefer to be sexy,’ she confessed wryly.

  There was a moment’s startled silence before Tristram threw back his head and laughed. The attractive warm bass boom drew a number of interested looks. When he had stopped laughing Tristram took Nell’s chin in his hand and tilted her face up to him.

  She had quite a long way to look. He was tall, but not as tall as Raul… God! I’ve got to stop comparing every man I meet with Raul.

  ‘You are sexy,’ he promised. ‘Very sexy. That hair is incredible,’ he breathed, lightly brushing a burnished strand from her brow.

  ‘And real, apparently,’ observed a voice from behind him.

  Nell couldn’t be sure, but was Roxie
’s smile a little dimmer than earlier? Roxie placed a hand on her ex-husband’s shoulder. ‘Rafe Barrett is over there,’ she told him, indicating the famous director with a nod of her head. ‘He’s still not cast the lead in his new film.’

  ‘Later,’ Tristram said. ‘Right now I feel the urge to dance. Nell?’ He held out his hand to Nell.

  ‘I don’t dance very well,’ she warned him.

  ‘But I do,’ he replied as his fingers closed around hers.

  Nell had not expected to enjoy the evening, but she did. Normally quiet at social occasions, preferring to watch and listen, she became quite animated. The champagne might have had something to do with it, or maybe the attentive company of a handsome man? Either way everything went swimmingly and she was being very witty and having a marvellous time until she emerged from the powder room and walked straight into Raul.

  ‘Were you waiting for me?’ she demanded—now that was the champagne. Under normal circumstances she would never have voiced her suspicions out loud.

  ‘Just how much of that have you had?’ he asked as she snatched a glass off the tray of a passing waiter.

  ‘I haven’t been counting.’

  Raul examined her overbright defiant eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘You are drunk,’ he accused.

  ‘I am not!’ she gasped, outraged. ‘And even if I was,’ she added mutinously, ‘it’s got nothing whatever to do with you!’

  Anger flared in his eyes. ‘It has everything to do with me,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘You are living under my roof.’

  ‘But not sleeping in your bed,’ she cut back loudly enough for several people close by to hear.

  Raul, all too aware that several conversations around them dropped in volume as people strained to hear their argument, bit back his response. ‘I’m taking you home.’

  This announcement succeeded in breaking Nell’s enraptured contemplation of the muscle that was clenching and unclenching in his lean brown cheek. She blinked up at him, then gave a scornful laugh.

  ‘I don’t think so, and I really don’t see how you can make me,’ she mused. ‘What are you going to do, Raul, fling me over your shoulder kicking and screaming?’

  His nostrils flared; their eyes clashed. ‘Do not think I would not.’

  Feeling an unfamiliar recklessness flow through her veins—or was that wine?—Nell let her eyes linger deliberately on the sensual contours of his mouth before she lifted her eyes to his. ‘Dare you,’ she challenged languidly.

  Raul’s hands clenched into fists at his side as he fought the impulse to call her bluff. ‘You are making a fool of yourself,’ he condemned finally between clenched teeth.’

  Nell shrugged. ‘My privilege,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Do not turn your back on me,’ Raul said with gritted teeth.

  Nell swung gracefully back, one hand on her hip, her head thrown back. ‘Why, do you want to dance?’ she mocked, lifting her eyes to his strained profile. She saw something move behind his eyes and knew that her recklessness had made her go too far. She placed her glass down on a table-top. ‘You’re right, I have had too much…’

  ‘Yes,’ he cut in.

  She shook her head and looked confused.

  ‘I will dance with you.’ He laid a hand into the small of her back and drew her hard against him. ‘Why should I be the only one not to?’ he murmured grimly into her fragrant hair.

  After the first few stumbling steps Raul felt the resistance leave her body. Her slim body moulded to him like a second skin as they flowed together. As one unit they moved, not to the slow beat of the music, but to the throb of desire that coursed through their veins. Her head was tucked under his chin; he could smell her hair and the perfume she was wearing. Through the thin fabric of her dress Raul could feel the heat of her skin.

  He felt her gasp and sigh as he allowed her to feel his erection.

  The punitive anger that had made him drag her onto the dance floor was leaving him, but the desire he felt was not. The control he prided himself on was slipping. He half closed his eyes and imagined sliding his hands under the skirt of that sexy little dress. He would run his fingers along the soft velvety skin on the inside of her thighs right up to… Right here on the dance floor in front of everyone—nice move, Raul!

  He had to cool things down. She was drunk and he was insane.

  Breathing hard, he pulled back slightly from her, but she immediately pressed herself against him, her supple curves slotting into his harder contours as if they were two halves of a whole.

  Nell was dimly conscious of the music stopping. There was air between them and her brain started functioning again.

  ‘I don’t dance very well,’ she heard herself say stupidly.

  That hadn’t been dancing, that had been…that had been the most mind-blowingly erotic experience of her life and probably could have got them arrested in any number of places!

  She looked around, amazed that people weren’t pointing and staring. Had they not realised what had been happening?

  She looked up at Raul, saw the dark scores of colour high along his slanting cheekbones and the restive glitter in his heavy-lidded eyes. He had, she thought.

  ‘You don’t need to,’ he replied cryptically before turning on his heel and leaving her standing there in the middle of the dance floor feeling like an idiot.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Nell smiled; Tristram had found her in her dark corner. He looked so normal and, more importantly, she could look at him and not feel like some sex-obsessed love slave.

  ‘Not especially,’ she admitted with a tight smile.

  ‘Do you feel like getting out of here?’ he asked impulsively.

  ‘Out where to?’

  ‘Wherever you like.’

  They ended up in a small smoke-filled jazz club where Tristram spent the entire time talking about his ex-wife and Nell, who was getting soberer by the second, contemplated her behaviour at the party with growing horror.

  Later in the taxi home Tristram recalled some amusing anecdote and surprise, surprise the main character in the amusing tale was Roxie.

  ‘Most women would have been screaming their heads off,’ he said. ‘But not Roxie. Do you know what she did?’

  ‘Why did you get divorced, Tristram? I mean, you’re obviously still in love with her.’

  Her companion began to hotly disclaim it, then caught Nell’s eyes. He sighed. ‘We were both busy with our careers and we just drifted apart.’

  ‘Other people?’

  ‘That is always a problem in our industry. You spend so long apart. So, all right,’ he sighed, catching Nell’s expression, ‘that’s no excuse. I guess it’s true—you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone,’ he admitted.

  ‘And now she’s with Raul.’

  ‘Yeah, it sort of looks that way,’ he agreed gloomily.

  Nell couldn’t think of anything to say that would make him feel better—not without lying. Tristram was charming, had a great sense of humour and liked women, but would any woman leave Raul for him? Nell didn’t think so.

  Feeling like a teenager who’d stayed out past her curfew, Nell crept furtively up the stairs with her shoes dangling in her fingers. She didn’t go directly to her room; instead she looked in the children’s rooms—both were dead to the world. The sleep of innocence, she thought with a tinge of envy.

  Outside in the hallway Nell pressed her shoulders against the wall and heaved a sigh. There was an expression of poignant regret reflected on her face as she closed her eyes briefly and gathered her thoughts. She had wondered a lot over recent days how she would know when she should leave, but tonight the decision had been made for her.

  This was where she wanted to be, but it wasn’t where she belonged.

  It would be best for everyone, including her. The children would miss her a little at first, but not for long; they had made new friends and a new life. She angrily blinked back the tears of self-pity that rose in her eyes and lifted her chin.
She had fallen in love with Raul—but people suffered unrequited love every day of the week and survived.

  So would she.

  There were things that would be harder to survive, she reflected grimly, and if she stayed around here she’d experience them.

  Her breathing quickened and her pupils dilated as she recalled the hunger stamped on Raul’s hard, strongly etched features when he had looked at her. The memory of being held in his arms, feeling the erotic imprint of his hot, hard body was something she would never forget, but it was something she couldn’t let happen again.

  She knew that Raul was a sensual man, a man with strong appetites. A man used to seeing something he wanted and taking it—hell, wasn’t that part of what turned her on about him? But it wasn’t enough for her.

  She wasn’t naïve or judgmental—people had affairs, it happened—but it wasn’t something she wanted for herself. If there hadn’t been a Roxie she might have been prepared to compromise her principles—actually there was no ‘might’ about it. But Roxie was a fact, and one thing Nell couldn’t compromise on was exclusivity. Neither would she be the other woman.

  The problem was if Raul touched her, her high-flown principles would be history, and she knew it, which meant she had to make sure he never did, and fast!

  People didn’t really die of a broken heart, she told herself as she pushed open her bedroom door. She closed it behind her and leaned against it before reaching out for the dimmer switch.

  ‘Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is? Three-thirty…’ Raul intoned grimly without consulting the watch on his wrist.

  The shock of finding him like a dark avenging angel standing there momentarily sent her brain into shut-down.

  His dark eyes raked the slim body standing before him. ‘Do you realise how inconsiderate this sort of behaviour is? Well?’ he demanded, taking an impetuous step towards her frozen, wide-eyed figure.

  The action jolted Nell to a weak response.

  ‘What are you doing in my room? In the dark?’