by Lynne Graham
Polly cleared her throat awkwardly in that interim. ‘I suppose you’re still very annoyed that I left the clinic...?’ Her voice rose involuntarily, turning that sentence into a nervous question.
‘It’s possible...’
‘All of a sudden I didn’t feel I could trust you, and I felt trapped...I didn’t think I had any alternative—but it was an impulsive decision—’
You’re distressingly prone to impulses, gatita,’ Raul incised with sudden bite. ‘And this dialogue is just irritating the hell out of me!’
The line went dead. With a frown, Polly shook the silent phone. Nothing. Taken aback that Raul should have cut off her call, Polly blinked and slowly straightened. The silence of the apartment enclosed her. Only one soft pool of lamplight illuminated the corner of the big lounge.
Rising, she smoothed down her satin and lace nightgown and went to check on Luis. He was sound asleep, but he was due for a feed soon. In the elegant kitchen she tidied up the remains of her supper and prepared a bottle for Luis. All the time she was doing that, she agonised over that conversation with Raul. He had sounded so strange. Strained, wary, then bitingly angry.
The doorbell went, making her jump and then as quickly relax again. Maxie was her only visitor, and Maxie had called in one other evening, when Angelos had had a business dinner. Polly hurried across the octagonal hall. Without bothering to use the intercom, she hit the release button on the security lock which barred access to the private lift in the underground car park.
Then she stilled with a frown. Why would Maxie come to see her twice in one day? Only if there was something wrong! Running an apprehensive hand through the fall of her mahogany hair, Polly waited impatiently. It seemed ages before she heard the low, distant hum of the approaching lift, then the soft ping as it reached the top floor. The doors purred back.
But it was not Maxie; it was Raul who strode out of the lift.
Polly went into startled retreat, aghast eyes pinned to his intimidatingly tall and powerfully male physique.
Scathing dark-as-night eyes flashed into hers. ‘Dios mio...you deserve a bloody good fright!’ Raul informed her wrathfully. ‘All that high tec security and you don’t even check who your visitor is before you invite him up?’
In shock, Polly felt her teeth chatter together. ‘I...I just assumed it was Maxie—’
‘Don’t you have any sense? I could’ve been a rapist, or a robber, and I bet you’re alone in this apartment!’
Swallowing hard, Polly gave a jerky nod, her attention fully locked to him. He looked spectacular in a fabulous silver-grey suit, cut to enhance every sleek, muscular angle of his wide-shouldered, lean-hipped and long-legged frame. As her shaken gaze ran over him, her stomach flipped and her mouth ran dry. His magnetic dark good looks were like a visual assault on senses starved of him.
‘How...how did you find out where I was?’ Her bewilderment was unconcealed.
Raul’s wide mouth curled with impatience. ‘Once I had your phone number, it was a piece of cake to get the address. Why do you think I kept you on the line for so long?’
Since Polly hadn’t been conscious until the end of that call that anyone but her had been controlling anything, she gulped.
‘Angelos Petronides will answer to me for this,’ Raul breathed with sudden chilling conviction, lean, strong face forbidding.
‘Angelos... Maxie’s husband? You know him?’ Polly exclaimed in surprise.
‘Of course I know him, and he owns this building. Here you are on Petronides ground. I thought better of Angelos. I didn’t think he’d get involved in hiding my wife from me, but now that he has—’
‘No, he hasn’t!’ Polly protested vehemently. ‘I’ve never even met Maxie’s husband! I asked her to help me find somewhere to stay and she brought me here—said they needed someone to look after the place. Maxie’s certainly not aware that you know Angelos. And, as I asked her to be discreet, she’s only told Angelos that she has an old friend staying here for a while...’
As her voice faltered to a halt, she experienced the feeling that she had already lost Raul’s full attention. As his dark golden gaze roamed over her scantily clad figure, Polly suddenly became intensely conscious of the revealing nature of her nightgown, the delicate straps which exposed her bare shoulders, the sheer lace covering her breasts, the light, clinging fabric which outlined her once-again-slim hips and slender thighs for his appraisal.
As the silence which had seemed to come out of nowhere pulsed, Polly felt her breasts swell with languorous heaviness. Her nipples pinched tight, as if a current of fire had touched them. As she folded her arms over herself in mortified discomfiture, she snapped, ‘Has anybody ever told you that it’s very rude to stare?’
The silence lay still and impenetrable as glass.
And then Raul flung his darkly handsome head back and laughed with a rich spontaneity that shook Polly. Laughter put to flight his gravity, throwing his innate charisma to the fore. Her heart lurched. She tried to give him a reproving look, needing him to show her a mood she recognised and stay in it long enough for her to respond accordingly. But at that moment she was like a novice actress without a script and unable to improvise.
‘You’ve gone from voluptuously ripe and enticing to sinfully, sexily slender,’ Raul murmured with husky amusement. ‘And you think it’s rude that I should stare at my own wife?’
A deep flush lit Polly’s fair skin. She didn’t know where to look, but was pretty sure she was not going to look back at him while he was saying things like that Sinfully, sexily slender? Now she knew what Maxie had meant when she had criticised Raul for giving her conflicting messages. An impersonal and detached relationship had to have firm boundaries. Raul had been both impersonal and detached after their wedding, politely concerned that she should be comfortable and content, but nothing more. He had made no attempt to behave like a normal husband who had a relationship with the mother of his child.
And then Polly called herself an idiot. Here she was, wondering why Raul was behaving so strangely! But wouldn’t most men react differently to a woman standing around half-naked in front of them? Hot colour flooded her cheeks at that obvious explanation.
‘I’ll go and put something on and then we can talk,’ Polly muttered in a rush.
‘Let me see Luis first,’ Raul countered, moving closer to catch her hand and check her before she could move.
‘You’re not still annoyed with Maxie’s husband, are you?’ Polly asked anxiously as she took him down the corridor.
‘I have a certain tolerance for a man plunged unsuspecting into an embarrassing situation by his bride,’ Raul imparted wryly. ‘Angelos is Greek, traditional as they come. He’d come down on his wife like a ton of bricks if he realised that she’d been helping to hide my wife and child from me!’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘Only violence or abuse on my part would justify such interference between a man and his wife.’
Was that the third or the fourth time that Raul had referred to her as his wife in as many minutes? Polly thought abstractedly. After three weeks of telling herself that their marriage was a pathetic charade, it seemed so odd to have Raul referring to her in such terms.
‘Raul...I really needed some time and space to think,’ she murmured tautly.
Raul released her hand. ‘You’ve had months to think without me around.’
But their relationship had changed radically in recent weeks, Polly wanted to protest in frustration as she watched him fluidly cross the elegant guest room to where Luis lay in his cradle. Their marriage had been one of reckless haste, entered into without proper consideration or adequate discussion.
She hadn’t simply taken umbrage and run away; she had known that ultimately she would have to face Raul again and deal with the situation.
But in her distress and turmoil she had been in no fit state to confront a male who had a naturally domineering and powerful personality—and, worst of all, a male who h
ad everything to gain from putting pressure on her to still accompany him to Venezuela. She had known she had to have time to think away from Raul before she decided what to do next.
Raul sent her a cool, assessing glance. ‘I’ve known Digby all my life. What you heard was a private conversation with a friend. I imagine you and your friend Maxie have been less than charitable about me on at least one recent occasion...’
Unprepared for that embarrassingly accurate stab, Polly was betrayed by the burning wave of colour which swept up her throat.
‘Exactly,’ Raul purred with rich satisfaction, removing his attention from her to study his infant son, who was squirming into wakefulness. ‘Do you see me getting all worked up about a fact of life? Could you see me writing three vitriolic pages and vanishing into thin air on such slender proof of intent as the mood of a moment?’
‘No, but—’
‘There is no “but”,’ Raul broke in with derision. ‘Only women behave like that. Rod thought it might be the baby blues, or some such thing! I knew better.’
‘I was in the wrong...I should’ve confronted you,’ Polly conceded tightly, heart-shaped face fixed in a mutinous expression, revealing the struggle it was to voice those words of contrition.
‘Instead of throwing a tantrum on paper,’ Raul emphasised, subjecting her to a hard, steady appraisal. ‘Because I warn you now, I will never, ever allow you to be in a position again where you can use our son as a weapon against me.’
At that opportune moment, Luis mustered his lungs into a cross little cry for attention. Pale and tant now, in receipt of that menacing warning, Polly was grateful for the opportunity to turn away. But Raul reached his son first, sweeping him up with complete confidence. Smiling down at Luis, he talked to him in soft, soothing Spanish.
In the blink of an eye Raul had gone from that chilling threat to an unashamed display of tenderness with their son, Polly registered. That was the most intimidating thing to watch—the speed and ease with which he could switch emotional channels. Although there had been nothing emotional about his determination to tell her how he felt about her flight from the clinic. Cool, scornful, cutting.
‘I’ll get his bottle,’ Polly muttered.
She skidded down to the bedroom to pull on a fluttering silk wrap first. When she returned to the dimly lit bedroom, Raul rose from the armchair to let her take a seat. He settled Luis into her arms and then hunkered lithely down to watch his son greedily satisfy his hunger.
‘Dios mío! No wonder he’s grown so much!’
Polly cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘I want you to know that I would never use Luis as a weapon—’
‘You already have,’ Raul told her without hesitation, smoothing an astonishingly gentle hand over Luis’s little head before vaulting upright again. ‘In disputes between couples, the child is often a weapon. You should understand that as well as I do. When your parents’ marriage broke up, your father kept you and your mother apart. Why? He was punishing her for leaving him for another man.’
Polly was astonished that he should still recall that much information about her background. ‘I suppose he was,’ she conceded as she got up to change Luis.
‘Love turns to hatred so easily. It never lasts,’ Raul murmured with supreme cynicism.
‘It lasts for a lot of people,’ Polly argued abstractedly, down on her knees and busily engaged in dealing with her son’s needs. But she gathered courage from not being forced to meet Raul’s often unsettling gaze. ‘You know what I said on the phone earlier... about us not having to stay married?’
Having expected an immediate response to that reminder, Polly looked up in the resounding silence which followed.
Raul was staring back at her with penetrating and grim eyes. ‘I do.’
‘Look, why don’t you wait in the lounge while I settle Luis?’ Polly suggested uncomfortably.
A few minutes later, Luis was back in the cradle, snug and comfy and sleepy.
‘I love you, you precious baby,’ Polly whispered feelingly, not looking forward to the discussion she was about to open but convinced that Raul would be extremely relieved when she suggested that they have their marriage annulled.
As she entered the lounge, Raul swung round from the fireplace. ‘I don’t like this room. It’s claustrophobic with that conservatory built over the windows,’ he said with flat distaste. ‘It’s insane to close out such magnificent views!’
‘Maxie’s terrified of heights. That’s why it’s like that...’ Polly hovered awkwardly. ‘Raul—?’
‘I’m not giving you a divorce,’ Raul delivered before she could say another word.
Was he thinking angrily about the prospect of having to offer a divorce settlement? Did he imagine she was planning to make some greedy, gold-digging claim on his legendary wealth?
Polly reddened with annoyance at that suspicion. ‘We don’t need to go for a divorce. We can apply for an annulment and everything will be put right. It will be like this wretched marriage of ours never happened.’
Raul had gone very still, dark eyes narrowing into watchful and wary arrows of light in his dark, devastating face. ‘An annulment?’ he breathed, very low, that possibility evidently not having occurred to him.
‘Well, why not?’ Polly asked him tautly. ‘It’s the easiest way out.’
‘Let me get this straight...’ Raul spread two lean brown hands with silent fluency to express apparent astonishment ‘Just one short month ago you married me, and now, without living a single day with me, you have changed your mind?’
‘You’re making me sound really weird,’ Polly muttered in reproach. ‘I was wrong to let you marry me, knowing that you didn’t want that option. Now I’m admitting it—’
‘But too late...you’re admitting it too late,’ Raul declared.
‘But it’s not too late...’ Polly’s brow furrowed with confusion, because the discussion was not going in the direction she had expected. ‘It’s not as if we’ve lived together... or anything like that. Why are you looking at me like I’m crazy? You don’t want to be married to me.’
As he listened to that stumbling reminder, dark colour flared over Raul’s slashing cheekbones and his stunning dark eyes suddenly blazed gold. ‘But I have come to terms with the fact that I am married to you!’
‘I think we both deserve a bit more than that out of marriage,’ Polly opined in growing discomfiture. ‘We rushed into it—’
‘I didn’t rush,’ Raul interrupted. ‘I just wanted to get it over with!’
‘Yes, well...doesn’t it strike you that that isn’t a promising basis for any marriage?’ Polly framed carefully, alarmingly awake to the angry tension emanating from his tall, commanding figure. ‘I thought you’d be pleased at the idea of having your freedom back.’
‘Freedom is a state of mind. I now see no reason why marriage should make the slightest difference to my life,’ Raul returned with grating assurance.
Polly was momentarily silenced by that sweeping statement.
‘You’re my wife, and the mother of my son. I suggest you get used to those facts of life,’ Raul completed, studying her in angry, intimidating challenge.
A bemused look now sat on Polly’s face. Her lashes fluttered. The tip of her tongue crept out to nervously moisten the taut fullness of her lower lip. ‘I don’t understand...’
Hooded eyes of gleaming gold dropped to linger on the ripe pink contours of her mouth. ‘Sometimes you talk too much, gatita...’
‘What does that mean...that word you keep on using?’ Polly whispered, because the very atmosphere seemed to sizzle, warning her of the rise in tension. Suddenly she was finding it very difficult to breathe.
‘Gatita?’ Raul laughed as he closed the distance between them in one easy stride. ‘It means “kitten”. The shape of your face, those big blue eyes... you remind me of a little fluffy cat, cute and soft with unexpected claws.’
Having spent a lifetime fighting the downside of being smaller than most ot
her people, Polly was not best pleased to be linked with any image described by words like ‘little’, ‘fluffy’ or ‘cute’.
‘What do you think I am? Some kind of novelty?’ she demanded, fighting not to be intimidated by his proximity and towering height.
‘If I knew what it was that attracts me to you, the attraction probably would have died by now,’ Raul said cynically.
Polly stilled, feathery brows drawing together. ‘But you’re not attracted to me...’
Raul dealt her a rampantly amused appraisal. ‘I may have controlled my baser urges, but I’ve lost count of the times I almost succumbed to the temptation of hauling you into my arms in Vermont,’ he admitted frankly. “Then I believed your appeal was related to the simple fact that I knew you were carrying my child...’
‘Yes?’ Polly conceded breathlessly, with the aspect of a woman struggling to take a serious academic interest in a confession that had flung her brain into wild confusion. Her heart was now thumping like a manic hammer below her breastbone.
‘But now I’ve finally worked out what got us into this in the first place,’ Raul confided, and, without giving her a hint of his intentions, he lifted his hands and slowly tipped the wrap from her taut shoulders. ‘Subconsciously I picked you to be Luis’s mother because you appealed to my hormones... Once I’d reached that conclusion, suddenly everything that’s gone wrong between us started making sense!’
In her complete bemusement at that declaration, Polly was standing so still the garment simply slid down her arms and pooled on the carpet. ‘What...what?’ she began with a nervous start.
Bending, Raul closed his strong arms round her and almost casually swept her up off her feet.
‘What are you doing?’ Polly shrieked in sheer shock. Raul dealt her a slashing smile of unashamed satisfaction. ‘Husbands don’t need to control their baser urges.’
‘Put me down—’
But Raul silenced that angry command by bringing his hungry mouth crashing down on hers without further ado.
Polly saw stars. Stars inside her head, stars exploding like hot sunbursts in all sorts of embarrassing places inside her. It wasn’t like the only other kiss they had shared—a slow burner, cut off before it reached its height. Raul’s devouring demand had an instant urgency this time, intensifying her own shaken response. He probed her mouth with tiny little darting stabs of his tongue. The raw sexuality of that intimate assault was shockingly effective. It set up a chain reaction right through her whole body, filling her with a wild, wanton need for more.