Under the Spaniard's Lock and Key (15 page)

T
HE
doctor had been gone a few minutes when, after a tap, the door opened. Maggie, who had been nursing her anger while she waited, spun around with a wrathful glower.

The maid holding the tea tray looked as startled as Maggie felt. She forced herself to smile and said thank you as the girl nervously put the tray down on a console table and beat a hasty retreat.

It was five minutes later when Rafael walked through the door, by which time Maggie had eaten several of the delicious smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches from the tray to revive her flagging energy levels and silence her growling stomach.

‘How dare you go around telling people that I’m pregnant?’

‘Shall I be mother or you?’

‘Very funny.’

‘I am not laughing,’ he pointed out as he lowered his rangy frame onto a leather armchair.

A quick survey of his face through her lashes revealed that this was an accurate assessment; it was easy to read what he wasn’t. What he was was more of a challenge and one beyond her capabilities.

‘And I would not call one medic “people”—but as I was
asking him to examine you and make a diagnosis it seemed logical to give him all relevant medical information. And before you start accusing James of revealing confidential medical details, I can assure you the only information he imparted was that you are well.’

‘But you tried?’

He flashed her an incredulous look as he crossed one ankle over the other and gritted,
‘Dios,
you make me dizzy with your pacing. Sit before you fall down.’ Rafael had to dig deep into his reserves of self restraint to stop himself leaping to his feet and physically enforcing his suggestion.

To see the pallor of sheer exhaustion etched into her delicate bruised face was a torment; not to respond to it intensified the agony.

‘Of course I tried. It embarrassed me that I had to.’

Maggie winced as her sense of fair play kicked in hard. Shaking her hair back from her face, she lifted the stray strands that had crept down the neck of her top with her hand and flopped in an attitude of weary defeat into the chair opposite Rafael.

‘All right, let’s get this over with.’

‘You make it sound like pulling a tooth.’

A procedure, she reflected grimly, that generally involved a local anaesthetic. This offered no such luxury. She expelled a shaky breath and watched as he left his seat to pour tea from the pot.

‘Drink,’ he said, handing her a cup before retaking his seat.

Maggie winced as she took a sip. ‘I don’t take sugar.’

‘You look like you need it.’

‘You’re the one who will be in shock, not me.’

Rafael expelled a deep sigh and leaned forward, his hands planted on his knees.

‘Susan’s right—you are pregnant.’ It emerged as a statement and not a question.

Maggie exhaled. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said, wondering whether he would be able to hide his relief.

There was no relief because it soon became clear he didn’t believe a word she was saying. ‘She is hurt you didn’t feel able to tell her.’

‘Of course I’d feel able to tell her—if I was. I’m just not.’

‘She thought perhaps that you wanted to tell the baby’s father first?’

‘And you told her that was you…great, have you not been listening to me, Rafael? There is no baby!’

‘Your mother is sure—’

‘My mother has been sure that I’m pregnant ever since I got engaged to Simon.’

At the mention of the other man’s name Rafael tensed.

‘It was her worst fear. She never thought he was good for me—my entire family were relieved when we split up.’ The same family that, it appeared, had welcomed Rafael with open arms.

One of life’s little ironies.

Rafael’s anger and frustration at her denial escalated.

‘That won’t wash. She didn’t seem afraid to me—hurt because you hadn’t told her and concerned because you bottle things up—’

He stopped as a hissing sound escaped through Maggie’s clenched teeth.

‘What’s wrong?’

The question drew an incredulous laugh from Maggie. ‘Why would anything be wrong?’ she asked with bitter irony. ‘My family has been discussing my character flaws with a stranger who walked in off the street!’ she exploded.

‘Not walked, exactly—I drove there.’

‘Well, don’t think you got preferential treatment because they were impressed with your big car. My family are not like that.’

‘Yes, I did get that.’ Having been born with a name that had been opening doors for him all his life, he had found it a strange experience to have a door stay firmly closed—until he had said the magic word: Maggie. ‘I think they just liked me.’

‘That’s because she thought you were the father,’ Maggie returned gloomily.

The smile that briefly lightened the brooding intensity of Rafael’s expression had a definite hint of smugness. ‘So you finally admit it.’

‘No!’ Maggie flicked a glance at his dark lean patrician profile and thought, She took one look at you and decided you were the catch of the century.

‘I think Mum’s mindset is almost anyone is better than Simon.’

It was name that he was fast growing to hate. ‘If ever I need my ego deflated I will know where to come. This has nothing to do with…
Simon.
I am your first sexual relationship.’ His glance drifted to her lips.

‘But Mum doesn’t know that, unless you told her?’ Which was becoming a less ludicrous possibility by the second.

‘It was not a subject that came up.’

‘Well, thank God for that,’ she breathed, thankful for small mercies.

‘You are obviously very close. I assumed—’

‘Can we leave my sex life out of this!’ she cut in, not even making a pretence of being able to match his casual, almost careless attitude to that particular subject.

Meeting his eyes, she caught her breath and thought, Cancel careless. There was nothing that could be categorised careless in the glow reflected in those platinum depths.

‘I have never discussed my sex life with Mum.’

‘We will leave your sex life out of this, though I think it is very much part of it.’

He was struggling to be patient. He understood she was in denial, but her continued refusal to face up to facts was hard to take.

He had to make Maggie understand that he appreciated how she must be feeling and that he was going to be there for her—that she wasn’t alone.

‘I think Susan is a pragmatist. You are pregnant and, like any mother, she wants to know that you will be looked after.’

Maggie lifted her hands in a gesture of utter frustration.

‘And,’ he said, ignoring the interruption, ‘I reassured her on the subject.’

‘Oh, God!’ Maggie groaned, lifting her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. ‘I’m not pregnant!’

A hissing sound of anger escaped through his clenched teeth. ‘Will you stop pretending, Maggie? I saw the baby clothes.’

She watched in bemused silence as he got to his feet and stalked to the opposite end of the room with the grace of a restless caged panther. He was so damned gorgeous that even the sight of his broad back made her ache.

The swell of longing that tightened in her chest made it hard for Maggie to speak as she echoed.

‘“Baby clothes”?’

He spun back, dragging a hand over his dark hair as he pinned her with a lethal steely glare of disapproval. ‘Isn’t it about time you stopped this act?’

‘I’m not acting.’

Her response did not soften the grim severity of his expression. ‘In the bathroom, the boxes.’ He saw the realisation wash across her face and said, ‘Finally! Now can we start discussing this like two adults?’

Maggie covered her mouth with her hand. ‘You saw the clothes and thought…’ She stopped, exhaled a shaky sigh. ‘So that was why you left so suddenly?’ It was totally illogical of
her to feel hurt by the fact he had been so spooked that his first instinct had been to run.

The fact was he had come back, even though a baby was the last thing he wanted in his life, because despite his reputation Rafael was a thoroughly decent man, and with a strong sense of responsibility.

And because he was a decent man he would try to hide his relief when he realised the truth, she thought bleakly.

‘I’m not pregnant, Rafael. No!’ She held up her hand and said quickly, ‘Please, just hear me out.’ She paused, choosing her words with care, ashamed that for a split second she had wished there had been a baby and she would have an excuse to keep him in her life.

‘There were baby clothes in the boxes. A friend at work passed them on to me because she knew—’

‘That you are pregnant.’

‘No, she knew about the work I do at the shelter.’

His dark brows twitched into a frowning line above his hawkish nose. ‘“Shelter”?’ Was this yet another diversion?

‘When Simon was campaigning during the by-election he visited a shelter. It’s a place,’ she explained, ‘where women who are escaping abusive relationships go. They stay there while they get back on their feet. Some have children with them.’

Simon, happy with the results of the photo opportunity, had seen no reason to go back, privately confiding that he had found the entire experience depressing.

When asked if she felt the same way Maggie had admitted she had been shocked but not depressed; actually she had found her visit to the shelter, if anything, uplifting.

The people who worked there, she had explained to him, had been so tremendously dedicated, and the courage and resilience of many of the women who, despite all they had been
through, were looking forward to starting a new life inspirational.

Simon had been unable to understand her attitude and he had been less than happy when she had continued the association with the shelter, not on any formal basis, but she had become quite involved with fundraising.

‘Some of the women have children and babies.’

He leaned his broad shoulders against the wall and studied her face in silence for what felt like an eternity to Maggie.

‘This is true?’

She nodded.

‘And the clothes, they are for them?’

She nodded again.

‘How do you have time for this shelter? You work impossible hours and—’

‘So do you.’

‘That is not the same…’ He exhaled slowly and met her eyes. ‘So you are not pregnant,’ he said, not portraying any particular relief, but then maybe it was still sinking in.

‘No, so you can relax—you’re not going to be a father.’ It was difficult not to notice that he didn’t look relaxed.

Rafael passed a hand across his eyes and peeled himself away from the wall. His demeanour as he walked across the room toward her was not one she would have associated with a man who had just had a narrow escape.

As he got closer Maggie’s levels of nervous tension soared. There was something ominous about his body language and she began to talk, the words tripping over each other in her nervous haste to get them out.

‘I’m sorry you had all the worry and my mum made it worse. Some men would have walked away.’

He stopped a few feet from her. ‘I did.’ In shock or not it was a response that he would never forgive himself for. ‘I was a coward.’ He had not known how to tell her he loved her.

‘A bit harsh.’

He gave her a long level look. ‘Not harsh enough.’

The depth of self-condemnation in his voice made her blink.

‘You did come back and it’s all a happy ending. No baby, no wedding bells.’

Rafael continued to stare back at her, not looking like a man who was celebrating his lucky escape.

Maggie’s control snapped. She didn’t need this. It was tough enough putting a cheerful face on the fact that there was nothing beyond a physical attraction which by his own estimation only had a short time to run before it fizzled out—at least on his part—to keep them together.

Rafael was going to walk away some time soon and this time he wouldn’t come back, and he was standing there acting as if it were his life that had just fallen apart.

‘It doesn’t change anything.’

Maggie was startled by this incomprehensible interpretation of the situation.

‘It changes everything, Rafael. You came here to ask me to be your mistress, not your wife.’

His upper lip curled in an expression of contempt and he reviewed his behaviour. He took her chin in his fingers and with his free hand brushed the strands of dark hair from her face. The tenderness in the action brought a rush of tears to her eyes. ‘I spent a long time trying to work out why I came here, but last night I realised it is not complicated.’

‘It isn’t?’ Maggie whispered. The tender glow in his magnificent eyes was sending all sorts of messages that she didn’t dare believe.

‘The answer is just as simple as when you asked me earlier did I have to kiss you.’ A distracted expression appeared in his smoky eyes as his thumb moved along the curve of her soft lush lips. ‘I
had
to come to you.’

The throaty admission was good, but suddenly Maggie wanted more—she dared to think that there was more. ‘Why?’

‘I do not function without you in my life. It was a shock to learn you were pregnant, or I thought you were,’ he corrected, flashing her a bitter grin.

‘Look, you were allowed to be unhappy. No man wants to be saddled with a baby from a casual fling.’

‘Is that what we were?’

Her eyes fell, she swallowed…was it possible…? She could not let herself believe. She felt his hands on her shoulders and lifted her face to his. The incandescent glow in his eyes made her gasp.

‘It was never a simple fling for me, Maggie,’ he said quietly. ‘I told myself it was but that was just a front because I didn’t have the guts to admit the truth.’ He shook his head in disgust.

‘And what is that?’

‘The truth is I stopped refusing to admit the truth about us. And, for the record, once the initial shock wore off I was delighted about the baby, and not just because it bound you to me.’

Maggie shook her spinning head, unable to take in what he was saying. ‘What are you saying? You want me to be your mistress?’

‘Mistress?’ He took her face between his hands and gazed down into her eyes with an expression that brought tears of emotion to them. ‘No! I want you to be my wife.’