spun round on her heels and made for the door, but before she could reach it she felt his fingers on her arm and he whipped her back round to face him.
‘You’re not going to walk out on this conversation!’
‘I don’t want to carry on talking about this. It’s upsetting me.’
Raoul shot her a look of pure disbelief. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this! I ask you to marry me and you’re acting as though I’ve insulted you!’
‘You want me to be grateful, Raoul, and I’m not. When I used to dream of being married it was never about getting a grudging proposal from a man who has an agenda and no way out!’
‘This is ridiculous. You’re blowing everything out of proportion. Oliver needs a family and we’re good together.’ But Raoul couldn’t deny that the idea of her running around with other men had, at least in part, generated his urgent decision. Did that turn him into a control freak? No!
‘In other words, all things taken into account, why not? Is that how it works for you, Raoul?’ She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. His hand was a band of rigid steel on her arm, even though he actually wasn’t grasping her very hard at all.
Silence pooled around them until Sarah could feel herself beginning to perspire with tension. Why was it such a struggle to do what she knew was the right thing? Why was it so hard to keep her defences in place? Hadn’t she learnt anything at all? Didn’t she deserve more than to be someone’s convenient wife, even though she happened to be in love with that someone? What sort of happy future could there be for two people welded together for the wrong reason?
‘Look, I know that the ideal situation is for a child to have both parents at home, but it would be wrong for us to sacrifice our lives for Oliver’s sake.’
‘Why do you have to use such emotive language?’ He released her to rake an impatient hand through his hair. ‘I’m not looking at it as a sacrifice.’
‘Well, how are you looking at it?’
‘Haven’t we got along for the past few weeks?’ He answered her question with a question, which wasn’t exactly an informative response.
‘Yes, of course we have …’ Too well, as far as Sarah was concerned. So well, in fact, that it had been dangerously easy to fall in love with him all over again—for which foolishness she was now paying a steep price. A marriage of convenience would have been much more acceptable were emotions not involved. Then she could have seen it as a business transaction which benefited all parties concerned.
‘And I know you don’t like hearing this particular truth,’ Raoul continued bluntly, ‘but we get along in other ways as well …’
‘Why does it always come down to sex for you?’ Sarah muttered, folding her arms. ‘Is it because you think that’s my weakness?’
‘Isn’t it?’
Suddenly he was suffocatingly close to her. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in his heady, masculine scent. Unable to look him in the face, she let her eyes drift to the only slightly less alarming aspect of his broad chest. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and she could glimpse the fine dark hair that shadowed his torso.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Raoul murmured in a velvety voice that brought her out in goosebumps. ‘In fact, I like it. So we get married, Oliver has a stable home life, and we get to enjoy each other. No more having to torture yourself with pointless Should we? Shouldn’t we? questions … no more wringing of hands … no more big speeches about keeping our hands off one another while you carry on looking at me with those hot little eyes of yours …’
Although he hadn’t laid a finger on her, Sarah felt as though he had—because her body was on fire just listening to the rise and fall of his seductive words.
‘I don’t look at you … that way …’
‘You know you do. And it’s mutual. Every time I leave you I head home for a cold shower.’ He tilted her mutinous head so that she was looking up at him. ‘Let’s make this legal, Sarah …’
The sound of Oliver calling them from downstairs snapped Sarah out of her trance and she took a shaky step back.
‘I can’t drag you kicking and screaming down the aisle,’ Raoul said softly as she turned to head down the stairs. Sarah stilled and half looked over her shoulder. ‘But think about what I’ve said and think about the consequences if you decide to say no.’
‘Is there some sort of threat behind what you’re saying, Raoul?’
‘I have never used threats in my dealings with other people. I’ve never had to. Instead of rushing in and seeing everything insofar as it pertains to you, try looking at the bigger picture and seeing things insofar as they pertain to everyone else.’
‘You’re telling me that I’m selfish?’
‘If the cap fits …’
‘I’m just not as cynical as you, Raoul. That doesn’t make me selfish.’
Raoul was stumped by this piece of incomprehensible feminine logic, and he shook his head in pure frustration. ‘What’s cynical about wanting what’s best for our child? You need to think about my proposition, Sarah. Now, Oliver’s getting restless, but just bear in mind that if I am not impressed by the thought of some guy moving in with you and taking over my role, how would you feel when some woman moves in with me and takes over your role …?’
Leaving her with that ringing in her head was the equivalent of a threat, as far as Sarah was concerned. Furthermore, for the rest of the day he treated her with a level of formality that set her at an uncomfortable distance, and she wondered whether this was his way of showing her, without having to spell it out, what life would be like should they go their separate ways, only meeting up for the sake of their child.
She resented the way he could so effectively narrow everything down in terms that were starkly black and white. Oliver needed both parents at home. They got along. There was still that defiant tug of sexual chemistry there between them. Solution? Get married. Because she had rejected his original offer: Become lovers until boredom sets in. Marriage, for Raoul, would sort out the thorny problem of another man surfacing in her life, and also satisfy his physical needs. It made such perfect sense to him that any objection on her part could only be interpreted as selfishness.
Ridiculous!
But, whether he had intended it that way or not, his point was driven home over the next few days, during which he came at appointed and prearranged times so that he could take Oliver out. He had asked her advice and laughed when she had told him that any restaurant with starched white linen tablecloths and fussy waiters should be avoided at all costs, but there was a patina of politeness he now exuded which Sarah found horribly unnerving.
Of course she wondered whether she was imagining it. His marriage proposal was still whirring around in her head. Had that made her hyper-sensitive to nuances in his demeanour?
She had tried twice to raise the topic, to explain her point of view in a way that didn’t end up making her feel as if she was somehow letting the side down, but in both instances his response had been to repeat that she had to think it through very
