came towards her, repelling her words with a dismissive arm gesture and an expression to match.
‘You don’t know that.’ His voice was hard, uncompromising, as his eyes bore down on her. ‘There have been major advances in IVF procedures even in the past couple of years. I’m sure we have every chance...’
‘I’m not talking about IVF procedures.’ Throwing back her head, Lottie confronted the full force of his gaze. ‘I’m talking about us—me and you as a couple. I’m saying that we would never work.’ The hostility in her voice was there to mask the knot of pain of their failed marriage that sat deep in her stomach, refusing ever to go away.
‘Perhaps I am not making myself clear.’ Rafael gave her a look of pure disgust, turning his back on her, then swinging round again with eyes that pierced the gloom. ‘I’m not asking for any sort of reconciliation. I am asking you solely to be the mother of my child. Nothing more.’
Nothing more? Despite the darkly oppressive atmosphere it was almost laughable, the way he described it—as if he were asking her to redesign his kitchen or landscape his garden. Except that it didn’t make her feel like laughing. More like crying.
‘What I am trying to say is that I will expect nothing else of you.’ Relentlessly, Rafael pushed on. ‘I know that that side of our marriage is over. Rest assured I will not be making any...’ he paused, firing a look of icy contempt at Lottie ‘...any demands of you.’ Distaste soured his mouth, contorted his handsome features. ‘You have my word on that.’
Lottie felt something die inside her. She knew it was true, of course, that sexually she was of no interest to him any more. That side of their relationship had floundered after Seraphina had died, bashed against the rocks of invasive fertility treatments and crushing disappointment. But still, hearing him say the words stretched the sadness inside her until she thought she might snap in two, fold over with misery.
But she had to accept it. Rafael had coachloads of women only too happy to cater to his needs now. Flashes of those internet pictures rose, unbidden, in her mind—the dazzling white teeth and pertly sculptured breasts.
She looked down at herself, at the faded skinny jeans she had worn to travel in and her favourite well-worn ankle boots, then switched her gaze to Rafael. There he stood, ramrod-straight before her, that aura of intense concentration almost shimmering around his dark form. The sombre suit was so beautifully cut that you weren’t really aware of it—just of the way his body looked in it: powerful, immaculate, sexy. He epitomised everything that she wasn’t, and being back at the Palazzo Monterrato only emphasised that fact.
Gathering together the last shreds of her composure, she raised her chin defiantly. ‘Thank you for explaining that, Rafael.’ Her voice sounded shrill, uneven, like an incompetent schoolteacher trying to keep control of a class. ‘Though you really didn’t need to point it out. When I said it would never work between us I meant in terms of the practicalities of our relationship.’ On firmer ground now, she pressed on determinedly. ‘Even supposing I ever did manage to get pregnant, how could we possibly raise a child together? We don’t even...’ She paused. There were so many don’t evens that she didn’t know which one to pick. ‘We don’t even live in the same country.’
With the silent step of a panther stalking its prey Rafael closed the space between them, and Lottie suddenly found herself staring at the broad sweep of his chest.
‘Practicalities can always be sorted out.’
As he spoke over the top of her head Lottie realised too late that she had chosen a foolish argument. Rafael was the supreme master of being practical, sorting things out. As Conte di Monterrato that was what he did on a daily basis—oversaw the running of the principality, planned for its future, solved the problems. And that was exactly what he was doing now.
So close to him now, Lottie breathed in his familiar scent—the faint tang of cologne mixed with soap and something else, something indefinably, yearningly Rafael. She could almost feel the intensity that emanated from him, rolling her way, threatening to engulf her.
‘I don’t want you to think for one minute that I am underestimating the enormity of what I am asking of you.’ His voice was very low, earnest. ‘But at the same time...’ his eyes ruthlessly scanned her face ‘...I don’t believe it is an entirely selfish request. I know what being a mother would mean to you.’
Lottie gulped back the lump in her throat, her eyes widening at his startling assumption. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I saw you, Lottie.’ His pause shimmered with raw emotion. ‘I saw the look of euphoria on your face when we found out that you were pregnant—saw the way your maternal instinct kicked in, stronger than any other bond. And then...’ He carried on, even though he looked as if he was hurting inside. ‘I saw the way you held our daughter in your arms.’
‘No. Stop!’ This was more than Lottie could bear and her hands flew to cover her ears.
‘Admit it, Lottie. It was never me that you wanted, was it?’ Relentlessly he surged on. ‘It was the baby. The baby was the only thing that mattered. The only reason you ever agreed to marry me. And our marriage was nothing more than a sham. Your final brutal declaration—everything about your behaviour, in fact—points to that one undeniable truth.’
‘I won’t listen to this any more!’ Turning away, Lottie stumbled towards the door, but he was still there—following her, beside her.
‘You can still have that dream, Lottie. Even though our marriage may be over in all but name we can still be parents—you can still be that mother.’
‘I have no idea why you are saying this.’ Blinking back the emotion that was stinging her eyes, Lottie rounded on him, drawing on every last bit of strength she possessed. ‘I can only assume you are confusing this with what you want, not me.’
‘Maybe I thought that too at first.’ Rafael positioned himself in front of the door, his towering shape blocking Lottie’s exit. ‘Until I saw the look on your face just now. I’m right, aren’t I? You want a baby every bit as much as I do.’
‘No, you are not right.’ Futilely trying to move him out of the way, Lottie grabbed hold of the door handle and tugged at it forcefully.
The door opened two inches before it slammed against Rafael.
‘Be careful what you decide, Lottie.’ He looked down at her calmly, totally ignoring the door battering against his heels as she continued to tug at it. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let your contempt for me influence your decision—get in the way of your own happiness.’
Finally he moved to one side and the door flew open, sending Lottie teetering off balance.
‘That would never do.’
* * *
Kicking off her boots, Lottie threw herself down on to the four-poster bed and stared at the tapestry drapes above her, her breath heaving unsteadily in her chest, tears now threatening to spill. How could he do this to her? Taunt her with her failed attempt at motherhood using the preciously painful memories of Seraphina. It was simply cruel.
But that was Rafael. She knew he would stop at nothing to achieve his goal—use anything at his disposal to get what he wanted. Even if it meant tearing open her heart in the process.
Like a double-edged sword, the pain cut both ways,
