her fiercest maternal instincts; and for the sake of her child she was prepared to suffer indignities she would never have tolerated merely for her own gain. Jamie was Ruy’s son, he had every right to be here at the Palacio, but one thing was going to be made quite clear to both Ruy and his family.
‘Jamie is your child, Ruy,’ she told him calmly. ‘Oh, I know why you would prefer not to believe it. I’m surprised you haven’t already had our marriage set aside. Had you done so and married Carmelita, she might have had a son of your own to displace Jamie, and then none of this would have been necessary.’
His harsh laughter jarred, shocking her into immobility. ‘Nothing is quite that easy. Jamie would still have been my heir, whether he is my child or not, simply because he bears my name…’
‘And knowing that Carmelita refused to marry you?’
She didn’t know what prompted her to goad him like that; perhaps it was the nagging ache deep down inside her, a wound which refused to heal; the memory of how she had felt when she first discovered that Ruy did not love her and was merely using her instead to be revenged upon the woman whom he did love.
‘Carmelita had no place in her life for a platonic relationship with a man,’ he told her cruelly, ‘and since I can no longer give her what she desires, she has found it elsewhere.’
‘Carmelita has recently married and gone back to Argentina, with her new husband,’ Sebastian interrupted, and as he said the words, Davina felt the full picture falling into place. Ruy’s mother had always wanted him to marry Carmelita, but now, knowing that her plans must come to nothing, she had decided to fall back on what was left to her… Jamie. Only he would never be allowed to become cold and uncaring like his father, Davina told herself. He would not be brought up to think himself lord of all that he surveyed, to walk roughshod over anything and anyone who stood in his way, to ruthlessly and remorselessly crush underfoot the dreams and hopes of others… as Ruy had crushed hers.
‘It has been a long day, and Jamie is tired,’ she told her mother-in-law. ‘If someone could show us to our rooms…’
‘Motherhood has taught you courage, little white dove,’ Ruy mocked. ‘So cool and brave. I wonder how deep it is, that cool façade…’
‘Just as deep as it needs to be to protect my son,’ Davina told him with a calm she was far from feeling. How long could she endure the sort of mental and verbal torment he was handing out and not crack under it? Hard on the heels of the thought came the comforting knowledge that she was unlikely to see much of him. He was, after all, hardly likely to seek her out…
‘So you intend to stay?’ The hooded eyes watching her were unreadable, but guessing that he had hoped to frighten her into running away, for a second time, Davina lifted her chin proudly to stare back at him. ‘For Jamie’s sake—yes. Personally I wouldn’t touch so much as a peseta of your money, Ruy, but Jamie is your son and…’
‘And you have no objection to touching what will one day be his?’ her husband mocked savagely.
At her side Davina’s hands turned into minute angry fists. That hadn’t been what she had been going to say at all. She had been about to explain to him that Jamie had been ill, that he needed building up, despite his robust appearance, and that for her child’s sake she was willing to endure the torment and insult of knowing herself unwanted in this house.
‘Which rooms…’ she began, ignoring Ruy and turning to his mother, but Ruy forestalled her, his face cruel and malevolent as he too turned towards the older woman, anticipating Davina’s question. ‘Yes, Madre, which rooms have you given my delightful wife and child? The bridal suite, which we occupied before?’ He shook his head and the sneer was clearly visible now. ‘I think not. This wheelchair might be able to perform miracles, as Dr Gonzales tells me, but it still cannot climb stairs.’
Davina wasn’t the only one to gasp. Even the Condesa seemed to go a little paler, her mouth nearly as grim as her son’s as she addressed him.
‘What nonsense is this, Ruy? Jamie and Davina will have a suite of rooms to themselves.’
‘They will share mine,’ Ruy corrected softly. ‘I will not have the servants gossiping about my wife who leaves me and then returns only when I can no longer act the part of her husband. Well?’ he demanded, turning to Davina. ‘Have you nothing to say, no protests to make? Are you not going to tell me that you will return to England rather than suffer the indignity of sharing a room—a bed—with a crippled wreck?’
Davina knew then what he was trying to do—that he was attempting to frighten her into leaving, and how close he had come to succeeding. The mere thought of sharing a room with him, of suffering the intimacies such proximity would bring, had started her stomach churning protestingly. He might not be able to act the part of a husband, as he put it, but he was still a man—the man she had loved, and although her love had died her memories had not.
‘You won’t drive me away, Ruy,’ she told him quietly. ‘No matter what you do, I intend to stay, for Jamie’s sake.’
A servant had to be summoned and instructed to prepare a room for Jamie. Davina could feel the girl watching her as Ruy spoke to her, and although she could not quite catch what was being said, her skin prickled warningly. When she had gone Sebastian and Rosita excused themselves, and as Rosita hurried past her, Davina thought she glimpsed compassionate pity in the other girl’s eyes.
‘My poor timid sister-in-law,’ Ruy mocked, correctly interpreting Rosita’s look. ‘She sincerely pities you, but you have nothing to fear—unless it is the acid tongue of a man who has drunk ambrosia only to find it turning to acid gall on his lips.’
‘Acid burns,’ Davina reminded him coolly. Her heart was thumping with heavy fear, and she longed to retract her statement that she intended to stay. Jamie, who had returned to her side, clutching at her for support, suddenly abandoned her to walk across to Ruy for a second time, eyeing him uncertainly.
‘I have a pushchair too,’ he told Ruy conversationally, while Davina listened with her heart in her mouth. ‘Mummy pushes me in it when I get tired. Who pushes you?’
‘I can push myself,’ Ruy told him curtly, but nevertheless, and much to her surprise, Davina saw him demonstrate to Jamie exactly how he could manoeuvre the chair. Something in her mother-in-law’s stance caught her attention, and as she glanced across at her the other woman looked away, but not before Davina had seen the sheen of tears in her eyes.
How would she feel if that was her child confined to that chair? The sudden clenching fear of her heart gave her the answer, and for the first time she began to feel pity for the older woman. It was a dangerous thing she had done, summoning them here, and one which could alienate her completely from Ruy. She glanced across at him, her breath constricting in her throat as she saw the two dark heads so close together. Ruy had lifted Jamie on to his lap and the little boy was solemnly examining the controls of the chair.
‘He is Ruy’s mirror image,’ the Condesa said quietly. All at once she looked very old, and Davina had to force herself to remember how coldly this woman had received her in this very room when Ruy had brought her here as his new bride. The trouble was that she had not been prepared for the hostility that greeted her. But then she had not been prepared for anything, least of all falling in love with Ruy. It had all happened so quickly—too quickly, she thought soberly. She had fallen in love with Ruy without knowing him. He had married her for… For what? Revenge? For punishment? She shuddered suddenly, reflecting on the harshness of a nature which could enable a man to turn his back on the woman he loved and put another
