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He’d had to bite his tongue to keep from grinding out the harsh admonishment to her silly girlish dreams. Love? She wanted love? The hyped-up emotion could rip your soul apart if you indulged in it.
What Chloe didn’t understand was that it wasn’t just her he could not love. It was anyone. He refused to let anything close to that crippling emotion take hold of him. Not since he’d been six years old and watched it completely destroy his father.
The bathroom door opened and Andrés turned to watch Chloe step out, looking all too frail wearing a silk robe, belted around her tiny waist. Noting the ashen color of her skin and slow walk, his frown grew.
“You should be in bed,” he said gruffly, striding forward to sweep her up into his arms.
“Andrés, please, I’m fine,” she protested weakly, clutching his chest. “I don’t want to go back to bed.”
She didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened this morning. She didn’t need to speak the words for him to hear them. Irritation slid through him, but he changed directions and brought her to one of the leather chairs near the fireplace, setting her down gently.
Lifting the phone on the table beside her, he called down to the kitchen and ordered them breakfast.
“I won’t be able to eat,” she said softly, one hand pressed against her belly.
“You don’t have to. But it will be there if you change your mind.” He moved to the chair a few feet away from her and sat down. “I also ordered tea.”
She nodded and then lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”
He gave a light shrug. “It was hardly a bother. I’m hungry as well.”
“No, I mean, for helping me when I was sick.” Her cheeks filled with color and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry that you had to see me…”
“Do you think I’m some kind of animal?” he asked harshly. “You have no need to apologize to me. You’re carrying my child.”
When she flinched, he cursed himself silently for losing his temper. He wasn’t mad at her, but himself.
With a sigh, he softened the scowl on his face and stood, lifting her from the chair and then sitting down again so that she rested on his lap. “Forgive me, cariño.” He cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I simply hate that you are ill and I can do nothing about it. Please know I want to help in any way that I can.”
She swallowed visibly and there were conflicting emotions in her eyes; hesitation, confusion, and the tinge of hope.
Then, mimicking his own movements, she cupped his face with her hands and whispered, “What happened to you as a child?”
Tension coiled through his body and he didn’t breathe for a moment. How the hell had she known about his childhood?
“It’s just…I want to understand you, Andrés.” She licked her lips and stared at him anxiously. “And in the limo in Seattle, you mentioned something about your childhood being…unpleasant.”
Hell. It’d been hell. How could he have forgotten he’d let that slip? He kept his expression unreadable and said, “Don’t waste your time or energy trying to understand me. I won’t change.”
When she tried to pull free, he tightened his arm around her. Finally she lowered her lashes, but not before he’d seen the disappointment in her eyes. He was more than used to it by now though. Chloe wasn’t the first woman who’d thought she could fix him.
Even though he knew he could never love her, he didn’t like the idea of her not being around; of not feeling the same passion and need for him he had for her. She would remain in Spain at least until the baby was born, but then he would keep his promise and allow her to leave if she wanted.
The possibility that she would leave without her child was small, and he was counting on that keeping her here. But it still left a knot of unease in his stomach, knowing that she wanted to go. That still she rejected his offer for marriage.
Marriage had never seemed like anything more than a trap. But now, with a child he’d sworn he’d never have on the way, he was beginning to realize just how much he wanted Chloe as his wife, to have his child born in wedlock and have a mother.
Stroking his hand through her hair, he made a vow to himself. Over the next few months he would seduce not just Chloe’s body, but her heart as well. Make her care for him, work on creating a relationship, even if it wasn’t love.
A sharp knock came at the door, and he called for whoever it was to enter. Chloe pulled again to move off his lap. This time, he let her go.
It hurt that even after this morning their relationship couldn’t seem to move forward. If anything, this conversation had moved them back a step. His gaze had hardened and he’d completely shut himself down when she’d probed into his background. How were they ever going to make this work if he kept himself a distant, ruthless stranger to her?
Once Andrés’ employee had delivered the food and left, she moved toward the tray, needing some kind of distraction. She reached for the pot of tea and went to pour some into the delicate china cup, but her movements were sloppy and rushed, and the amber fluid sloshed out of the cup and splashed against her wrist.
She gasped, nearly dropping the pot. Andrés was beside her in an instant, taking the pot from her and setting it back down.
“Cristo, Chloe, you must be more careful.” He caught her wrist and lifted it toward the light, peering down at her scalded flesh.
“As if I did it on purpose.” Tears blurred her vision again, caused this time by pain and frustration. She just wanted to scream and sob. She wanted to kick something and throw a tantrum like a toddler. She was ridiculously emotional and didn’t even know what to do with herself. And she only blamed half of it on pregnancy hormones.
“Let me get some ice, cariño,” Andrés voice gentled, as if he regretted his loss of temper. He scooped up some ice from the silver bowl that held soft cheese, wrapping the chunks of ice in a linen napkin and then placing it against her wrist. “Hopefully it will not blister,” he murmured. His gaze rose to meet hers, the expression in his eyes as gentle as his touch. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, but the unsteadiness of her voice belied her response.
Andrés pressed a hand against her back and ushered her to the chair once more. “Sit. I will bring you tea and breakfast.”
This time Chloe didn’t protest, mostly because she didn’t have the energy to. While Andrés might shut her out from anything personal, there was almost something sweet about the way he rushed to help her. Seemed determined to take care of her. Whether it was after she dumped scalding tea on herself, or while she was experiencing morning sickness.
A few minutes later, he set a cup of tea on the table next to her and then handed her a small plate of food. Despite her protests of not being able to eat with the morning sickness, her stomach growled anyway. Perhaps she would see if she could get down at least a few bites.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her mouth curving into a slight smile as she glanced at her plate.
She’d been gone from Spain for a couple of months, but time faded when she lifted the churro and took a bite. Her taste buds danced with recognition of the fried dough rolled in cinnamon and sugar. She chewed slowly, relaxing more. She made no attempt to stop her moan of pleasure.
“It is good, I take it?” Andrés drawled with amusement.
“Yes. Quite good.” She licked the sugar off her thumb and gave a small smile. “I’d forgotten how much I love these.”
In Seattle she would usually eat a yogurt or eggs nearly every morning for breakfast, determined to have some protein to start the day. But during the summer, while she’d worked at Andrés’s resort, she’d thrown herself into the country’s culture. Eating a small breakfast of a churro or pastry, perhaps toast with jam, but saving up for the large meal that was custom to eat at lunch.
Which, perhaps, would work quite nicely now that her stomach protested too much food in the morning. She took another bite of churro, surprised to find that she was holding down her food rather well.
Andrés had dished up his own small plate of food and was about to sit down when he paused in front of her. “You have a bit of sugar,” he murmured softly and reached out to trace his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Right there.”
Chloe almost dropped her churro. Tingles of awareness rushed through her at his touch, especially with the memory of their lovemaking still fresh in her mind.
His gaze was light and teasing. He dipped his head and his mouth hovered just above hers. “And right here, I believe.” His lips brushed hers, then his tongue flicked out over her bottom lip, catching the tiny granules of sugar.
It was only when he lifted his head did she remember to breathe again. She dragged in an unsteady breath, her pulse racing once more and every nerve in her body on high alert from his brief kiss. “Thank you,” she said huskily.
