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She broke off in shock as he shook his head firmly, the raven-black strands of his hair falling forward over his forehead. How was it possible that, wearing almost exactly the same outfit as she was dressed in—except that he had on a crisp, short-sleeved linen shirt instead of the tee-shirt she wore—he managed to look cool and even elegant when she felt like something the cat had dragged in, her hair already beginning to frizz in the muggy heat of the day.
‘I’m not leaving until I know you’re all right.’
Whether he knew it or not, that was a stab at the weakest point in her mental armour. Never had she felt so alone as she had this morning, the time when she should have been facing, if not the happiest day of her life, then at least the moment when so many of her worries would start to be resolved. She should have been the centre of attention, surrounded by family and friends. Instead, she found herself isolated, with no one to support her. Her father had locked himself in his room—with a large bottle of some spirit, she assumed—and Ciara was heaven knew where, with Adnan.
So, it was a bitter irony that Raoul, of all people, was the only person here offering her a shoulder to lean on.
‘I take it you haven’t heard from Adnan?’
‘What do you expect?’
She turned to make herself walk down the path that led to Blacklands and was shocked to find that Raoul followed her, silently and closely.
‘I can make my own way home!’ she flashed at him, but was disconcerted to be met with the sort of disarming smile that sizzled all the way from her head to her toes inside the well-worn sandals she’d slipped on with as little care as she’d chosen the rest of her outfit that morning.
‘I know you can. But, as I have to go that way myself, we might as well walk together.’
Then, just as she was cursing him for taking away her defensive argument, he knocked the ground right from under her feet by adding, ‘Have you managed to get in touch with all your guests? I know you’ve been on the phone almost all morning.’
‘Not everyone,’ Imogen admitted, shuddering faintly inside at the thought of him observing her as she went through the painful process of phoning everyone on the guest list. ‘Some had already started out and couldn’t be contacted. I’ll have to explain when they arrive.’
‘Then wouldn’t it be easier to have someone with you when that happens?’
Easier to have someone, yes—but not the man who had caused all this!
She had to pull herself up with the realisation that she couldn’t dump all the blame on Raoul. If she had not gone to Raoul’s room to try to talk to him then this wouldn’t be happening… But had he really come to Blacklands solely to discuss the stud deal with her father—a deal that her father couldn’t possibly have gone along with? Or had he had other plans, as she’d feared? Was this whole situation just bad luck—or was she being manipulated all the way along by Raoul?
She was going to ignore him, she resolved. She would pretend he wasn’t there and maybe he would pack his bags and disappear. It took only seconds to realise that, without seeming to make any extra effort, he was keeping up with her perfectly easily, his long stride covering the ground at twice the pace of her own.
‘What are you going to tell them?’ he enquired now.
‘That the wedding’s been called off. Is there anything else I could say?’
‘And are you going to stick to that unexpected new habit of yours of telling the truth?’
‘What’s new about it?’
She caught his indifferent shrug as he came close again. In spite of the muggy heat of the day, she felt a sudden shiver, as if the sun had just gone behind a cloud as blue eyes clashed with bronze.
‘You obviously hadn’t told Adnan—or your father—about us before I turned up.’
‘There was no “us”, not when I got home, so it was totally irrelevant.’
‘Not if you were getting married.’
‘So have you told anyone about me?’
‘No—no one except Rosalie, but then she knew at the time.’
It had been Rosalie who had revealed to her just how much Raoul had been keeping back from her.
