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‘No one?’
His breath hissed in between his teeth and he seemed to come back to himself as if from a long way away.
‘But we should have used contraception. And we were damned stupid not to.’
If there was any reason why she could never, ever risk telling him about the child they’d created, the baby she’d lost, then it was there, stamped on his face, dark, brutal and like a mask. The thought that they might have created a child appalled him, horrified him. He would do anything to avoid the possibility.
She couldn’t tell him, and she had to reassure him now. She also had to protect herself. It would destroy her to let him express so openly how much he hated the idea of fathering a child with her.
‘That…that…will be fine.’
‘No repercussions?’ It was a lash of a demand, making her skin shiver where the words seemed to land.
‘None.’
‘Dieu, merci.’
If Imogen had had any tiny trace of hope left then it evaporated at that fervent murmur. The whole atmosphere of passion and hunger that had filled the room only moments before dissolved and vanished, leaving her feeling as flat and limp as the remnant of the sheet that was hanging from her bed. Unable to speak another word, she dragged herself towards her clothing lying on the floor, stooping to pick it up, and then just stood there, tee-shirt and jeans in her hands, unable to do anything more. She couldn’t do as he had done and pull on clothes, as if declaring this time was finished. Over and done with.
She knew that was how it should be. There was nothing left between them. The inferno of passion that had consumed them had burned itself out, and what was there to put in its place?
Nothing, Imogen admitted as she watched Raoul’s hands go to his shirt to tuck it in at his waist, bringing the belt tight and buckling it with firm, decisive movements. What she might have thought of—dreamed of—as being a new beginning was in fact the end. One final, last sensual fling. A moment of self-indulgence on his part, a wish for oblivion on hers.
But the bill always came in the end.
She had hoped for that insensibility until the morning, one night at least with Raoul by her side, his arms around her, keeping everything that assailed her at bay for just these few hours. Instead, the brief, bittersweet moments of passion were all she’d had; and the reality she woke up to now was worse than ever before. She had loved Raoul, but he had tossed her aside and walked away from her. She had fought hard to win herself a sort of peace, an acceptance, even after the loss of her baby, and she had thought she’d reached it. She had even let herself think of marriage to Adnan, imagining the brutal wounds Raoul had inflicted had started to heal.
But in just a few days—not even a week—his reappearance and all that followed from it had ripped away the flimsy sticking plaster that she had put over those wounds, opening up the barely closed scars. She was right back where she had started—but this time it was worse. This time she knew the rescue package she and Adnan had offered each other had been blasted to smithereens with no hope of repair. She’d ruined Adnan’s life and her own in one blow. Her father’s future held only bankruptcy, repossession of the stud, and he would probably now face the bottom of far too many bottles to count.
It would mean she would lose the only home she’d ever known, her dream of having her family live here, with Ciara finding a base here too, in ashes. All the beautiful horses would be taken in payment of their debts and sent heaven alone knew where. But, worst of all, she would have to face that bleak and empty future knowing she had never truly managed to recover from the love she had felt for Raoul. She still loved him, would probably love him until the day she died, while he had only wanted her to sate the sexual passion he had felt, and she had been weak enough to give into it.
Now it seemed he had had what he’d wanted and, thankful that there would be no possible consequences from this night of passion, he was dressing and on his way. Somehow, she had to find the strength to stand and watch him walk away from her once again.
‘Imogen.’ Raoul’s tone was rough and hard, no sign of any of the softening she might hope for in it. ‘This was a mistake.’
