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Not now. Not when he was this aggressive, this dangerous. How could she like him like this? This was the man who had turned away from her. Who had told her to get out of his life. Who had left her alone with the baby that had never had a chance.
‘You would have given Adnan a child. So you would have kept his baby if you’d conceived it?’
He was throwing words at her, tossing them at her with such ferocity and speed that they didn’t make sense. But there was something else in his voice, a ragged edge to the words that shocked her rigid.
‘Would you have kept it for him, or would you have got rid of it like you did mine?’
Got rid? He couldn’t think…
‘Adnan had promised his grandfather.’
‘Don’t talk to me about Adnan! This isn’t about him—it’s about us. About you and me and our child. I wanted that child. I still want it. Our baby. You owe me a child!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
HOW LONG HAD the silence dragged on? Was it just minutes since Raoul had thrown those words at her or was it hours?
There was something wrong with her heart. Something wrong with her brain. She couldn’t quite absorb the meaning of those hateful words. And yet there was only one possible meaning. Wasn’t there?
‘You want—’ The word swelled up inside her, blocking her throat and choking her.
‘The child we should have had.’ He sounded no better than she did. ‘And when we’re married—’
‘When we’re married? You think I will marry you now—after this?’
Somehow, from deep inside, she’d found a new strength. She didn’t know if it came from pain or anger or loss—but she welcomed it as it gave her the courage to speak the truth at last.
‘You want me to agree to your terms? You want the stud—and the horses—and a child… Why? You want an heir? Is that it? Why with me?’
‘The only person I would ever have wanted a child with was you.’
‘Well, that’s a pity for you.’
Strength was growing inside her, giving a force to her words that he clearly wasn’t expecting. But no, of course he wasn’t expecting her to defend herself, to fight back against his accusations. He’d thought she was this callous, careless, selfish creature—for how long? For the two years they’d been apart?
But what did it matter how long? What mattered was what he believed and how wrong he was. And she was going to throw it right in his face and see the truth hit home.
‘Because I can’t actually guarantee you that child you claim you want. The one you’ve planned all this payback to bring about. Because, you see, it could be tricky. Adnan knew that but he understood.’
‘Understood what?’ Raoul demanded when she had paused to gather her strength.
‘He understood that it could be a problem because…because it can be difficult to conceive again if you’ve had…had…’
She lost the words. She could feel the burn of hot tears cascading down her face, taste the salt on them as she had to force her mouth wide open, gasping for the breath that eluded her. Her arms were clasped tight around her middle, holding herself together because she could not afford to fall apart now.
‘What? Say the word!’
‘Had an ectopic pregnancy.’ He looked as if he’d been slapped hard, right across his face. She could almost see the bruise forming as he blinked, tried to speak, stopped, tried again.
‘Ectopic…’ was all he managed.
At last she succumbed to the sorrow she had tried to hold back for two long years. The fragile, desperate wall she had built around her memories had crumbled at last and she was lost, head bent, face hidden. She’d held out so long, but she couldn’t manage any more. Her legs sagged at the knees, refusing to support her. She was going to fall.
But then arms came around her, warm and powerful. She was supported, held against the hard strength of a masculine chest. She could feel his raw, ragged breathing under her cheek, hear the uneven thunder of a pulse that was as out of control as her own.
‘It’s all right.’
Raoul’s whisper was right next to her ear, the hard pressure of his cheek, the weight of his head on her hair. One hand cupped her face, the other stroked over her skull, soothing her tears.
